#haven’t posted in a gazillion years hi

[dollarbrellajuice]

machine dysphoria sucks im just gonna lay in bed all day and listen to meadow platinum, vol. 1 on repeat

[slowd1ving]

UNFORTUNATE BACKUP・゜ MIGUEL O'HARA NSFW

It's just you against fate. Unfortunately, it's hell-bent towards pairing you with the most annoying person in existence ever. Medical Researcher/Field Doctor reader, GN but he is used exactly 1 time warnings: nsfw, violence, tension (resolved), degradation wrote this for my friend a while back so it's not my usual style ;; lowkey clueless abt medical stuff so I'm sorry if that's obvious... this would've done numbers here if I actually posted this when itsv came out but as you can tell I just could not be asked if you've seen this before, it was posted to ao3 like a year ago by yours truly!!! wc: 7.5k

MISC. MASTERLIST . 　⁺ MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Maybe it’s fate playing a silly little prank on you when you don’t see Jessica waiting for you at the abandoned Alchemax you’re investigating. Maybe she’s late? You shift from side to side, wishing you brought your insulating suit to combat the frigid wind sweeping through the clearing where you stand. 

“Jess?” you hesitantly call out, even though you know it’s utterly foolish to do so when you haven’t even surveyed the surroundings. You can’t help but feel a pang of worry at her absence; it’s only the rustling leaves that answer your call. 

“You’re late.” it’s not Jessica’s voice that sounds out from the shadows of the Alchemax entrance. As your eyes struggle to make out who exactly spoke, he steps out into the weak rays of sun. It’s… Miguel? What the fuck is he doing here? Rarely do you ever see him, since the medical research facility is practically a gazillion miles away from his office-cave. 

“Sorry,” you try to inject some sincerity into your tone since he’s your superior, but it’s proving difficult when you’re literally on time . You slowly push open the creaky revolving door (which is ridiculously heavy, but you refuse to let him see your struggle). 

“While you were taking your sweet time,” Miguel pauses to shoulder the door open with practised ease, ignoring your exasperated sigh. “I already surveyed the building for you.” 

Literally nobody asked. You bite back the retort, feeling your face contort into a very impolite expression. Don’t lose your job. 

“Thank you,” you force out, surveying the entrance hall with a critical eye and an infrared detector scope. No signs of biological life here, it seems. It’s unusually quiet; normally these facilities are crawling with anomalies and other beings, which is why this is a job for two. 

“Where’s Jessica?” you ask offhandedly, following Miguel up the emergency stairs. You don’t want to make conversation with this standoffish man, but anything beats the very awkward feeling in the air. “Have you kidnapped her or something?” 

“A comedian,” you can hear him mutter under his breath in annoyance. He doesn’t turn to face you. “She sent me to work with you, since she had something urgent come up back in her home world.”

So she hasn’t just left you for the fun of it. Cool. You don’t say anything in response, choosing to run the objectives of your mission through your mind instead. Find the DNA lab, grab some spider-DNA, then do the same in the pathogen department. Back at base, they’ll be used to drive forward immunity research you’ve been conducting with your colleague. 

“The first stop is here,” Miguel informs you curtly, pointing to the frosted glass door in the middle of the corridor. You wordlessly move to gather your specimens, noting how the room is unexpectedly in great condition. The samples are all fresh too, dating only a month back. Great. It’s unusual, but you’ll take it. It’s the same with the virus specimens you’ve managed to get - the Alchemax was probably abandoned very recently. 

“Done,” you don’t see the point in trying to be amiable when Miguel clearly isn’t. We’re never going to be buddies. 

It’s a very pleasant week that flies past without you seeing him. Even though you’re permanently part of the team, you’re rarely ever assigned an active combat mission since you’re one of the few medics available in the facility. Seriously, why are there so few medical Spiders? Regardless, your line of work means that you won’t be in contact with Miguel any time soon. Or so you hope. But fate likes its silly little jokes. 

“They sent you for backup?” the question flies out of Miguel’s mouth when you step out of the portal into the dimly lit streets of Earth-152. A symphony of police sirens and rain splashing onto the pavement is heard in the background; it’s a fitting orchestra for this annoying scene. 

“Is there a problem?” your fist clenches around the strap of your medic bag as you fight to keep your frustration at a simmer. It’s not often that you’re called in for backup to tackle such a large-scale anomaly (see: never ), but you’re good with combat and injuries. Objectively, you’re an exemplary ally to have when fighting - is this fool denying that? “Or can I do my job?”

“He’s just worried because it’s a big operation,” Jess interjects from behind you. What a relief. She elbows him from where she sits astride her motorcycle, looking pointedly at him. “ Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything as he turns to look at his wristband, which currently projects what appears to be a map of the area. You ignore the slight, turning to face Jess with your brows furrowed. “Any updates?” 

“The target should be appearing within the next few minutes,” she quickly pulls up her own projections to show you a blurry photo of the target. “We’re capturing him alive and heading back to headquarters. Target’s particularly strong, so be careful.”

“Right,” your affirmation is interrupted by incessant red blinking from the map hologram. Your breath catches in your throat at the tantalising prospect of finally fighting. Two streets away. You follow Jess out of the alleyway into the blaring lights of the city, feeling the neon lights soak into your very being . Warm summer rain sluices away all your wariness before your webs propel you to the side of a glass skyscraper. 

The target’s nowhere to be found on the roof of the building he’s supposed to be on. Frustration makes itself palpable in the air and you can’t help but feel the dawning horror of apprehension. What’s going on? 

“Ambush!” your mouth forms the warning just as you spot several clones of the target emerging on the roof of the building. You’re not sure if Miguel or Jess heard your cry of shock, but you can’t check on either of them as the clones of the target start surrounding you. You can’t afford that; your webs are laced with a potent tranquilizer that makes quick work of those in your immediate vicinity. It’s not enough - the hordes that emerge from your peripherals are surrounding you anyway. 

“I’ll take care of these,” Jess’ motorcycle makes quick work of a good portion of the clones - they disintegrate pretty rapidly when hit with the heavy vehicle. “Miguel’s on track to find the main body. It’ll go faster if you also look for it.”

“Right,” you know Jess will be fine; her motorcycle and quick wits will let her tackle this crowd with ease. Find the main body. Your gut tells you it’s not going to be far away. In fact, your senses are urging you to check out the derelict factory a few blocks away. And who are you to ignore them? 

“Where are you, where are you,” you mumble to yourself as you swing towards the building. Its imposing structure almost halts you in your tracks, but you know something is lurking within. The angry clouds swirling above don’t make the situation any less menacing, but you ignore the unfortunate weather. No use in shaking in your boots because of some clouds.  

Luckily, there’s a row of windows in the shadows of the factory by the roof; it’s an easy objective to lithely creep up the side of the building. There. Concealed within the shadows of rusty machinery is your target, leaning against the wall in a too-casual manner. Before he can spot you, you crawl down until you’re not in view - there, you immediately fire out a call to Miguel from your watch. It’s the first time you’ve ever done so, but the situation calls for it. 

“What do you want?” his little hologram’s mask is indented with a sharp annoyance. You should’ve just handled this yourself. 

“I’ve found the target,” you retort with whatever venom you can muster. The two of you are colleagues, for fuck’s sake; there’s no use dismissing others like that in the first place. “You can see my location, right?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I finish off this one,” from what you can see, he appears to be fighting a different enemy, judging from the sharp slashing you can faintly make in the background. “Stay exactly where you are until I arrive. Don’t engage in combat.”

“Sure, sarge,” you end the call with your annoyance slowly brimming over the edge. Who knows how long it’ll be before he finishes off that other enemy? You peer back into the factory, intending to continue your little reconnaissance. Your blood runs cold at the view down below. There’s nobody there, not a whisper of a soul down in the depths of those shadows. 

“Looking for me?” you almost jump out of your skin when a cheerful voice calls out from below. It’s the target, who’s somehow managed to make his way to the side of the factory you’re currently balanced on. 

“Don’t do that,” you spring down to the ground so you can come face to face with the target, clutching your bag to your side. The orders not to engage are still fresh in your mind, but you can’t exactly ignore the situation, can you?

“So, uh,” you begin, noticing the way he leans into the space between you two slightly. Diffuse the situation. Stay calm. His suit is almost as dark as the night itself, and it catches your eye with how it thrums like shaken ink. “Any chance you’ll give up peacefully?”

You already know the answer when he laughs mirthfully, with his head thrown back in sharp amusement. You can almost taste the forceful no that’s about to leave his lips. 

“You’re funny,” his razor-edged smile lacks any sort of laughter as he regains his composure. You brace yourself. “But no.”

And you’re ready, ready for the swift kick that comes flying your way. You easily move out of the way, while quickly slinging a web his way - it only scrapes by his upper arm, unfortunately, but it still has the potential to affect him somewhat. Concentrate. The fight will only last a few minutes at worst; it’s absolutely crucial to keep a clear mind. 

You alternate between throwing calculated jabs and webs designed to trap opponents to create a perfect feint and secure yourself an opening. One second. One second to carefully strike a tranquilizer web directly at the shirt under his suit. You don’t want to touch whatever makes up that shifting suit. What is it?

That question is answered immediately as clones start emerging from its shadows. Shit. You can see why the guy’s taking so long to be captured; it’s incredibly troublesome when he’s got a whole legion of clones available. 

You don’t hesitate. 

Steeling yourself, you fire a tranquilizer web straight at him while sending a kick to his side so he evades it right into your line of fire. The web lands on his cheek, which is an excellent target for the tranquilizer to work its wondrous magic. He’s out cold within a second or so. Perfect . It leaves you with plenty of time to ponder how you’re going to explain to Miguel that you’ve (unintentionally!) disobeyed orders within the humongous timespan of ten seconds. 

He doesn’t keep you waiting long. 

“What did you think I meant when I said to not engage?” Miguel’s annoyance seeps into the air when he sees you standing over the unconscious clone-man. 

“It was self-defense,” you argue, holding your hands up in mock-surrender. He’s clearly sceptical with the way his eyes swivel from the knocked-out target on the floor back to you. “Play it back on the watch!”

“Jessica, he’s been apprehended,” Miguel speaks into his watch briefly, before putting his arm back down. It's an uncomfortable feeling; you don’t think you’ve ever been the subject of such an intense, scrutinising glare. 

“You did take out the trouble,” he finally admits grudgingly; it feels like somewhat of an accomplishment. Somewhat. “Do a better job of following orders next time.”

You fight the urge to mutter expletives under your breath. 

It’s the same song and dance for the next month; fate can’t help but assign you as backup to Miguel’s missions, though it’s strictly limited to medic duties in case someone fucks up. It’s unpleasant - his criticisms of your actions slowly wear down your absolutely bottomless patience like coarse-grit sandpaper pretty quickly. 

You wouldn’t call the next mission a fuck up; it can only really be described as an absolute calamity when you step out into the mayhem. It’s an incessant cacophony of blaring sirens and pure carnage - from what you can gather, a gaping abyss is swallowing the buildings above where it’s situated. It’s a disaster. 

It’s not really a surprise then, when Miguel forces his way onto the hologram projection on your watch to move you elsewhere, your nerves are frayed. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you spit out, scribbling out a list of equipment for an unfortunate intern to bring from the medical facility. You pray what you carry is enough to quench the insatiable hunger of injuries. “Let me do my goddamn job for once.”

You hang up; etiquette be damned in this haze of smoke and debris. Thankfully, there’s no fatalities recorded after the sinkhole is stabilised. On the other hand, the infirmary is going to be very lively for the next week. The movement of your hands can only be described as frenzied with how efficiently you patch up the countless injuries on site - there’s an ever growing mountain of sanguine gauze building up beside you. 

It’s only a few hours later that you’re finally allowed a reprieve. You trudge back to the medical facility where one of your few colleagues who’s actually finished training is running around haggardly to care for the incoming patients. 

“Can you patch up O’Hara?” he nervously asks you, while you feel your bones wither away. You meet his pleading gaze impassively. “He’s been refusing medical treatment from any of the available interns, and you’re the only one who doesn’t crack under that pressure.”

You want to say no. Your mind’s practically begging you to refuse so you can have him out of mind for some time. But looking upon that pathetically pitiful countenance of your colleague, your resolve softens. This man will wilt like a goddamn cabbage if Miguel so much as exhales sharply. 

“Fine,” you concede with a look of defeat; it’s almost horrendous with how quickly he beams at you. 

“After, your shift’s over,” he calls out after you as you grab some ointment, gauze and other essentials. You’re unclear as to how Miguel was injured exactly, but your gut tells you it’s probably just some shallow injuries if he hasn’t been coerced by Jess into coming to the infirmary. Just do the job. You should’ve kept your Spidersuit on below your regular clothes; yet the prospect of sinking into bed right after you treat your last patient far outweighs the vulnerability you feel. 

It’s not exactly a short walk to where Miguel’s room is situated, but the concept of time is one that’s chased away by the sinking feeling in your stomach. It goes by too fast. You really should’ve just refused. Here goes nothing.

Surely you’ll be turned away immediately after you knock? Surely you’ll be able to go back to your own room and forget this ever happened? Surely fate will smile down upon you for once?

Fate truly is a fickle being. 

Your knock on his door is almost immediately answered by an exasperated “ Come in.” You suppress your own exasperated groan as you recognize Miguel’s voice. Cradling the bag of medical supplies in your arm, you shove the door open with your shoulder. It’s dark - which you’d expect - but it still takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the sight-

Rapid heartbeats resound in the back of your head as you make out Miguel’s dim figure sitting on the edge of his bed. His suit is rolled up around his waist, leaving his torso completely bare. Your blood is practically beating up your veins with how quickly it races around your body. What the everloving fuck . The resounding question you have is answered by the dim glow of a syringe in his hands - it’s not exactly a secret that Miguel’s not just a human bitten by a radioactive spider, but it’s the first time you’ve ever witnessed a tangible instant of it.

“It’s you,” he doesn’t move to cover up with a scandalous gasp, but rather stares you down impassively. Who was he expecting? “What do you want?”

“To dress those wounds like I’ve been told to,” you stare right back at him, refusing to let your eyes be cowed into avoiding that gaze. You don’t budge, you don’t shift from foot to foot; your stance is staunchly planted onto the floor of his room. You can faintly see some nasty-looking gashes that look like they were caused by debris, as well as shallow lacerations that were undoubtedly made by a weapon. 

“I’m fine,” he dismisses you, but you can see the shiny skin surrounding some of the injuries. You can’t even feel the resentment that you would normally - if that becomes infected, it’s not your problem. 

“Those might get infected,” you point out, though you don’t really know what’s prompting you to argue in favour of spending more time with him. “I’ll be done in less than ten minutes.”

You suppose that noncommittal grunt is a concession to your superior logic. He stares at you wordlessly as you approach him; he’s rarely ever seen you without your mask and suit, you realise. Silence. Well, it would be silent if it weren’t for your heart desperately pounding away, so much so that you swear even he can hear it. You carefully put your bag down onto the floor. 

He doesn’t hiss or pull away as the antiseptic-covered cloth runs over the gashes; the imperceptible stare that’s on you is disconcerting, to say the very least. He’s cold to touch, even through the thin disposable gloves you’ve donned. It doesn’t fully hit you that you’re touching Miguel’s shoulders and upper chest without getting your head bitten off. Absolutely shocking. 

Those gashes beneath his collarbone aren’t as nasty as they looked underneath all the dried blood - he’s not going to need any stitches, so you can just slap gauze and medical tape over those bad boys and let the platelets do their job. It’s getting increasingly hard to concentrate on the next set of injuries when you can feel the warm air of his breathing near your neck. Shit . Your eyes hone in on what your hands are doing; it’s not enough to distract you from his burning gaze on you. 

“The front’s done,” you pull back, only now noticing you’ve been standing between his goddamn legs . It’s a miracle your voice doesn’t shake at the revelation, but you’re sure that he can hear the deafening way your heart is beating. Say something.  Anything. The silence is all too unnerving. 

“There’s some cuts on my back as well,” he finally says after you’ve surveyed your work and start opening your bag to find the bio-waste disposal bags. You pause. You suppress the urge to rub your hands together maniacally. 

“Alright, turn around,” you laugh internally at the absurdity of the situation - he does nothing but spout frustration at you, yet there are no complaints or criticisms escaping him as he turns around obediently. It’s not a full turn; the angle of his turned back invites you to take a seat beside him on the mattress. Woah there. 

You wait a second or so before realising that, yes, he’s waiting for you to sit down and isn’t actually going to bite your head off for doing so. It’s extremely surreal to sink into the firm mattress beside him; you doubt anyone’s made it this far in this goddamn cave . It’s even more surreal feeling the wisps of body heat brushing against you from the thighs still covered in his Spidersuit: a sharp contrast to his cool torso. 

Be professional. Your eyes skim over the various scrapes littering his shoulders, and fortunately, all of them just need a quick wipedown and a plaster. It’s a lot easier to daub the antiseptic on without his gaze on him; that is, until you become slightly enraptured by the way his muscles tense (almost imperceptibly) at the sting of the antiseptic. You’re not as smooth as you wish, fumbling the packet of plasters while you revel in the fact his gaze is elsewhere. 

“Almost done,” you reassure him after he tenses up slightly after you brush your fingers over your handiwork on his lower spine. Can he feel the way your pulse is absolutely electrified right now? You don’t even like him, but the proximity might just send you into cardiac arrest. 

“It’s fine,” his tone is slightly strained. You raise your eyebrows, but ultimately ignore it in favour of patching up those last few cuts. 

“Done,” you try not to sound too regretful. You hate the way your heart’s beating more and more rapidly; it takes everything in you to quickly gather your materials and stand up from the bed.  

“Thanks,” the begrudging gratitude that comes out from him forces you to look back at him wordlessly. You take the time to search his face with your eyes, noting the slight sheen of sweat on his face. Is he…

“Are you running a fever?” the question escapes your lips as you move closer, whilst the medical supplies are unceremoniously dumped onto a side table. Your hand carefully places itself on his forehead (paying no heed to the very close proximity of his teeth). There’s no actual heat radiating from him, but the way he’s currently looking at you with that half-lidded gaze is making you feel like the delirious one. Why isn’t he saying anything?  

Say something.

The back of your hand slowly moves away from his face, but you freeze as your wrist is grasped by his hand. What is he… His skin is cold, but the prickles left behind on your wrist are burning and spreading all over your body. You’re not breathing; you’re waiting for his next move. 

“You are so frustrating,” he says through gritted teeth - though it lacks any of the usual bite that’s present. He speaks! You can feel his little angry exhale on your hand from where he’s holding it near his face. You still haven’t moved away, instead choosing to observe the way his facial muscles contort into an expression of fervid displeasure. “To think you’d have such an effect..”

The last part is muttered under his breath, as if you weren’t the intended recipient, but you hear it clear as day. What effect? The heavy implication creeps up inside your mind; it wriggles its way through the cracks in your composure. Surely he didn’t mean it that way, right? Surely you’re just annoying? You can feel your breathing get more shallow as his gaze flickers back up to your face - it searches ravenously, focusing on each feature as if it were a long awaited oasis in the arid desert. 

His hand lets go carefully - it’s so unlike his usual brash movements that you almost laugh. Yet, once you’re free from his hold, you don’t make any move to leave again; it’s truly a strange magnetic effect you’re enveloped in. The carmine glow of monitors in the corner of the room is the only weak illumination in the room (it’s making the situation feel way too intimate in your opinion). 

“Do you want me to stay?” your words escape your lips in a hushed voice. You can’t help but feel the addictive thrum of confidence pulse through your veins, your very capillaries . Maybe the unidentifiable emotion roiling within his eyes isn’t an avid dislike of you? You don’t know why you offered. You’re not sure if you even want to know. Still, you can’t help but feel prickles of curiosity at whatever’s making him so flustered. 

Do you know the implications of your offer?

“Do I want you to stay..” his repetition of your question might’ve seemed mocking at any other time, yet the unusual hushed cadence begs to differ. Anticipation. That’s what’s keeping you rooted in place for fear of disturbing this unfolding scene. You’ve never seen him like this - it’s a delicate balance your heart is begging for you not to destroy. 

“After I let you put your hands all over me, and you’re asking if I want you to stay?” he leans slightly closer towards you - you’re extremely glad he’s still sitting and not absolutely looming over you like the tower he is. You can feel your erratic heartbeat pulsate through your entire being at his words. It’s getting incredibly hard to think when anticipation in your stomach gives in to the rising swell of desire. 

“You’re yet to be put in your place, and you’re asking if I want you to stay?” you feel a shiver run through your body at his proximity, yet you’re the one leaning into him now. You’re so close you can feel his breath fan over your neck; it’s the only part of his body that’s remotely warm, so much so that it’s absolutely scorching you. Or maybe it’s the white-hot blood you can feel blossoming on your face. 

His cold hand ghosts over your chin, tilting your face down with nothing more than a brush of his thumb. Please. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch the muscles of his face contort into a slight smile. 

“Do you want this?” his brows furrow slightly. A question. Your veins already thrum with the answer. 

“ Yes ,” you respond, feeling both your brain and heart work together to cheer you on for once. This better not be a dream . You can see the flash of teeth as he smiles, before you’re roughly pulled onto his lap. It’s actually comfortable to straddle his thighs, you note, but you can’t exactly focus on that anymore when he draws you into a searing kiss. 

He tastes of the coppery tang of blood. It’s the first thing you notice as he slots his mouth against yours. The second thing you notice is how impatient he is, probing at your lip with his fangs while simultaneously pressing you up closer and closer until you’re practically melting into him. You don’t miss a beat; you snake your hands into his hair until they’re buried in the thick brown waves. Your fingers slightly pull at the back, and he lets out a small groan into your mouth at the sensation. 

Sharp fangs graze your lower lip ever so slightly, but the pain is immediately alleviated by his tongue running over the cut. He’s sucking on it - evidently, there’s some blood left behind (or maybe even traces of the venom coursing through those fangs). His little pleased hum reverberates within you; you find yourself being flustered more by that than the way he’s rubbing circles into your thigh with his thumb. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he says in a low voice after the two of you pull apart for air. The string of saliva connecting your lips to his is tinted a rich sanguine; the bridge linking the two of you is entrancing, right before it breaks. His words set your very veins ablaze. 

“ Please ,” you don’t even know what you’re pleading for , only that the pace is far too slow for your liking. It seems he feels the same way, since his face dips lower so his mouth can settle on your neck. He’s careful not to fully sink his teeth into your skin, instead choosing to lightly skim them over your pulse points to elicit small gasps out of you. Your hands grasp and twist so he’s pressed closer and closer into you. It’s strange - you never thought that he’d be the one to coax such a reaction out of you. 

“Desperate, aren’t we?” you can feel the infuriating bastard curl his lips upwards as he sucks marks you know aren’t going to fade for days into the side of your neck. The mocking lilt of his question makes all the blood rush straight down - it’s unfair how unbearable he’s being. Your nails are no doubt leaving marks of their own as you let your hands roam the vast expanse of his back. 

Almost involuntarily, your hips move to gain a semblance of any relief, any friction, but the firm grip of his hand on your thigh prevents you from doing even that. You hiss as his sharp nails dig into the skin (if you get tetanus you’re officially suing). 

“What a pathetic little slut,” he coos into your ear; he can definitely hear the way your breath hitches at his harsh tone. You can’t even bring yourself to respond. “Getting turned on from a few kisses?” 

Fuck . 

You can’t even deny it; instead, you turn your head to the side as if you can escape his prying eyes with your embarrassment. It’s futile. You know he can feel your racing pulse against his lips as he once again presses them to the side of your jaw to coax small sounds out of you. 

“I bet you could get off with just my thigh like the filth you are,” his words drip condescendingly, but you can barely hear him over the pounding heartbeat in the back of your head. You furiously bite back the whine that’s emerging from your throat from his fleeting touches. “Will you?” 

“Fuck, Miguel,” you choke out as he moves one of his legs away so you’re completely pressed against his thigh. 

“Get yourself off,” he utters, seemingly bored, but you both know he’s anything but from the way his eyes gaze intently at you. “But first..”

A quick, experimental swipe of his claw-like nails leaves your plain shirt neatly cleaved in two. So impatient . You can’t say that you’ll miss it, but still. You pull the shirt off, until your torso is just as exposed as his. His gaze sweeps over you ravenously. Then, he leans back onto the bed with his elbows propping him up so he can enjoy the show. What a bastard . 

You bite back a groan as your hips stutter forward; the friction is already causing that sensation in your stomach to build up, even if it’s barely anything. It’s probably due Miguel’s eyes raking over you with tightly restrained desire. You don’t miss the way his eyelids lower and he looks away for a brief instant as you keep your eyes trained right on him. The tightness of your pants does absolute miracles to fill your mind with a pleasure-induced haze, so much so that you’re leaning forward and putting your hands on the curves of his waist (as if they were handlebars) to steady yourself. 

You can go slow without losing out on the mind-numbing friction you’re experiencing - the absolute pressure is slowly driving you to that brink without you having to even try. Still, you can’t help but feel a small gnawing trickle of disappointment; will this end this soon? You push it out of your mind as you continue moving against his thigh - that haze you’re in is too powerful to worry too much about the what-ifs. You succumb to the pleasure, slowly, but surely. 

It’s almost comical as that pleasant haze is snatched away. Even with heightened reflexes, you barely process the swiftness with which Miguel sits up and somehow manoeuvres you so your back is sinking into the sheets of his bed. You can’t help but cry out in disappointment. 

“You thought I’d let you fall apart so easily?” he’s practically purring with that vexing smile on his face - you almost prefer his permanent scowl to this smug expression. Still, being manhandled by him makes your heart drum louder than ever in your ears. “After your constant misconduct ? Open your mouth, whore.”

You open your mouth obediently, and he lets out a pleased hum. You instinctively know what he’s about to do, so it’s not a surprise when he lets a thick string of spit fall into your mouth. You swallow, noticing how his eyes trace over your throat with barely suppressed lust. 

“ Please ,” you choke out, helpless with your wrists pinned to either side of your head. You can hear a dry little chuckle sound out from him. 

“Speak up,” he leans in closer to practically spit the words out. A slight shiver runs through you when his breath ghosts over your ear. “What does the little slut want me to do to him?” 

It’s so utterly laughable; his words make you so goddamn pliant in his hands. 

“I want you in me,” you don’t miss how his body tenses at your bold request. The curve of his throat bobs when he swallows thickly. 

“I’m going to ruin you,” he promises quietly. His head dips low to trail a path down your chest with his mouth - you know you’ll be absolutely covered in marks by the time he’s done with you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You revel in his touch. You lean into him like a goddamn moth to flame. 

With a swift tug, he pulls down the elastic band of your pants (you thank whatever’s above that they’re spared the same treatment as your shirt). You’re left shivering as his mouth travels to mark up your thighs - he’s practically burning bruises into you at this point. 

Dim red lighting washes over every sharp crevice and line on his face. The sight before you eases the frustration building at the agonizingly slow pace he’s setting. More . It’s as if he’s heard your silent plea; before you know it, one of his fingers slips past your underwear and enters you, coated in what feels to be lube. Fuck . A drawn out string of muttered expletives escapes your lips as he continues at his slow pace. 

“Are you frustrated?” he mocks, resting the side of his head on your inner thigh as he languidly moves his finger. That prick knows it’s not enough; he’s inviting you to beg for it. It’s humiliating, but you can’t bring yourself to care as desperation pools in your stomach. 

“Faster, please -” your words cut off with a strangled moan as he pushes another finger in easily. Your hand desperately grasps his hair to ground yourself, earning a reverberating groan against your inner thigh. Fervently, you pray those walls of his are soundproof; the obscene noises coming from both your mouth and between your legs fill up the room quickly. 

His composure seems to be rapidly slipping as well, judging by how his enthralled gaze is focused on how you’re taking his fingers. His chest is rising and falling erratically, and his eyes flicker between your lowered eyes and where you’re pulling him in greedily. As soon as you increase in volume, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you so unbearably empty . 

The next thing you notice is the neon red ropes that buzz with static energy trussing your wrists up - it can only be his handiwork, though you’ve never been this close to those unusual red webs. You don’t question it; instead, you’re rapt watching Miguel, who’s hooking his fingers around the bunched up material around his waist, and pulling it down ever so slowly as if he’s putting on a show for you. Maybe he is , considering his eyes are right on you and watching your expression with an underlying smugness as you take the sight in. 

He’s blocking out the vermillion glow of those monitors, practically towering over you and making you swallow nervously thinking about how exactly you’re going to take him. That worry pushes its way into the back of your mind as you decide you don’t particularly care when he’s haloed by that lighting as if he were an angel.

He looks like he’s relishing your reaction when he pulls his underwear off; after all, he’s suppressing that dry, mirthful laugh at your widened stare. You can’t help it - he’s massive . You’re enraptured by the small hiss he lets out at the coldness of the lube as he pumps himself, knowing very well he’s just as entertained as you. 

“Scared you won’t be able to take it?” he challenges, parting your legs easily with the faintest pressure of his claws digging into your thighs. His pupils are completely blown out with lust; they’re honed in on you completely as if he were hunting you down. “Like you weren’t desperately fucking yourself on my fingers a minute ago?”

He cages you easily: too easily. You’re so malleable for him already, and he hasn’t even begun. Your wrists are starting to feel deliciously numb from the low buzz of his crimson web, and you can feel your breathing start to accelerate. 

“ Please , Miguel,” whatever scraps of dignity remaining in you aren’t enough to stop you from begging him to do anything . “I can take it.”

And whatever self-control he’s been displaying (hardly any) up to this point swiftly dissipates as he leans in to swallow the moan that emerges when he finally puts the tip in. He’s still moving all too slowly, but the stretch is making up for it. A low whine escapes your throat as he presses in, and you’re teetering between pain and pleasure. 

“Thought you said you could take it,” he lets out an amused exhale into your mouth, not going any deeper to accustom you to the burn. “And I’m only halfway.”

You rock your hips into his and revel in his groans, prompting him to slowly bottom out. Holy fuck . It’s enough to make your mind blur with a foggy haze at the absolute fullness he’s causing. He’s clearly enjoying himself, or at least, his expression is contorted into one of sharp amusement. 

“Faster,” you urge him on. He can feel your wanting in every arrhythmic breath you take. 

“So desperate,” he groans out as you roll your hips to generate any friction. His chest dips down until it’s pressing up against your bound wrists, only adding to that sharp pressure building in your stomach. “I bet you just want to be used like a degenerate toy.”

Please . 

He doesn’t allow you time for thought at all when he starts moving; his pace is unrelenting and brutal, forcing noises so obscene out of you that you’re praying for whatever next-door neighbour he might have. The snap of his hips into yours is slowly building up that aching pleasure, and your back slowly arches so he can target that particular spot better.

You’re very rapidly unravelling, even more so when he bites down into your shoulder. The pain coursing through your veins swiftly devolves into pleasure. You can already taste the blissful wave that’s steadily approaching you. 

His movements become more sloppy as he becomes more vocal at the way you’re taking him. It’s incredibly attractive to watch that carnal desire overtake him. 

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he praises, digging into the sides of your shoulders with his claws. It goes straight to your pleasure-addled mind, even more so when you hear the wet sounds of skin on skin resounding through the room. “Like a personal fucktoy, don’t you think?”

You can’t even say anything in response, wrapping your legs tightly around him so he can reach even deeper than he has. The overwhelming urge to let go is building up quickly in your stomach, and that heat is climbing all over your skin and mind. 

"Fuck, I’m gonna-” you choke out as Miguel angles your hips down with one hand, pressing into just the right spot. He swallows your cries as your mind goes completely blank with pleasure, still moving into you as you reach that climax. His movements draw that euphoric state out for as long as possible, before the waves of pleasure become overwhelming for your fatigued mind. 

“Miguel-” your whine is broken off as he moves into an upright position, digging his claws into your hips as he keeps moving against them. 

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he asks mockingly, wiping up a tear leaking from your eye with the rough pad of his thumb. You succumb to the touch, taking him in all his entirety. Your gaze trails from the frustrated lines on his face, lower, to the rivulets of your cum splattered on his lower abdomen, and finally to where he’s staring, completely enraptured. The breath in your throat hitches as you observe the bulge in your stomach fading and reappearing in time with his thrusts. “I’m not stopping until you fulfil your purpose.”

You feel a trickle of trepidation as he pulls back so only the tip remains in you. 

“What are you-” you trail off, noticing the way his lips curl in anticipation. Oh god . Surely, he won’t-

“Getting myself off,” his lethal smile is the most foreboding one you’ve ever seen, before he slams his hips into yours. It hits that sweet spot instantly and you cry out pathetically. He’s got you seeing the very galaxies with how numbed your mind feels. Distantly, you can feel tears of pleasure swimming down the sides of your face, and his own groans of pleasure. 

He pulls back again, leaving you empty once more, and repeats his earlier motion. You’re practically broken over his dick, but the waves of pleasure aren’t letting up any time soon. It seems the sensations are also getting to him; his powerful movements are slowly becoming sloppier by the second. 

“Want me to cum in you, like the slut you are?” Miguel groans out, coming more and more undone. His question makes you tighten around him, which earns you another breathy exhale. “Getting turned on by the very thought of me breeding you?” 

“ Fuck , yes,” you cry out involuntarily. You can feel your heartbeat pulsing its rapid beat in your stomach as he fills you up again and again. His grip on your thighs is slipping as he messily fucks into you. Obscene squelching noises fill up the room, but you’re too far gone again to care if the whole goddamn building hears the two of you. 

You can feel him desperately trying to maintain any sort of grip of control as his hips snap into yours fervently. Over and over, he repeats your name in a chorus as if it’s his lifeline. That aching feeling in your stomach is slowly returning, ardently wanting him to continue his unforgiving pace. 

With a start, you realise the binds on your wrists have dissolved due to his wavering concentration. Immediately, your hands wind their way around his back to steady yourself, scratching harsh marks into the muscles. He lets out a wanton groan at the sharp sensation; his breaths are coming faster and faster, and you know he’s close. 

Your fingers thread upwards through his hair to pull him into you. He breathlessly kisses you, though it’s more a desperate clash of teeth than anything. His lips part slightly in pleasure and he stiffens minutely. Got him . 

You swallow all the noises he’s making, feeling hot spurts of his cum paint your insides. He doesn’t stop moving ; it’s as if he’s making sure not a single drop is wasted. He rides out the high by pulling you ever closer to press against his body. The shuddering halt of his hips against yours lets you know the fatigue’s taken over him, but he doesn’t stop kissing you, and he doesn’t pull out either. 

The salty taste of sweat is prominent on your tongue when you drag it across the skin of his neck, leaving your own marks as a petty form of revenge. He lets out a sharp exhale, but doesn’t protest as he lets you roll him over so that you’re lying on top of him, connected nonetheless. The movement makes him whine , on the other hand, which you know you’re never going to forget. 

“Fuck,” you mumble against his skin, feeling him shift to gaze down upon your head that’s propped on his chest. “You are so lucky I don’t have any shifts tomorrow.”

Your head moves up and down on his chest as he lets out a tired laugh. Wincing, you prop yourself up on your palms so you can sit up and pull yourself off him. He groans lightly at the change, but you attempt to ignore it. 

Carefully, you rise to your knees with a pang of regret at the loss of him in you. When you look at him, he’s visibly entranced by the combined rivulets of fluids streaming from between your legs, as if he’s asking if he really did all that. 

“You can, uh, use my shower,” he offers, sounding extremely unapologetic. “And stay the night if you want.”

You don’t respond immediately, instead choosing to lean into his touch as he rubs small circles into your thighs. A pressing question emerges in your mind, however. 

“Do you always sleep with your doctors?”  

[lynne-monstr]

WIP Word Search

okay so forever ago, @tehfanglyfish​ tagged me in a super cool word came to post excerpts from my wips that contain the following words: care, taste, heat. I have a bunch of wips I haven’t managed to wrangle, so here we go!

care

from the best vc fic:

Swoksaar: care to explain what you did to shaotian?

From anyone else it wouldn’t sound like a threat but Xiao Shiqin has watched Yu Wenzhou verbally eviscerate enough people to recognize the signs of impending doom. Especially when it comes to Huang Shaotian. Most pros learn quickly that if they find Huang Shaotian noisy and irritating, it's best to keep their opinions to themselves when Blue Rain’s captain is in earshot.

taste

another from the best vc fic:

Xiao Shiqin follows her gaze to the badge on his backpack. “Best Vice-captain,” he answers. The smile steals over his face despite the memories of a hard year. “Because I’m the best vice-captain.” He swaps his drink for a slice of cake that tastes far better than whatever was in the purple punch.

heat

lol one of the writers months prompts was “heat” and i’m still trying to wrangle the fic into something that doesn’t suck:

“Ew, I’m not coming in. What kind of person do you take me for?” It’s Huang Shaotian again. This must be the most he’s ever spoken to Yu Wenzhou outside of a match. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Yu Wenzhou doesn’t trust himself to answer. He’s good at keeping his cool, at pretending the taunts don’t matter. He’s not going to destroy all his hard work because one stupid heat came early. He knows the stereotypes about omegas, that they’re needy and overly emotional, and he has no intention of proving them right.

I feel like I’ve tagged a gazillion people already in writing stuff so I’m not going to tag anyone. But if you want to do the thing, you can use the same 3 words I did!

[twinhood-2dot0]

Cool Biology Stuff!

Good morning, Alia! It’s Thursday and I’m back with a science-ey nerdy post about things I love.

Yes, I will do the punishment, soon. It’s a GREAT IDEA, as I’ve mentioned to you before, and I think it’ll be a delight

And also as promised, I shall deliver the coolest parts about biology other than the ones I mentioned before.

Life kinda did arise by chance.

I don’t know how to explain this one, so as one Reddit user put it “It just seems so complex and it works so well that it seems crazy that all of this stuff could happen randomly.”

But we haven’t exactly gotten an answer for how life began, much less why. Though, if you are curious about how, check out this Ted-Ed video.

Like, yes, it’s a reminder that there’s no objective meaning to life. There’s no inherent reason for the existence of life that way. But somehow, in among the randomness, the “by-chance”, we have ended up with so many weird things – airports, and face-wash and scented candles and, like, pizza??? So much so that we’ve made new fears that are more common than our innate fear of death?!?

“According to most studies, people's number one fear is public speaking. Number two is death. Death is number two. Does that sound right? This means to the average person, if you go to a funeral, you're better off in the casket than doing the eulogy” - Jerry Seinfeld

Heck, we came up with comedy?!

And most importantly, we have created meaning for each other? Dang. Not bad, huh.

OH-MY-GOD-WE-NEED-THE-SUN-SO-MUCH-IT-POWERS-EVERYTHING, a.k.a. the Light Reactions of Photosynthesis

So, remember last time, when I talked about ATP synthase? The motor inside you? That’s part of the Light Reactions, or the first phase, of photosynthesis, and trust me, we’d be starving and dying by the millions if tomorrow, the plants all decided, “Hmm, we’re tired of doing all this turning sunlight into FUEL FOR THE ENTIRE PLANET. Let’s take some days off.”

Life eventually really runs on solar cells, except those solar cells are chloroplasts.

It’s amazing how we can turn light into food for, may I repeat, THE ENTIRE PLANET?

 And yet, life persists. Adapts.

And thanks to gazillions of living organisms, from archaea and bacteria to plankton to dodos not giving up and saying “It’s just too much. I can’t take it anymore”, (as New York Times bestselling author and professional sharpie-facer John Green said as a five-year-old, lying down on his back calmly on the floor of the Miami Airport) we get to exist.

We are the Universe, trying to understand itself.

THAT’S SO COOL, IKR!!!!

Well, that’s it for know. Thanks, and RYL, Alia!

[moonlightdancer26]

First of all I’ve just now seen your reblog so yea-

I think you’re seriously lacking in tumblr etiquette buddy, idk what app you’ve been on but we don’t scroll through properly-tagged posts and pick up fights. And yes you very much did try to pick up a fight, why did you feel the need to scroll through the pro-character-you-hate tag and then leave a comment about how awful and evil and creepy and disgusting and wtv said character is? I’m obviously going to disagree with you because you’re on my post and bashing one of my favourite characters, so don’t play innocent. If I had gone out of my way to mistag my post(s) and attempt to start arguments with people who have differing opinions, then you’d be well within your right to call me out and debunk what I said. But I didn’t. If you hate yucky greasy Snivellus sm then just filter the pro tags 💀 I did that with the anti Snape tags and I’m not bothered with anti posts, unless Snape antis mistagged their posts (which they tend to do… a lot).

Mixing up the books and movies is your problem lol, you should make sure to double-check the claims you’re making, especially if you “haven’t read the books in years and simply don’t want to and are never going to watch the movies and only know shit from the movies is because of fics you read” (<- this is also what I mean by “properly proper punctuation,” I literally have to reread everything you say bc of the disorganisation, I’m not trying to mock you but just put a full stop at the end of each statement/sentence so others will be able to understand what you’re saying). It’s not a requirement to have picture-perfect memory for every single thing that ever happened in all 7 books, you just have to remember important details about some characters and double-check that what you’re saying is actually true/confirmed. Not sure why that seems to be such hard work for you people, especially since y’all are the ones who come onto our posts and try to start shit.

I’m genuinely confused with what you mean, why are you saying “I literally wasn’t trying to start anything 🤓” after you invaded the pro-Snape space and bashed him? Are you telling me, that if I went searching for anti Snape posts, found one that was criticising his fans for making wrong assumptions, and then wrote in the comments “YEAH WELL JAMES WAS A RACIST EVIL PSYCHOPATHIC MURDERER HE ALSO *says random fanon BS*” despite knowing the OP would disagree, I wouldn’t be starting a fight and would be in the right? Is that what you’re trying to say?

I don’t want an answer to that question (“Why was Snape obsessed with Lily?”), I’ve already heard you antis say things that were flat-out contradicted in text about a gazillion times. No need for mansplaining. Also that whole argument isn’t even but that’s not the point.

And yes you obviously “DON’T HAVE TO HAVE CORRECT PUNCTUATION!! 👺👺”, I was making a remark about how your comment was quite literally incoherent (as in… I was legit unable to understand what you were saying), which would’ve been solved by punctuation. Sorry if I came across as rude but please, for the sake of whoever you’ll bother next, use some commas or full stops next time.

I don’t get why I have to leave “properly tagged posts” alone just because I don’t know how to properly tag posts because I don’t know how to

I literally never said you had to know how to properly-tag your own posts

You have to leave properly tagged posts (why are you putting speech marks btw? are you new to tumblr bc if so it’s an actual thing we do here) alone because they’re properly-tagged—tumblr is a space where we can express our opinions and interests and tags can help us organise it better and seek out or avoid what we want or don’t want to see. I’ve had this blog for nearly two years and I enjoy making Snape content, I make sure to tag the general and pro tags for Severus so people who don’t like nor care for him are able to avoid it. It’s rude and invasive to purposefully mistag your posts or go to perfectly-tagged posts of people who have different opinions and then bash what/who they like. It’s a little something called “Consideration” and “Tumblr etiquette.”

“and that’s okay because I can do whatever the fuck I want too!” Have you ever heard of the internet? Do you know its purpose? What makes you think you can waltz into fandom spaces and shit on people’s favourite characters and then get away with it? You do realise that at some point you might get reported for it? /gen

#i don’t give a flying fuck if I don’t tag shit right #started an argument for no reason #literally wasn’t even trying to start an argument but whatever #let people people live their life about not using “proper punctuation and spelling” #was gonna leave this without “proper spelling” but I just couldn’t find it in me to leave it when I know I’m gonna be mocked soon about it😥 #no proper punctuation #not properly tagged post

You after coming onto my fucking properly-tagged post: let people live their life! I don’t give a flying fuck if I don’t follow BASIC FUCKING TUMBLR RULES. (Do you genuinely not realise the problem here?? I’m legitimately racking my brain on how you think you’re being reasonable here.)

Also wdym you’re not “tagging shit right”?? You’re not the one making the post; posts are what require tags, not comments.

And just a little extra help:

this thing right here at the bottom 👇🏼

is what you click on if you want to add tags.

Why do people use “Snape bullied Harry” as proof that he was obsessed with Lily? I’ve asked antis this before, and each time I have they’ve always responded with something along the lines of “because she rejected/friendzoned him and he couldn’t let it go.”

This is so weird to me because Snape bullying Harry, as bad as it was, legitimately had almost nothing to do with Lily. He bullied Harry because of his copy-paste resemblance to James—someone who’s bullied and assaulted him for years and was portrayed as a hero by pretty much everyone Snape knows. Of course it was wrong of Severus to do, but brushing off the reason as “he got rejected and was obsessed” is just plain incorrect.

He was forced to face the carbon-copy of someone who assaulted him when he was a teenager everyday, his reaction was due to past-trauma being triggered, not because of some childhood crush that never showed him the time of day. In fact, the whole “Snape was friendzoned” claim seems to be a ploy in order to exonerate James of what he’s done. In addition to making James’s treatment of Lily looking better (contrary to Severus’s supposed obsession), it shifts the dynamic between Severus and Harry and invalidates what he went through, and would make it so James’s canon bullying wouldn’t be brought up and the debate would revolve only around Lily.

You can bash Severus for his treatment of Harry all you want, but that does not give you the right to make bizarre claims and use false evidence to try and bash him for something that never happened and gloss over everything he went through at the hands of the Marauders during his school years.

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`Just to see you smile, I’d do anything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Do you ever truly know what someone is feeling?

You could spend decades , breathing the same air, hands held , your fingers brushing ....connected physically and even mentally but a person’s emotions, they’re hidden away. 

You only ever know what they’re willing to show .

And yet, 

all of us build relationships, convinced that we know exactly what the other person will feel when we act a certain way. Buying her flowers will make happy....visiting him at work will take away that little bit of stress.

But sometimes, what we think someone feels, may not be what they truly feel.

And that’s when your actions, well intended actions..... end up with disastrous consequences. 

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

“So....last night...” Jungkook’s teasing voice did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.

“I do believe you promised not to tease me about it if I drank two glasses of water, which I did by the way.” I told him firmly, trying to bring the words on my planner into focus as i squinted. Three meeting. Each two hours long. 

kill me now. 

“I wanted to ask HR to give you the day off but you have quite a schedule today. “ He said casually,  leaning over me to peer into the planner . I glanced at his wrist resting on the table, the expensive rolex showing that it was a little past 9. 

“ We’re planning out the Christmas campaign first and I have a meeting with Taehyung’s team in the afternoon so we can go over the contract see if they have any requirements and then the social media team in the evening at four to discuss promos and revamping the website.” I glanced up at him. 

He gave me a smile before casually leaning down, lightly gripping my chin and tilting my face up. I felt the brush of his lips against mine, fleeting and gentle. 

‘You’re beautiful.” He smiled. 

I blinked.

And then took a deep breath.

“Your wife...” I said softly. “ I saw her today.” 

Jungkook went completely still at that. 

“She was waiting in the lobby on my way up. I didn’t know who you were married to and I was a little shocked and also little upset because....” I glanced at him. “ She was my best friend in college. “

Jungkook swore. 

“Fuck.. I told her to stay the fuck away from my company. Did she say something to you?” 

i shook my head.

“I didn’t greet her because I wasn’t sure if she remembered me. And I wasn’t sure if i was remembering her right. i didn’t know she was your wife till i heard someone mention it in the elevator on my way up. Did you know that she and i knew each other?” 

Jungkook looked just a little guilty.

“When you first joined the company, she saw your resume on my cvomputer. told me a lot about you. She remembers you. Fondly. She wanted to come meet you but...things happened.  “ He shrugged.

Things like infidelity and divorces . 

“Ahh...” I smiled. “ Tell me i wasn’t another way to get back at your ex wife, Jeon Jungkook ssi...” 

He made a noise of protest.

“no... No of course not Christ...it’s just...I’ll admit she made me curious about you. She spoke of you being spontaneous and fun and wild and I’d seen you as this demure, elegant woman in the office. i was curious. I wanted to know which one was the real you. “

“Were you curious before she cheated....or after?”

“ Jang Mi...this isn’t what it looks like .. I’m done with her. She fucked my best buddy and ruined my fucking life...” He sounded pained. 

I frowned. 

“It’s hard to believe she would do something like that. The Aera i remember had a very strong moral compass.” 

“Yeah well, apparently, you can live whole entire lives with someone and never really know the person. Listen, do we really have to talk about my ex wife?” He asked, eyes shining with discomfort. 

I shrugged.

“I’m not fond of drama. I won’t tangle myself in a relationship that risks hurting a lot of people Jungkook. That’s just not the kind of person I am. I’m sorry.” 

He made a noise of impatience, shaking his head. 

“We won’t be hurting anyone... We have fun together. We like each other. We’re attracted to each other...that’s all that matters....” He said sharply.

“ If we were in our twenties , without kids ....maybe. But that's not how it is now. I have a son, you have a daughter and I think I’m not completely over my marriage yet.” I said softly. 

He froze.

“And i don’t think you’re completely over your wife either.” I smiled.

He glared at me. 

“Ex-wife.” He snarled.

“She makes you feel things, Jungkook. You need to sort that out before you start something new with someone else. I’m only saying this because we’re old enough not to 

He growled and punched the desk. 

“God, how can she keep ruining my life even when she’s out of it.” He muttered, stepping away from me and moving to the door. 

I watched him storm out of my office and bit my lip. 

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

By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted. But the day had been productive and I was happy because the contract had been finalized, the theme had been decided and we’d also spent an amazing three hours redesigning the website. Although it wasn’t in my job description I had studied web design in college and the creative department always welcomed my inputs. 

“You’re in a good mood...” Taehyung’s voice was a complete surprise and I turned to him, shocked. He was dressed in a black t shirt and blue jeans and sneakers and looked a whole decade younger. 

I felt affection rise up my throat so fast I nearly choked. 

“What are you doing here?”

“My agent told me you guys were incredibly cooperative today. She also told me you were quite possibly the loveliest woman she’s ever met and that I’m an idiot to have let you go.” He smiled. 

I laughed, shaking my head and my gaze shifted to the small bunch of tiger lilies in his hand. 

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“You remembered.” I said softly, pleased. 

“Thirteen years since our first date.  The lily to my tiger. ” He held the flowers to me and I grinned, pressing the flowers to my chest. 

“Man I feel old.” I muttered.

“You are old.” Tae grinned and i grimaced, before tossing him a glare. . 

“You’re supposed to say I still look as beautiful as i did thirteen years ago.” I said. 

“But you don.t” He grinned impishly. “ You look a billion times  more  beautiful.” 

I felt the atmosphere shift, the air charged with something dangerous and i looked away. Usually, this was when I would laugh and throw my arms around him. Pull him close and press my lips against his , slip my fingers into his t shirt and trace the skin of his back. Feel his hands on my waist as he lifted me up to twirl me around and kiss me just like that. 

How often had we kissed that way? Thirteen years is a long time to count the number of kisses we’d shared. 

We both stayed quiet, looking anywhere but at each other.

“I...there’s a reason I came.” He said finally.

I glanced at him.

“Oh?”

“The lawyer. Ms. Lee she ... recommended a relationship counselor”

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. 

“Taehyung we’re-”

“Just hear me out. Its not mandatory and it won’t affect the divorce in anyway. its just something the court offers all couples going through a divorce and we’re free to refuse it. “

“Did you?” I asked. 

“Did I what?”

“Refuse it. Did you tell her no?” 

He stared at me. 

“No.” He said finally.

I exhaled sharply.

“Wow.” I whispered, feeling jittery and unbalanced. He sighed and came closer, reaching out to lightly grip my wrists. I let him tug me closer into a hug and held him tight, my heart pounding with anxiety.

“Mia.... I just... I’m not saying we should try to fix this.... relationship.” He said softly, eyes gentle and pleading, “  I just think this whole thing has taken a toll on both of us and maybe we can heal better if we get the help of a professional. Come out of this with closure. Instead of battling guilt and regrets everyday. Just ....it could help us move on. Don’t you think?”

You could never really tell what the other person is feeling. 

I couldn’t tell what Taehyung was feeling right now? 

Hope ?

Hope that we would fix our marriage....

or maybe hope that he would finally move on from me.. Maybe this whole thing was his final attempt to end things with me for good. So he could walk out of my life forever without any lingering guilt or regret. 

I would never know. 

I clung to him harder and somehow the pain of the entire two years we’d been apart, rammed into me at once. 

I choked on a sob. Breathing became difficult and I felt myself gasping for air. 

“Mia?” Taehyung’s panicked voice was the last sane thought that registered. 

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

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can stay the night if you want. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom . ” Taehyung whispered,  seated on the warm fluffy blanket that he’d managed to dig out of the closet in the spare bedroom. i was already tucked into the bed, fingers clutching the satin lined edges . 

i shook my head.

“I know how much you need your gazillion pillows. Go on... I’ll be fine.”

“i feel terrible. i pushed you into a panic attack.”

I waved off the guilty words. 

“You didn’t . i was already a little frayed and i guess i haven’t really been processing all the stuff between us the way i should have. i just got a little overwhelmed.” 

A panic attack. At the age of 32. The last time i had one I was twenty four. I wanted to crawl into the bed and never resurface. 

Taehyung’s gentle fingers , stroking my cheek brought me out of my own head. 

“I was so scared.” He said softly and my heart ached.

“I’m sorry i scared you.” I said apologetically, gripping his wrists lightly and stroking the skin there with my thumb. 

“I really want to stay. i don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I go home right now.” He whispered. 

I bit my lips. 

“Okay... but... You need to hug something. To sleep. “ 

He grinned at that. 

“I’m old enough to survive one night without a pillow, Mia .” he chuckled. 

I flushed, sinking deeper into the covers.

“Okay.” 

“You don’t have to worry about the counselor thing. I’ll tell Lee we don’t want to do any-”

“No!!” I said quickly, a lot  louder than I’d intended. 

Taehyung blinked.

“I just... I realized that I haven’t been dealing with any of this...the right way. I’m so confused and disoriented all the time and I .. I don’t mind getting some help. To sort things out. Just for myself you know...without the pressure of trying to fix...well us.” I finished .

Taehyung gave me a wide smile before bending down and kissing my forehead.

“ Okay, Mia mine. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

[thegeminisage]

🎈 ✨ for the meme!

🎈 - what’s a fic that you daydream about writing but haven’t?

ok anon, i have a lot actually so i'm gonna give you a top 5 list:

biggest one is a rewrite of the first fanfic i ever wrote, which was a HUGE 150k novelization of ocarina of time. actually, it was more of a bastardization (we called these adapts/adaptations on FFN at the time, to distinguish them from novelizations which stuck extremely closely to the source material). i had OCs, i killed off canon characters, i brought people back that should have stayed dead, it was a 14yo girl's first fic and a Whole mess...but it was the fic that got me into fic writing and i'll always love it. many years ago i tried to start a rewrite with my current adult-writer skills, but every time i've tried to get into doing that something has come up that meant it got put on hold. maybe one day...

i've had about 5 gazillion dragon age fic ideas but for some reason i only ever wound up posting little kmeme fills that have now been lost to the sands of time. so no PARTICULAR idea for this one, but one day i would be really happy to write and publish a proper dragon age fic, even if i would get crucified for whatever i write bc the dragon age fandom is just like that. idk, i just feel like it's one of the things i was MOST obsessed with that never wrung a proper fic out of me, so it leaves me with a weird unfinished feeling when i think about it that i'd really like to rectify someday.

(vague killjoys s5 spoilers for this one) ok so johnny from killjoys probably isn't actually aro but what if he really was aro. his whole thing in season 5 with the brainwashing and dutch made me NUTS. like does he love her or does he love her, you know? and i feel like if you're aro and you're literally incapable of that particular kind of love then being brainwashed into feeling that kind of love, along with blurring a really weird line to the person you're closest to, would be an extra level of mindfuckery on top of all of the rest of it. idk, i always really liked dutch and johnny's relationship bc it feels like one of the only examples of qpps i've ever seen outside a fanfic, so i'd really really like to just...write fanfic about it. lol

this is a weird one but i think it would be so fun to novelize dishonored. partially because the way they did daud drives me nuts and i feel like i could fix it and partially because i really like corvo. i wrote a little dishonored ficlet once and really enjoyed it, and realized that it'd probably fun to do like 80k in that pov. unfortunately the two big problems are 1. corvo spends a lot of time alone, so it's a lot of really big dialogue-less sections and 2. most of the supporting cast members are not nearly as fun/memorable as emily corvo and jessamine, so i feel like i'd struggle to make their parts interesting at all, let alone exciting. so it'll likely never happen. but i do daydream! tbh, i'd like to do more game novelizations/"""adaptations""" in general...that's sort of what i was "raised on" fanfic-wise and they were really popular when i first got an internet connection, and i started a lot of them when i was younger, so it'd be really cool to just...go back to doing that!

i had such HUGE problems with alec shadowhunters's characterization and his and magnus's relationship at the end of s2 especially re: one of them being immortal, so before s3 aired and made me hate the entire thing i really had dead ass drafted this ENTIRE fixit where alec gets cursed to age very rapidly, exploiting all his worries about a mortal lifespan beside magnus's immortal one and all his fears of looking old next a lover that will be young forever, and in order to break the curse he has to do some soul-searching about the fact that he was selfish at a few key points in season 2. which isn't a bad thing for character development lol but then they like. never address it! made me nuts! it would have alec-centric which is weird because my favorite characters are actually raphael and magnus, but there you go. highly doubt i'll ever give this one a go since i'm Over shadowhunters but it occupied a significant portion of my waking hours for a long time so i'll always be very sad it never happened.

✨ - what is your newest shiny fic idea?

probably triptych #3, actually (the one that goes in a set after to an angel, love and worship are the same thing & broken road). it's an older idea because i had it last year, but it's the first thing i'm gonna work on after envesseled is all squared away. i haven't forgotten about it! i know a lot of new people followed me for deancas content and were probably really excited about it, but envesseled has been waiting since 2012 and we've been writing it since 2013 so that has to come first. i wrote a little about it here (huge major giant spoiler warning for broken road, i highly rec reading that first lol) but one thing i haven't said about it yet is that even though michael isn't in it at all, the fic will talk about him a lot. i wish i could say more, because i know anyone who was waiting on it has had to be VERY patient, but i don't wanna give it all away before it's even started :(

[ask meme]

[feetoffire]

Captain Christopher Pike, the rec list

I had this almost finished and ready to post, and then the kitten wiped everything, so here it is, a gazillion years later than I wanted. Yay. 

Ongoing - the fic is complete, but not all chapters are posted

WIP - fic isn’t finished

Incomplete - last-updated-more-than-a-year-ago WIPs

recs under the cut; spoilers abound

AOS

Gen

Pike’s Office by AnxiouslyGoing. Poor Jim has a Tarsus related panic attack, and ends up sleeping in Pike’s office/on Pike’s lap. Academy Era, bonus appearance by Spock, dad!Pike. 2k oneshot.

Another Life by LullabyKnell. Time travel fix it for ST2009. As ever, LullabyKnell gave us a spectacular, delightfully well-written fic. Dadmiral Pike, even if he’s technically a captain at this point. No pairings, everything is platonic. 12 chapters, 61k, T. Complete. 

Watching the Cloud of Dust by AngelQueen. Pike runs into Spock Prime while seeing the Enterprise off. Cue melancholy fluff (it follows Spock Prime around like a dog). 1.7k oneshot, G.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

horizons universe by gracieminabox. Massive, massive series spanning the whole of Chris’ life. Not canon compliant, i.e. Pike Lives. “Christopher Pike, in word and in deed.” Series, 263k in seventeen parts, G-E. 

Altered Horizons by InsaneSociopath. The bar fight goes very differently because Chris gets elbowed in the face. Featuring depressed!bipolar!Chris, who is Not Having A Good Time, Emergency Department (ED) doc Bones, and mother-hen!Jim. Phil is essentially Sir Not Appearing In This Fic, but he and Chris are married. Seven chapters, 14k, G. Incomplete. I adore this one. 

When Darkness Drifts by InsaneSociopath. Tarsus fic. Jim gets adopted by Starfleet but still ends up on Tarsus, except Chris is there. All Tarsus-related warnings apply. Jim and Chris centric; Phil is most present in the last few chapters. Six chapters, 44k, M. Complete. 

Kinktober 2017 by nerdqueenenterprise. What it says on the tin. Series, 13k in eight parts, T-E. Complete. 

A Vacation Long Overdue by nerdqueenenterprise. Reunion sex, mostly. They haven’t seen each other in six months, so they take leave on a remote beach. ~9k oneshot, E. 

The Weight of a Man by imachar. Another huge series charting the evolution of Chris and Phil’s relationship. Both canon compliant and canon non-compliant, so there’s a choice if you want it. Series, 174k in sixteen parts, M-E. Complete. 

shatterproof by gracieminabox. Will Make You Cry. Phil’s POV, STID compliant, featuring a picture from their early days. 4.3k oneshot, M.

Winged Desires and Veiled Persuasions by imachar. Post-Narada, ignores/was written before STID. Bones ends up hanging out with Phil and Chris at Spuhura’s wedding reception, and then the three of them have sex in Phil and Chris’ hotel suite. Pretty much pure smut. 12k oneshot, E. 

McPike

The Wind and Its Satellite by severinne. Long series, some BDSM, eventual Bones/Jim/Pike. Something of a McPike classic. Series, 186k in twenty parts, M-E.

Partridge Fallen From the Pear Tree by severinne. Post-divorce Bones works as a prostitute to make ends meet. Pike comes to town to recruit him, ends up paying for a night without knowing Bones is Bones, and then they both freak the fuck out when Pike realizes who he is. More-or-less just smut and angst. Pre-canon. Three chapters, 12k, E. Complete.

Singularities Verse by FrancescaMonterone. Bones and Pike fall in love, Pike adopts Chekov, Jim is Jim. Bonus Admirals Archer and Reed, and Archer/Reed. Mostly pre-canon, ace Pike. Series, 81k in six parts, T. WIP. 

Need by Noranem. Post STID, Pike and Bones invite Jim into their relationship and their bed. Established McPike, early days Bones/Jim/Pike. Four chapters, 12k, E. Complete. 

Pirk

See All The Stars by HoneyBeeBritt. Chris and Jim fell in love some time before Daystrom. Fluff and angst, with a happy ending promised in part four. I come back to this one regularly, especially part one. Series, 6.2k in three parts, T-M. Ongoing.

Shining On The Quay by topaz. Post-Narada through Beyond, ignores STID. Chris and Jim fall in love, get together, and figure out how to keep a relationship going when one of them is in space and the other is an admiral. Series, 32k in three parts, E. Complete. 

You Still Got Wheels, Kid by withthepilot. Yes, this is partially on here because it’s one of the few (good) fem!Pike fics. Pre-canon, Pike finds out Jim’s alive because she (not Winona or Sam) is listed as his emergency contact. Prostitute Jim. Takes place two years before canon, I think. 12k oneshot, E. 

Moments along the path by InsaneSociopath. Jim, through no fault of his own, is assigned to Pike as an aide bc Command thinks he’s a loose cannon. Pike is delighted /s. (he warms up eventually.) Some Tarsus PTSD; also a fair amount of fluff. Academy Era slow burn that goes right through to (immediately) post-Narada. 46k oneshot, M. Second chapter is artwork. Long but 100% worth it. 

How Do You Want Me, How Do You Want Me? by babykid528. Get together via smut. Feelings abound but talking about them does not. 3k oneshot, E. 

The Ocean Between Us by severinne. They get a drink in a bar. They’re both dead. Something of a get-together fic. Can and Will sucker punch you with feels. STID compliant. 1k oneshot, T.

Mutual Profusion of Good Feeling (aka Wherein the Aliens have a Flair for Mood Lighting) by kayliemalinza. This doesn’t really count as Pirk, but it’s not platonic enough for the gen category. Away mission, the premise is ‘aliens made them do it’ but there’s no sex or fade to black. Romantic, I guess? I really don’t know, but the prose is gorgeous. Also a Pike Lives/returns to the Enterprise AU. 5k oneshot, T.

Timeline Shenanigans

In plain view by IceCream_Junkie, Killermanatee. Pike/Pike. What can I say? The image of Greenwood’s Pike and Mount’s Pike together is very pretty. 2k oneshot, E.

Out of This World by TheAsexualofSpades. Space Puns. That is all. 1.1k oneshot, G. 

Discovery/quasi-SNW

Gen

A Small Storm by EKthered. Spock goes to visit his captain and ends up comforting him instead. Post Boreth. 2.3k oneshot. 

you were never broken by ordinary things by SiderumInCaelo. Michael Burnham & Chris Pike. Michael has only an inkling of what’s going on, but she manages to comfort Chris anyway. Post Boreth. 1.2k oneshot. 

Piler | Chris Pike/Ash Tyler

the chair and the badge by ninjamcgarrett. The boys are soft and in love. Lots of smut, but a fair amount of plot. Their respective traumas are addressed too, so there’s plenty of h/c. Honestly? My favorite from this pairing. Series, 59k in five parts, M-E. Ongoing. 

Reality by aishahiwatari. Initially a take on how these two idiots settled their differences, and evolution from there. Part two is post-season two of Disco. Series, 5k in two parts, E. Complete.

survival is insufficient by topaz. Post-Disco; they get together to remember Discovery’s crew, and then they get together. Traumas are addressed. Part two is a sort-of case fic, TW starvation. Series, 33k in two parts, E. WIP.

Feeling Too Deeply by NightOfTheLand. Established Piler, post-Disco season two couch sex. 6k oneshot, E. 

dancing to a beat of our own, flying with the speakers blown by wolfhalls. Neither of them want to talk about anything, aka Horrible Coping Mechanisms TM. Bottom Pike, quasi-hurt/comfort. 2.7k oneshot, E. 

Christmas in Sickbay by lah_mrh. Chris is accident- and injury-prone and has a new reason to hate spiders. Ash just wants to spend time with his boyfriend. 1k oneshot, G. 

The Pillow Will Disappear When I Forget I Put a Pillow There, Worry Not by prototype_malice. Sleepy fluff and cuddles. (they deserve it.) 665 words, oneshot, G. 

Chris Pike/Una | Number One 

it will take place without witnesses by love_in_the_time_of_kohlinahr. Post Disco, Pike is struggling with the knowledge of his future, so he and Una play chess until stupid o’clock in the morning (as one does), and then he lowkey has a panic attack. Una POV. Also features sleepy sex, but it isn’t plot-important and can be skipped over, if you wish. 2k oneshot, E. 

Overtime by Astronoddingoff. Una has Thoughts about Chris working doubles for the better part of a week. Also men get pegged. Definite sub!Chris. 7k oneshot, E. 

Terminal Velocity by Astronoddingoff. Una pegs Chris and drags his favorite fantasy out of him. Chris is On Board with all of this. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Boyce/Pike) and hardcore switch/sub vibes from Chris. 6.8k oneshot, E. 

All for One by knightinmourning. D/s universe, where Pike had/has to hide the fact that he’s a sub to make (and stay) captain. Mostly reccing for part two, which has a fair amount of hurt/comfort (and also hints at threatened sexual assault and definite torture; be forewarned). Technically also Chris/Phil and Chris/Spock, but there’s no pairing sex, and part two is entirely Una’s POV. Series, 4.2k in two parts, M-E. Probably incomplete. 

A Gentle Touch by jedi_harkness. Chris and Una shower together. Body worship, no sex. So Much Fluff (and also happy tears). It’s super sweet. 1.7k oneshot, T.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

Decompression by Astronoddingoff. Chris is elated by a recent treaty success and the time spent dirtside. Phil does his best to make him even happier. Lowkey sub Pike. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Pike/One). 3.5k oneshot, E. 

Most Pike/Boyce fics fall under the AOS tags

Una/Phil/Chris

Triangulate by Astronoddingoff. Sex pollen, but they’re already-kind-of-mostly in an established relationship. Recent miscommunications lead to angst. They all love each other and they’re all idiots. Lowkey sub Pike. Two chapters, 20k, E. 

Holy by Astronoddingoff. Self-actualizing featuring religious guilt/conflict, i.e. Pike is a sub and religion is weird about enjoying yourself. 2.7k oneshot, E. 

Happy Birthday by MeganMoonlight. It’s Phil’s birthday. Cue breakfast in bed. 530 word oneshot, G. 

[sararaiden]

Redamancy

A post-canon gintsu fanfic. All the flower talk references the Hanahaki disease (since this is a tie-in of an okikagu multichap that had the Hanahaki as a plot device). AO3 link.

It takes them some time to decipher who is the early riser, and in all honesty, it depends on many things. It has to do with the long nights at the pachinko parlor getting more and more sporadic until they are only an excuse for Hasegawa to unwind from his job, in which Gintoki obliges because that’s what friends are for.

Tsukuyo still has to bail him on those nights.

Or maybe it has to do with him drinking less and less alone since it will be a shame to waste the sake Hijikata gives her. So, she pours it for him, and it becomes a sacred ritual at dusk instead of a way to drown his sorrows. Or, perhaps, this is about his empty house and how he was drawn to her, desperate to have an excuse to quell his screams at night now that Kagura was gone. In the end, he stays at her place for weeks, even if that meant fewer hours of sleep because he has to drive back to Kabukicho.

(Until Kondo started coming too and then he had an excuse to freeload on the police’s gasoline and sleep some more on the way back).

Perhaps that will change now that his daughter is back. He realizes that he hadn’t taken her to his house as much as he had liked while he could —because Kagura is still his little girl and she doesn’t need to know how much he wants to ravish Tsukuyo on his desk. Then, he remembers her tired face and her beautiful laugh at Otose’s all those nights they spent at Kabukicho just to be there, only for them to return to Yoshiwara, sometimes drunk and stumbling, sometimes sober and embracing each other in the quiet of the dawn, and he supposes that is enough for the time being. They can’t know who the early riser is when they don’t even take off the day’s clothes before going to sleep and get up because one of them managed to kick the other.

They can’t know it either when Tsukuyo takes those crazy shifts, sometimes at night, sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes by day. He has spent months playing pachinko with this: will she be at his side when he wakes up? Will she even come? Their sleeping schedule is so messed up and so unnatural they don’t even bother trying to learn the other’s pattern. Whenever they remain awake plagued by their thoughts doesn’t count either as getting up for they didn’t even get to sleep. It is like this that the fact remains clouded in mystery, much to Hinowa’s chagrin.

It is, indeed, a mixture of a gazillion of circumstances. But one thing is for sure: it reveals itself when he doesn’t waste away his nights in solitude, when the life outside his futon beckons him with all its colors —even if Kagura is away, and the day Tsukuyo starts loosening on the workload she puts on her back and fits herself into his routine too.

Gintoki is the early riser. For one thing is sure: saving cats from trees is less tiring than beating the ever-loving shit out of some thug. If only she knew how good she looks when her palm sends the head of the idiot in case bobbling backward…

Yes, Gintoki follows her sometimes, like a stupid Gorilla stalker.

(Oh, how low the mighty have fallen).

Not because she needs saving, but because he’s bored, and Tsukuyo and her girls know how to put on a spectacle. And still, whatever she is capable of doing in the field stands no chance against what she does to him with her mere presence, the slow rise and fall of her chest, and the sunrays painting gold her hair.

He is glad he gets up earlier than her. With this Gintoki can steal a few moments from her day and not feel guilty about it. He can steal her from Yoshiwara’s claws; the Red District is lucky he still has some shame. Gintoki doesn’t pretend —could never, in fact, know what she thinks but he is aware of this much: Tsukuyo still shares him with everyone who needs him. She’s that selfless.

He, on the other hand, wants to steal her from Paradise. Shame and the utter respect he has for her are stopping him from doing so.

His hand brushes against her forehead, pulling her fringe away to reveal the scar. The marred tissue never made her ugly, but he had a hard time trying to grasp the meaning behind it, just to realize later that she was far braver than him. It is easy to throw yourself into the pits of danger, wishing that maybe your life would end gloriously. It isn’t so easy, however, to cast a part of yourself away for the sake of duty.

It is beautiful, that with her he doesn’t want to fall to pieces, not anymore, and that with him, she can be whole again.

“Creep.” Her voice is hoarse, a blend of the tobacco and the morning sleepiness. She raises her hand from under the covers and grabs him by the wrist. Gintoki just smiles, lazy and unapologetic. “Don’t tell me ya haven’t slept, Gintoki.” There’s a veiled threat in her words yet she loosens her grip and drawls her fingers across the calloused skin of his hand’s palm.

Taking the route of the playful banter is second nature to him, just like kicking asses —his included, is to her. “You didn’t let me, you Terminator, remember?” He slides his fingers between hers and encloses her hand in his, like a predator. He feels the ring biting into his skin; it’s so cold, just like her. Or, to be more precise, how she wanted to be, just that he didn’t let her, and now here they are. Tsukuyo has that sweet expression of complete shame plastered across her face. “Poor Gin-san works his ass off and instead of letting him rest you decide to mounfhgth!”

He licks her hand, but it's futile; she acts like a maiden but she’s hardly disgusted by the actions themselves, just at the mention of them. “Ya are one boastful moron.” She releases his mouth from its confinement and makes a face when a sunray hits her right in the eyes.

Next thing she is snuggling against his chest. It’s dark in there, just what she needs.

“I’m just proud of your stamina.” She sneaks an arm around him and smacks him in the head. “Watch it, Tsukuyo.”

“Ya watch it, Gintoki,” she grumbles against his skin, tickling him. Her lips linger a little above one of his scars, never touching him. For all the “reject womanhood” discourse she loved to throw at him back in the day, she is a courtesan at heart and knows exactly how to silence him.

(He finds it poetic, how after spending a lifetime howling at the heavens, he has finally reached them).

So, he remains silent. The only sound that fills the room is the ruffling of the sheets when he caresses her back and the distant call of a new day several stories down from where her quarters are. He ought to thank Kagura for giving Tsukuyo a mini-vacation to compensate for the ruined free day spent with Hijikata and Sofa-kun.

“Say, do you have a favorite flower?”

It is a strange question. It didn’t rob him of his sleep last night, but he figured he had never asked her. With all the drama surrounding the police captain —and Kagura, but he isn’t thinking about that right now nor does he want to, he thought about the maple leaves of her kimono.

Her voice comes out muffled by his chest. “I hate the cherry blossoms.” He knows. He’s the only one that knows.

“I asked for a favorite one, tho.”

They remain in silence again. She doesn’t get it, why it’s so important, but like many other things, she indulges him. Tsukuyo’s hums almost make him drift back to sleep, until her voice, now clear, stops him from going too far. She has one elbow on the pillow and her hand lazily supporting her head. He feels triumphant, for some reason.

“I don’t know why are we having pillow talk about flowers…” she seems to be mesmerized by how their hands are still interweaved, “but I like those that grow by the riverbank.” She scowls a bit, to which Gintoki brings his lips to her brow. “The ones that are fluffy and with many colors.” He leaves there a chaste kiss, coaxing her to relax. There’s no need for her to get stressed for not knowing how they are called.

“The hydrangeas, aha.” He recoils in time to catch the suspicious glare she regales him.

“I didn’t take ya for a flower enthusiast, Gintoki.”

He isn’t. It’s just that some memories can’t be purged, nor does he want to. It’s funny those are her favorite ones, or at least, the ones she likes the most.

“I’ve lived ten years with Otose.” That in itself, isn’t an answer. Even so, she doesn’t need one. She had let go of his hand and now is combing through his perm with lazy strokes. “They grow on her husband’s grave.” Her movements do not falter. “And we had them by the fence at the temple school, too.” She doesn’t still, doesn’t look at him with pity, doesn’t even look him in the eyes. She lets him bare himself while she continues to mess his hair.

Truth is, she made a mess out of him a long time ago, when Yoshiwara was as dark as his life before the kids came into it.

“Yoshiwara needs a bit of green,” she comments casually. Tsukuyo drops her hand and turns away, reaching for her pipe, and Gintoki pretends he didn’t see her soft smile. She sits up and takes his yukata, draping it over her shoulders. Her fingers lighten the kiseru with grace. “We can plant them in the main avenue.” The tobacco smoke fills the room almost immediately. He doesn’t care anymore. “And then you can plant the ones you like.”

Always the tsundere, avoiding asking the real questions.

He stretches, and circles her waist, his hands resting on her thighs and his chin on her shoulder. He follows the swirly pattern of the cloth, thinking.

“I can’t plant maple leaves, Tsukuyo.”

[kingstylesdaily]

Stevie Nicks Answers All Our Questions About Harry Styles

Of all the disciples to worship at the altar of Stevie Nicks, none have managed to capture the attention of rock’s reigning priestess quite like Harry Styles.

The 26-year-old rocker (who this week received three Grammy nominations) is the Gucci-clad poster boy carrying the torch for a bygone era of music history that the Fleetwood Mac frontwoman helped crystallize. Styles recently cited the group’s 1977 (and still charting) classic “Dreams” as one of the first songs he learned the words to growing up. Their friendship began in 2015 after the former One Direction member presented his idol with a hand-piped birthday cake after a Fleetwood Mac gig in London. (“Glad she liked carrot cake,” he later said.) The years since have seen the duo’s mutual affection blossom into one of pop culture’s most cherished bondings.

Last year, when Styles inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, he proclaimed the 72-year-old “everything you’ve ever wanted in a lady, a lover, in a friend.” Nicks has gushed about him in interviews as everything from “the son she never had” to her “love child” with bandmate Mick Fleetwood. Styles earned her official seal of approval after covering “The Chain” every night of his first solo tour in support of a record that sounds closer to Crosby, Stills & Nash than anything he released under his prior band.

“Harry could’ve lost a lot of fans, but he didn’t,” Nicks recently told Vogue over the phone. “I’m so proud of him because he took a risk and didn’t go the One Direction route. He loves One Direction, I love One Direction, and a gazillion other people do too, but Harry didn’t wanna go the pop route. He wanted straight-up rock and roll circa 1975.”  

Nicks has been embracing some of the busiest years of her dual careers as both Fleetwood Mac frontwoman and solo sorceress—and doing so amid a global pandemic. Since she last performed with Styles at the Forum for his Fine Line release show in December, she’s released a 24 Karat Gold concert film and “Show Them the Way,” her politically minded single and first piece of original music in six years. After Miley Cyrus asked for Nicks’s blessing before releasing her “Edge of Seventeen”–tinged “Midnight Sky,” the two joined forces for an exhilarating new mash-up titled “Edge of Midnight.”

In honor of Styles making history as the magazine’s first solo cover boy, Nicks caught up with Vogue to answer all our questions about their cosmic connection. Currently beachside with her quarantine bubble in Hawaii, she’s been doing what one would expect Stevie Nicks to be up to during a pandemic: writing new music, dancing around her house to “Watermelon Sugar,” and “casting little spells.” As befitting rock’s foremost storyteller, our intended 30-minute chat turned into a two-hour confessional about her love of Styles, working with Cyrus for the first time, joining Fleetwood Mac, the president-elect Joe Biden, the Met Gala, betta fish funerals, and much more.

ksd note: edited to only include Q&A about Stevie and Harry!

Did you get a chance to look through Harry’s cover story yet?  

Right before I called you, I sat here and looked at all the pictures on my new iPad. What can I say? That’s my Harry. I think the thing that’s most wonderful about him—and I’ve told him this, and sometimes I think he takes it the wrong way—is that he’s such a kooky guy. He’s the type of person you’d wanna live next door to. He’d look out the window, see you having a hard time planting flowers, and rush out asking, “Can I help you with those roses?” “Sure, but you are Harry Styles, right?” That’s who he is.

I really only know him to a certain extent, but I have gotten to experience some big moments in his life, like when he released his first solo record at the Troubadour. I always think of Tom Petty saying, “So, you wanna be a rock star or you wanna be a pop star?” It’s two completely different things, and he really could have gone pop like his friend Zayn [Malik]. I was sorry that Zayn didn’t keep going more because I thought he was really good. But he took the pop route, which I think was right for him. Harry could’ve lost a lot of fans doing rock and roll, but he didn’t. Harry did a long tour with that first record and said, “I’m a different person now. I have a full-on rock band, and this is what I’m gonna do.” With many of my records, I’ll stuff down peoples’ throats until they like it, and that’s exactly what he did. Then he went away and wrote Fine Line, one of my favorite records.

What were your immediate thoughts listening to Fine Line for the first time?

Me and four of my friends sat with Harry in his living room  in London and listened to it a few times before it came out. But it wasn’t really Fine Line yet. The first time we listened to it, nobody really said anything. The second time everyone started to go, “I think this song is great, but it should be second in the sequence.” By the third listen, it was five girls screaming, “Well, Harry really now, I think you need to take these four that are called Harry Songs and do this and that—” while he’s sinking in his reclining chair thinking, Are these women ever gonna leave? Thanks for your opinions, but oh, my God, stop already.  

What changed when you heard the record in it’s finished form?

This record means a lot to me. When it was all put together, I listened and said, “Oh, my god, the Beatles live.” A whole lot of people live in these songs. Fleetwood Mac lives there. I live there. When I listen to “Fine Line,” I hear melodies that would’ve worked on “A Day in the Life. “It has that same kind of complexity. I think the Beatles would’ve thought, Here we’ve influenced a young man who took some incredible things from us and made them his own years and years later.

Earlier this year you posted a message saying that Fine Line is Harry’s Rumours. Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?

When Harry asked me to do “Landslide” with him at the Forum, I asked why, and he said, “Because I want you to be there. You were there for my first night at the Troubadour for the first record.” That night I wrote him a letter that said, “This is your Rumours so you have to really respect it and adore it because these kinds of records sometimes don’t ever come again.” Fleetwood Mac went on to make many great records, but people would bet their life on the fact that Rumours was the one. And this might just be the one for Harry. We were all kind of the same age when we made Rumours. I was 28, and Lindsey [Buckingham] was 27. I actually don’t even know how old Harry is—he’s that timeless to me.

Do you have a personal favorite of his songs?

Every one represents a different thing to me. “Sunflower” is such a great little song. He loves to do crazy videos, and one time I called him and said, “I have an idea. You’re gonna be a bee, and the sunflower would be your girlfriend, and you guys would get married and live in a beehive with your little bee children. You’d sing the lyrics ‘kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor duh duh duh’ and show this entire bee relationship.” 

What did he think of that pitch?

When I finished, the other end of the phone was silent. I said, “No, really, think about it. It’ll be fantastical like a Francis Ford Coppola movie.” He’s like, “Yeah, okay...” [laughs]. I also love the “Adore You” video with the little fish because I have my own special relationships with fish.

In what sense?

I always have two beta fish, but they have to be separated otherwise they’ll kill each other. I stick my finger into their aquarium, and the blue one will swim around my hand like a little dolphin. When my fish get old and suddenly die, I have funerals for them in my backyard where I play Celine Dion. I have them filmed, and everything [laughs]. It’s too much, but I thankfully haven’t had any recent fish deaths. I haven’t even been able to sit down and show Harry the videos of my little fish, so when I saw the “Adore You” video, I couldn’t believe it.

Why is it important for you to foster these relationships with younger artists like Harry who’ve been so openly influenced by you?

I’m inspired by them. I’m inspired that Miley wants to make music with me. I’m inspired that the Haim girls are my biggest fans—and I theirs. A lot of these kids are making the amazing records I’ve been waiting for them to make. I’m not like other 72-year-olds. I listen to current music because I want to be current. When people find out how old I am versus the music I’m listening to, they think it doesn’t gel at all. I’ve been collecting musical knowledge since I was in the fourth grade listening to the singles my grandfather used to bring home. I listened to Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers until the sixth grade when R&B radio became Top 40. I said goodbye country and hello R&B, so it’s not like I’m ever stuck on one thing. What I love about Harry is that he’s very old school but still modern. And that’s kinda like me.

You both also transitioned from massive groups to equally massive solo careers rather seamlessly.

When I decided I wanted to be a solo artist, I’d only been in Fleetwood Mac for a few years. I tried to figure out a way to do it gracefully because I didn’t wanna break up the band. I just wanted to sit at my piano and write poetry. After we did a record and a really long tour, the band scurried off to different parts of the world while I’d just be home writing songs for a year and a half. What did they care what I did while they were all on vacation? I’ve always said all the way through these two careers I’ve had: If you’re in a band first, never break it up.

Do you think One Direction would ever reunite?

I think it’s a good idea. For all we know, One Direction is completely broken up forever. But I think those guys are friends, and five or ten years down the road, they could all go, “You know what, wouldn’t it be really fun to do a One Direction tour?” Because that’s what people do. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did reunite at some point just because they can. And because it would just be fun. Harry is the kind of person who would never stomp on that idea. He would never say, [imitates posh English accent] “Never! I would never do that again!” Because why not just keep the door open?

Was there any particular detail or passage in Harry’s cover story that stuck out to you?

According to this article, he can get in a car with his friend to drive all over Europe then drive back by himself. I stopped driving in 1978 because my driver’s license expired and I’d already made a lot of money. I very smartly thought, “You know what, if someone even hits you and it’s not even your fault but you’re a little drunk, you are done. You’re finished, and the fortune that you’ve made is gone, so why should you drive anyway?” By then me and Christine were very cloistered, but Harry’s able to live a freer life because he’s a guy. He’s like Mick. He has a free life.

Would you say that you don’t?

I’m only comparing us in the way that Harry goes off to the Bahamas to work on songs, then flies back to L.A., then London, then Italy—I can’t do that. I can’t do that by myself. He’s able to do whatever he wants by himself, and it’s a whole different way of life. Being that Harry is a guy, he’s able to be a loner more than I am. As a woman, I’m not free to do all that. Even when I was his age, I couldn’t just get off anywhere I wanted. When we were on the road, Christine and I didn’t have a clue in the world what the boys did. We went to our rooms with security guys standing outside. It’s not like we ever escaped to go club-hopping in downtown Manhattan. We never got to live that life, so freedom as Harry knows it is very different than it’s been for me.

Did you ever have any figure in your life who provided some sense of mentorship the way you have to artists like Harry?

I didn’t really have anyone. If I had any guiding force at all, it probably would’ve been Christine McVie because she was five years older than me. And five years is five years, you know? Chris was friends with Eric Clapton and knew all the famous musicians in London. She’d married John [McVie] and done a bunch of records with Fleetwood Mac before I came along, so she’d been in the music business for a long time. I was breaking up with Lindsey when she was breaking up with John. She was my therapist and my go-to person for just about everything. We had each other to get through that really difficult situation where no one was gonna quit the band. Christine and I kept the whole thing together by telling the three men, “You quit because we’re not stopping” Thank God I had her, but on the other side of that, thank God she had me. We really were a force of nature.

** I’m curious to what extent fashion plays a role in your and Harry’s relationship. Have you** gifted him any accessories that were significant to you?

I actually gave him a ring at the Forum thing. It’s very masculine and has a pink stone in it. I told him it was a pink diamond, but it really isn’t. It would’ve cost $5 million. It was mine, and I really loved it, but I thought, This should be for Harry. You can see it on his hands in the “Falling” video where he’s playing the piano. If Harry and I were in a band together, we’d be trading all kinds of crazy stuff.

What are your thoughts on him being the first solo male cover in Vogue’s history?

It makes me feel so inspired. I’m extremely jealous he’s on the cover of Vogue because I’m 72 years old and have wanted to be on the cover my whole life. I’m such a magazine hag, so I’m incredibly jealous of Harry, but I’ll get over it. As far as all the crazy things he’s wearing, you do whatever you have to do to be on the cover of Vogue. I’m very proud of him, and I think it’s great that there’s a man on the cover…but I should’ve been in the corner off in the distance [laughs]. Did you know I’ve never been to the Met Gala?

We would be honored to have you at the next gala and every one after that. I’m putting this in the article to make sure it’s in the public record.

As Mick Jagger says, “We still have our freedom, but we don’t have much time.” I would like to be not much older than I am now so I can wear a fantastic outfit and entertain everybody. It’s a dream of mine, and most of my dreams have come true, but I need to not be 90 when it happens.

Harry and you could perform together.

We wouldn’t even have to rehearse. We’ve got a couple of duets that are really great. We do “Landslide” and “Two Ghosts” together really well. We actually have five or six terrific acoustic numbers that we could do at the drop of a hat.

You hinted earlier this year that there might be a role for Harry in the miniseries based on the stories of Rhiannon. Is there any update there?

This is probably the third-biggest thing I’ve ever done in my life after Fleetwood Mac and my solo career. There’s a lot to be done in the movie business before I can start riding my horses across the mountains of Wales. I’ve signed with a movie company—I’m not gonna tell you who—and we just signed a writer. I’m not gonna tell you who that is either, but there’s an amazing part for Harry. My favorite character in the series is the only man who goes through all four books. He’s a magician who doesn’t wanna be king, and I think Harry would just be so perfect.

Have you and Harry discussed collaborating on any future music together?

We’re open to making music together because we’ve been very successful when we go onstage just to do one song. I would love to be in a band with Harry, but even if I never saw him in person again, he’s made a record that breaks my heart in a million places like Fine Line. As far as music goes, there’s plenty of fun things that he and I could do. We can just reach out to each other and do it. I’m always ready to slip back into those high-heel black suede boots and become my alter ego.

via Vogue.com

[hlupdate]

Of all the disciples to worship at the altar of Stevie Nicks, none have managed to capture the attention of rock's reigning priestess quite like Harry Styles.

The 26-year old rocker (who this week received three Grammy nominations) is the Gucci-clad poster-boy carrying the torch for a bygone era of music history that the Fleetwood Mac front-woman helped crystallize. Styles recently cited the group's 1977 (and still charting) classic “Dreams” as one of the first songs he learned the words to growing up. Their friendship began in 2015 after the former One Direction member presented his idol with a hand-piped birthday cake after a Fleetwood Mac gig in London. (“Glad she liked carrot cake,” he later said.) The years since have seen the duo's mutual affection blossom into one of pop culture‘s most cherished bondings.

Last year, when Styles inducted Nicks into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he proclaimed the 72-year old “everything you’ve ever wanted in a lady, a lover, in a friend.” Nicks has gushed about him in interviews as everything from “the son she never had” to the “love child” of her and bandmate Mick Fleetwood. Styles earned her official seal of approval after covering “The Chain” every night of his first solo tour in support of a record that sounds closer to Crosby, Stills & Nash than anything he released under his prior band.

“Harry could've lost a lot of fans but he didn't. I’m so proud of him because he took a risk and didn’t go the One Direction route," Nicks recently told Vogue over the phone. "He loves One Direction, I love One Direction, and a gazillion other people do too, but Harry didn't wanna go the pop route. He wanted straight-up rock-and-roll circa 1975.”

Nicks has been embracing some of the busiest years of her dual careers as both Fleetwood Mac front-woman and solo sorceress—and doing so in the midst of a global pandemic. Since she last performed with Styles at the Forum for his Fine Line release show in December, she’s released a 24 Karat Gold concert film and “Show Them the Way,” her politically-minded single and first piece of original music in six years. After Miley Cyrus asked for Nicks's blessing before releasing her “Edge of Seventeen”-tinged “Midnight Sky,” the two joined forces for an exhilarating new mash-up titled “Edge of Midnight."

In honor of Styles making history as the magazine’s first solo cover-boy, Nicks caught up with Vogue to answer all our questions about their cosmic connection. Currently beachside with her quarantine bubble in Hawaii, she’s been doing what one would expect Stevie Nicks to be up to during a pandemic: writing new music, dancing around her house to “Watermelon Sugar“ and “casting little spells.” As befitting rock’s foremost storyteller, our intended 30-minute chat turned into a two-hour confessional about her love of Styles, working with Cyrus for the first time, joining Fleetwood Mac, the president-elect Joe Biden, the Met Gala, betta fish funerals, and much more.

Did you get a chance to look through Harry's cover story yet?  

Right before I called you I sat here and looked at all the pictures on my new iPad. What can I say? That's my Harry. I think the thing that’s most wonderful about him—and I've told him this and sometimes I think he takes it the wrong way—is that he’s such a kooky guy. He’s the type of person you'd wanna live next door to. He’d look out the window, see you having a hard time planting flowers and rush out asking "Can I help you with those roses?" "Sure but you are Harry Styles, right?" That's who he is.

I really only know him to a certain extent but I have gotten to experience some big moments in his life like when he released his first solo record at the Troubadour. I always think of Tom Petty saying "So you wanna be a rock star or you wanna be a pop star?" It's two completely different things and he really could have gone pop like his friend Zayn [Malik]. I was sorry that Zayn didn't keep going more because I thought he was really good. But he took the pop route, which I think was right for him. Harry could've lost a lot of fans doing rock-and-roll but he didn't. Harry did a long tour with that first record and said “I'm a different person now. I have a full-on rock band and this is what I'm gonna do.” With many of my records I’ll stuff down peoples' throats until they like it and that's exactly what he did. Then he went away and wrote Fine Line, one of my favorite records.

What were your immediate thoughts listening to Fine Line for the first time?

Me and four of my friends sat with Harry in his living room  in London and listened to it a few times before it came out. But it wasn't really Fine Line yet. The first time we listened to it nobody really said anything. The second time everyone started to go "I think this song is great but it should be second in the sequence." By the third listen it was five girls screaming "Well Harry really now, I think you need to take these four that are called "Harry Songs" and do this and that—” while he’s sinking in his reclining chair thinking "Are these women ever gonna leave? Thanks for your opinions but oh my god stop already."

What changed when you heard the record in it’s finished form?

This record means a lot to me. When it was all put together I listened and said "Oh my god, The Beatles live." A whole lot of people live in these songs. Fleetwood Mac lives there. I live there. When I listen to "Fine Line” I hear melodies that would've worked on “A Day in the Life.“ It has that same kind of complexity. I think the Beatles would've thought “Here we’ve influenced a young man who took some incredible things from us and made them his own years and years later.”

Earlier this year you posted a message saying that Fine Line is Harry’s Rumours. Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?

When Harry asked me to do "Landslide" with him at the Forum I asked why and he said "Because I want you to be there. You were there for my first night at the Troubadour for the first record.” That night I wrote him a letter that said “This is your Rumours so you have to really respect it and adore it because these kinds of records sometimes don't ever come again.” Fleetwood Mac went on to make many great records but people would bet their life on the fact that Rumours was the one. And this might just be the one for Harry. We were all kind of the same age when we made Rumours. I was 28 and Lindsey was 27. I actually don't even know how old Harry is—he's that timeless to me.

Do you have a personal favorite of his songs?

Every one represents a different thing to me. “Sunflower” is such a great little song. He loves to do crazy videos and one time I called him and said “I have an idea. You're gonna be a bee and the sunflower would be your girlfriend, and you guys would get married and live in a beehive with your little bee children. You’d sing the lyrics “kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor duh duh duh” and show this entire bee relationship.”

What did he think of that pitch?

When I finished the other end of the phone was silent. I said "No really, think about it. It’ll be fantastical like a Francis Ford Coppola movie.” He’s like “Yeah, okay...” (laughs). I also love the "Adore You” video with the little fish because I have my own special relationships with fish.

In what sense?

I always have two betta fish but they have to be separated otherwise they'll kill each other. I stick my finger into their aquarium and the blue one will swim around my hand like a little dolphin. When my fish get old and suddenly die I have funerals for them in my backyard where I play Celine Dion. I have them filmed and everything (laughs). It’s too much but I thankfully haven’t had any recent fish deaths. I haven't even been able to sit down and show Harry the videos of my little fish so when I saw the “Adore You” video I couldn’t believe it.

Why is it important for you to foster these relationships with younger artists like Harry who’ve been so openly influenced by you?

I'm inspired by them. I'm inspired that Miley wants to make music with me. I’m inspired that the Haim girls are my biggest fans—and I theirs. A lot of these kids are making the amazing records I’ve been waiting for them to make. I’m not like other 72-year olds. I listen to current music because I want to be current. When people find out how old I am versus the music I'm listening to they think it doesn't gel at all. I’ve been collecting musical knowledge since I was in the fourth grade listening to the singles my grandfather used to bring home. I listened to Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers until the sixth grade when R&B radio became Top 40. I said goodbye country and hello R&B, so it’s not like I'm ever stuck on one thing. What I love about Harry is that he's very old-school but still modern. And that's kinda like me.

You both also transitioned from massive groups to equally massive solo careers rather seamlessly.

When I decided I wanted to be a solo artist I'd only been in Fleetwood Mac for a few years. I tried to figure out a way to do it gracefully because I didn’t wanna break up the band. I just wanted to sit at my piano and write poetry. After we did a record and a really long tour the band scurried off to different parts of the world while I’d just be home writing songs for a year and a half. What did they care what I did while they were all on vacation? I’ve always said all the way through these two careers I've had: if you're in a band first, never break it up.

I know Beyoncé because I spent a day with Destiny’s Child making the “Bootylicious” video. I owe them a debt of gratitude because that’s the one time I ever got to pretend I played rock-and-roll guitar! But when Beyoncé made the decision to be a solo artist she did not see herself going back to Destiny's Child every couple of years. And that's a perfectly acceptable decision because sometimes that's what people wanna do. I, on the other hand, said why not have the ability to go back to Fleetwood Mac whenever I want? Being a Gemini I get bored really easily, so being able to have those two careers was great.

Do you think One Direction would ever reunite?

I think it's a good idea. For all we know, One Direction is completely broken up forever. But I think those guys are friends and five or ten years down the road they could all go "You know what, wouldn't it be really fun to do a One Direction tour?" Because that's what people do. I wouldn't be surprised if they did reunite at some point just because they can. And because it would just be fun. Harry is the kind of person who would never stomp on that idea. He would never say (imitates posh English accent) "Never! I would never do that again!" Because why not just keep the door open?

Was there any particular detail or passage in Harry’s cover story that stuck out to you?

According to this article he can get in a car with his friend to drive all over Europe then drive back by himself. I stopped driving in 1978 because my driver's license expired and I'd already made a lot of money. I very smartly thought "You know what, if someone even hits you and it's not even your fault but you're a little drunk, you are done. You're finished and the fortune that you've made is gone, so why should you drive anyway?” By then me and Christine were very cloistered, but Harry's able to live a freer life because he's a guy. He's like Mick. He has a free life.

Would you say that you don’t?

I'm only comparing us in the way that Harry goes off to the Bahamas to work on songs then flies back to LA then London then Italy—I can't do that. I can't do that by myself. He's able to do whatever he wants by himself and it's a whole different way of life. Being that Harry is a guy, he's able to be a loner more than I am. As a woman I'm not free to do all that. Even when I was his age I couldn't just get off anywhere I wanted. When we were on the road Christine and I didn't have a clue in the world what the boys did. We went to our rooms with security guys standing outside. It's not like we ever escaped to go club-hopping in downtown Manhattan. We never got to live that life so freedom as Harry knows it is very different than it’s been for me.

Did you ever have any figure in your life who provided some sense of mentorship the way you have to artists like Harry?

I didn't really have anyone. If I had any guiding force at all it probably would've been Christine McVie because she was five years older than me. And five years is five years, you know? Chris was friends with Eric Clapton and knew all the famous musicians in London. She’d married John [McVie] and done a bunch of records with Fleetwood Mac before I came along so she'd been in the music business for a long time. I was breaking up with Lindsey when she was breaking up with John. She was my therapist and my go-to person for just about everything. We had each other to get through that really difficult situation where no one was gonna quit the band. Christine and I kept the whole thing together by telling the three men "You quit because we're not stopping” Thank god I had her, but I think on the other side of that thank god she had me. We really were a force of nature.

I’m curious to what extent fashion plays a role in your and Harry’s relationship. Have you gifted him any accessories that were significant to you?

I actually gave him a ring at the Forum thing. It’s very masculine and has a pink stone in it. I told him it was a pink diamond but it really isn't, it would've cost $5 million. It was mine and I really loved it but I thought "This should be for Harry.” You can see it on his hands in the "Falling" video where he’s playing the piano. If Harry and I were in a band together we’d be trading all kinds of crazy stuff.

How did you come to decide on your all-black stage uniform?

I started getting paid when I joined Fleetwood Mac but up until then I didn't have any money to buy food. All of a sudden we were going on tour so I just packed up my normal clothes. We started eating because there was room service and there I was gaining ten pounds in the middle of the tour. I didn't fit in any of the clothes and I didn't have time to shop so when I got home I said “I can never do this again.” I knew a friend who knew a designer and I told her I needed a uniform because I can't be thinking about what I wanna wear every night. It makes it so much easier since everybody that's in Pittsburgh isn't necessarily gonna be in Philadelphia. Harry's done the same thing with his white pants and pink shirt.

What are your thoughts on him being the first solo male cover in Vogue’s history?

It makes me feel so inspired. I'm extremely jealous he's on the cover of Vogue because I'm seventy-two years old and have wanted to be on the cover my whole life. I’m such a magazine hag, so I’m incredibly jealous of Harry but I'll get over it. As far as all the crazy things he's wearing, you do whatever you have to do to be on the cover of Vogue. I'm very proud of him and I think it's great that there's a man on the cover… but I should've been in the corner off in the distance (laughs). Did you know I've never been to the Met Gala?

We would be honored to have you at the next gala and every one after that. I’m putting this in the article to make sure it’s in the public record.

As Mick Jagger says, "We still have our freedom, but we don't have much time." I would like to be not much older than I am now so I can wear a fantastic outfit and entertain everybody. It's a dream of mine and most of my dreams have come true, but I need to not be ninety when it happens.

Harry and you could perform together.

We wouldn't even have to rehearse. We've got a couple of duets that are really great. We do "Landslide" and “Two Ghosts” together really well. We actually have five or six terrific acoustic numbers that we could do at the drop of a hat.

You hinted earlier this year that there might be a role for Harry in the miniseries based on the stories of Rhiannon. Is there any update there?

This is probably the third-biggest thing I've ever done in my life after Fleetwood Mac and my solo career. There’s a lot to be done in the movie business before I can start riding my horses across the mountains of Wales. I've signed with a movie company—I'm not gonna tell you who—and we just signed a writer. I'm not gonna tell you who that is either but there’s an amazing part for Harry. My favorite character in the series is the only man who goes through all four books. He's a magician who doesn't wanna be king and I think Harry would just be so perfect.

Have you and Harry discussed collaborating on any future music together?

We're open to making music together because we've been very successful when we go onstage just to do one song. I would love to be in a band with Harry but even if I never saw him in person again he’s made a record that breaks my heart in a million places like Fine Line. As far as music goes there's plenty of fun things that he and I could do. We can just reach out to each other and do it. I’m always ready to slip back into those high-heel black suede boots and become my alter ego.

This interview has been edited for clarity and space.

[kawaiikichi]

I Would (Saiouma)

Saiouma “You have to stay awake” with happy ending for @just-a-random-shipper-passing-by and Saiouma “You can’t die, I won’t let you” for Anon! I hope you don’t mind that I combined these two requests, both of them were speaking to me for this particular one-shot.

I also apologize for the extremely long wait! I’ve been busy as heck with work, planning and working on pieces for two bangs and an exchange, and also battling with writer’s block and begging for motivation to hit me.

I feel that this one isn’t particularly angsty, but some sad stuff goes down at the beginning.

I hope you guys like it and let me know if you would like anything changed/edited! :D

*Based on this request and this request*

Title: I Would

Prompts: “You have to stay awake” and “You can’t die, I won’t let you”

Summary: Shuichi and Kokichi have a heart to heart that ultimately leads to a secret being revealed.

One-Shot Notes: Actors AU (well, to be precise, they’re drama actors; been watching a lot of Kdramas recently so there’s that)

(I’m posting on mobile due to my computer finally choosing to die on me so start reading under the emojis!)

💜💜💜💜

Blood.

That was all Shuichi could see as he held Kokichi in his arms. His white shirt was soaked in it, the gunshot wound on his stomach gushing blood. Shuichi had called the ambulance, which was arriving soon.

Shuichi choked out a sob.

“The ambulance should be here at any moment, you have to stay awake. You just have to!” he shouted.

Kokichi smiled sadly.

“Hey...don’t cry. I don’t like it when you cry, remember?” he said.

A bloody hand moved up to wipe away Shuichi’s tears, which only made him cry harder.

“You idiot...why did you have to take the bullet? Why?!”

“Because...my task was to protect you, Masahiro-kun. I can’t have you dying on me. Imagine what your parents would think if you died.”

“And what about me?! What about what I would think if you died, Shinji-kun?! I care so much about you! I don’t want you to die!”

Kokichi chuckled weakly.

“Well…” he coughed. “It is what it is.” he said.

He continued to stare into Shuichi’s eyes.

“If I do die today, I won’t regret it. I saved the one that I love, so it’s alright. I’ll be able to die happy as long as you’re alive.” he said.

Shuichi shook his head.

“No, don’t say those kinds of things. You can’t die, I won’t let you.” Shuichi told him.

Kokichi coughed more, blood spilling from his mouth.

“I’m sorry. I’m so...sorry…” he trailed off.

His eyes shimmered with tears.

“Remember...I love you, Masahiro-kun.”

Kokichi’s eyes slid shut as the life in him began to disappear. His hand fell from Shuichi’s cheek, falling to his side as his body went limp in his arms. Shuichi was paralyzed with fear.

“No...no, no, no, you can’t die. You can’t leave me like this!” he shouted.

He began to shake Kokichi’s body.

“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up!” he let out a wail. “No! Wake up! You can’t leave me alone! You can’t leave me by myself! I can’t live without you!”

He let out another heart wrenching sob.

“No! Shinji-kun!” he screamed.

“And cut!”

Kokichi’s eyes flew open and they moved from their position on the ground as applause was heard.

“Excellent! Just excellent! That was some superb acting from you two, Saihara-kun and Ouma-kun!” a girl with blue hair tied back into a ponytail and blue eyes behind white framed glasses exclaimed.

“Thanks, Shirogane-san.” Shuichi said.

“Okay!” Tsumugi clapped her hands together. “Break time! We’ll resume filming at two thirty!” she declared.

Everyone dispersed soon after, indistinct conversations filling the air. Shuichi sighed, running a hand through his hair as Kokichi spoke.

“Maaaaaaaaaan, they really overdid it with the fake blood! It was absolutely everywhere! I actually liked this outfit a lot. Such a shame that it had to get ruined like this.” he commented.

“There should be a spare one in the back, you know.” Shuichi told him.

“Oh, I was only joking. Thank god I won’t have to wear this outfit again! It goes against my aesthetic.” Kokichi stated.

He headed to the back with Shuichi following suit.

“What, you prefer wearing a gazillion patterns over something simple?” Shuichi asked.

“To be more precise, it’s checkered patterned clothes.” Kokichi corrected.

As soon as they stepped into the backstage area, they headed to their changing room. Shuichi closed the door behind him as Kokichi began to shrug off the tan peacoat he wore.

“So, where should we go for lunch this time, Saihara-chan?” he asked.

“Hm…I’m not sure. Are you in the mood for anything in particular?” Shuichi answered.

“I’m fine with anything, really. Are you in the mood for something specific?”

“Tempura sounds good right about now.”

“Then, tempura it is!”

As the white button up shirt fell to the floor, Kokichi clicked his teeth as he watched himself in the mirror.

“Ugh, this looks absolutely gross. I’m going to have to shower before we go.” he said.

“Then, go ahead. I’ll just get changed in the meantime.” Shuichi said.

Kokichi glanced over his shoulder at Shuichi as the taller male went to grab his clothes.

“Say, you did very good. It was extremely convincing.” he commented.

“I’m glad. I spent two weeks trying to perfect it.” Shuichi said.

“So Saihara-chan...say I got shot by some mafia gangster dude to protect you.” he began.

Shuichi narrowed his eyes at him.

“Ouma-kun…” he trailed off.

“I am just saying. It is only a scenario. So anyway, say that happened. Would you cry over me and beg me not to die like Masahiro-chan did with Shinji-chan?” he asked.

“I would.” Shuichi replied without hesitation.

Kokichi arched a brow.

“I think you should think about that a little more. Would you really?”

“I would. There’s no need for me to rethink it.”

Kokichi pressed his lips into a thin line as he turned away.

“You sure about that? Because honestly, it’s not like we’re close enough that we have a huge impact on each other. I’m that one actor your friends don’t want you to get close to because of my shady past and the things that I do. Heck, I get into trouble a lot for things you would never forgive, so—“

“Ouma-kun.”

Hands were placed on either side of Kokichi, trapping him against the vanity counter. Kokichi slowly rose his view, breath catching in his throat at how Shuichi stared at him through the mirror, golden eyes glinting with a seriousness that he rarely ever saw.

“I find that during the course of filming this drama that we have gotten pretty close. We go out to eat a lot, we hang out a lot, and we’ve talked to each other about things that I haven’t even told my closest friends. I feel a special connection with you that I haven’t felt with anyone else. I feel comfortable around you. And I feel so many other things around you.” Shuichi said.

“Like...like what?” Kokichi asked.

“My heart skips a beat when you smile, when you laugh, and whenever you’re close to me. I find myself looking forward to when I see you next and I’m always thinking about you.” Shuichi told him.

Kokichi’s heart hammered against his rib cage as Shuichi continued.

“As for those things that you did in the past, I don’t care. That’s all in the past and you’ve stopped doing those things now. You’re a better person. So forget what my friends think, all I care about is the current you.” Shuichi licked his lips. “Ouma-kun, why do you put yourself down so much?” he asked.

“I…” Kokichi reached up to twirl some hair around his finger. “It’s not that I’m putting myself down…” he trailed off.

“No, you are. Ouma-kun, you’re an amazing person. I don’t know what I would do if you died on me. I think I would cry a lot and miss you terribly. Honestly, just like Masahiro, I wouldn’t be able to live without you either.” Shuichi said.

“Saihara-chan...what is it that you’re trying to say?” he asked.

“I think you know what I’m trying to say, Ouma-kun.” Shuichi said.

“I don’t.”

“That’s not what your eyes are telling me.”

Kokichi bit his lip, his eyes fixed on their reflection in the mirror. Shuichi continued to stare as he spoke.

“Ouma-kun...I have feelings for you.” he said.

Kokichi’s heart raced faster at Shuichi’s soft-spoken confession. He had liked Shuichi from the first time he watched one of the dramas he starred in. But, he didn’t think that Shuichi would give him the time of day, so he tried his best to get rid of that crush.

Hearing that Shuichi felt the same way about him was enough to make him nearly combust.

“You...like me?” he asked.

“I do.” Shuichi replied.

“Since when?” Kokichi asked.

“Hm...I think it was when I saw you filming for a drama a year ago? You looked very cute that day and it was love at first sight for me. I wanted to try and get closer to you, but your schedule was very packed and my friends kept advising against getting to know you. When I heard that they were going to start working on this drama and that you had been chosen to play the role of Shinji, I went and auditioned for the role of Masahiro. I gave it my all because I wanted to act with you no matter what. When I got it, I was so excited. Not only would I be able to act with you, I would also get to talk to you and become friends with you. These feelings I had for you grew stronger over time, but I feared that if I confessed and you turned me down, things would get so awkward. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship so I kept quiet.” Shuichi explained.

“So...what prompted you to confess to me now?” Kokichi asked.

“I guess you could say it felt right.” Shuichi replied.

“I see…” Kokichi trailed off.

They fell silent. The only sounds were conversations going on outside and footsteps heading up and down the hall. Shuichi looked at Kokichi, watching how he bit his lip tentatively.

“You don’t have to answer me right away. I know that it was very sudden, so take all the time you want to think about it.” he told him.

Shuichi pulled away and Kokichi wanted nothing more than to pull him back. But, he decided against it.

“I’ll go and change. I’ll be waiting outside the studio when you’re done.” Shuichi said as he headed off to get dressed.

Kokichi could only stare as Shuichi left, his heart racing quickly. His hand flew over his chest.

“He likes me...he actually likes me…” he trailed off.

A smile made its way to his lips.

Saihara-chan likes me.

He had to stop himself from squealing in delight as he grabbed for his clothes and headed to the bathroom, excited for what would happen next.

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Island folk

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 6 | Part 7 Island folk | Part 8 >

Disclaimer: mention of late motherhood worries

Author’s note: This story is just so much fun to write. I set a scene and *BOOM* it just kind of writes itself. Now, I don’t know how long this writing craze will continue, but so far you can expect an update every day. You read that right; every day! 

Word count: 1.525

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers,

Dark are the abysses of my heart sometimes, and I know that keeping those thoughts under lock and key only make things worse. And so, for the first time on this blog, I’d like to share something really, truly personal with you. A little snippet of my thoughts for a tender of your time, I’d like to come clean about my most recent Google search which I did late last night, after hours of laying awake.  

Late motherhood.

Why? You may wonder. Well, with my relationships continuously failing and the years - and candles - slowly adding up to my birthday cakes, I feel the increasing unease in my heart whenever I come to think of having a family of my own. Will it happen? And if so, am I not too late already? All my friends and family members had their first children in their late 20s, yet here I am, the oddball, single Pringling through life at 37.

It was about 3 AM late last night when I found myself quelling my nerves by looking at pictures of older female celebrities having kids at the “ripe old age of 35”, which in my book is still super young, but of course we are looking at Hollywood standards here. And, to be quite frank, I’m not sure if it helped me, but at least it did offer me the slightest sliver of hope as I found that I’ll probably just need a little luck, good preparation..and perhaps a donor, to make my wishes come true.

Research is required.

But, let’s not get carried away just yet. I know what I want, now all I need to give myself is time. Time to listen to my heart and learn if this is truly it, time to investigate my options a little more and time to sleep. Because honestly, Google is one hell of a click-through trap when you can’t sleep - I may or may not have ended up falling asleep to videos of laughing foxes, which are truly..the cutest. In case you want to look it up and dare to delve into the time consuming trap that is watching random Youtube videos, then search for: “Finnegan fox”.

Hi-la-ri-ous.  

Also; apparently chocolate cakes have internet access. So, aherm, hello and welcome to my little writing den, oh mysterious chocolate cake of mine!

A very sleepy, but glad to have this off her chest,

Ali

The waves broke softly onto the shoreline as the wind tugged gently on my hair, my pen scribbling away on the paper notebook on my lap. For some odd reason I found it much more comfortable to write by hand, and so whenever the mood struck and I found the time, I snuck out to my little beach hide-out and started to write. This time it was for work, but sometimes I also worked on smaller fictional stories, the very act of writing calming my nerves considerably.

I looked up when I heard the sound of slushing feet through the fine sand, the distinct vibrations telling me someone was approaching me with slow, dragging feet. And.. it appeared to be not just anyone.

Henry.

So very suddenly I felt terrible about posting that blog this morning. Had he read it? Would he start a conversation about it? I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to have that conversation with him right now. We were at best just dating, our newly rekindled friendship slash relationship only a few days young.

He stifled a yawn as he plopped down beside me on the picnic blanket, his eyes sporting large dark circles beneath them, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked me over. I sniffled, shaking my head at the fact that we both had barely slept - obviously.

‘Mornin’.’ He grumbled, a gentle smile reaching his lips, his body leaning forward, but halting mid-morning kiss. Almost automatically I closed the distance, my hand moving aside my notebook so I could lean in, lips brushing over his, which apparently was just what he needed, his lips curling up in a full smile. ‘Hi.’ I whispered into his lips, then leaned back, tucking some rogue curl behind his ear before studying him better. Once more he wore a blue shirt - he had a gazillion of those, didn’t he? - and some dark jeans, his hair fresh and messy straight out of bed.

’So…no sleep then?’ I inquired, watching him as he slowly moved his gaze towards the rolling waves before us. ‘Nope.’ ‘How come?’ ‘Hmm..’ He thought aloud. ‘..I suppose it is difficult to just stop my life right dead in its tracks.’ He sighed.

‘What’s up Hen?’ I scooted closer to him, fingering a hand through his curls, his eyes closing as he revelled into the simpleness of my touch.

‘I have to fly back to London for the weekend. There’s this event that my manager can’t seem to cancel without serious repercussions and..’ He sighed again. ‘You don’t want to go.’ ‘Not really no. But I will have to. The fox videos helped by the way.’

My heart summersaulted at his words - not only because he apparently read my blog, which wasn’t entirely surprising, but also because he was showing so much vulnerability. This large bear of a man was being honest about the things that frustrated him, something I had never experienced with previous partners. They’d always just burst out in flames all of a sudden, without giving me any fair warning before hand.

‘Hmm..’ I hummed, thinking. His eyes were still staring out to the sea, soft waves cascading in similar shades to his cerulean irises. He truly seemed to be a bit done with it all. 

‘I’ve got some swimming pig videos at the ready too.’ I added, laying my head onto his shoulder and wrapping both my arms around his large chest, wishing to comfort him a little. ‘Hehe..swimming pigs.’ He chuckled, his chest vibrating with near silent mirth. ’Yea..can you imagine? Those tiny, tiny legs kicking through aquamarine water, their noses sticking out the water like living, breathing, skin coloured electricity points. Oink oink!’

Henry’s chuckle turned into rumbling laughter, his shoulders shaking until he finally looked back at me, my head still resting on his shoulder. ‘Ali..I ..eh..know this is maybe a bit weird, but, would you perhaps like to join me? To London? Leaving Friday night, back Sunday morning?’

I sat up, my brown eyes staring into his deep blues. Tender, hopeful blues. ‘Hmm.’ I hummed, blinking for a moment as I mulled over his words.

‘I know it’s all going fast and I don’t want to pressure you.’ He added.

‘No, it’s okay. It’s ehm..okay. Yea, sure, I’ll come. I haven’t been to London in ages and don’t have weekend plans anyways.’

‘Ages?’ ‘Naa..okay..maybe not ages. More like months.’ I snorted. We both laughed until finally my eyebrow quirked up. ‘So..what kind of event are you ..or we..going to?’ Henry smiled, leaning in to kiss me, the sound of my fluttering heart drowning out all else around us.

The answer to my question didn’t matter, I was simply very happy that I could join him and finally get a sneak peek of his usual life. Henry’s life.

—

‘I’m still amazed at the fact that you managed to pack all your things in that one backpack.’ Henry grinned, pushing my backpack in the overhead storage locker in First Class. I grinned in turn, shrugging my shoulders as I sat back in my seat. ‘Oh you know. I don’t mock about. No need to bring the unnecessary.’

‘You’d make for a fine traveller.’ He admitted, plopping down in his seat, right next to me, his hand quite instantaneously interlacing with mine - he didn’t even seem to think about it -, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips as he watched two business men enter, taking their seats a few rows ahead, leaving us plenty of privacy.

Slowly, he cast me a curious glance. ‘What is it, dear?’ He asked, noticing my studious look, his smile growing and his blue eyes sparkling.

‘Mmm..just wondering. You probably thought about this far better than I have thus far. But if you’d start a family..how would that..go? Like..-‘ ‘The travelling and stuff?’ ‘Yea.’

Henry leaned into the headrest, his head tilting up slightly as he licked his lips. ‘It’s going to take some back-and-forthing with my partner. And it won’t be easy. It will not only be my children that will give you broken nights, you see.’ He grinned and my heart fluttered at his words - children! -, yet my mouth remained sealed, waiting for him to continue. He sighed. ‘I..would definitely slow down my career. For the longest time I didn’t even think of that as a possibility. But like you wrote quite perfectly; all my friends and family members had their children young and here I am..the oddball. I know I should not press my luck by demanding my partner to give up everything for me. That is just not fair.’

‘Give and take.’ I added.

‘Yes, give and take.’ He smiled at me, his large warm hand squeezing mine gently. It felt nice. ‘Okay..so another question. You live in London right?’ ‘Mostly, yes.’ He nodded, making me grin. ‘Yea yea..Superman has several mansions and a jet setting career that makes you quiver right back into your 2-bedroom flat.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘But all joking aside..why did you chose to stay with your parents, now you requested a “time-out”?’

Henry shifted in his seat, his smiling face turning to one holding a more serious expression. ‘I’m from the island baby. And I will always, ALWAYS return to the island. It is my one true home after all.’  

--

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[barksonq]

Hi I haven’t posted for a gazillion years, this is my new MTA, have fun with my new style, please commission me if you can !!

[frazzledsoul]

Thanks for tagging me @dollsome-does-tumblr even though I haven't written fic in a gazillion years.

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

The first thing that hit Rory Gilmore when she woke up was an overwhelming sense of vertigo.

The migraine was encroaching on the borders of her skull soon followed.

Where was she?

(The Morning After, Gilmore Girls, post series, Rory/Jess, or what happens when two not-quite-stepcousins hook up and everyone in Stars Hollow debates whether they should be encouraging this or not)

The first time they tried a real relationship again, it was a disaster.

He hadn't seen or talked to her for five years. Part of him regretted that a little, but she did say no, and he knew he had to start fresh if he was going to make any sort of clean break from the family legacy that had claimed him long before he was born.

(The Dynastic Plan, Gilmore Girls, AYITL era, Rory/Logan, or Logan explains to us why he could not get his shit together with Rory during AYITL)

Luke first noticed that something was amiss when he picked April up from the airport.

It was the middle of spring and she was wearing a turtleneck, a baseball cap, and sunglasses. When he asked her about it, she shrugged and claimed she thought that Connecticut was having a late winter spell, which didn’t sound right to him at all.

(The Cactus Incident, Gilmore Girls, post-series, in which Luke learns about the avian misadventures of one of his offspring)

“This has gotten completely out of control.”

Lorelai glanced up at her husband from where she was sequestered at her usual table by the window, surrounded by her laptop, piles of eclipse glasses in various colors, assorted boxes and tubes sprinkled in glitter and confetti, and a pile of streamers that had half fallen to the floor.

“This is a major celestial event, Luke”, Lorelai insisted. “A once in a lifetime opportunity to escape the daily drudgery of life to celebrate standing in the middle of the street for two hours and looking at the sky while we are treated to the spectacle of the universe pretending to usher in the doomsday a way too significant portion of the population are eagerly anticipating at any given moment –“

Luke put up his hand. “I get it.”

(A Convergence of Fancies, Gilmore Girls, Rory/Jess overtones I guess, post-AYITL, or Stars Hollow celebrates the 2017 solar eclipse, Rory is a sleep deprived new mom, and Lorelai is concerned because her family is watching too much Game of Thrones, aka the most chaotic thing I have ever written and I'm sorry)

Richard Lucas Gilmore’s second Independence Day celebration was turning out to be a lot better than his first.

For one thing, he was actually awake for it.

Rory’s pregnancy had stretched a week and a half past its original due date, leading to the delivery of her squalling bundle of joy on a humid June morning after fifteen hours of labor.

(Independence, Gilmore Girls, post-AYITL, in which Luke and Lorelai celebrate Independence Day with their combined offspring and toddler grandson and Lorelai confronts her impending empty nest syndrome)

Lorelai had thought that sending Rory off into the adult world would make her feel like her heart was being ripped out of her chest.

She had been dreading it for days, weeks, maybe even years. Despite what everyone had told her when she was a newly knocked-up teenager, she still felt that those first eighteen years raising Rory as she grew up herself had been the easy part.

(Full Circle, Gilmore Girls, post-series, in which Lorelai and Rory go through the same major milestones at the same time)

The fall of 2017 was turning out to be quite a revelation for Lorelai Gilmore-Danes.

She had never loved fall quite as much as she loved winter. Sure, there was the crispness wrought by the change of seasons and the concurrent excuse to shop for brightly colored sweaters and boots.

(The Grandparents, Gilmore Girls, Luke/Lorelai, post-AYITL, or Rory's love triangle and parenting woes as seen through Luke and Lorelai's eyes)

Few enterprises seemed to be designed with a specific target in mind quite as much as Facebook was for Lorelai Gilmore.

It caught her a little by surprise. Sure, she knew the basics of using a computer to run her business and control her finances. She could be disciplined and organized when she absolutely needed to be, and there was little use in clinging to outdated technology.

(Boundaries, Gilmore Girls, Luke/Lorelai, post-AYITL, or Luke and Lorelai try to rebuild their relationship and are very angsty about it)

Luke and Lorelai's third Valentines Day as a married couple started in the usual way.

It was usually their tradition to spend the holiday at home, but this year they had departed for Luke's cabin on the lake to spend a few days by themselves before the rest of the family joined them on Sunday. It was a beloved, time-honored tradition between the two of them to devote this day to each other to celebrate with their own brand of fanfare. Their adult children knew to stay very far away from them during this time.

(A Season of Peace, Luke/Lorelai and Rory/Logan, post-AYITL, in which Luke and Lorelai spend a weekend in the snow with their brood and we get an update on the younger generations's relationship statuses)

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm pregnant."

She turned to face me. Gap-mouthed. Shocked. Disappointed. Humiliated.

This was not how I planned to share this news.

(A Simple Twist of Fate, Gilmore Girls, AU but fairly canon adjacent, in which Jess is Rory's baby daddy and Rory discovers that he has not exactly been solely pining for her in the years they were apart)

Jess didn't exactly intend to introduce his daughter to professional sports in this manner.

For the most part, he and Rory weren't quite the stereotypical thirtysomething hipster couple that they sometimes appeared to be. Sure, Rory was still occasionally breast-feeding after seven and a half months, and you could find quinoa and kimchi in their fridge stocked next to the baby food and hoagies.

(Home, post-AYITL, Rory/Jess, a "fast forward" of ASTOF in which Rory and Jess raise their daughter in Philadelphia and try to avoid admitting that they are no longer hip)

Lorelai Gilmore's journey to becoming an active participant in Stars Hollow town life was a bumpy one.

She stepped off of the bus in Stars Hollow a few months after her eighteenth birthday, freshly divorced and clutching her almost two-year-old daughter by the hand, determined to talk herself into whatever opportunity presented itself to her. She wasn't able to work on her charms on Taylor Doose at the grocery store, or Fran Weston at the bakery, but William Danes at the hardware store gave her directions to the inn at the outskirts of town and an offer to work the counter at his store if things didn't work out.

(Beginnings, Gilmore Girls, pre-series/AU, Luke/Lorelai, in which Lorelai and Luke's parenting situations are reversed: she and Christopher are divorced and he is involved in Rory's life but Luke is raising April by himself after Anna flaked out, and they start to bond)

Lorelai Gilmore Danes didn't expect to have empty nest syndrome hit her quite like this.

She'd spent much of her adult life – even long before she was technically an adult – tethered to Rory's side and not regretting a second of it. Then Rory was grown up and off exploring the world, and she was settled down with Luke in their unconventional but happily domestic manner.

(Glimpses Through the Looking Glass, Gilmore Girls, drabble series that goes all over the place based on #NationalFillInTheBlankDay)

Ted and Robin's seemingly long-awaited reconciliation lasted just short of six months.

Five months, three weeks, and two days, to be exact. Not that anyone was counting, least of all Robin.

(Making It Easy, How I Met Your Mother, Barney/Robin, post-series, in which Robin figures out that dating a widowed Ted is actually a very bad idea)

In the end, it was decided that the best way to resolve the battle for the Iron Throne was to dissolve it completely.

It had been a savage war, far more savage than any of its players had fought up to this point. Euron and Cersei were dead.

(The Calm, Game of Thrones, post-series but written halfway through season 8 so it doesn't include any of the stuff that people hate, in which I come up with a solution to the Jonerys dilemma that no one liked but it was still better than canon)

Summer finally bloomed beyond the wall five years after Jon Snow had crossed it for the last time.

Sometimes it seemed to him that everything before those five years was nothing more than a half-remembered dream. He had braced for his departure for the wall half-hopeful: at least this grand march towards kingship, the burden of unwanted responsibilities, the dread in his chest as he wondered if he would survive to the end of the latest war was over.

(After, Game of Thrones, post-series, Jon/Tormund, or in which Jon Snow is living happily ever after beyond the wall with his ginger, his dog, and a family of his own because I am in charge and I say so)

“You’re still shit at that, you know,” Tormund whispered in Jon’s ear.

Magritte snickered from the other corner of the main room of their cabin where she was roughhousing with Ghost. Alsi sighed beside her, picking up her bow from where it was lying beside her and inspecting it for flaws.

(The Line, Game of Thrones, post-series, Jon/Tormund, in which Jon is still living happily ever after but takes his family to visit Queen Sansa)

The images solidified in Jaime’s mind as he made his way through the streets.

Charred skeletons. Screaming children. Rampaging soldiers. Blood. Smoke. Mangled limbs. Chaos. He couldn’t keep any of it straight.

(The Lion and the Snow - Snapshots, Game of Thrones, AU, Jaime/Brienne, in which Jon is King, Jaime is the Hand Without A Hand, Brienne is the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, they are all disasters, and I am not telling this story in order)

Tormund didn’t intend to get seriously involved with anyone when he moved to King’s Landing.

It had been a rough couple of years. Hell, the entire last decade had been its own special blend of unexpected pleasure and slow, turgid, relentless episodes of confusion and pain. That was adulthood, he supposed. Always one damn thing after another.

(The Dragon Heist, Game of Thrones, modern AU, in which single dad Tormund - Brienne is his baby mama - falls in love with art student Jon Snow and there are lots of coparenting shenanigans)

Patterns: Gee, I like to start these stories off with long, complicated explanations of everyone's relationship status.

Favorites: I guess that would be starting off The Morning After with Rory half-horrified at what she has gotten into. I also like dropping right in on Jonmund domesticity in The Line.

Tagging: @fineosaur, @seethemflying, @aliveanddrunkonsunlight, @janiedean, @angel-deux-writes, @littlerockerao3, @istaricelebelasse, @tormundjonthings, @sdwolfpup, and anyone else who feels like it (apologies if y'all have already been tagged)

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

Submitted:

[AHPF Note: More lengthy Priyanka discussion. Hopefully, the break works.]

I said “Too many hookups with married costars” which is actually par for the course in Bollywood and no one bats an eyelid when it’s men going through women. Amitabh Bachchan for example. Revered as a living god. Cheated on his wife left right and center.

I haven’t done my research??? Plant, I’m from the region, speak the language, watch the movies without subtitles btw and have followed these people through their gazillion glam ups and makeovers over 20+ years when they were all 6 shades darker and had their original faces. PC didn’t just pop up on my radar because she married a Jonas. I doubt more than 5% of people here even know who Shahrukh Khan is or his wife’s name.

Hooking up with married costars = wrong but let’s not tar and feather someone just because you don’t like her. Priyanka is thirsty af but my point is she doesn’t need to yacht for money or connections which ALLEGEDLY is what MM was doing. She didn’t need connections to get her foot into Bollywood. She got the Miss World title at PEAK pageant mania in India when a slew of girls won back to back titles. They all got a couple of big movies automatically. Only a few made it to the top.

In her native language, she’s a decent (not GREAT) actor. Allegedly she was run out by Gauri but that’s because she finally tangled with someone who could shut her down there “for a while”, but a) the Bollywood rumour mill is on warp speed compared to HW. There’s no confirmation of that but yes she was disliked by a bunch of BW wives and there’s no solid confirmation apart from a few vague posts that were blown out of proportion and b) PC desperately wanted to be the first Indian to break into Hollywood. She moved for that crap FBI show after a solid run of some of her best performances in BW movies.

Again, I do NOT like her, in the “when you’re not in a movie, get out of my face, because you’re too extra” way, but she’s no MM.

As for her marriage, it’s weird. That’s all I got to say.

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Thanks for the clarification, but I feel “yatching” covers a lot of ground and would include sleeping with industry people to get roles which Priyanka supposedly did both in BW and during her HW entry point. Her first try at fame in the US was actually through music and I remember rumors about an affair with Pitbull. That’s when I first heard of her. I still feel “yatching” fits, but I guess it depends on how you define the term.