#one direction dentist imagine

[1d1195]

Toothpaste I

For you: 🐱 I hope you are feeling better and this is a little something to make you happy. Been thinking about this for a while.

~1.6k words

“Okay, don’t write emails to dentists when you’re in pain,” she shook her head tilting her head back to look at the ceiling.

Dr. Styles chuckled. His laugh was warm, like a chocolate fountain. Or a blanket on a cold January day. “I don’t have patients on Wednesdays,” he murmured.

Twenty-eight was her least favorite number. She dreaded the entire year when she finally hit her twenty-eighth birthday. It seemed like an entire year was going to mock her and she was right.

She got two cavities that year.

Twenty-eight was the number of teeth she had left after her wisdom teeth were pulled when she was sixteen. Twenty-eight was the number of brackets on her teeth that held her braces together when she was eighteen. Cavities plagued her. Sensitivity. Special mouth wash and special toothpaste were needed for the upkeep of her teeth.

When the pain started in her mouth again, she was frustrated, exhausted, and sad.

But this was the second time this tooth had to be filled. It wasn’t the first time her dentist had to fill a tooth more than once. She looked up a second office in response. Her heart was fluttering with anxiety. She had brought a book to read but she couldn’t focus. Her head was starting to ache. She left work early which stressed her out to no end because her boss was a dick and even though she should have just found a new job, she knew she wouldn’t find a better pay entry-level position than any law firm nearby. Her phone hadn’t stopped vibrating with messages and requests.

An hour. All she wanted was an hour to read her book and mourn the loss of her tooth enamel. Frustrated tears filled her eyes. Her mouth hurt and her head hurt.

“Dr. Styles is ready for you, Miss,” the hygienist said sweetly. Taking a deep breath, she collected her book back into her bag and headed toward the patient room with the hygienist down the hall. “Have a seat,” she smiled kindly. “M’just going to get you ready and then Dr. Styles will be in to look you over.”

She could feel her phone vibrating against her hip. The to do list she was anticipating was enough to amplify her headache and she was so close to crying the pain in her tooth was practically welcomed to relieve her of the anxiety and stress she was feeling.

“Good morning, love,” the dentist came in. Dark blue scrubs adorned his tall frame. He looked so handsome it left her speechless. He was looking at the computer reading over the history of her work and latest x-rays from the previous office. “Got some pain, hmm?” She nodded silently, trying to figure out how she didn’t know ahead of time that the dentist was hot as could be. That couldn’t be fair. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed glancing from the screen, his eyebrows pinched together.

“Yeah, just uncomfortable,” she murmured. “Busy day.”

He sat on the little wheelie stool and turned to look at her. His eyes were vibrantly green, his smile was sweet but sympathetic at the same time. “S’quite a bit of work y’had done, love,” he murmured and grabbed a pair of gloves to put on. “Y’got beautiful teeth in there,” he assured her.

“They’re always filled with cavities,” she muttered bitterly.

“M’sorry,” he frowned. “I noticed that myself, actually.” She felt like she was disappointing him by getting cavities. Although she had just met him, she didn’t want to disappoint Dr. Styles, which was such a bizarre worry. “Do y’need t’get that before I get started?” He glanced at the bag by her hip.

She sighed, grabbed her phone. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Her boss snapped so loudly she pulled the phone from her ear. Either Dr. Styles didn’t hear (which she didn’t see how) or he was being kind enough to ignore it.

“A dentist appointment. I sent you an email and put it in your calendar—”

“I need your help. Now.”

There was no argument to be had in his tone.

“Mr. Dalecki,” she started. “I’m very sorry, I’ll be there in a bit but I’m in so much pain—” Her voice cracked, and she felt the tears so close to the surface. Overwhelmed by her work and her pain.

“I don’t care.”

She opened her mouth to agree or argue, she wasn’t sure what was going to come out of her mouth but then suddenly her phone wasn’t in her hand.

“Mr. Dalecki, was it?” Harry said into the phone. “Dr. Harry Styles. She’s in immense pain and I’m insistent I take care of her cavity today. It might be a root canal. She’s in no condition to work today and probably not tomorrow either. Doctor’s orders. I’ll write her a note whatever you need, but she will not be in today,” Harry put her phone on the counter away from her as it started to vibrate again. “M’sorry I suggested getting it,” he said and held out the tissue box on the counter.

She sniffled. “I need a root canal?” She whimpered.

He chuckled. “Oh, love, no. M’sorry. I jus’ wanted that man off the phone,” he shook his head. “M’sorry,” he repeated.

“Oh,” she sniffed again. “I’m really sorry. I’m so overwhelmed and upset. I’m almost terrified of being here. I always have issues and my teeth are the worst,” she cried. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, s’alright, love,” he assured her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Y’take care of your teeth right?” He asked.

“Religiously,” she assured him. “I brush three times a day. I floss daily sometimes twice. I use prescription toothpaste and mouthwash. I don’t eat lots of candy and I drink through a straw and water down juice or anything too sugary,” she had tears falling down her cheeks.

“Okay, love,” his thumb gently moved up and down her shoulder. She had never heard of a dentist having good bedside manners. “S’okay, m’gonna take a look now. Can I have y’sit back?” He murmured and slid back briefly on the chair and closed the door. She sniffled.

“I’m so sorry. I’m usually more put together than this,” she laughed tearily.

“S’okay I can tell y’frustrated. M’sister gets like this sometimes.”

She sniffled. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

He turned back, put a mask over his pretty face so she had no choice but to look at his gorgeous eyes magnified by the little glasses and light that shone in her face. “Y’have really nice teeth, love,” he assured her.

“You have to say that to everyone,” she mumbled when he turned to mark something in the computer.

He chuckled. “I do not. M’sorry you’re in pain, love,” he was gentle as he placed the little mirror into his mouth. “Hmm,” he hummed.

“S-bad, in’-it?’

“No, love. S’not bad,” he murmured quietly. “Relax y’fingers and shoulders, please. Y’making me nervous,” he chuckled very softly. Like he had stuck his dental tools in her mouth a hundred times. “S’jus’ a little cavity.”

Tears sprang back to her eyes, and she nodded. “I figured.”

“M’sorry, love. S’little, though I promise. Out of here in half an hour. No root canal—I promise.”

She sniffed and glanced away. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “I’ve had such an overwhelming week and I put this off and it’s not even a big cavity and I’m in so much pain—” She started to cry again, and Harry pulled the glasses and light off his eyes and listened so intently, his face empathetic and kind as she bubbled with tears. She could hear her phone vibrating. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to get fired,” she croaked.

Harry frowned, turned to the cabinets, and searched for medicines to help her. He pulled his gloves off. “Let’s jus’ sit and relax for a bit,” he suggested handing her two pills and filled a little cup of water for her. She wiped her eyes and took it gratefully.

“Don’t you have other patients?”

“No,” he chuckled. “That intake form y’filled out?” Dr. Styles turned to the computer again and cleared his throat. “I am sorry to bother you, but I am in so much pain and need emergency dental help tomorrow if you’re able. My current dentist has filled this tooth twice and I think I’m going to yank the tooth out with pliers, and I don’t HAVE pliers so I will have to go buy some and I will probably pull it out in the middle of the hardware store and everyone will—”

“Okay, don’t write emails to dentists when you’re in pain,” she shook her head tilting her head back to look at the ceiling.

Dr. Styles chuckled. His laugh was warm, like a chocolate fountain. Or a blanket on a cold January day. “I don’t have patients on Wednesdays,” he murmured. Her heart skipped a beat. His kindness was unlike any dentist she had before. It felt so unnerving but nice in the best way. “But I made an exception,” he explained. “Couldn’t imagine someone pulling out a tooth at a hardware store.”

Her heart was fluttering. “I hate dentists.”

He laughed, wholeheartedly. “Even me?”

“Well...you haven’t drilled my tooth yet,” she mumbled. “But you might have gotten me fired.”

“I couldn’t in good faith let y’go back t’work, love. Not when you’re in so much pain.”

She looked at her lap. “I always have cavities.”

“M’gonna get to the bottom of it, love. Right after we fill this little guy.”

“My second bicuspid?”

“Should have been a dentist, hmm?” he smirked at his computer making notes.

“I’ve had so much work done,” she explained. “Half way through law school I thought about becoming a dentist.”

“Well, if he does fire you,” he turned back to her with a pointed expression. “And based on the reaction y’had, I think only an idiot would fire you. I’d gladly have y’work here,” he assured her. “Match whatever he paid you and then some,” he promised.

She frowned, feeling overwhelmed, sad, and relieved beyond belief.

“Thank you, Dr. Styles.”

“Call me Harry, love.”

--

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[thedeepmiracleperfection]

As most are already aware, Neil Gaiman has been accused of sexual assault by two women. The nature of this news is horrific in and of itself. Assault is a disgusting and abhorrent crime, no matter who it is committed by, and the victims deserve healing, peace, and justice, regardless of public awareness of the crime. It is already extremely difficult for victims to come forward about their abuse in the most normal of circumstances. If you add on the fact that the abuser in question is a well-loved public figure, then I imagine that these women are going through one of the most difficult periods of their lives at the moment. I wish them safety, and I sincerely hope that they are well supported during this time.

There has been some discussion on whether talking about the affects this news has had on the fandom is insensitive to the victims. I believe some people feel that Good Omens fans have been too quick to focus on the ramifications for the show rather than the affects the public allegations will have on the victims themselves. While I do think there is a conversation to be had there, I want to remind everyone that fandom is the reason this case is relevant to so many of us in the first place.

Before I go further, I will make it clear that I believe and support the victims. Like I said above, even if this was a random case of assault between completely average individuals, the crime would still be disgusting, and the victims would still be deserving of support. The abuser in this case being a public figure doesn't change that. However, the fact that the abuser in question is the creator of the very pieces of media that this fandom centers around is the only reason many of us know about it. Unless you are personally involved with any of the people in this case, chances are the only reason you know about this case in particular, is because the abuser involved has a direct affect on the media we consume. That is not to say that this case is only important because the abuser involved is high-profile. It is important because it is a crime and should not have happened. I would feel the same about any case of sexual assault I knew about. I'm just saying that the reason we know about it to begin with is because of fandom involvement. For most of us, the fandom is the only connection through which this case is at all relevant in our lives. I truly believe we would be concerned about any sexual assault we were made aware of, but the level of disruption this case has caused within this online space is a direct consequence of the notoriety of the specific person involved.

All of this is to say, I resent the messages others have been spreading, saying things like, "if two people have been assaulted and the only thing you're talking about is your fave show then you're heartless and disgusting." Babygirl the only reason I even know about any of this is because of my fave show! The show is the connection through which this news is relevant to me. And the same is true whether you know Neil Gaiman from this show or any of his other works. This case is public because he is public, and he is public because we consume his works. It's only natural that I'm going to want to discuss the direct consequences it will have in my life. Like, if I received news that my dentist had assaulted two women, my first thoughts would be in sympathy for the women and in hoping that my dentist had been brought to justice. But then my very next thought would be "But now I have cavities that need to be filled, and no dentist, How will this situation affect me personally?" Like! I don't think it is inherently cruel to wonder how the actions of another person will affect our own lives. It is a bit fucking silly to complain that we are taking too much about our faves on the "talking too much about your faves" webbed site. The reason we are here in this community in the first place is because we have an invested passion in this particular media. I don't think it is cruel to be concerned on some level about the future of this community. And the fandom wondering about the effects on the fandom doesn't mean that we don't care about the victims involved. Two things can be true at the same time.

I think it is important to remember that this fandom has had a profound effect on many people's lives. Some people rely on this community to make a living selling art and merch. Others rely on it as the only form of connection and belonging they have. For me personally, the characters of Crowley and Aziraphale have been greatly influential on my queer identity and journey of self discovery. Fuck's sake people have gotten married because of this show! It has a huge place in many of our lives. It is not selfish to want to discuss how and in what way that might change!

Also important to remember: what people post online is not the entirety of their opinions. I have many thoughts and feelings regarding this situation that don't make it onto tumblr.com because I am a whole ass person outside of what I post. It can be tempting to say that blogs which post only about how the show will be affected by Gaiman's actions are only concerned about the show. But that is just because that is what is publicly available online. You do not know what private thoughts and conversations people have had on the matter. This is the Good Omens fandom, we're going to talk about how this news affects the Good Omens fandom. If that upsets or disgusts you, you need to be responsible and leave this online space for another. That's not even broaching the subject on whether or not we can morally continue consuming this media, which is a whole other discussion with heated opinions on both sides. I'm talking about the people who think it is wrong to be focused on Good Omens at all during this time.

Like I said before, I truly feel that we as a fandom would be concerned over any case of sexual assault we were made aware of. It's just that this particular one has an influence on our community, therefore there is more discussion surrounding it. We can absolutely support the victims while also discussing how to move forward as a fandom. The two are not mutually exclusive, and to suggest otherwise is not helpful to any meaningful discussion.

[buckslafdhoodie]

(At the fire station lockers)

Buck, casually texting Tommy with a grin on his face:

Chimney: oh-ho-ho, look at you, Buckaroo—

Hen, to Chimney: I’m trying not to, my dentist bills are high enough as is with the kids. I don’t need cavities as well.

Buck, fumbling his phone into his pocket: I have no idea what you two are on abou—

Eddie, from left field: Child’s play…

[insert the silence of approximately one thousand mic drops here]

Buck: Uh- I’m sorry, what was that?

Eddie “Buck Whisperer” Diaz, making direct eye contact with Buck: You heard me. I have spent a week learning photoshop to make the most cursed images mankind has ever seen for the express purpose of making you smile when you can’t sleep at night. He has much to learn.

Hen, silently adding that to her list of future wedding speech details: …

Chimney, trying to imagine said cursed images: …?

Buck, about three seconds from spontaneously combusting: …?!

[sirowsky-stories]

Forward Luxation

Summary: You're recovering from a dislocated shoulder and have to go to a physical therapist. But getting there, you find nothing at all is what you'd expected, least of all the man in charge of your training.

Requested by @bilibiche

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Marcus Moreno x female reader, reader is not described at all, and yes, we're taking liberties with the fact that any visit to an expert in human functionality requires one to take their clothes off. Lots of sexual tension here. Word Count: 2750

   The waiting room is surprisingly cozy for a physical therapist’s office. Although you’ve never been to one before, so you don’t really have anything to compare it to. You’d just sort of imagined it being a bit like a dentist’s office, with the cheap magazines, plastic plants, beige curtains which haven’t been changed in five years, uncomfortable chairs and squeaky linoleum floors.    But this is nothing like that.

   You’re sitting in one of the four available really nice armchairs, each with a little coffee-table to the side, on top of which are no magazines but instead a selection of pamphlets with useful information about the most common muscle injuries and treatments, and phone numbers and websites to other reputable establishments where people can find help for all manner of problems, from yoga studios to psychologists.

   The wallpaper is cream white with a discreet floral pattern in the same color, but glossy against the matte base, and the curtains are a deep green which together with the wallpaper somehow gives the impression that you’re sitting in a park. Especially since the chairs have exposed wood along with the soft cushions, which are the same color green, with embroidered flowers in pale yellow. And you’re pretty sure they’re made entirely of silk.

   Even the coffee is fucking excellent.

   If not for the fact that you had to sign in at the front desk, confirming your appointment and even having to show your ID, before being shown in here, you would’ve thought for sure you were in the wrong place.    This all seems so much more expensive than what you could ever afford. You’re here courtesy of your insurance, so you don’t need to worry about the cost, but it still feels way too fancy for you.

   “Good morning,” a soft and pleasant voice interrupts your thoughts, and you turn your head to find a tall, fit, brown-eyed, ridiculously gorgeous man smiling at you.

   “Uh… g-good morning,” is all you manage in response, because he’s literally taken your breath away by just standing there.

   “My name’s Marcus, welcome to my rehabilitation center. If you’ll please follow me, we’ll get started with a quick exam,” he continues, giving no indication he’s noticed your flustered reaction as he politely steps to the side to indicate which direction you’ll be heading.

   Air floods back into your lungs when you start to move, getting up from the chair and falling in behind him, at which point, your brain starts working again.

   “You own this place?” you ask, jumping at the first topic to come to mind.

   “I do. I started this business eight years ago,” he replies, before reaching a room with a door already standing open, where he stops just outside and beckons for you to enter. “Does that surprise you?”

   “Well, no. I’m just a bit confused overall,” you admit.

   “Oh? How come?”

   “It’s just… My insurance company made it seem like it was a big deal to even get a spot here. That this is like, the best physical rehab center in the country. And then I get here and the only person I’ve seen is the receptionist.”

   “I see. You thought that such a prestigious establishment would have thirty employees and patients constantly coming and going?” he guesses, and you nod, feeling slightly embarrassed.

   But he’s smiling when he gestures for you to take a seat on the large examination table in the middle of the room, while he closes the door and then takes a seat on a mobile stool in front of you.    You note that the temperature in here is higher, and a moment later you realize that it’s probably because people need to undress for him to examine them properly, and suddenly you’re flustered again.

   “The reason why we’re considered one of the best, is precisely because we don’t take on more patients than what we can effectively handle, both from a managerial standpoint, and from a practical one.    Since it’s just me and David here, that means our slots are usually limited to five people per day. Obviously, I’m in charge of the actual therapy, while David handles the charts, bookings, contact with hospitals, insurance and so on.    These limitations enable us to work entirely stress-free with our patients, allowing each session to take almost however much time it requires, whether due to physical restrictions, or mental ones.”

   “Mental ones?” you repeat, getting slightly caught on the notion, since it seems misplaced to you.

   This is physical therapy, not psychological, right?

   “Bodily injuries often result in emotional distress, most of which only comes out when people are confronted with the consequences, which is essentially the heart of what we do here.”

   “So, you’re like a jack-of-all-trades kind of therapist, then?”

   “I suppose I am,” he agrees with a small chuckle. “Now, if you’re satisfied with our business model, we should get started.”

   “Sure,” you say entirely without confidence, feeling the hairs on your arms prickle with nervousness at the mere thought of potentially having to undress in front of this man.

   “Dislocated right shoulder. Forward luxation, if I remember correctly,” he recalls without looking at any charts or notes. “May I ask how it happened?”

   “Oh, I have horses,” you sigh, knowing he’s probably not gonna need much more explanation than that.

   And sure enough, he mirrors your sigh.

   “Ah, yes. That’ll do it. So, how long did you wait before calling for help?” he asks, crossing his arms over his waist with a knowing, although friendly, glare in his eyes.

   “About an hour.”

   His eyebrows shoot up at that, but he can’t seem to find the words at first. And as always, the moment you feel the slightest bit judged for your passion for horses, you get defensive.

   “I couldn’t just drop everything, I had two horses who were panicking because of a fucking snake, I had to get them into the stables.”

   “Yeah, okay, fair enough. How long did that take?” he prods, and you hesitate.

   Because you’ve had both of your horses since they were foals and you’ve trained them well enough that they always trust you, even when they’re scared, which is why it had only taken you a couple of minutes to get them into the stables that day.

   “I don’t have anyone who can help me,” you quietly explain. “I had to make sure they’d be okay if I had to be in hospital for a few days.”

   His expression softens then, but he’s not done investigating.

   “So, you went around hauling hay, probably some buckets of water, checking fences and gates… I assume you also made sure to get rid of the snake, only calling for help once you’d double-checked that you hadn’t missed anything.”

   “I didn’t call. I drove myself to the hospital,” you conclude, at which point Marcus seems to give up any notion that you’re a reasonable human being.

   “As impressive as it is that you were able to endure that kind of pain for so long, you do realize by delaying getting this injury corrected, you probably added another month to the rehab you’re gonna need? Which is only gonna keep you from working with your horses that much longer,” he admonishes, but he sounds concerned more than anything, which tugs at your heart because no one ever concerns themselves about you.

   “I know, but I was… scared,” you admit, surprising yourself, since you haven’t even admitted this to yourself yet. “I’ve never been seriously injured before, and I hate hospitals. I knew I had to go, I just… had to convince myself of it.”

   Unexpectedly, he smiles at you then.

   “Thank you. For being honest with me. That’s always a good start.” He looks so grateful and earnest as he meets your gaze, you struggle not to look away.

   “I know it might not seem like it, but I do want help. I’m just really crappy at asking for it or accepting it.”

   “Well then, you’ll be happy to know I’m stubborn as hell, and I don’t take no for an answer when I know I’m right.    Chances are, you’re gonna get amazingly irritated and sick of me before we’re done, but if you can trust me despite all that, I’ll get you well again,” he offers, and you struggle to believe you could ever get sick of such a wonderful person.

   “I’m not great with trusting people. But I’ll try.”

   “That’s all I can ask for.    Now, I’m gonna need you to take your shirt off so I can assess the mobility of your shoulder.”

   Well, that went from sweet to nerve-wracking in one fucking sentence…    Suddenly your pulse is pounding in your ears, but it’s not like you can refuse. At least, not if you want to regain full mobility.    Internally cursing yourself for wearing a t-shirt and not a top with thin straps of some sort, you start fumbling with the fabric, trying to get it off without causing yourself too much pain.

   He notices that you’re having a bit of trouble and steps around behind you to lift the shirt at the back, which is nice of him. Except that when his warm fingers brush against the bare skin of your neck, you involuntarily shiver, which he of course also notices.

   “Is it too cold in here?” he wonders. “I try to keep it warmer than the rest of the building, but if you need me to turn it up further-…”

   “No, no, I’m fine,” you interrupt him, feeling absolutely ridiculous at how strongly his mere presence affects you.

   “Alright, but just so you know, it’s no trouble. If there’s anything I can do to make this more comfortable for you, don’t hesitate to tell me,” he says, as he carefully starts to prod and examine your shoulder now that the shirt is off, and you’re abruptly having trouble breathing again with the sensation of his skin exploring yours.

   “Oh, you don’t want me to do that…” you think to yourself, while doing your best not to be self-conscious about your choice of bra for the day.

   “Why is that?”

   His mildly bemused and curious question makes you freeze, and as the realization hits you that you’d actually spoken out loud just now, panic floods your every cell in no time flat.    Wishing the ground would open and swallow you, or that lightning would hit you right now, you let your torso fall forwards and then brace your good elbow against your knee so that your hand can catch your head as it drops so heavily into your open palm that it feels like you’ve just slapped yourself.

   “I am so sorry,” you mumble, seriously wondering what the fuck is wrong with you, you don’t even know if the man’s single. “Please ignore me, I don’t get out much.”

   He’s quiet for a moment then, and in that short space of time, you manage to imagine several scenarios for how he’s probably about to scold you for behaving inappropriately.

   “Ah… You didn’t mean to say that out loud, did you?” he finally replies, and he still sounds only bemused, but it does nothing to rid you of your shame.

   “I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say, because that’s how you feel.

   “Hey, don’t feel bad, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re allowed to think whatever you want.”

   “Even if it’s totally objectifying and unethical?” you counter, and there’s another pause before you hear a low chuckle behind you.

   “Okay, now I’m really curious. What were you thinking?”

   “Never mind, just… continue your exam,” you hurriedly try to deflect, even more mortified by the prospect of having to own up to your completely premature infatuation with him.

   But instead of leaving it alone, he rounds the table until he’s in front of you again, taking a seat on his stool so he’s at your eye-level.

   “As previously discussed, I’ve got time. So, please, do tell me what you think would make you feel the most comfortable with me,” he grins, clearly fully aware that it’s gonna be something juicy, and almost childishly excited to know what it is.

   For the most part, humiliation runs off you relatively easily. But that’s also because you rarely stray out of your comfort zone, which revolves around horses, dogs, driving tractors and using power tools.    Still, on the rare occasions when you do manage to get yourself cornered, you generally suffer for a minute and then you find a way to shake it off.

   And on the super-rare occasions, such as this one, when you’re so far beyond mortified that you don’t even know how to get out of it, something else happens.    You become kinda angry and a bit feral.    The last time it had happened you’d ended up spending a night in jail, and you hadn’t even been drunk.

   You can feel that anger take control of your brain and you know you’re about to say something ill-advised, but there’s no stopping it.    Raising your head, you lock gazes with him and see him flinch at the abrupt shift in your expression.

   “Basically any scenario in which you’re butt naked and in my bed,” you hear yourself almost snarl, and somehow, there’s no shame accompanying the words.

   As crude and inappropriate as they are, it’s the truth, and it wipes the sweetly crooked little smile off his face in a hurry. Although his eyes remain alight and curious.

   “Somehow that’s not what I was expecting you to say,” he slowly observes, and you can’t help how your face falls, hearing that.

   “You and me both, darlin’,” you exhale, feeling the anger fade as the air leaves your lungs, and in its wake, only regret remains. “Maybe I should just go.”

   Standing, you reach for your shirt at the top of the table, but he stops you with a hand on yours, and when you turn to see what he’s doing, he’s suddenly very close.

   “I told you that if you can trust me, I’ll help you.    It might’ve been unintentional, but you were honest with me just now, even though you didn’t want to be, which is a good sign.”

   “Not really,” you protest, starting to feel smaller against his large frame, “I get like that sometimes, when I’m overwhelmed. I blurt things out with no filter, it’s not a choice.”

   “It was still the truth, wasn’t it?” he persists, and you can’t deny it, so you nod. “Okay then, we have a baseline, so let’s build on it rather than abandon it.    I suggest we start with today’s session, and when we’re done, we make dinner reservations for this weekend.”

   You’re so unprepared for that last part, your mouth falls open and your mind goes completely blank for way too long. Like a damned fish, you just stand there, staring at him while his hand still holds yours, gently prying your shirt from it before he motions for you to take your seat again.    Grateful to be guided, since you still can’t think for yourself, you follow his directions and before long, the exam is done and he’s helping you get dressed.

   From there, he shows you out into the gym where he meticulously instructs you on which exercises to do and how often, making you swear not to overdo them.    And you might be imagining it, but you feel like he jumps on any excuse to touch you, holding your waist to make sure your core musculature doesn’t move when it’s not supposed to, or physically redirecting your hips when you’ve unknowingly turned them, even though he could’ve just told you to correct it yourself.

   When you’re done for the day, he takes you back to the exam room where he makes a few notes about how the session went and what you’ve agreed on.

   “Again, no lifting hay, grain, or heavy buckets,” he reiterates for what has to be the tenth time, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

   “I heard you the first nine times.”

   “And you’re still not gonna listen to me, are you?”

   “I live alone with two horses and two dogs, I make no promises, one way or the other.”

   “I’m just gonna have to tie you to the bed then,” he says without a hint of a joke in his voice, before he reaches for a calendar on his desk. “But, dinner first.    How does six o’clock on Friday sound?”

THE END

[sunshinelore]

breaking down Taylors cover of riptide because I’m sooooo bored

While we know this cover is extremely gay, I’m obsessed with the attention to detail with the lyrics and way they relate so strongly to Taylor’s situation.

First verse:

I was scared of dentists and the dark

I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations

Oh, all my friends are turning green

You're the magician's assistant in their dream

Not much in the first 3 lines, just gayness because Taylors singing it and refused to change the pronouns/subjects even though it’s “from a girl’s pov”

Except that last line, you’re the magicians assistant in their dream

Sounds like…..

Not saying Taylor was exactly referencing the cover when she wrote so it goes, just thought it was a fun relation!

Chorus

Lady, running down to the riptide

Taken away to the dark side

I wanna be your left-hand man

I love you when you're singing that song

And I got a lump in my throat

'Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong

Again, taylor not changing pronouns. I see you girl

I love the last 3 lines because they’re just so fitting. Taylor being a singer, and Karlie not being one is just so cute, and imagine taylor admiring karlie while she messing up the lyrics and justajsjdjd my babies

I saw Someone point out on Twitter (I’m sorry i forget the name let me know if it’s you!!!) but this could be a nod at Taylor using he/him pronouns when they’re about a woman, and Karlie replacing the he/hims with she/hers, therefore singing the words “wrong”

There's this movie that I think you'll like

This guy decides to quit his job and heads to New York City

This cowboy's running from himself

And she's been living on the highest shelf

THIS IS MY FAVORITE PART!!!

It’s SO fitting with Taylors life and the era she was in at the time she sang this let me get into it!

This guy= again, I love when she refers to herself as a man. It’s just so fitting

Quit his job= when she switched from country to full pop with 1989. Even though red was a bit more pop-y, it still has many country elements and her “accent” (😂🙄) comes out in it several times. She completely changed in 1989 to complete pop

Head to New York City= do I need to explain? WTNY!! 🏙️

This cowboys running from himself= Taylor trying to run from her queerness, from her true self. A theme we see very often in her music. Also…

Again, not saying this is a direct reference. Just a fun find!

I just wanna, I just wanna know

If you’re gonna, if you’re gonna stay

I just gotta, I just gotta know

I can’t have it, I can’t have it any other way

It’s giving very much the anxious repetition in delicate of ‘isn’t it?’ x100

I swear she’s destined for the screen

Closest thing to Michele Pfeifer that you’ve ever seen

I swear she’s destined for the screen…

We’ve all seen it

And ALSO!!!

KARLIE SMILE 😊😊😊☀️☀️☀️

anyway that’s it I love them so much and thank you for reading

[contentment-of-cats]

Why would you do that?!

People get their jollies in strange and extreme ways. I've never wanted to climb into a 'death zone' or jump from a massive height above the ground. I've never wanted to be in a space station, though I'd love to be on the moon as a bucket list item. I don't want to go deep into a mine (too many of my ancestors were coal miners and died down there), and I love looking at the beautiful salt caves in photos. I'm good! My eldest cousin once said to me that I'd never be comfortable because I understand engineering at a level that is like genetic memory combined with a vivid imagination, and have a sense of self preservation.

I've marveled at the wreck of the Titanic, shipwrecks on the Great Lakes, but at no time do I want to go to the bottom for a visit. It would be, at least to my way of thinking, a desecration of a gravesite. Five people went down in a submarine on Sunday to tour the wreckage of the Titanic, and are now oh-so-politely termed as missing.

You might not want to read the rest of this.

They have at most 96 hours before the oxygen runs out and that is if the submarine is still intact. The oxygen could run out much sooner "if they panic." They have a less than one percent chance at survival if the sub is intact and everyone is still breathing.

Can you think of a worse way to die? Seriously?

The sub contained the CEO of the submarine company, a pilot, and three passengers in an 'experimental craft' that used a video game controller and was 'jerry-rigged' with items from Camping World and Home Depot! Passengers pay about a quarter-million dollars US for a ticket, and are bolted into the submarine - with no escape hatch. Not that it would do much good that far down. The company lost contact with the sub about two hours in, but did not report it to the Coast Guard until around eight hours later - ten hours of oxygen gone. Further, losing contact with the sub seems to be a fairly common occurrence.

Then there is the waiver.

“experimental submersible vessel that has not been approved or certified by any regulatory body and could result in physical injury, disability, emotional trauma or death.”

It says that. Right on the box, as it were.

Military submarines have gone to the bottom before. They have multiple systems to surface the sub, allow crew to escape, or allow rescue and recovery crews to locate the sub on the bottom. It's never had a good ending. The equipment to 'rescue' a sub is not common, often a long way from the site of the wreck, and there is no fucking transponder of beacon on that garage-built jack job of a toy submarine.

This is what would happen if Elon Musk ran a submarine company.

Everyone is fixated on the sub being hung up on the wreckage, or somehow disabled. I think that maybe they're not on the bottom running out of air and awaiting rescue. I think that it may have imploded, crushed by the the pressure of about 6100 pounds per square inch at a depth of around 12,500 feet (around 1/3 the depth of the Mariana Trench). That's NOT downward pressure - that is 6100 pounds per square inch from all directions. Think of one of those little rinse-and-spit paper cups from the dentist's office. If you put that on a table and put the palm of your hand on it, then lean with all your weight, that's downward pressure. If you close the cup in your hand, though, that is pressure from all around it. All it would take is a microscopic hole or crack and the sub's internal pressure would not hold. It would appear to implode.

I hope it was implosion because that would have happened fast, and they are not on the bottom in the absolute dark at about 36F, dying of slow hypoxia and/or hypothermia. For $250,000 bucks a pop, it might be the most expensive burial at sea in history.

[whump-me]

Obscure: Chapter 6

Chapter 6 of Obscure, novel-length interrogation whump about a rebel leader who can erase memories with a thought, an interrogator who can see inside his subjects’ minds… and the connection they share that neither of them suspects.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the completed novel on Patreon

---

Kirill

Kirill sank into the metal chair. He shifted as it dug into the underside of his thighs. He shifted again. It didn’t help.

The room smelled stale, full of yesterday’s sweat. Maintenance hadn’t bothered to clean it last night. Or maybe he was smelling Elias himself. How long had it been since the man had had a shower?

Elias had dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping. Spiky dark stubble covered his face. His eyes, half-shut, glinted with poorly disguised desperation.

Kirill set a metal band on the table in front of him. It was thick and featureless, and small enough to hug a man’s slim wrist tightly. Elias eyed it, but didn’t ask what it was.

Elias spoke first. His voice was utterly steady. “I know you’re going to talk about him,” he said. “Go ahead. I’ve been practicing. I don’t think you’ll get what you want from me.”

Kirill didn’t speak. He simply stared into Elias’s eyes, his back ramrod straight, his face revealing nothing. Today he was playing the coldly intimidating interrogator. A classic. He had done it before, and he had seen it done. The inhuman iciness of his demeanor was good at squeezing out visceral fear—and memories along with it.

It also wasn’t what Elias would expect. As Elias’s words had indicated, the man would be expecting a direct emotional assault, like the one that had worked so well yesterday.

Or at least, it had worked well until Elias had turned it around on him.

All he had said about Kirill’s power making him vulnerable—it hadn’t been a bluff after all. Kirill would have to bring this up the next time Ramachandra questioned his motives in not wanting to interrogate one of his own kind.

Elias looked away first. Most people did. But when his eyes met Kirill’s again, his face was twisted in a smile of contempt. “You’ve tried out a few different personas on me. This is just one more.”

He did a good job at keeping the fear out of his voice. But a few scraps of memory leaked through. That dentist again. The afternoon he had spent frantically pacing through his house as he waited for the child to come home.

“You’re good at holding your emotions at bay,” said Kirill. “Even when it comes to the things that matter most to you. And you’ve gotten better at it, when it comes to the child. Or at least you’ve tried to get better. That’s what you meant earlier, isn’t it?”

“You left early yesterday.” Elias’s too-even tone was mockery in itself, because they both knew why Kirill had left early. “I had plenty of time to work on it.”

“Which is why I plan on trying something different today,” said Kirill. “No more cat and mouse, digging up emotional wounds only for you to slap a bandage over them. It’s time for a more direct approach.”

He leaned in, his face perfectly expressionless. A flicker of fear-memory from Elias rewarded him.

“We can hurt you here,” he said. “I imagine you already have a good idea of how You wouldn’t have worked so hard at keeping other people away, otherwise.”

A flash of memory. The one from yesterday, the corpse sewn shut down the front. Then a woman in Elias’s bunker, huddled in the corner, her arms striped with angry red burn scars.

Then the child. Elias’s voice calling his name in a crowded grocery store. Elias’s heart squeezing tight in his chest—Kirill felt it too.

Elias waving at the child as he walked onto the school bus, a forced smile plastered on his face. Watching him disappear into its yellow maw.

Then back to that afternoon—pacing, pacing, pacing.

Everything came back to the child. Even this.

Not the ghost boy this time, and not the fire. Only the child.

He didn’t understand why. But he could work with—

His vision went white. He opened his eyes onto an unfamiliar room. A stranger sat across the table from him, a stranger with tired eyes and several days’ worth of stubble. “Where am—”

His phone buzzed. He blinked at the reminder on the screen for a second, not understanding. Then it came back, with the now-familiar disorientation of a swirl of draining water in reverse, a tornado sweeping through and leaving his old memories in his wake. As always, everything felt slightly askew, as if when the memories had come back, none of them had quite landed in the proper place.

“I had a feeling you would try that again.” Kirill picked up the metal bracelet. He reached across the table and fastened it around Elias’s wrist, just behind the cuff. Elias tensed at his touch, but didn’t resist.

Then he pulled back his fist and punched Elias in the nose.

Bone snapped. Elias jerked back with a cry. Blood flooded from his nostrils, dripping onto his gray shirt, onto the metal table. On his shirt, it looks like a spill of ketchup or juice. On the table, it coalesced in discrete drops that gleamed red under the light.

Elias stared at him, dazed, uncomprehending. People didn’t tend to expect violence from Kirill. Not after he had spent hours doing nothing but talking. It was as if they thought violence was an either-or, a yes-or-no—a person like him either used it from the start, or not at all.

The fear-memories changed from a trickle to a steady stream, flowing out of Elias along with his blood.

“You’re just making me less likely to want to keep up this game,” Kirill said. “The initial capture team said you looked like you were trying to use a power at first, but the pain of our pyrokinetic’s fire distracted you.” He looked down at the blood on the table. “So I know there’s at least one way to keep you from using your power against me. I was willing to indulge you at first. No longer.”

He shifted his gaze to the metal band around Elias’s wrist.

Elias followed his gaze. “What does that do?”

“Try to blank my memory again,” said Kirill, “and find out.”

Another fear-memory squeezed out, some childhood monster from a nightmare, useless. Then Elias took another of his deep breaths, and the flow of memories cut off.

“I’m not the only Enhanced working here,” Kirill said. “Some of us have powers more suited to physical interrogation. On the whole, I think you’d rather talk to me.”

He had no idea whether what he was saying was true. He assumed it was. But he didn’t spend enough time here to know.

He hoped it was true. If it wasn’t, and Elias did require pain to motivate him, he would have to do it by hand.

He had done that kind of thing before. He knew how it was done. He didn’t do it often. It wasn’t what he preferred. Even now, his knuckles were sticky with Elias’s blood. Breaking bodies was messy. Kirill preferred working with minds.

Elias kept up his slow breathing, but another memory leaked out anyway. Kirill expected a memory of pain, since that was where Elias’s thoughts should have been focused. Instead, he was back in that grocery store, calling the child’s name.

Another memory. The child walked in the front door with a backpack hanging off one shoulder, his head hung low, a purpling bruise on his cheek. Elias’s stern voice, vibrating in Kirill’s chest as if it were his own. Who did this to you?

The child. Always the child.

And that wasn’t a memory of fear.

He blinked away the memory and focused on Elias’s face. There was fear there, yes. But less than he expected. The skin around his eyes was creased with what he had come to recognize from Elias as grief. Elias’s jaw was tight with anger.

Then Elias’s face went blank.

Kirill pressed the control button at his belt. Elias jerked back in his chair as a shock slammed through him from the bracelet. His eyes went wide and unfocused. His fingers clawed at the table. He gagged on the blood from his nose.

When the shock faded, Elias was panting. He stared down at the bracelet.

“I said you would find out what would happen if you tried getting into my memory again,” said Kirill. “For your own sake, I would advise not wasting any more time that way.”

Elias didn’t answer. He slumped over the table, his breath ragged. He looked up from under his eyelashes at Kirill. He narrowed his eyes in wordless defiance.

Kirill kept his face blank, his voice even. Being cold was simple. It was the next best thing to being nothing.

“Tell me about the child,” he said.

“You’re asking questions now?” Elias asked. “I thought you were going to take everything you wanted from my memory without bothering to ask permission.”

“I told you,” said Kirill, “I’m tired of that game. I’d rather hear you tell me directly. Then we’ll move on to the other questions I have for you.”

“Questions about my network.”

“Of course. What else?”

“Then why not start there?” Elias shook his cuffed hands, holding the bracelet out to Kirill. “You’ve already shown me you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want. Why not go straight to trying to shock the answers out of me?”

Because a man who can resist his own grief so well won’t flinch at physical pain.

Because you fear for him more than you fear for your own survival, and I’d like to know why. That could be useful to me.

He didn’t answer Elias’s question aloud. He only asked one of his own. “Is he yours? You never answered earlier.”

Elias held his gaze. His eyes were almost black now. “I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”

A trickle of memory. Anger, fear. The child was there, of course. Always the child. But the memories held nothing he could use. He let them fade into the background.

“The woman isn’t Laina,” he said. “Who is the child’s mother? Does Laina know you had a family before her?”

“If you’re thinking of getting to me through my first wife, don’t bother. She’s a stranger to me now.” But a sharp bolt of fear carried the grocery-store memory to Kirill on the wake of his words.

Kirill let it go for now. The wife wasn’t really who he wanted. Her disappearance would raise questions. Covering up Elias’s disappearance had been difficult enough for PERI.

“The memories stop after the boy reaches a certain age,” he said. “Nine? Ten? I’ve never been good at estimating children’s ages.”

Elias didn’t answer. His dark gaze threatened to swallow Kirill, like he was falling into the night sky.

Kirill stared right back. Keeping his gaze cold was as instinctual as breathing. “It must have been hard on him, being taken so young. Do ten-year-olds still cry for their parents when they’re afraid?”

Memory slammed in on on him. A birthday party. The dark-haired boy sitting sullenly in a chair, arms crossed, lip sticking out in a pout. Elias standing over him, face tightly creased in a frown he could feel on his own face. When you get a gift, you say thank you. You’re not a baby. Don’t act like one.

There were eight candles on the cake.

Kirill blinked away the memory. “Eight,” he said. “Thank you. I told you I was no good at estimating ages.”

“That was cruel.” Elias’s voice was even. He didn’t look away.

“You could have told me what I wanted to know. You didn’t. I used the tool I had at hand.”

“When you always carry a weapon with you, it’s difficult to resist the temptation to use it.”

“What weapons did the child have?” Kirill asked. “Did he have powers?”

Elias’s anger hadn’t faded. He knew because the flow of memory hadn’t stopped. As Kirill spoke, the memories shifted as Kirill’s words affected the flow of Elias’s thoughts.

The child swung on a swing set, younger and smaller than he had been when he was taken. He let go at the top, and hung weightless in the air. Elias’s breath caught in his chest. The boy hung suspended for an endless second, then plummeted to the earth. Even as Elias cried out in alarm, his chest released in a wave of relief.

A year or two later. Elias watched as the boy played with a friend, a blond girl in a long dress. As they argued, he watched for any sudden acquiescence on the girl’s part. He watched as they built a tall block tower, holding his breath for the tower to stay in place long after it should have fallen. Watching. Always watching.

“No powers,” he said. “But you were afraid he would have them.”

“I thought it would spare him,” said Elias. “I didn’t know about the blood tests yet.”

“You mentioned those when we met. Is that how they found him? A routine screening—something for school, maybe.”

Elias didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Eight years old. No active abilities. Caught in a routine blood test.

That would be enough.

He stood. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

As he left the room, a wave of fear-memories followed him.

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @suspicious-whumping-egg

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

[mimilind]

A Magical Classmate - Part 3

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 1900

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

You attend a post-exam party and dance well into the night. You drink too much and Drake becomes chatty.

3. Circle of Friends

Flashing lights interrupted you and a police car appeared. When the cops began to question you about the incident you realized Drake had already left.

One policeman collected the knives as evidence, and when he put them in plastic bags you clearly saw there was no blood on either. 

Had you imagined the drop on Drake’s cufflink?

After taking your names, the cops drove away in the direction the bikers had gone. They said since nobody had been hurt, and the crooks hadn’t stolen anything, chances were slim it would amount to much unless they found them and could prove the knives were theirs.

On the way home, Catrine, Andreas and you talked about Drake. Where had he gone, and why?

“Perhaps he was afraid because he used karate on the bikers,” said Catrine. “I’m sure that’s illegal.”

“Not if done in self-defense,” Andreas objected.

“Maybe he didn’t know that.”

Neither of you knew where he lived or had his number, so there was no way to know. You hoped he had gotten home safely and that he was alright.

The next day, you were relieved to see him enter the lecture hall looking perfectly fine. Today his suit was dark gray with pinstripes.

“Where did you go yesterday?” Catrine asked. 

“Home. I was just very tired and figured you guys would be safe on your own with the police there and everything.” Before she could ask more, he changed topics and began to talk about something chemistry related and the upcoming midterm exams, and didn’t stop until the lecture began.

In the afternoon, he joined your lab station. “Do you need a lab partner?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, thank you.” You guessed he probably chose you to avoid an interrogation from Catrine, and made sure not to mention yesterday’s event in case you scared him away. 

During the lab, you looked closely at his hands. There was no blood on the cufflinks now, even a drop, and not a mark on either hand. When he wrote in his notebook you saw part of his palm, and noticed a thin, white line across one. An old scar and obviously nothing to do with the recent fight.

No, you must have been so shocked and scared your imagination played a trick on you.

The following days everyone spent studying vigorously in their respective homes, you included, and hence you didn’t see Drake again until after the last exam. You gathered outside, discussing the questions and trying to estimate whether you had made a decent result. You also discussed where to go that night for the traditional post-exam party.

Catrine as usual suggested the dentists’ pub, and after some talking back and forth it was settled. It was the cheapest place after all and one of the few student pubs that had a dance floor.

When you arrived, Drake was already at the bar with a gin and tonic in hand, talking to Catrine and another girl from class. This time he wore marginally less formal clothes: a black suit and no tie. 

You joined them with the intention to buy a cider when you saw a notice that tonight’s special was Red Bull and vodka for a very good price.

“Try it,” said the bartender. “You’ll be dancing all night.”

You liked the sound of that and bought one.  

It was strong, and not as good as pear cider, but it did invigorate you.

Martin and his new boyfriend arrived, and Andreas shortly afterwards.

“Let’s dance,” said Catrine and led the way. You emptied your drink and was about to follow when you saw Drake hadn’t left the bar.

“Won’t you come?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know the steps.”

“There are none.”

“No steps?”

“No, it’s not like a waltz or anything, we form a circle of friends and everyone just improvises.”

A gleam of interest appeared in his eyes. “A circle of friends? Alright then.”

You joined the circle and let the rhythm pull you along, swaying your body, moving your feet, doing all your favorite moves – the ones you had learned in front of the mirror a long time ago and knew made you look your best.  

Drake stood still at first, observing Martin like he took mental notes, then he began, moving with a natural grace you instantly envied, but you figured it was probably due to his martial arts training. He had picked the right person to imitate; Martin was the best dancer among you.

Drake’s fluid movements made your heart beat fast, and not only from the exertion of dancing. 

You took breaks to refill your drinks – more of the same for you – and with each one, the ambience became more cheerful. Drake looked like he had the time of his life, and you were glad for him; he normally was so serious.

The pub was crowded and you became warm and rosy. Soon everyone was in their t-shirts, except for Drake who for some reason always wore button shirts with long sleeves. But he opened the top buttons, exposing an enticing triangle of pale skin, accentuated by a thick silver chain around his neck. 

If only you could touch him.

You edged closer. “You dance well,” you said in his ear, raising your voice over the din.

“Beginner’s luck.” He grinned, then his eyes trailed over you. “Nice shirt.”

You felt a pleasant twinge. It was a tight garment that accentuated your figure – was he checking you out? The mere thought made your heart stutter.

You danced on and there was no limit to your energy. The Red Bull worked wonders. However, the next time you went to get one, you discovered you were out of money. Did you buy that many already?

“Want another?” Drake asked. He had followed you to the bar and leaned against it as if to steady himself. You were not the only one who were fast becoming more than tipsy.

“Sure!” You loved free stuff, drinks included.

You stumbled on the way back but Drake supported you. Despite your drunken state his touch gave you butterflies. 

More dancing. You sang along to the lyrics and he laughed at how out of tune you were. Not unkindly.

He opened another button and you admired the sight of more heated, dewy skin. He seemed to look at you too.

He bought you another drink.

The dance floor was becoming empty and Catrine and the others had disappeared. You didn’t know what the hour was and didn’t care.

More drinks. Drake and you slumped over the counter, giggling together at something you didn’t quite recall what it was.

You impulsively patted his cheek. “You’re such a nice guy.”

He smiled sentimentally. “Glad you think so. Used to be a bad guy.”

“Probably went around karateing people, yeah? Can imagine. Is karateing a word?”

“Dunno. What’s karate?”

“Your sport. That you used when we were attacked.”

“Right. Yeah, I went around karateing people and was pretty much a jerk. Want another drink?”

“Thanks. You were badass when you scared those bikers. I’m impressed.”

He grinned proudly. “Always was a decent duelist.”

You finished your drink and rested your cheek against the counter. Just relaxing a bit.

Suddenly you stood near the exit. The music had silenced and someone was sweeping the floor. How did you get there? Where was Drake?

A girl looked kindly at you. “Need help?”

“No, I’m fine,” you lied, struggling to walk steadily as you went out. The night air was cold and woke you up a bit. The world reeled.

You found your bike and fumbled with the lock, dropping the key twice. You felt sick and threw up in a flower patch. On the third try you managed to unlock the bike.

“Are you alright?” Drake sounded concerned.

Relief filled you, mingled with embarrassment. You hoped he didn’t see you vomit. “I’m fine. I thought you had gone?”

“I went out to pee.” 

His admission made you realize he was equally drunk as you. Chuckling, you climbed the bike and would have fallen if Drake hadn’t caught it.

“You shouldn’t ride this. Where do you live?”

“The other part of town. It’s alright.”

“Don’t; I have plenty of room and live nearby. You can crash at my place.”

Drunk or no, in a million years you wouldn’t have turned that offer down. “You sure? That’s nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy. You said so.” He looked pleased at that.

You led the bike along with him.

“I had fun tonight,” he said. “More fun than… can’t recall when, actually. Must be way back.”

You yawned, glad for the bike to lean on. “Me too.” Then you had to stop and throw up again but Drake didn’t seem to mind. He held the bike until you were done.

You went on.

“Great thing, friends,” he resumed. “Never had them before. I mean, real ones. Decent ones. Ones who weren’t just tagging along because I was… who I was.”

“Mm-hm. You’re royalty then?” 

“Not quite. Well. I suppose you could say… kind of like royalty, where I come from. A good name. Old blood. That sort of thing.”

You weren’t used to this chatty version of Drake and wished your head had swum less so you could pay attention.

“Poor you,” you said. “Everyone needs friends.”

“Yeah.” He nodded with emphasis. “But don’t feel sorry for me. I was a jerk, like I said. I deserved all I got.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re too nice to be a jerk.” You tried to give him a hug but the bike was in the way so you settled with a friendly pat on his arm.

“Thanks.” He patted you back.

You were both smiling to yourselves when you continued. 

He stopped in front of an elegant gate. “We’re here now.”

“Right.” You stumbled on the marble stairs. Again he steadied you.

It was a beautiful apartment, very fitting for someone as neat and well-dressed as him. The combined kitchen and living room had a crystal chandelier hanging from a ceiling far above, and there was a persian rug on the floor.

You found the bathroom first of all and made good use of it. As you washed your face, the cold water sobered you a little. You couldn’t find any toothpaste so you tried to clean your mouth with just water.

When you returned, Drake had put a spare mattress with a green pillow and duvet next to his own bed – also with green sheets.

“You like green, eh?” You flopped down on the mattress, unabashedly easing your pants off. You usually slept in t-shirt and underwear.

“I do.” Drake did likewise and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a white tank top.

The sight of him in only a tank top and underwear swiftly took away your sleepiness. He had such a perfect body. Why did he hide it?

“You should wear sleeveless more often,” you mumbled. “Suits you. Is that a tattoo?”

His cheeks colored and he put a hand over his forearm with a guilty expression. “Just an old… uh. Anyway, time to sleep. Night.” He quickly slipped under the sheets.

“Night,” you returned, burying your nose into the pillow. It smelled good. 

Before you knew it, you slept.

A/N:

Cue, awkward morning… 

This chapter may or may not be inspired by an actual event… the author admits to nothing and has no regrets. :)

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

[fabi2kool]

‧₊˚✧5 YEAR ODYSSEY✧˚₊‧

10 YEARS AHEAD: In ten years I will God willingly be 29. If all goes well I am a dentist by now, specialized, who knows only time will tell. I would have graduated for a couple years by then so hopefully I have a stable job maybe working at an institutional dentist. My biggest hope is that I didn’t throw in the towel. I wonder where I went to school, high school me wants to hope usc dental school college freshman year me thinks I’ve lost my marbles and don’t want that much debt and hopes for me to not stay enclosed to something my younger self hoped for. Its okay for things to not go exactly as you want. As of now I just want to go somewhere with the least amount of debt possible and graduate enjoying the journey. I’ll be pushing 30, that reminds me of that one friend's episode but hopefully I’m not too far from my parents by then and feel good about where I am in life. Everyone around me will be even older, jeez. Scary thoughts. My nephews will be around my age now, I hope they're going down a good path. Overall I see myself close to my family, with the job I’ve always wanted, and doing something good with that. So far I haven’t figured out what, but hopefully by then I should. 

Tangentially Related Path: Girl if I’m not a dentist I have no clue what I could be, props to doctors but that doesn’t seem like my jist. Maybe a nurse but ehh. There's nothing tangentially related I would do if I’m being honest, I’d probably start a business. Nothing major but something that for sure gives me bank. Anything else I’d want to do requires me to completely change the course of my life right now. 

Entirely Different life path: I think about this quite frequently, if I didn't put so much pressure on myself would I have tried so hard? If I hadn’t found the “perfect” answer as to why dentistry would  be pursuing something else? I don’t particularly like the idea of letting myself imagine what could be instead. Only because there's so many other interests completely unrelated to dentistry I could choose. In a different life I’d want to be a lawyer, more specifically an immigration one. I  think its an ideal career. I'd be passionate about the direct help I could be to those who remind me of my parents, only I’d want to do more to influence the children of immigrants. Children like me and my friends who grew up not knowing of all the opportunities out there. I know I’ve been blessed with great parents who worked as a team and had my mom to guide me and my siblings almost all the time. However most of my friends didn’t have that, and its a recurring cycle for the majority, so something with more of a direct impact to my community.

In the end I want the same thing in different ways, to somehow give back to my community. The ways to get there are completely different, but my hopes are that I am a dentist because it’s something I want for myself. I hope that through my career I can help people who don’t have the luxury of affordable healthcare and in that way inspire others to pursue higher education, to know that they can have other options than what is stereotypically believed.

[1d1195]

Toothpaste IV

Read Toothpaste here | ~1.8k words

From me: By popular demand 🦷

Warnings: some sexual tension, some oral fixation, and fairly sexy innuendos. Toothpaste anon, I know what you said but I wanted a really slow burn here. I know, I know. I'm sorry. But not quite yet..

Summary: “Did y’mean it?”

“Mean what?” There was hardly any air left in her lungs so the words she spoke were quiet.

“Y’were falling in love?” He questioned. Her cheeks felt hot. Embarrassed that she said that out loud on their first date.

Harry hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door for her to get out. Although she was already part way through opening it and Harry would have to remember that next time. But right now, he wanted her inside his house and would let it slide. “Let me,” he offered and took the bag of their to go order. She was so goddamn stunning it melted him. He put a hand on her lower back as he ushered her up the steps to his place.

Harry’s house wasn’t huge. It was just him, after all. A cute little porch was at the top of three little steps, a large window to the left of the door but she couldn’t see inside because of the curtains hiding behind the glass. A single chair and end table were in front of the window. A spot for reading and drinking coffee if she had to imagine.

In fact, she imagined Harry sitting there, completing a crossword puzzle first thing in the morning while the sun was still rising. If she lived in his house, she probably wouldn’t use the door to get to the porch. She loved the idea of a window that was large enough to open to the porch. It didn’t make sense. It was right next to the door. But it was adorable. To the right of the door was a large planter filled with colorful flowers and she imagined her extremely attractive dentist, boss, and date tending to a garden. The thought went straight to her heart.

Pulling the key back out of the lock, he opened the door and ushered her inside and closing, the door behind her. He put the bag of food on the entry table right next to the staircase. He reached for her shoulders, sliding his fingers below her hair and tugging the collar of her jacket down.

Her eyes adjusted to the semi-dark. Without any lights on, his place was cast in varying shades of white, gray, and black. But she could make out the room—a couch, a loveseat, and a coffee table. The TV hung above the mantle and fireplace. Paintings hung at regular intervals along the walls. Behind the couch was a bookshelf; each cubby filled with everything Harry enjoyed reading. She crouched immediately to read the titles. Harry brought the food to the kitchen. She didn’t take the books out but she pulled the ones she thought she would like down. “If you can part with these, I’d like borrow them.”

He smiled thoughtfully, leaning on the armrest of the loveseat. He crossed his feet at the ankles and his hands were in his pockets. “Y’can have whatever y’want.”

His kitchen was along the back wall, no dining room, but he had two seats around a small table—like an island in the middle. Everything was decorated so expertly. “Did you decorate yourself?” She asked.

“Gemma helped,” he shrugged. “We have similar taste,” he explained.

Gemma was Harry’s sister and not a reason for her to be jealous. But it seemed they would all get along swimmingly. “Can she help decorate my apartment?”

He chuckled. “M’sure she’d love that.”

She stood up and went to the fridge looking at the pictures and coupons that he had under magnets of places he visited? Maybe? Or maybe they were a souvenir from friends and family. Pictures of Gemma, a sweet little baby girl, and a woman that was most definitely where Harry got his gorgeous looks from adorned the door.

The place was so cozy and warm. She wanted to live there. Not to be dramatic, but whether Harry lived there or not. “I love your house,” she smiled. Harry stayed put at the armrest while he watched her inspect his place. He wanted to give her space and let her make the moves and make sure she was comfortable.

It took every bit of restraint for Harry to say thank you and not, it’s yours regarding her compliment of his home.

He was dead serious in saying she could have whatever she wanted. He was putty in her hands. Wrapped around her finger. Anything she wanted? He was going to give it to her. “Can I take my shoes off?”

He snorted. “Course, y’don’t have t’ask.”

“Well, I didn’t want to be rude.”

He shook his head with a smirk. He went over to the stove, turning on the soft light. It gave the room a romantic feel to it. Like how a couple would slow-dance to nothing but the music in their head. Then he went to her side and immediately dropped to his knees. Her heart skipped a beat. Then it took off rapidly, pounding so loudly she felt it in every inch of her body. She wondered if this was a dream because she would be lying if she hadn’t thought about it a lot in the time that she had known Harry.

His fingers danced at her ankle, skimming softly against her skin, and he coaxed her foot out of one shoe and then the other. He stood slowly, extremely close to her body. Only a breath of space between them. “Does your tooth hurt?” He asked. She shook her head. He smiled. “Good.” Then he kissed her. His hands on her hips and she knew his mouth was already perfect because he was a dentist, but she forgot that kissing would add a whole level to that perfection. He pulled away briefly, his eyes scanning her face for signs of regret. His smile was so pretty, and he sighed like this was the happiest moment of his life. She felt her chest aching something fierce. She slid one hand along the side of his face and the other went around through his soft hair at the back of his head and pulled him back in. He hummed in approval making her shiver involuntarily. “Are y’cold?” He asked against her lips.

“No,” she shook head refusing to talk when his mouth was there to kiss.

His hands reached down further, gripping the back of her thighs and he lifted her onto the counter. Bringing her toward the edge of it so he could settle his hips between her legs and wrap them around his hips. “Did y’mean it?” He asked, his lips peppering kisses along her mouth and face as he allowed her to breathe. Her breath came in quiet gasps. Unbelievably turned on and warm.

His lips followed the length of her jaw all the way to her ear before it took a turn and then descended down her neck. “Mean what?” There was hardly any air left in her lungs so the words she spoke were quiet.

“Y’were falling in love?” He questioned. Her cheeks felt hot. Embarrassed that she said that out loud on their first date. But him kissing her was a good sign, wasn’t it? She didn’t scare him off quite yet. “Don’t be shy now, kitten,” he murmured into her skin. “Told me y’would open wide the second day I met you.”

She huffed out a breath of laughter as his lips trailed across her collarbone to the other side to complete the loop of kisses he was placing along her skin. “I did not say that.”

“Would y’open wide?” He pulled his mouth from her skin. She couldn’t make out the pretty green color, even with the stove light, but she could make out he was gazing at her, his pupils huge and lovely as he eyed her. Her throat felt tight with desire, and she nodded silently. His eyes stayed locked with hers. “Open,” he ordered.

She dropped her jaw. Slowly he drew his hand up her body, making her eyelids flutter as she waited patiently. His hand held the side of her neck and keeping his slow pace he dragged his thumb across her lower lip, then the top one before finally pressing it on her tongue.

“Suck.”

His other hand was holding her thigh still so she knew he would feel the muscle contraction from between her legs and he grunted when her lips closed around his digit.

Then she sucked.

“Fuck,” he hissed. She could feel him hardening between her legs pressed close to her core. “Eyes,” he hummed. She didn’t even realize she had closed them. “Did y’mean it?” He repeated. She had no idea what he was talking about. Her tongue was lapping at his thumb and swirling around it like it was his dick and that made her tighten more as he ground his erection against her. Thank God she wore a dress. “Did y’mean it?” He asked again. “Hmm?” she hummed around his thumb making him inhale sharply at the insinuating vibration. She whimpered softly as he pressed harder onto her tongue. She hollowed her cheeks desperate for more. “Fuck,” he hissed pulling his hand away. “Did y’mean it when y’said y’were falling in love?”

Her shyness returned. Which was beautiful in its own right. The way her mouth closed around his thumb would be a visual that would never leave his mind for long. “Yes,” she whispered and looked down at her lap, right where they were closest to one another.

“Do y’think m’not?” He asked, tilting her chin back up. Her heart fluttered and she felt breathless, stunned, unable to move. Harry was brilliant, had his own practice, and a house that was so goddamn cute she wanted to scream. Falling in love with her? No, she didn’t think she was that lucky. “M’falling very hard for you, kitten,” he assured her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, melting her like she was nothing but candle wax.

“Oh.”

“Yeah...” he glanced down between them, where her core was pressed against his dick aching to escape his pants. Her dress covered her so he couldn’t see but he could feel how warm she was pressed against him. “Do y’want t’go upstairs?” He asked.

She swallowed and nodded.

“We don’t have to,” he assured her. He would probably have to take a cold shower and think about her the whole time, but they didn’t have to do anything if she didn’t want to.

His kindness was sweet, more than adorable. But if his thumb was merely a precursor to what laid ahead? She didn’t want to prolong her pleasure any longer. “Harry,” she giggled quietly. “I have a cavity.”

He tilted his head at her. “Are y’in pain?” He asked, concern filling his voice. He ran his thumb along her jawline, ghosting softly in case it was sensitive and hurt too much with even a touch on the outside of her mouth. He didn’t even care how rapidly the eye-fucking and the dry-humping stopped and changed to talk of toothaches.

“It really needs to be filled,” she said knowingly.

His eyes darted back to hers as realization flooded him. “Oh, fuck yes, love,” he moaned and yanked her toward him, kissed her, and carried her upstairs.

--

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[rowlfthedog]

hey! wishing you all the best with your recovery.

to prevent you from dying of boredom, i thought i'd send you an ask! apologies that it's kinda generic and that it sounds like i'm a market researcher, but i figured i'd ask you because i greatly value your Muppet-based opinions. feel free to answer the question however you want, since it's broad.

i'm wondering what you'd like to see from future Muppet projects? like, would you want any projects that focus on specific characters, like how the Muppets Mayhem focuses on the Electric Mayhem? do you have any ideas for any future Muppet projects you'd want to see? or anything else you want to add.

once again wishing you all the best!

First of all- thank you!

Second of all. This is a really good question. I was a little weary about Muppets Mayhem because while I do love the band I was unsure if they’d be able to carry a whole show, and I was even more weary about the Human Talent…I was very pleased with the end result! My fears were proven to be irrational! I honestly think Mayhem is some of the best muppet content to be released in the past couple years. If a theoretical future muppet project following a specific group of characters went in a similar direction, I can see myself liking it. This is kind of controversial, but I’m super obsessed with Muppets From Space, which is basically just The Gonzo Movie. So maybe I am biased. But considering Mayhem’s reception I don’t feel I am alone…

Okay. And. Since it’s ME answering this question, I’m gonna need y’all to look at my favorite Guy now:

(The dog. Not the scruffy lookin’ human man.)

I think Rowlf could work in a gentle little miniseries for Disney Plus or something where we follow him throughout his day and dog related hijinks ensue. Rowlf waits for a package but cannot resist chasing the mailman. Rowlf goes to a Guitar Center and makes new friends while he plays the display pianos. Rowlf goes to the dentist but doesn’t have teeth. Rowlf buys Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches at Target. I dunno. I’m imagining each episode is like four minutes long. Put that dog in Situations. You know Muppet Moments and such? Where it’s just candid regular people interacting with muppet unscripted? It could even be one of those. Those are always fun. Take him out on the town.

On a more broad scale, I think this boils down to me just wanting the muppets to Have Fun spontaneously more often. It’s improved a bit since 2011 (everyone say Thank You Jason Segel) but the brand seems kind of…stilted… just a little.

[turtleations]

Pink Couldy Sky, Chapter 07 – Letter (Summarized) - Part 1

Note 1: Once again, the chapter is split into two parts. This first parts has the majority of it, but the secong part contains a long section that is actually, directly translated, and I will need more time to edit it properly. I hope to have it up before the year is over, but I can make no promises.

Note 2: This post contains pictures. I am not happy with how tumblr is sizing/cropping them on my screen. Click on them if they are not shown in full.

Chapter 00 - 01 Chapter 02 Chapter 03 Chapter 04 Part 1, Part 2 Chapter 05 Chapter 06 Part 1, Part 2

Under Professor Arakawa, REM’s days of acquiring knowledge as a dentist continued after graduation. He joined Arakawa’s study group where he gained practical experience on various cases and worked very hard on becoming an actual dentist. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to justify himself to his late mother, nor to hide and the other members of SAVER TIGER. Those feelings were his main driving force. The other members of his dentist-band AMIT also joined Arakawa’s study group and they pushed each other forward.

To REM, who was practical by nature, this study circle was very helpful. He learned about the technical aspects from a medical point of view, and also about mental self-discipline.

In this time, again thanks to Professor Arakawa, REM also met Beat Takeshi, aka Takeshi Kitano [born 1947, actor, director, comedian etc.].

He vividly remembers the first time they went drinking together. They met at Takeshi’s place and he took REM to a snack bar in Roppongi’s underground. Takeshi was in a good mood and sang a lot at karaoke. His way of singing was exactly as REM had imagined it would be. Song after song he got on the floor and fired off jokes in rapid succession.

Takeshi seems blunt, but REM thinks he actually has a direct and kind personality and is very aware of his surroundings. When REM showed him a photo from is SAVER TIGER days, Takeshi laughed and said, “You really were a dentist already. Time didn’t change you.” Then he got serious and said, “But it’s interesting. Do your best.” The timing and the delivery were exquisite. [Note: I’m guessing that there was a joke in there that I fail to make sense of.]

When they talked about hide and discussed music, Takeshi pulled out one creative idea after another.

“When Doctor REM does a live, I’ll secretly enter the stage with no announcement, sing one song, and leave again without saying anything.”

It was a very fun night of drinking. They separated with REM excitedly promising to make that song for him.

Come to think of it, this was just one week before that unfortunate accident befell Takeshi. [Note: This is likely referring to a near-fatal motor scooter accident on 2. August 1994, which may or may not have been a suicide attempt.]

After this, they met several more times, with Takeshi also coming to Yokosuka for drinks, and continued their exchange. Takeshi would probably scold REM for embarrassing him if he read this, but he truly is a generous and warm person.

-

Hide continued to call REM about once a month. When he called from overseas, REM had the habit of taking notes on his calls in his diary-substitute-notebook.

For example: “31. August. Call from hide in L.A. at 6:30 AM. Today, it seems Megadeath came to the studio and he listened to their rehearsal.

He chatted about various things with the former guitarist of Cacophony, who apparently speaks Japanese.

When they went to a Japanese-style iszakaya afterwards, Ron Wood was drinking there…”

Beyond that, he would always contact REM when he returned to Japan, come directly to his apartment from Narita airport, and drink until morning to combat jet lag.

In the first half of the nineties, “X” turned into “X JAPAN”. In this time, hide rapidly grew not only as a guitarist but as an artist in general.

In 1992, he showed his talent as a visualist with the publication of his solo-photobook “Mugongeki”. His stage turned from Budokan to the Tokyo Dome to the world. REM, on the other hand, having given up music, turned into a normal dentist.

However, whenever hide returned to Yokosuka, they would go drinking at Dobuita together – as drinking buddies, as best friends, as music companions who would forgive each other for every stupid thing said.

In a sense, it was a pretty strange connection.

Now, REM wonders if it wasn’t obvious that he was holding back around hide for fear of bothering him. To say nothing of the fact that the bitter feeling of not having been there for hide when he needed him most would not leave him alone.

But – and he thinks it may sound pretentious to put it like this – REM wonders if in this town of Yokosuka, where hide had been born and raised, all the cloudy hesitation and misunderstandings and strange fears weren’t blown away by the constant salty breeze from the sea.

REM couldn’t help but think that way.

When they drank at Dobuita until morning, there were no obstacles between them.

Hide always listened intently to REM’s silly music stories. Is that artist good or not, which CDs are cool – he always had an earnest discussion with REM about these things.

Looking at hide’s carefree smile, REM always heard a voice deep in his heart, saying, “Now I owe him again…”

Without his noticing, that murmur changed to, “No matter how, I want to pay him back. No matter how many years it takes, one day I will…”

One day when hide was in Yokosuka, REM went to “Parkside X” together with Professor Arakawa. He’d been thinking that he should introduce hide to Arakawa, so when they happened upon him, REM introduced him with the words, “Arakawa-sensei, this is hide.”

And Arakawa smiled and stood with, “My pleasure, I’m Arakawa.”

Hide, also standing, looked a little nervous, and said, “Likewise. Thank you for always taking care of REM. I’m hide.” He removed his trademark hat and sunglasses and gave a quick bow.

Then, he slowly put them back on and apologized for being impolite by wearing those things while drinking, and sat back down.

REM was astonished that he had taken them off at all, because at that time, he never did that in public. It seemed that hide was particularly respectful towards Arakawa because of the relationship he had to REM, and REM’s surprise soon turned into deeply moved gratitude.

After a night of drinking together and talking about all sorts of things, Arakawa also praised hide as a young man who, striking appearance aside, had firm opinions and was very polite. The way in which hide expressed his friendship that night had been typical for him.

-

In December 1995, REM announced that the was leaving his bachelor life behind and got married to a woman named Miwa. [Note: At least, that’s what I think her name is. REM gives the kanji for her name, but not the reading, which might differ drastically from the common (or even any sensible) reading of the characters.]

For the wedding reception, they reserved a cozy restaurant for their few dozen guests, which included family and only their closest of friends. One invitation was handed to hide, who was happy as if it were his own wedding and confirmed that he was definitely going to attend.

On the day of the wedding, REM was nervous and embarrassed like never before in his life. This was no fault of his bride’s, he simply had a raging case of wedding nerves, and it defeated him. As soon as the nerves hit him, he would drink any alcoholic beverage he could get his hands on. He honestly thought that since it worked on stage, it would work for getting married.

Hide had sent them a large bouquet of flowers in the name of “X Japan hide” but was nowhere to be seen in person.

In fact, it seemed that hide had chosen his timing well, considering the commotion that might have happened at the gathering place if word had gotten around that a member of X Japan was present.

An hour into the event, hide was there, just sitting casually in the front row in his hat and sunglasses. He grinned when he handed more alcohol to REM. At this point, REM was already blazingly drunk.

Hide for his part was fidgety and restless, talking to Jimmy and pointing out that it was time for the afterparty.

Then, during the preparations for said party, those two kept whispering to each other about something.

The wedding reception was not unlike a live show, with plenty of music buddies present. There were former members of SAVER TIGER, Hikaru, who used to be the bassist of X for a while during their indies days, and the current, much more famous X Japan-bassist heath.

SAVER TIGER served as the lead act. With hide jumping in, it was like the illusion of a SAVER TIGER revival session. The song they played was “Double Cross”.

The title of the song seemed a bit too fitting for the situation, but they chose it because it was representative of SAVER TIGER.

So REM, unsteady and hugging his guitar, started to play (“Ei!”) with the timing he was used to, only to be met with perfect silence from everyone else involved.

Thus, he declared, “It can’t be helped, you’re all doing it wrong,” regained his composure and started playing the phrase again.

Once again, hide and the others met him with grinning silence.

And REM thought, “I’m being deceived!”, finally realizing that he was falling victim to a prank, and that the prank smelled strongly of hide. Surely, hide and Jimmy had set this up when they were whispering to each other before.

In that moment, the room erupted into laughter and hide smiled earnestly at REM while looking very satisfied.

REM’s memory of the events after this point are essentially nonexistent.

Among the things that he vaguely remembers are heath getting up on stage and accepting a trophy he had won at their bingo tournament with a smile, and hide’s younger brother Hiroshi being delighted about having won a guitar.

From what REM could put together from the stories of his wife and the others, hide gave a musical performance that day, looking truly happy. This was not X Japan’s hide, this was an amateur at a free-for-all, lost in the spur of the moment, strumming his guitar with a relaxed smile on his face.

“At least, he was grinning as he played and looked like he was truly having fun.” That’s what Jimmy always murmurs when remembering that wedding reception.

[December 1995: REM's wedding reception. Photos exist for when your memory doesn't. (Click on the image for full view if tumblr cut it weirdly.)]

Due to REM’s work, the newlyweds couldn’t go on honeymoon right away. Only in the following year, in spring 1996, was he able to take the time off for it.

REM and his wife immediately agreed on the destination they wanted to visit. They both recalled at once how hide had told them to come to L.A. at least once, so that was where they wanted to go for the occasion of their once-in-a-lifetime, somewhat late honeymoon: The L.A. where hide was.

REM called hide over there at once. When he told him, “We’re thinking of travelling to L.A.,”, hide said, “Wait a second, I’ll call you back,” and hung up.

He had probably gotten a call for work, was certainly busy right now… REM and his wife speculated such while they waited, but when hide called them back after only a sort time, he gave them a list of the major hotels in Los Angeles, with information on their rating, how far they were from the airport, the price, if it was okay to smoke in there, what attractions were nearby…

After hanging up on them, hide had researched all that at the speed of light. REM and his wife were nothing but grateful. Hide, for this part, was very enthusiastic about their upcoming visit.

“What do you want to do when you’re here?”

The two of them told him they wanted to watch a Nomo Game [Note: Probably referring to Japanese baseball pitcher Hideo Nomo, who was playing for the Los Angeles Dodgers at the time.], visit the Universal Studios, and other things. And hide said brightly, “I got it! You don’t need to take care of anything, just make the reservations for the flights and the hotel…”, and then quickly hung up the phone.

The weather in L.A. was clear.

They arrived at the hotel they had picked from hide’s list, checked in, and rested in their room for about an hour before hide arrived, going “Yaa, yaa, yaa!”

Hide was in the middle of recording his solo single “Misery” at the time and hadn’t slept in three days, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he acted. He was wearing his usual hat and sunglasses, and his usual smile that lit up his whole face when he said, “So, what’s the plan?” He pulled out pen and paper and wrote down the schedule for their stay in the city, while asking REM and his wife for their wishes. Then, he asked, “How do you feel about Las Vegas?” and added his own recommendations, arranging everything from flights to hotel reservations.

He also insisted that REM’s wife, pregnant at the time, had to eat! And handed over a bundle of ten onigiri that he had brought for her.

Her due day happened to coincide with hide’s thirty-second birthday. Whenever he stroked the bulging stomach of REM’s wife, he would tell the unknown baby to better get born on schedule, so they could share their birthday.

In any case, to REM and his wife, hide was the world’s best tour conductor, taking care of every aspect of their journey. His thoughtfulness, attentiveness, kindness and warmth were extraordinary and he made sure that they got whatever they wanted. REM and his wife could only be grateful and impressed by his warmth that asked for nothing in return.

It was thanks to him that this trip became one of the best memories of the couple.

One day, after hide had left for recording, his manager at the time, Kudo-chan, took them downtown for dinner. After parking the car, they waited at a traffic light, discussing where they wanted to eat.

As they waited, REM spotted a man waiting at the opposite side of the road who looked like a musician to him, from the way he dressed to the way he wore his long, lustrous hair. Then, the signal turned to “WALK”, they did just that, and as the guy came closer, REM thought that his face looked like he had seen it somewhere before…

It couldn’t be. Here, on this giant continent of America, in the middle of this giant city of Los Angeles…But damn, if that guy did not look exactly like…

And so it came that REM and heath embraced right there in the middle of that pedestrian crossing in L.A., celebrating their unexpected reunion. Babbling along the lines of:

-“Hey, what are you doing here? No, this is where I… Where are we, anyway…”

-“N- no, I heard from hide-chan that you were in L.A., REM, but that I would meet you here…”

Since the time heath came from Osaka to Tokyo, REM had often gone drinking with him. Their meeting here was as much of a surprise as when hide had told REM that heath had joined X.

Thanks to this prank of the gods, they all went to a Japanese restaurant together, chatting happily. It was a day full of surprises and deep emotions.

Just two or three days before REM and his wife were to return home, hide invited REM to the studio and asked him to play the guitar solo of “Misery”. So REM borrowed hide’s guitar and contemplated the song’s guitar phrase there in that place.

And after he played it, hide said, “Well, REM-chan, let’s have you record it before you go home!”

Somewhat incredulously, REM agreed.

However, the next day, something urgent came up with X Japan and the recording of “Misery” had to be interrupted.

Looking regretful, hide told REM over and over that it would resume the next week. But REM’s work did not allow for the delay. And so, with painful reluctance, REM and his wife boarded the plane home.

The day before their return, hide somehow managed to take them out for dinner despite his busy schedule. Since REM’s pregnant wife couldn’t drink, REM and hide drank beer and wine for three. Afterwards, they returned to hide’s apartment building, hung out on the roof at the pool, and continued to chat while looking at the giant, illuminated HOLLYWOOD-sign.

At some point, without anyone noticing, hide had taken off his sunglasses. Hide, who had returned to bare-faced Matsumoto Hideto, and REM, who had returned to bare-faced Araki Masahiko, continued talking with a beer in hand for a long time.

It had been more than ten years since REM had first come to this city as a middle school student. Now, the L.A. night breeze was as fresh as it had been back then, and so dry they could basically hear it.

[2 May 1996: Last night in L.A.]

The next day, hide was driving the car himself when he picked up REM and his wife who were puking all over due to hangover and morning sickness respectively and took them to the airport.

Hide seemed to enjoy himself when he looked over his shoulder at their pale faces in the backseat and asked with a smile, “Honored passengers, how did you enjoy your trip?”

That kind smile of hide, that rare entertainer, was swaying before their eyes.

Hide had been serious about what he had said at the studio in L.A., as REM came to understand that the afterparty of the secret live hide and his band gave at the Yokosuka Art Theater that autumn. He had really meant for REM to play the guitar for “Misery”. REM had been baffled, and felt that now there was another major depth he was owing hide.

He murmured those words as he watched hide’s cheerful form fussing around. His wife, who had heard him, nodded in agreement. She was approaching her due date.

“He’s really supported us at every important point, hasn’t he?”

And so he had. When REM and his now-wife had been dating, it was hide who had looked at them and declared that they absolutely had to get married. He kept saying it. He even said it on New Year’s Day of the year they did get married, just like hide had predicted.

In that moment, REM and his wife likely had the same mental image: Of hide, cheerfully playing guitar at their wedding reception with a mischievous smile on his face, or his kind hospitality in L.A., happily going along with everything they wanted. REM’s thought of, “I want to repay hide for all he’s done” turned to “I must repay hide” turned to “No matter how many years it takes, one day for certain,” and finally arrived at “I must start at once.”

On the sixth of December, 1996, about one week before hide’s birthday, REM’s wife gave birth to their first child without problems. It was a boy, and they called him 柊衣. [Note: The Japanese names strike again. This is probably read either “Hii”, “Toui”, or “Hiragi”.]

Hide came to meet their beloved son the following year, in February 1997.

Hide loved children. Even now, REM remembers how hide played with their son tirelessly all day. He passionately gave this baby, only two months old, rhythm training and taught him how to hold a guitar pick.

This was another day when hide took off his sunglasses. It is their absence that REM blames for the fact that hide, holding the baby in his arms, looked so innocent and vulnerable it hurt.

Continued in part 2

[princessmaybank]

Hi! Congratulations on 1.5!!! sent something else for the celebration already but saw you post about warning a “💌 New Message”. I know you mentioned for us to state which character we would like it from but honestly I pretty much like them all the same (except I do like Pope just a little bit more) so either from Pope, or if you think I would for better with sometime else then I would definitely love that! (Also preferably the character being my established significant other (so like at least being together for like 6 ish months)). And even though I’m a really boring person, here it goes haha. I’m pretty shy and introverted when first meeting someone (and in public) but once I get to know and become closer to someone I am more extroverted around them, and more relaxed and carefree. I would describe myself as a very kind, honest, caring, and overall good person. I would also say I’m a romantic and love all that stuff that some people find cheesy. I unfortunately didn’t get the stereotypical high school love and have only had 2 “romances” (a few “dates” (I put in quotes because yes they were dates but no effort was made and were nothing like how I imagined/imagine dates should be) and kissed/made out but then said they didn’t want anything serious). I love both cats and dogs but after we put down our last dog a few years ago we (my family and I) decided just to have our cats (as my mom is getting older and didn’t want to deal with potty training and taking a dog on walks, especially when I am at college). I LOVE music I am listening to music pretty much all the time, exceptions being when I am working/ doing school stuff that I have to have my entire focus on (or obvious things like at a restaurant with family or friends, dr appointment, etc) although once I am sitting in the chair at the dentist after talking to the hygienist, I have it in my chart that I put my headphones in because I hate loud noises the noise, (and the taste, smells, noise all put together makes me freak out). I said I hate loud noises, however I love fireworks and concerts (I put earplugs in lmao). I am a basic white girl with most of my music taste (sue me okay!) and love Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson, Halsey, Kelsea Ballerini, the glee cast seasons 1-3💀, 5 seconds of summer, one direction, however I do also love Evanescence and Halestorm. In middle and high school I was in band (played the clarinet) and choir for a few years but did not continue when teachers left and i didn’t get much joy from it anymore, but I still sing along to music I listen to. I am NOT into sports/don’t watch/play but when I was younger I was really interested in gymnastics and did it for four years until the price increased and I had to quit. However I love “swimming” (going in the water and relaxing/ moving around, not swimming laps or anything like that). This was all over the place and I feel like this was probably way too many details you don’t need/don’t help you but also possibly not enough info to write a letter :/ But anyways, hopefully it is good enough you can write something from it! Thank you and once again congratulations!!!

Thank you babe ❤️ I guess I'm a post office now because have a letter here from Pope for you! 😂

Hello Beautiful,

It's our 1 year anniversary and I am extremely sorry for not being able to be with you for it. I miss you so much and I can't wait to see you again. I think about you every day, all day long. Not a day goes by where you and your lovely smile don't cross my mind.

I know I told you I'd be away for a few more months but I have something to tell you. I'll be back to visit in a few weeks honey!

You've probably already seen them by now in the envelope, but in case you haven't looked, I got you a little something. I know how much you love Niall Horan, and I saw that he was on tour, so I made a few ends meet and I got us some tickets for his show near us. I'll be visiting that week. Can't wait to see my beautiful baby.

P.S. I know it's not as good as the tickets but I also sent a picture of me. I Love You.

Love,

Pope <3

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Weekly Forecast & David Pond in Reno May 18th - 22nd

For a talk and Astrology consultations

I will be in Reno next month, giving a talk at Laura Benedict's studio and available for astrology readings while I am in town.

Talk on Upcoming Astrology Cycles: A New Wind Blowing

There is a new wind blowing in astrology, after the last few years of dreary astrology, the first positive aspects are upon us. We are still in the updraft of the recent Jupiter/Uranus conjunction and the unexpected opportunities and breakthroughs that this brings—and it keeps getting better. Jupiter will be moving into Gemini in late May in a harmonious trine to Pluto in Aquarius—this will provide a mental upgrade for all of us, opening the mind to see the world in a more positive and optimistic way. The trine to Pluto provides a deeper understanding of self and this greater self-acceptance leads to greater success. Suitable for all levels

Call Lorna at 775-322-7438 for reservations

Consultations. If you would like to schedule an astrology reading to see where these opportunities for growth and expansion are showing up in your chart, call Laurie at 360-918-8411, or email her at dpond11@gmail.com and she will help you make the arrangements.

Hope to see you soon!

This week’s astrology forecast: April 22nd to 28th

Message for the week:

The three main astrological events happening this week are Tuesday’s Full Moon in Scorpio, Mercury turning direct on Thursday, and Mars conjunct Neptune this weekend. Full Moons are always intense, and this one being in passionate intense Scorpio is also square to shadowy Pluto, making it all the more intense. Scorpio would rather deal with a hard truth than an easy white lie, and the Pluto square brings hidden, uncomfortable truths to light. This facillitates deep inner investigation with a spotlight on our shadow. Can you hold space in your psyche for all aspects of yourself, even those considered taboo? This prompts a transformation of previously limiting beliefs. Deep acceptance is a higher octave of forgiveness.

The welcome news of Mercury finally turning direct on Thursday, ends three weeks of do overs and miscommunications, yeah! You should begin to feel more articulate again, able to say what you mean clearly. An easier time for travel plans, all communications, and generally, the ability to move forward without as many snafus.

The Mars/Neptune conjunction in Pisces this weekend dserves consideration. Mars, the planet of how we take action, influenced by imagination-rich Neptune, clouds normal perception with a magical, multicolered veil and is excellent for creativity, romance, dancing, but not for practical decisions. Enjoy the rose colored glasses, but don’t choose paint samples with them on!

Monday: The Moon is in relationship-sensitive Libra opposite the Mercury, Venus/Chiron conjunction in Aries. You may have to practice deep acceptance of other people’s behavior that seems contrary to what you value. To stay balanced and keep the cherished Libra peace, allow other people their differences.

Tuesday: An emotionally intense day with the Moon entering deep feeling Scorpio this morning, leading to the Full Moon at 4:49 PM PST, while in a provocative square to eruptive Pluto—like going to the cosmic dentist to root out decay going on beneath the surface. If you are willing to face your shadow material, deep transformation can take place—either you root out the behavior causing the decay, or transform your beliefs to allow what you have been denying.

Wednesday: Ahh! A smooth day, after yesterday’s uber intense Full Moon, with the Moon in intimacy-seeking Scorpio supported by an empowering trine to “taking care of business” Saturn. Along with greater emotional stability, this steady, focused energy is available for financial dealings and decisions.

Thursday: A smooth day and fun evening is in store with Mercury turning direct, ending three weeks of snafus. The Moon starts the day in introspective Scorpio in a harmonious trine to the Mars/Neptune conjunction. The Moon moves into upbeat, extroverted Sagittarius this evening in a stimulating sextile to Pluto, creating an openness to almost anything—let the adventure begin!

Friday: A good day for travel, adventure and getting out and exploring a bit, with the Moon in “don’t fence me in” Sagittarius and with no aspects. This jovial, “happy go lucky” energy is infectious—humor goes a long way for opening doors today.

Saturday: The Moon is in optimistic Sagittarius in a supportive trine to Chiron—you may feel called on to help a friend move beyond limiting, wounding beliefs. A good day for getting out of doors and to get those legs moving. You may feel a bit amorous late tonight with the Moon’s aspects to the cosmic lovers, Mars and Venus.

Sunday: The Moon enters productive Capricorn this morning in a flowing trine to the energizing Sun in Taurus—which suggests a day of tending to responsibilities. However, Mars (action) is conjunct mystical, magical Neptune, and will resist the mundane world of daily life. A good day to put-on rose-colored glasses (and remember you are wearing them) and plan an enchanting, fanciful day to get the best of this.

May the stars be with you!

David

Donations: Although these weekly updates are free, if you would like to support the newsletter with a donation, go to my website and click the “Donate” button on the menu. You can donate in increments of $5. You can also donate through Venmo: David-Pond-17 If you would like to send a check, contact us for our mailing address. Thanks for your support!

Consultations: I am available for consultations if you would like to see how your astrology chart can help you connect with your true self, explore your life’s purpose, better understand relationships, find your right vocation, or to align with current astrological influences. Contact us by email, phone, or through the “Services” tab on our website, to set up a session.

Email: Dpond11@gmail.com

Website: Davidpond.com

Phone: 360-918-8411

[nancydrewwouldnever]

NY Daily News - 6 September 2004

He's One Hot Number But Chris Evans says it's risky business being in spotlight

By NANCY MILLS DAILY NEWS WRITER

HOLLYWOOD - Is Chris Evans the next Tom Cruise?

Chris Evans thinks so.

Of course, this makes Evans, all of 23 years old, seem like he has way too much self-confidence.

After all, his two biggest roles came in movies - this year's "The Perfect Score" and 2001's "Not Another Teen Movie" - that grossed a total of $48 million.

But the power of his positive thinking got him his biggest role to date, in "Cellular," opening Friday.

"We saw everyone in Hollywood," says David Ellis, "Cellular's" director. "There are a lot of good actors in Chris' age group - Ashton Kutcher, Topher Grace, Jason Biggs, Shane West. We read all of them, but Chris stood out from the crowd. We wanted a cocky, good-looking kid, someone girls like. Chris is like a young Tom Cruise."

It remains to be seen whether "Cellular" will do for Evans what "Risky Business" did for Cruise. The movie is a fast-paced thriller, with Evans as a surfer dude who just happens to answer his cell phone when Kim Basinger, a kidnap victim, randomly dials it in a desperate attempt to get help.

But there is already one significant way in which Evans is following in Cruise's footsteps. Just as Cruise has had a habit of dating his co-stars - Nicole Kidman, Penelope Cruz - Evans is romancing "7th Heaven's" Jessica Biel, who has a role in "Cellular."

Evans says he and Biel, whom he describes as "such a sweet girl," have agreed to keep their dating private.

"Relationships are difficult," he says. "All that emotion and pain. I can't imagine opening a magazine and reading about my heartache at the newsstand. I said, 'Let's not be seen at clubs being loud and obnoxious. Let's not go to premieres or parties. Let's not get our picture taken.' She's all for it."

Evans has been acting professionally for five years, but he has been plotting his career since junior high. One of four children of a dentist and a dancer, who grew up in the Boston suburb of Sudbury, he says, "If you're a guy doing shows in seventh grade, it's easy to get leads because the competition is minimal. It fills your head with possibilities."

Actually, on this point Evans seems to be modest. One of his teachers in high school says the teen made quite a dramatic impression.

"He was a very talented kid. He was in plays from the time he was a freshman and did all sorts of major roles, like Leontes in 'The Winter's Tale.' He was in pretty much everything," says William Plott, drama director at Lincoln-Sudbury Regional High School.

"There's only a handful of kids with that much talent, and he was certainly one of them, so [Evans' success] is not much of a surprise."

Considering his work in teen movies, Evans may surprise fans with more mature roles. First comes "Cellular." Then in December, he will show his dark side in "Fierce People," with Diane Lane and Donald Sutherland. And he's playing a superhero - the Human Torch - in "Fantastic Four," which is currently filming.

While discussing his career prospects, Evans begins to show his ego once more - with the presumption that stardom may be oh-so-difficult to handle.

"Any leading man runs the risk of being flash-in-the-pan eye candy," he says. "I can't imagine anything worse than being looked at as kind of a joke, a shallow caricature of yourself.

"With 'Cellular' and 'Fantastic Four,' which is a big studio movie, I'm unfortunately stepping in a direction I don't want to go. But I'm going to say, 'No more big-budget movies.' I'm going to find the right director and the right part.

"And if I can't, I'm going to go into hiding."

[sealofarchives]

If Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles ever returns with a new season, who do you think could be the new villains? There are so many possibilities…

I haven’t entirely finished tmnt 2003 (mostly stopping after getting through season 5) but I remember agent bishop’s first appearance almost scaring me.

Until season 4 went in a weird direction, where his character whined about some virus he created that eventually got out of control. (and some shit how he’s like from the past and it’s never brought up again like ???)

I wished someone archived all the tweets about the creators talking about the scrapped rise episodes because, the follow up episode for that creepy dentist character who wanted raph’s snaggletooth would be a perfect introduction to establish agent bishop as another threat to the turtles. idk either as a cliffhanger with news reaching to bishop and it’s just a bad omen to throughout one season. (maybe as a main villain for season 4, since recent news revealed 3 was supposed to be all about Big Mama)

like I still think about that specific episode along with the man vs sewer (I can’t remember the exact episode name atm) but, could you imagine a turtle tot flashback giving more context to why Leo took this issue more seriously.

I can’t really think of any other villains so my mind’s drawing a blank lol