#personal branding audit

[superavenueunknown]

Is threads the new digital marketing trend to watch out for? 

Social media marketing is the domain, and content creators are the kings, and each ticking second we have new players stepping in, a lot of them, since no one is a by-stander anymore. Every business organization, an MNC or a small up and coming startups. Every business is a brand. And every brand narrative needs a media platform. A new digital marketing trend is here.

Social media literacy is its zenith, and the peak no longer exists for virtually everyone—humans and humans—are on the screen. Mobile marketing is scaling new heights, and artificial intelligence is emerging and showing significant signs of dominance given the ChatGPT advent, but this also could lead to a phenomenon called the AI fatigue, where the content becomes overwhelming and people just scroll through or skip sections. We see the traces; surely you have scrolled through reels in the first couple seconds if it does not strike your fancies, and as Deluze coined, its all a copy of a copy of a copy. Originality lacks, hence humans shall never be obsolete, and this can be attested if one takes a look at the quick growth of threads. 

Threads is the favourite darling child of all content creators, with new features coming out each day, perhaps, even as we speak; customized feeds, trending topics, they also list out algorithm trending topics yet you have the space to customize and the freedom of feed curation. It does look like a feasible competitor to X and the fact that it is close to amassing a billion users speaks for itself. Independent content creators are in throngs and looks like businesses are also throbbing in. it’s a great tool to start discussions and propose ideas or opinions – a great way for audience engagement; it focuses on text only content, and that works as a great antidote for the AI Fatigue we were talking about earlier, since it allots a much needed break from video content. Speculations are rife that they might soon begin monetizing via ads and this development shows us why threads could be the next big trend in digital marketing. 

So hop on and reap the benefits. 

contact us: +91 7996316333

visit us: https://magixbowl.com/index.php

[trexalicious]

I thought Carolina Herrera was a luxury brand recognized for its high-end fashion, quality craftsmanship, and sophisticated design. A $1,400 skirt and the fabric's print doesn't even line up at the seams? At that price point, I would expect pattern matching/matching the print...

[coweye]

The Honda Odyssey

Logan Howlett x Reader | smut | 6k words Summary: The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

I got carried away. I just love Wolvie so much. I'm so happy Logan is getting the adoration he deserves. Long live the Wolverine renaissance.

Warning: smut, p in v, ass play, foul language.

If you had to pinpoint a moment when your life became the shit show it had steadily developed into, you’d say it was the moment you auditioned for X-Force.

In your tenure as besties with Wade Wilson, it's fair to say things hadn’t gone smoothly. The man was a conduit to all things fucked up, but you adored his loose morals and quick mouth. The idiot in red had weaselled his way into your heart and became something of a brother to you and more recently a roommate.

Now, if you’d have told your younger self you’d be in your late twenty’s sharing an apartment with a burn victim who regularly staples a toupee to his fucking head and a coke-head, blind, old African American woman, you’d have laughed in their fucking face.

So, you’d like to think that as these things go you are pretty damn well adjusted but traversing the multiverse was a bit of a stretch, even for you.

One moment you’re at Wade’s surprise party, the next your ass has been zapped to the TVA and you’ve been given a sacred mission; to accompany Marvel Jesus (Wade) and protect the sacred timeline.

Naturally you’re fucking mind blown, you’re a low-level mutant, fuck, you couldn’t even join the X-Men.  Your particular set of skills were a dime a dozen and your flagrant disregard of rules had made you a ‘poor candidate’.

No, the mutant powers you had been graced with weren’t extraordinary by any means. You were basically an off-brand Captain America, just without the gorgeous cheekbones, patriotism and righteous need to do good.

In layman terms, you are strong as shit and have an accelerated healing factor. Not quite the same level as Wade’s mind you. You have, give or take, an inconvenient five-minute turnaround on the more fatally debilitating wounds.

To say you were unqualified was an understatement and to say you were reluctant was a simple fact. A fact you repeated, loudly to anyone that would listen as you were bathed in rich black leather.

“I think maybe you meant to grab negasonic teenage whatchacallit… she’s great, super powerful!” You continue. “Did you mean to get Domino or Colossus or maybe one of the X-Men? “

“No Miss Y/L/N. We have not got the wrong person for the job.” The man you later find out is called Paradox, calls out as you re-enter the operation headquarters. “Mr Wilson requested your presence; he wanted your assistance on his mission.”

“Y/N/N… ten out of ten, baby girl, I one hundred percent would bang. I’m talking raw dog, Barry White on a rug, let’s go all fuckin’ night.”  Wade hollers in his own brand-new suit and even you must admit, you look fucking amazing. “Sweet angel, we’ve just gotta’ come up with a superhero name for you!”

You are enrobed in rich thick black and teal leather, your first ever hero suit and it’s a fucking good one. It doesn’t cling, but instead pulls you in securing your flesh and extenuating curves, ones you hadn’t entirely realised you had. The bottom half your face is concealed with a mask, carefully crafted to follow the contours of your nose and cheekbones.

You’d barely recognised the mysterious figure in the mirror.

“Right?! Tailor was pretty handsy though!”

“Oh yeah, ha! - that man is indeed a predator.” Wade says with a chuckle and a fond sigh.

It shames to you to say but that’s when you stopped fighting this whole thing. You looked the part of a hero; you thought that maybe the TVA knew what they were doing. That they had seen something in you and knew that you had a good heart under all the darkness that lingered on the surface.

Wrong.

You were just a demand Wade had made. He wanted his number one disciple at his side whilst he carried out his sacred mission. You were part of an attempt at appeasing him whilst they destroyed your timeline.

Little more than a pawn to be used whilst they manipulated him into a false sense of security.

Thus, you were thrown into a series of events far beyond your control when Wade being Wade decided you were hunting down a Wolverine to stabilise the timeline, only to be once again fucking zapped into some place they called the void by that little English shitbird named Paradox. It’s entirely accurate to say that you were a little less sturdy than your compadres.

Unfortunately for you, the fall from such a height into the void was fatal. When you finally awake in the desolate wasteland to the sounds of blades clashing it is disorientating to say the least.

Forcing yourself to your feet you lower your mask and gasp in the sweet strangely stale oxygen as you stretch out your newly healed spine with a groan. It was impossible to tell how long you were out as you take in the scene before you; Wade and the Wolverine are engaged in a heated battle. From the looks of it, Logan is winning this fight despite being the human equivalent of a knife block with Wade’s katanas protruding from his chest.

For a moment you pause, perhaps its head trauma that hasn’t healed (He’s fucking Deadpool, he can look after himself for two minutes) and appreciate his form, the Wolverine the two of you had kidnapped was gorgeous. Tch, as if there was any other kind.

Sure, you were biased you’d always been somewhat of a fangirl, but the Wolverine was objectively breath-taking.

You’d indulged in comics whilst growing up but when you found out he was real and looked the way he did, hell, Wolverine was your sexual awakening. He was the first man to make you feel that tingle in your lower stomach. Yes, you may have been thirteen years old, a ball of puppy fat and social anxiety but you’d been waiting for him ever since. 

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Wade loses baby knife in Logan’s shoulder blade, finally you spring into action. In good time as well as you’re not sure if even Deadpool can survive decapitation.

In the singularly most stupid act of your life you throw yourself in front of your friend’s body. “Wait, Wait! Please!”  

Wade has paused behind you, you can feel him weighing up the situation, pausing for a moment to see what you’re going to pull out of the bag.

“The TVA they can fix it, whatever you did, whatever made you the worst Logan, they can fix it! – They have the power to end universes, but they also have the power to fix yours! Help us get back there and we can fix both of our worlds! I promise, they can fix it.” You plead, it’s not quite a lie exactly, more of an Educated Wish than anything.

Okay it is a lie, but you’re sure that the TVA can most likely, probably, maybe fix his world.

Logan’s eyes lock with yours in that moment you can see that he wants to kill you both and be done with it, but that hope won’t let him. You feel a smidgen of guilt for the deceit, but frankly you’ve done worse for less. Your world was on the line it wasn’t the time to pull your punches.

Fast forward four exhausting hours, two periods of unconsciousness and one flaying to find yourself sat opposite Wade gagging down cold spoonful’s of Spam in some dusty ass diner.

You were no better than a man as you watched the Wolverine.

Those arms, those thighs, the way he had beheaded Sabretooth without even breaking a fucking sweat. You wanted him to wrap those instruments of death he called hands around your throat and fuck you dirty until the sun came up.

It had been a long exhausting day and you had been soaking wet for most of it.

Shit, could he smell that? Does that count as sexual harassment? You’d have to ask Wade.

Logan, however, was utterly dismissive of your advances in the face of what was undoubtedly utterly horrific past trauma. Something you were trying to be understanding about, but self-pity in a man, it just turned you on. I said you had some surface layers of darkness.

Unable to help yourself you gaze at him as he opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You are utterly entranced, watching the thick chords in his throat bob as he takes a swig.

That tanned skin where his jaw ends and neck begins, slick with sweat and dirt. You’d love to sink your canines into the strip below his ear. He must feel your stare on him as he looks up and catches your eyes dark with lust already surveying his person.

It should embarrass you, that every time he peers your way, he catches you gaping at him like a lovesick puppy, but there’s something about Logan you can’t quite put your finger on. The man heats your blood like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, maybe it’s that torch you’ve carried for him since girlhood, maybe it’s the thick thighs you’d kill to ride – who can say for sure?

In what you assume is against his better judgement, he comes to perch on the booth beside you. His broad shoulders cast an imposing figure as he gets close enough that if you were to move your hand a couple of inches to the right, you’d finally be able to touch that yellow fabric that plagued your tween dreams.

You’re burning up at the thought of him, unable to stop yourself you part your legs slightly to ease some of the pressure. Logans nose twitches, his head swivels your way and his eyes catch your own.  

Welp - at least you have your answer about him smelling your arousal.

Deciding that you were most likely verging on sexual harassment charges you decided to focus back in on the task at hand, gagging once again at another spoonful of spam.

“Be a good girl and swallow, Y/N/N, you know the rules!” Wade jokes, your chortle was your only response. What could you say? He always hit your funny bone despite the ocean that was raging in your panties.

Logan stares at Wade for a long moment before turning to your way and addressing you for maybe only the fourth time today?

“What are you doing with this fucking clown? You his sidekick? Following him round to laugh at his stupid fucking jokes whilst he gets kids killed?”

“Why I have never.” Wade is faux outraged at his words, clutching his imaginary pearls as the Wolverine throws around accusations that aren’t entirely untrue.

The Wolverine’s expression remains stern as his eyes track your face. They seem to be evaluating your character and from the flare in his nose and crease in his brow you can guess he finds you lacking. You’re embarrassed to admit how much that deflates you, so you do what you do best; you deflect.

 “I could follow you around and laugh at your jokes instead, if you like?” When you speak your voice has a sultry edge to it and there’s no mistaking your intentions.

Logan seems to think on your proposition for a second or two, before he huffs grabs his rubbing alcohol and unopened can of Spam and heads over to sit at the bar.

“Holy hot ham and cheese on rye, Y/N, you fucking slut.” Wade berates you though his voice is as light as it’s always been as he boots your shin under the table. “Trying to your holes filled by Wolvie during a world saving mission, Marvel H Christ, stay on fucking task!”

You swear you hear Logan mutter a Jesus Christ from the bar.

Though as Wade continues irritating the hero hunched against bar, you can’t help the realisation that he didn’t say no.

“You’re uh… well regarded in our world.” Wade complements, being real doesn’t come easy to him. You appreciate the effort.

“Well, I’m not shit in mine.”

“I tried to join the X-Men because of you.” You speak up finally joining their conversation. Wolverine’s back goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to continue or hoping you’ll stop. “You made a difference to this world, made me think I could do the same. I just never quite make the cut.”

Logan doesn’t seem to have a response.

It seems your words have an effect as you catch him watching you more often. When Wade makes his jokes, he looks to you for validation of his withering looks.

You’re probably more distracted by this revelation than you should be when the three of you come across a real nasty variant of Colossus seeking out Wade for… you want to say… revenge?

The not-so-gentle-anymore-giant flips the Honda and tosses both Wade and Logan through the treeline as they advance on him as if they were little more than toys his mother had asked him to pick up.

One by one your bullets ricochet from his metal skin as he comes towards you. You aren’t built for this fight; you are completely and utterly outmatched.

All you’re doing at this point is buying yourself some time for your backup to pull themselves from the rubble, however during a particularly spirited cartwheel the metal oaf finally gets his hands on you. Colossus’ metal palm is cold on your throat, and you could swear you hear your neck snapping before you feel it.  

With a gasp you return to life to find a slightly dishevelled Logan standing above you. By the grace of god, his sleeves have been worn away in the fight, his arms, oh sweet lord, his arms are on full display.

“Thought you were a goner.” He offers you a hand when you simply stare mutely his way. Locking your fingers around his wrist he pulls you to your feet. You don’t release your hold on him and neither does he.

“Don’t throw the party just yet, eh?” You joke weakly, for a second you could swear there’s a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, imperceptible, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. In the past few hours you had become an expert on Wolverine’s face.  

Your mouth is dry as you take in his thick sweat laden biceps.

“Where’s Wade?” You query whilst rolling your aching neck as you haven’t heard his voice in a record thirty seconds, Logan suddenly remembers himself and drops your hand.

“’fraid Metal man took your clown, was pissed with him and can’t say I blame the guy.”

“Shit.” You sigh rubbing your temples as you kneel to pick up the dismembered arm of your best friend. “Well – fuck. That’ll take him a few hours at least to grow back – He’ll be so sad about his suit.”

You peel the fabric from the limb and tuck it under the breast plate of your own suit. Wade will want his glove back when it grows back.

“He say where he was taking him?”

“Oh yeah, that along with his plan for world domination...” Logan huffs as if your mere presence annoys him.

“Thought you didn’t like sarcasm.”

“I like sarcasm just fine, Bub. It’s you I don’t like.” You can’t help but smile his way at the comment made at your expense, his brows crease. “You’re a strange one.”

“Can you do your sniffy thing?”  Its impressive, you thought he’d reached the limit with his scathing looks towards Wade, yet he somehow manages to pull a deeper frown out the vault especially for you.

“Sniffy thing?” His words are spoken with such derision, it turns you on a little. You realise that perhaps you are in fact a deeply troubled individual.

“Oh, sorry.” You pretend to clear a frog in your throat. “Please, oh, please, beautiful, handsome Wolverine, please can you locate my bestest pal with your heightened sense of smell?” His face doesn’t break despite your hands clasped in front of your chin.

“You’re just as fucking annoying as that moron.” He huffs “Get in the fucking car, we’ll follow his trail.”

“You can smell him from the car?”

“The blood, Jesus Fucking Christ, there’s a trail of blood.”

“Ah.” Is all you reply as you find your seat in the passenger side and start your own one on one team up with Wolverine. Its not exactly the way you imagined it, but beggars certainly can’t be choosers.

After a few moments of sullen silence, you decide that there’s no time like the present to form a long-lasting bond.

“What’s your world like?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Okay... What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they can save your world? I bet its something boring as fuck, like team-“

“What did you just say?”

“I bet you’re gonna do something boring like-“

“No before that.”

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they save your world?” You question, his sudden interest in your words takes you by surprise as he has been vacant from your conversation.

The breaks suddenly shriek as the car comes to a stop.

“What do you mean if?”

“I…”

“You said they could fix my world. Undo it all, is what you fucking said.”

“I mean I think they can!”

“You fucking liar.” The edge to The Wolverine’s voice is terrifying. The realisation trickles down your spine, Logan has been nice to you all this time, you’re finally meeting The Wolverine.

“I didn’t lie!” For some reason you’re ashamed of your deceit, you’ve murdered countless people and still, you’ve felt less remorse. Logan’s eyes pin you in your seat as disgust clouds his face. It hurts more than you can fathom. “Not exactly, I think they can fix your world! – I needed your help and if you killed Wade there was no hope for my universe!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your universe!” He spits your way; his hands are gripping the wheel in what seems like an effort to keep his cool.

“I know, but I do!” You cry back at him. “You know how to save the world, you’re the fucking Wolverine! I know how to kill people, but this hero shit, this isn’t me!”

“Ha! No shit.” There is pure hate in the man’s eyes as he stares back at you.

“Please, you’re Logan. Whether you’re the worst one or not - You’re still better than me.”

“Get out of the fucking car.” The words come from between clenched teeth and are filled with warning.

“No – fuck you.”  Your rage breaks the banks to meet Logan’s. Perhaps it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fear for Wade but something within you snaps at his constant bad temper. “It was an educated guess and a fucking reasonable one at that, get the fuck over yourself you big bird wannabe geriatric fucker! “

He slams his palms on the steering wheel, his nose flares and his teeth clamp together.  “Fuck me? Fuck you – you sad pathetic excuse for a side-kick. No wonder the X-Men wouldn’t take you, and they’ll take fuckin’ anyone. You are a ridiculous, immature, moron who spends her days following around a fucking clown to avoid facing the reality that you are no one. I have never met a sadder, more attention starved asshole in my entire life. You were right about one thing, you’re no fucking hero.”

Its shameful the way your stomach drops, and your eyes involuntarily begin to tear. To hear your hero say the words you’ve thought about yourself whilst laying awake at night. It’s a knife to the gut.

“Nothing to fucking say, huh, Angel?” The use of Wade’s nickname for you is like sandpaper on your skin, it rubs you the wrong fucking way.

“I am going to hurt you now.” Your voice is barely a broken whisper.

“You’re going to hurt – “His faux chortle is cut short by a swift punch to his face. You’re worried you may have been overzealous with your swing when his nose begins bleeding. The Wolverine is stunned for only a moment before he grabs the back of your neck and proceeds with smashing your face into the dashboard and those concerns are quickly put to bed.

The old fucker is strong, but you don’t think he’ll kill you, yet another educated wish.

“Not so tough now…” He shouts as the radio channels change with your skull. Pulling a knife from your leg strap you embed it in his thigh and pull the lever to recline your seat whilst he’s distracted, luckily, you’re not there when he swings for retribution.

Though one of his fucking steak knives catches your upper arm slicing through the leather. Warm blood trickles down your arm, staining the beige interior of the poor Honda. 

Your legs are your strongest asset, so when he attempts to restrain you with the seatbelt, you are presented with your window of opportunity. You wrap them around his neck as you pivot your hips slamming the Wolverine headfirst into the metal of the door. Once, twice, three times - on the fourth he lands a fist to your gut, luckily, he has retracted his claws.

If he was willing to kill you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

You’re winded struggling to catch your breath from the gut punch, but you manage pull the knife from his thigh that is nestled between your legs and thrust it into his neck, you aim for the spot you’d fantasied about kissing before he’d torn your character apart piece by piece, now you just want to bathe in his fucking blood.

It was the pain that instantaneously made his claws extend. He’s quick to move them, though he slices through the sides of your suit as he buries them in the chair behind you. Your ribs are a bloodied mess though you don’t care, in a few hours they’ll be good as new.

Logan has seized the opportunity and has your arms pinned to your sides, his blood has cooled a little more than yours, he doesn’t seem to want to murder you over an argument.

Perhaps he’s more well-adjusted than yourself, that thought alone should concern you, except it just enrages you further.

“You stupid fuckin-“The Wolverine starts admonishing you, before you swing your head forward and headbutt him.

Yes.

You really do that.

You headbutt the man with the adamantium fucking skeleton– at full strength. Its sheer dumb luck you don’t crack your own skull in the process– maybe Logan was right, you are fucking dumb.

“Fucking fuck!” You cry grabbing your forehead and writhing. Noone wins with a headbutt, except Logan apparently.

“Fucking stop that.” Your writhing has pushed your core against his crotch, and he is already packing quite the heat at what feels like half-mast. He grabs your hips to stop your movement, but it only seems to push you closer. “Stop fucking moving.”

The constant arousal you’ve felt since meeting him returns in double time, Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken. It’s debased and you’re ashamed that you want him, you haven’t stopped wanting him, despite the awful fucking words that left his mouth minutes ago.

“Like … a little pain Wolvie?”

Its relief you feel, you think, when instead of answering or punching you in the face, he closes the gap.

The Wolverine’s claws retract, and he grabs at your chin. Logan’s mouth utterly devours your own, your front tooth clashes with his own as you push yourself upwards, you pull your knife out of his neck, catching his grunt of pain on your tongue as you begin licking your way down his thick throat.

The vein you’d spotted hours ago is throbbing freshly healed, you sink your canines into the flesh and its as good as you’d fucking imagine. His groan is utterly beast-like as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The Wolverine’s throat tastes like salt and iron. Thick, tangy and warm on your tongue as you soothe the bite. It drives Logan wild, thrusting his hardened member against your warmth. One of his gloved hands rises to lock on the back of your neck to pull you into yet another earth-shattering kiss.  His sharp hot tongue slides against your own, exploring the expanses of your mouth like its his to claim.

You bite at him again then, your teeth catching his bottom lip sharply.  Logan groans into your mouth before you use every ounce of your enhanced strength to throw him backwards against the dashboard.

He is taken utterly by surprise as his head slams into the windscreen cracking the glass with a grunt. When he looks your way Logan’s eyes are blackened with desire, he is utterly wild.

Slowly as if afraid to make any sudden moves, you unzip your combat boots, your eyes never leaving his. One boot and then the next.

You thank the TVA’s tailor for making your suit a two piece as you shuffle backwards into the backseat, pushing the thick leather down your legs all whilst maintaining eye contact with the beast leaning against the dashboard.

“You sure you want this Darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” You question mockingly, your voice lowering to imitate his own, as you wantonly spread your legs, your bare leg resting next to the headrest. Only a pair of black cotton panties separate him from your most intimate parts and his eyes are locked on your clothed core. “a second ago it was ‘Pathetic Moron’ to you.”

Your head tilts in question as his eyes lock back on your own, you think perhaps for a moment something akin to regret passes over his face, but you’ve never been entirely comfortable with feelings, so you drop your hand into the waistband of your panties, you’ve barely circled your opening with your pointer finger before he’s on you.

“That’s my job, you fucking Moron.” He plunges two bare thick fingers into your heat. Gasping you throw your head back against the headrest, it’s a tight fit and its been a while but the slight burn eases some of the aching in your core.  “You’re fuckin’ soaking wet, you like it huh, bub? Making me bleed?”

Your grab his jaw, your nails digging into his flesh. “I’d like to bathe in-” He scissors his fingers finding that spot inside you and you let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “-Your fucking blood… you mean motherfucker.”

You’re an absolute goner when he starts rubbing your clit, after a day of foreplay your body seizes, and you grab at the nape of his neck trying to find something to anchor you down. But as fast as the build was you come tumbling down just as quickly, when he cruelly withdraws his hands.

“No! - Wha- what the fuck?!” You’re almost crying as your torn from the precipice.

Logan flips you over onto your stomach before you can complain any further, your face down on the filthy upholstery as he pulls your panties from your hips. You can’t see him from this angle, though you can feel his warm hands tracing the globes of your ass.

You force your knees further apart, pushing your bare soaking pussy against the tight bulge of his yellow suit. If you had enough of your facilities about you, you’d be embarrassed that you’re currently rubbing your cunt against The Wolverine like a bitch in heat after he’d chewed you out only minutes ago.

Logan’s hand dip between your thighs, his fingers swirl along your hole, dragging your wetness along to your aching clit.

“You think I’d make it that easy?” He asks as he continues the journey back and forth. On the second pass he dips his finger inside of you for a fraction of a second before resuming its path. “What do you want, darlin’?”

You weren’t going to beg, in fact you bit your tongue to stop the traitorous words from forming, this man had already made you abandon most of your self-respect, he wasn’t having this.

“Logan…” At your breathy words the man leans forward, pressing his fabric covered cock into your ass as he folds his body over yours. One hand comes down next to your shoulder, the other explore your tits as he rocks himself into your throbbing core. It’s the perfect storm as he nuzzles into your exposed throat but somehow you manage your words. “Fuck me or don’t, I’m not begging, bub.”

He exhales through his nose in what you guess is equal parts amusement and annoyance, but you’re far beyond caring. He places a bite on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder as his body pulls back. Momentarily his hands leave your hips to deal with his own pants. You hear the clank of his belt hitting the car floor moments before you feel the head of his cock, running along your folds.

The head of his cock is thick, and it feels hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick. All of a sudden Logan pushes forward and sheathes himself inside of you with a single thrust.

You try your best to hold in your incoherent moans but to little avail as he pulls back before slamming full force back into you. If you were a human woman, your pelvis would’ve shattered from the force of his hips against your ass, instead you gather your strength and push back, allowing him deeper. The both of you moan in unison at the depth he reaches.

You grab onto the foam of the seat, ripping through the fabric with your bare hands desperate for an anchor as Logan unforgivingly pounds into you from behind, once again he folds his body over yours, wrapping a palm around your clawed fingers.

“.” He grunts something incoherent into your ear as he picks up the pace, slamming into you repeatedly, slowly picking up his pace. Your core is positively aching as you throb around him, pulling him deeper within you.  If you were expecting any further explanation, you’re sorely disappointed.

The wolverine pulls back, gripping at your hips keeping you still as he resumes his powerful strokes.  Logan’s hand dips to your clit, rubbing quick circles sending you barrelling back towards your orgasm. As you begin to clench around him, he pulls your body upwards, his head brushing against the top of the car as he holds you against him his fingers never leaving your clit.

“Come on my cock, Angel.” Unable to stop yourself you clench around him, hearing him talk like that does something primal to you.

You fucking loved Logan’s mouth, you bet he ate pussy like a champion if he played the clit this fucking well.

You stopped fighting it and threw yourself from the cliff, shattering in his thick muscle veined arms as he held you up against him, his cock still viciously plundering your depths.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispers against your neck whispers peppering it with bites.

Logan gives you a few moments to come down from your high before he resumes his punishing pace, you think perhaps you’ve reached your limit of pleasure, that the threshold can’t possibly be topped until he whispers into your ear in that gruff voice.

“What was it Wilson said? Filling all your holes?” The Wolverine asks, his eyes meet yours over your shoulder meaningfully, asking permission as he offers you his thumb. You merely moan your approval and wantonly draw his finger into your mouth, soaking the pad in saliva.  

Logan yanks your head into a vicious kiss. It’s a messy one, filled to the brim with need. The hand not currently locked on your neck holding your face to his, travels down your back, through the valley of your bodies. The pad of his pinky runs appreciatively over the globe of your ass, before his hand dips into the crease.

Logan’s thumb runs teasingly against the tight ring of muscle, it’s a foreign experience which makes you startle slightly.

“Anyone ever fucked you here?” He asks as he bites down your neck, delicately pushing you forward until your head rests on the backseat. You shake your head as your eyes close, his cock is buried balls deep within you as he plays with your asshole.

When his thumb finally breaches your tight hole just past the nail, he begins his thrusts once more. His cock fills your pussy from behind and suddenly you feel so fucking full, Its far too much for you.

“Fuck… Logan.” You gasp almost on the verge of tears as pounds you into the back seat. It seems the ass play has gotten to him more than expected, as his pace has increases.

“Where?” He asks breathless from the exertion as he pulls his thumbs from your ass and takes a handful of the meat on your hips.

“Inside…. Please … Logan.” You practically beg though you’ll never admit it, his rhythm becomes stunted as his hips slam into the back of your thighs.

“Give me something tight to come in, Darlin’.” Moaning at his words you’re eager to obey as you reach your hand between your own legs and rub mercilessly at your clit. The unforgiving pounding, the grunting and the fingers currently bruising your hips and the burning of your now vacant ass send you sailing over the edge.

You clamp down on him like a vice, groaning unable to hold back your whimpers anymore as he finally bites your neck and pumps his seed deep inside you as far as it can go. Logan grunts like a beast as he pulses deep inside of you.

Logan collapses beside you. Dents in the interior of the van you don’t even remember making have appeared from where a stray elbow or knee has hit the metal in the throes of passion.

The Wolverine tucks his cock back in his suit. Ever the gentleman, he uses your black panties to wipe away the cum dripping from your thighs, you haven’t got the heart to tell him that when you’re commando redressed in your suit that you can still feel him dripping from you, your pussy uncomfortably slick against the leather.

After dressing, the two of you sit in contemplative silence. Neither one of you has the emotional complexity to discuss what happened and neither one of you will accept fault for your argument that led to it, so, silence reigns.

The tension is sliced in two as Logan leans forward and pushes an errant lock of hair behind your ear in an act so goddamn endearing, you melt. You still wouldn’t apologise for lying, because you didn’t lie but you can meet him a quarter of the way.

“I’m sorry for calling you geriatric.” You whisper catching his eyes, a small spark of humour leaps into them, you’ve seen more emotions from your hero in the past half an hour than you knew he was capable of.

“I shouldn’t have-“ Logan’s heartfelt apology is cut off by the lead of this goddamn story.

“Well, well, well.  Would you look at this, My best friends, Ha! I get fucking kidnapped, an arm ripped off and you’re nowhere to be found? I thought don’t worry Wade, they won’t leave you, Y/N/N will come around that corner any second."

Wade has appeared through the passenger side window; he looks a little worse for wear and has a child’s arm growing from his stump, its kind of gross to look at.

"What if Colossus had had his way with me? What then Y/N? I expect this from Wolvie, but not from you! No, no heroic rescue for old Deadpool. I have to save myself because you fuckers are too busy playing hide the adamantium bone!  Thanks for nothing guys. Now the car has old man sex stank to it, as if this hunk of shit Honda could get any worse!”

[missdynamighttt]

feining for frat boy katsuki…

it was hot. loud. half the girls were already screaming over shirtless frat boys grinding against windshields. your friend dragged you out with a “come on, it’s for charity!” and now you’re standing in the corner with a lukewarm lemonade and zero expectations.

you didn’t even want to come to this stupid fraternity fundraiser.

your roommate dragged you out with the promise of half-naked frat boys, but all you’ve seen so far are drenched freshmen trying to flex their way into a hernia.

but then you see him.

he’s got his back turned at first—lean muscle, golden skin, red swim trunks slung way too low on his hips. sunlight catches the water dripping down his back like it’s staged. and when he turns around?

game over. he’s gorgeous.

sharp jaw, wild blonde hair flattened from water, a cocky little smirk on his face as he wrings a sponge out over his head, totally aware of the stares.

and he sees you. right away. ruby eyes locked with yours and gives the most arrogant little up-nod like, yeah. you’re next.

you try to act unaffected. fail immediately.

he saunters over, sudsy bucket in one hand, water dripping down his abs like it’s a fucking calvin klein ad. stops right in front of you, eyeing your car, then you, then your car again. “you the one drivin’ this piece of shit?”

you blink. “excuse me?!”

he shrugs but you can see a little grin tugging on the corner of his mouth, smug and unbothered. “relax. i’ll make it look brand new.”

he puts the bucket down, saunters over, and damn—he’s even hotter up close. tall. muscles for days. and that little scar on his cheek? unfair.

then, leaning closer, voice low: “the name's katsuki bakugo. what’s yours, sweet girl?”

you tell him. maybe a little breathless.

he repeats it once—slow, like he’s trying it out on his tongue. “hm. yeah. i like that.”

and then he goes to work. but not just on the car.

katsuki bakugo washes that car like he’s auditioning for the dirtiest boy band you’ve ever seen. dropping the sponge just to bend over in front of you, ass on full display. making eye contact when he slides his hand over the hood like he’s caressing it. watering himself down with a hose and shaking his hair out like he’s in a shampoo commercial from hell.

by the time he’s done, your car is sparkling. and so are you—flushed, flustered.

he tosses the sponge into the bucket, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and smirks. “lemme know if you need a private wash sometime.”

and then he walks away, with you watching the water dripping down the curve of his spine, no better than a teenage boy ogling the back of a girl's bikini. you swear you black out for a second too.

it’s only a few hours after the car wash before he slides in your dms, smooth but dirty. you’re in your room, still reeling from whatever the hell that was, when your phone buzzes.

king.explosionmurder has sent you a message.

(yeah. that’s his actual handle. because of course it is.) then, you open it.

king.explosionmurder:

can't stop thinking about the girl with the shittiest car and the cutest fuckin’ face.

you stare. then another message pops up.

king.explosionmurder:

u free tonight?

or maybe you're too busy being adorable somewhere else?

your heart does a thing. you type out a reply—something just barely cocky enough to match him:

you:

depends

you always this forward?

king.explosionmurder:

only for girls with shitty taste in cars

so, only you

let me buy you a drink, sweet girl?

you:

fine

you can buy me a drink, frat boy

but for the record?

my taste in cars is not that shitty

king.explosionmurder:

whatever you say beautiful

8 pm, sunset bar down 5th ave

don't be late

katsuki shows up five minutes early, in a black tee that clings to his chest and jeans that should be illegal. hair still messy from his post-car-wash shower. when you walk in, his eyes track you like you’re the only person in the room.

“tch. thought you were gonna flake.”

you roll your eyes. “you’d cry if i did.”

his mouth twitches. “like a damn baby.”

then the date just... hits different. it wasn't what you expected. sure, it’s packed with college students and frat bros, but in the back corner booth? with him?

it’s quiet. comfortable. almost… intimate.

he’s not much of a talker, but with you? he tries. you ask about his major—he’s an aspiring pro-hero, of course—and he asks about yours, grumbling when you light up talking about it, because “fuck, that smile’s gonna kill me.”

and even though he’d die before saying it out loud, the minute you take a sip of your drink and laugh at something dumb he says? he’s gone. head over heels.

he walks you back to your dorm with his hand on the small of your back, even though it’s barely a ten-minute walk. says “text me when you’re in” even though he literally watched you unlock your door. stands there, gruff and gorgeous, waiting.

“gonna invite me?” he asks, tone teasing.

you shake your head, grinning. “not on the first date, i'm not.”

he groans dramatically. “damn. fuckin’ killin’ me here.”

you grin. “goodnight, frat boy.”

but he doesn’t move right away.

just stands there under the warm porch light, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to work off the ache of not touching you again. his shirt clings to him in the summer heat, his jaw sharp in the glow, but it’s his eyes that freeze you in place.

not hard. not sharp. not the glare he usually levels at the world.

but soft. heavy. like you’ve stolen the breath from his lungs and he doesn’t even want it back.

he looks at you like you hung the damn moon.

he takes one small step closer, close enough that you can feel the heat coming off his chest, close enough that if either of you moved just an inch, you’d be kissing.

“goodnight, sweet girl,” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel laced with honey.

it hits you somewhere deep. like he’s branding the words into you.

and then—he actually smiles. a real one. lopsided, shy, the kind of smile you’d never expect from someone who threatens to body slam people over couch cushions.

then he turns and walks away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head down, like if he looks back even once, he’ll do something stupid like run back and kiss you senseless.

you close the door behind you, heart thudding so hard you swear your roommate can hear it.

you’re screwed. so screwed.

because things after that? they move fast.

to everyone else, he was the guy who'd scream if you left dishes in the sink, throw a beer can at you if you sat on his side of the couch, and threaten to body slam you if you so much as breathe near him.

but the entire frat house knew that their loud, grumpy, terrifyingly efficient frat dad—had a soft spot the size of a planet. and that soft spot? was for you.

you’re the only person allowed in his room during his grumpy post-practice naps. the only one who can touch his hair without him flinching. he’d grumble when you flick his forehead when he was being dramatic but he'd let you.

he might curse under his breath, but when you’d slide onto his lap during movie night, he'd wrap an arm around you like it was instinct. like protecting you came as naturally as breathing.

he had snacks stocked in the mini fridge (not for him, you liked them). he hands you your favorite snack and grumbles, “was on sale. don’t get used to it,” even though it’s never on sale but he bought six of them anyway.

and when finals week hits? he’s a damn soldier for you.

caffeine runs. your favorite takeout. quiet growls at anyone who tries to talk to you in the library. he reads your flashcards like they’re enemy coordinates and quizzing you becomes his personal mission.

but the best part? the tiny, quiet moments in between.

like when he’s losing at mario kart and you’d sit in his lap while he played, steal his fries, kiss his cheek mid-rant just to shut him up.

or when you were too tired to walk back to your place, you just curl up in his bed. not only does he let you, he tucks the blanket around you and kisses your forehead so soft it makes your chest ache.

and somehow, all of that was like magic.

sure, he might’ve acted like the world’s most chaotic, aggressive frat president, but when it came to you? he was all bark, all bite… and all heart.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[harrywavycurly]

Glitch: Does She Know?

Masterlist: Here

CW: mentions of drinking, manipulation in the form of Jeff pre programming you and minor language.

A/N: I am excited to get this series going and see how y’all like it! It’s going to be a good mix of drama/angst and fluff so enjoy! Oh and you might not like Jeff in this series and that’s okay💓

Tag List: @alicivava @cosmicneptune @daphnesutton @valeriiyuhh @drewrry @obsessiveenthusiast @me-undiscovered @psicostyles @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @harryscherries28 @blckburd @harry2121 @cevans-winchester @prettygurl-2009

Summary: Jeff thinks it’s time to try to get Harry back in the studio💓

Six years, that’s how long it’s been since Jeff has seen Harry do anything remotely close to stepping foot in a studio and in his opinion that’s about five years too long for the world to go without new music from one of it’s bestselling artists. Now it’s not that Harry hasn’t been busy because he has, he’s been dipping his toes in the fashion pond and enjoying doing collaborations with his favorite fashion houses, he’s been working behind the scenes for his own personal brands and honestly he’s just been relishing in his time away from the chaos that often times comes hand in hand with releasing new music into the world. He’s still an artist and finds himself scribbling little lines here and there that he thinks could fit into a melody he has playing in his head but nothing seems to be making him have to rush to the studio to get the words out of his brain before they threaten to take over his life like he’s done for previous albums, and that’s what is starting to concern Jeff.

Jeff is worried that Harry has started to lose his spark, or to put it more plainly he just simply doesn’t have the desire he once had to put songs out into the universe that make people feel things and Jeff thinks he knows exactly what’s causing this decline in inspiration, Harry isn’t in love with anyone. He doesn’t know why Harry works so well while in love or at least while infatuated with someone but it’s what works for him and over the last few years that’s the one thing Harry hasn’t bothered with. He doesn’t seem interested at all in finding love or even pursing anyone for more than a two week long fling that ends with nothing more than maybe a poem or two Harry jots down in his private journal that Jeff can’t do anything with because Harry would murder him if he even insinuated turning his private journal into something for profit. It’s not that Jeff is only wanting to see Harry in the studio again because he knows with it comes a good bit of money, no Jeff wants Harry in the studio again because he knows deep down his friend feels like a part of him is missing when he’s not being creative in that way and all Jeff wants to do is help one of his bestfriends feel whole again.

Or at least that’s what Jeff tells himself.

So that’s how Jeff finds himself standing in front of you, a companion bot that is designed for one thing only and that’s to help people feel understood on all levels needed to form a lasting connection that could potentially turn into deeper feelings such as love. He knows that the odds of you making a connection with Harry are high considering he went ahead and had them download a file into your main server that was nothing more than an info dump on the superstar himself. Including his likes and dislikes, his star sign, his normal day to day schedule and a variety of photos of him throughout his career dating all the way back to his X Factor audition. He will admit he might’ve went a little overboard on the Harry informational file but for what he spent on you he can’t risk you not at least making Harry want to go write a few heartbreakingly sad songs or love ballads after his encounter with you, however long of brief it may be since he’s not really sure how the two of you are going to get along seeing as he hasn’t even turned you on yet.

“So how do I turn her on?” Jeff asks the technician who is responsible for informing him of all your abilities and requirements as well as making sure Jeff signs all the dotted lines that will officially make you his bot.

“Oh one moment let me power her up.” Lance says with a smile as he taps away on his tablet and a few seconds later Jeff watches your eyes open and he takes a step back from where you’re sat in a loveseat in what you’ll soon realize is your living room.

“Good morning.” Your voice is softer than he imagined as you introduce yourself to him, your name being one he picked because he figured it would be one Harry would enjoy saying over and over again to himself like he’s done with past love interests.

“Uh good morning I’m Jeff.” You give him a smile as you reach your hand out for him to shake and it takes him a moment to finally find the courage to slide his hand into yours and when he does he’s shocked at how human like it feels. “She’s warm and-sweaty?” His words come out like a question as he turns his head towards Lance who is standing nearby tapping a few things on his tablet.

“Sorry I get a little nervous meeting new people.” You explain as you quickly take your hand out of Jeff’s grasp so you can place it in your lap.

“Don’t be shocked by the things she’s able to do. She’s just like a regular human. She sweats and-”

“Can she get wet?”

“Depends on if she’s attracted to you or not.”

“Not like that I mean can she shower and like go in the ocean?” Lance laughs and nods his head as he goes back to looking down at his tablet.

“Yeah man she can be fully submerged in water even salt water. She charges at night while she sleeps so she doesn’t need to be plugged in and her maintenance is only once every two years unless she feels sluggish then we can do a virtual assessment but other than that she’s good to go and yes she can even eat regular food and if she drinks too much she will get drunk.” You look from Lance over to Jeff who is staring at you with a bewildered expression on his face as if he can’t really believe what he’s hearing but you don’t let yourself dwell on why hearing you’re just like any other person would be so odd for him. Instead you choose to focus on if you’ll have time to paint your nails today as they look a little boring at the moment without any color on them.

“Does she know?” He asks as he tears his eyes away from you and turns to face the technician. Lance raises an eyebrow as he drops his hand that’s holding the tablet to his side with a sigh that has your head lifting up and your eyes glancing over to the two men.

“Does she know what?” He questions making Jeff roll his eyes as he leans in making it difficult for you to hear what he says next.

“Does she know she’s a robot and that I paid for her to-”

“Oh uhm no.” Lance answers in a whispered tone as his eyes glance over Jeff’s shoulder, he gives you a warm smile making you blush as you look back down at your lap. “She has no clue.” He explains making Jeff just nod and run a hand through his hair.

“Okay and what would happen if she found out? That she’s-”

“She won’t like explode or go evil or anything but uhm yeah she’d probably be a little upset so we always advise that if you do plan on telling them to do it up front or just don’t tell them at all and let them go about their lives thinking they are one of us.”

“Okay great.” You smile at Jeff as he turns around and looks over at you, this time you watch his eyes slowly roam over your form. It’s not completely uncomfortable, the way his eyes travel over your face and then down your neck to your shoulders, if anything you just hope he goes easy on your appearance seeing as it’s not even nine in the morning and you haven’t had your coffee yet.

“Do you mind standing up for me?” You nod and quickly do as he asks making him give you a soft smile. You swallow down the nerves that begin to creep up as he motions for you to turn around for him with his index finger, but when he doesn’t say anything and just nods in what you assume is approval you feel a small sense of relief wash over you.

“Her clothes are all unpacked as well as any other belongings she might need for the first week or so until she starts to have preferences about what she likes.” Lance explains to Jeff who is still subtly looking you over, you look down at your jean shorts and t shirt that lets a sliver of your torso be seen and you feel a weird sensation take over as if you for some reason no longer like the outfit you’re wearing even though you’re positive you’re the one who picked it out this morning.

“She doesn’t need me to tell her what to do all the time right?”

“Dude she’s not a Sim okay? She can take care of herself perfectly fine you set her intelligence level to,” Lance looks down at the tablet before looking back at Jeff. “slightly above average so don’t worry she won’t like burn the house down or anything. She’s fine.” Lance reassures him as he hands over the tablet so Jeff can begin signing the documents that will allow you to be left with him for good. “Just follow the prompts and sign on the dotted lines. Oh and be sure to read the important information PDF that we sent to your email earlier it will answer most of your questions.” Jeff just nods as he signs things while listening to Lance talk.

“Are you used to people buying these things for other purposes?” Jeff asks making Lance shrug as he looks over at where you’re standing in the living room with your hands in front of you as you look around the space.

“I mean rich people are usually the most freaky but who am I to judge? But be aware she can feel pain so yeah-she can also bruise.” Jeff’s eyes go wide as he hands the tablet back to Lance who takes it with a smile.

“I’m not-I don’t think you understand what-” Jeff stutters making Lance just hold his free hand up and shake his head.

“I don’t need to understand anything man I’m just here to drop her off.” With that Lance takes a few steps backwards and then turns on his heels so he’s facing the front door. “Nice meeting you!” You look up when Lance shouts your name over his shoulder, you give him a wave when he smiles at you before he opens the front door leaving you alone with Jeff.

“So I’m having a party tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d like to come? I could introduce you to some friends of mine if you’d like?” Jeff asks as he sits down on the small couch across from the loveseat making you follow his actions and sit back down in the loveseat you’ve been sitting in for most of the morning. He watches in amusement as your face lights up at the mention of a party and he smiles when you clap your hands in front of your chest with a grin.

“I’d love to come.” You say with a squeal of excitement that has Jeff noting that he might have to tweak a few things in your emotion settings because he doesn’t think this level of excitement over things like parties is going to rub Harry the right way. “Is there a theme or anything?” You ask making Jeff laugh and shake his head no.

“No theme just some friends getting together that’s all.” He answers making you nod as you start to mentally put together an outfit for it. “Uhm so do-do you like living here?” His question has your eyes narrowing for the briefest moment before you’re looking around and smiling as you realize you’re sitting in your living room, safe inside your house and not in some random stranger’s home.

“Oh yeah I love living here.” You tell him as you lift your hand and point towards your bedroom door that’s right off the living room. Jeff struggles to understand just how you know so much about your environment when you’ve only been awake in it for maybe an hour but he doesn’t question it he just smiles and lets you go on about how much you love your house.

“My bedroom gets really nice natural lighting I love it.” Jeff just nods as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and the small action makes him momentarily forget that underneath your pretty exterior is nothing more than a bunch of wires holding together a metal skeleton that’s controlled by a series of codes that he can semi control on an app on his phone.

“I’m glad you like it here.” You raise an eyebrow at him when he stands up and looks down at the watch on his wrist. “I have a lunch meeting with a friend and need to run a few errands first but I’ll send you the details about tomorrow okay?” You just nod as you stand up so you can walk him to the front door.

“Okay.”

“See you tomorrow.” Jeff feels his body go a bit stiff when you wrap your arms around him in a hug that you’re pulling away from before his brain can even try to register what was happening leaving him standing there awkwardly in your doorway.

“Have a good day Jeff.” You say with a smile and a wave as he blinks a few times before turning and walking down the short set of stairs to the sidewalk.

“You-you too.” Is all he manages to say before you close the door and head back into the living room leaving him standing on the sidewalk a little out of it. He lets out a puff of air from his lips as he runs a hand through his hair before sliding his sunglasses on and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Poor Harry he doesn’t stand a fucking chance against that.” Jeff mumbles to himself as he walks down the street towards his parked car.

“Since when did you start throwing parties on Wednesdays?” Harry asks as he looks at Jeff from across the table that’s tucked in the back of a cafe Harry has been frequenting lately. “Actually when did you start throwing parties at all? You hate people in your house.” Jeff rolls his eyes as he reaches for his glass of water while Harry sends him a questioning look as he rests his forearms on the table.

“I’m just in a party mood I guess?” He answers with a shrug making Harry narrow his eyes at him. “What? It’s just a party H you can come or you can stay home and be boring.”

“So there’s no special occasion or anything? You’re just-just throwing a party because you feel like it?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re up to something.” Jeff feels his hands get sweaty as Harry leans in across the table. “I can tell you’re keeping something from me so just-”

“I redid my backyard and want to show it off okay? Happy now? I sound like a seven year old little boy who’s inviting his friends over to see his new Lego set but that’s why I’m having the party.” Harry leans back in his chair as the little white lie comes out of Jeff’s mouth, because while he did actually redo his backyard, it was a year ago but Harry doesn’t know that.

“You want to show off your new backyard? Really?”

“Really.”

“Well okay then.” Harry lets out a chuckle as he reaches for his cup of tea. “I’ll be there. But I still think you’re up to something.” Harry shoots him a playful wink making Jeff just roll his eyes and brush his comment off as he takes a sip of his water.

“It’ll be fun trust me.”

“I mean it’s a party of course it’ll be fun.” Harry says with an almost smirk like smile that has Jeff wondering if maybe just maybe he knows what the real reason behind this party is but he shakes that idea out of his head because there’s no way Harry knows what his plan is because if he did he wouldn’t have agreed so easily.

You enjoy social settings, or at least you normally do but something about the way the people inside Jeff’s kitchen are staring at you as if you have a second head and four arms has you feeling like some sort of attraction meant to be looked and gawked at instead of just a party goer looking for another flute of champagne. It’s like they can see something about you that you can’t see yourself and it makes an uneasy feeling begin to stir in your stomach as you walk around the spacious kitchen and out the open sliding door towards the back yard. You smooth out the front of your dress as you take a few deep calming breaths while walking deeper into the dimly lit garden, when you come up to a fountain in the middle of a few poorly looked after rose bushes you take a seat on the stone bench in front of it.

“You know for a party all about his backyard it kinda looks like shit.” You jump as the hand that’s not clutching your champagne flute flies up to your chest as a deep voice comes from behind you. You hear the sound of gravel crunching beneath his shoes before you feel it, a soft hand on the top of your shoulder that has your head turning and looking up at the stranger that seemed to also seek refuge in the garden from the party happening inside. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” Even in the dim lighting you can see the deep emerald color of his eyes as they stare right into yours.

“It’s okay.” You say with a warm smile as a nagging feeling that you know the man that’s still staring at you starts to fester in the back of your mind.

“Uhm I’m,” You watch him blink once and then twice before he shakes his head and seems to be broken of whatever spell he was under causing a nervous sounding laugh to escape his lips. “I’m Harry.” He says as he extends the hand that was on your shoulder out for you to take, giving you a smile that makes you let your guard down just a little with how comforting it is.

“It’s nice to meet you Harry.” His smile only seems to grow into a full on grin as you introduce yourself and place your hand in his giving it a little shake. “Did you say this party is for his backyard?” You ask with a quirked brow as you look around at all the half dead bushes and fountain that doesn’t even have any water coming out of it.

“That’s what he told me at least.”

“Oh well then why are we the only ones out here?” Harry looks at you and then over his shoulder towards the house, and the people he can see through the floor to ceiling windows that take up most of the back of the house and it’s not until he shrugs his shoulders that he realizes he still has a hold of your hand.

“Because the people Jeff invited to this party aren’t exactly the stroll around the garden type of people.” He answers as his eyes land on your joined hands and it’s as if on queue you begin to run your thumb over his knuckles and when his eyes glance up to your face he can tell it’s something you’re not even aware that you’re doing because you’re not even looking at him you’re staring at the house with a far off look in your eyes.

“They remind me of how it feels when walking around a wall of old paintings.” Your voice is soft and flows at such an even pace it has Harry almost feeling like he’s in a trance of some sort. “That feeling of eyes on you and that sense of judgement that makes a shiver go down your spine because you know even if you meet their pointed looks they won’t ever tell you how they really feel about you but it’s not that you need them to tell you because it’s written all over their face.” Harry swallows thickly as you perfectly articulate the way he’s always felt during these stuffy industry parties and when you finally look back over at him you give him a comforting smile to go along with the gentle squeeze to his hand. “Forgive me the bubbles seem to have turned me into some sort of tortured poet.” You say with a laugh as you lift your half empty flute of champagne for him to see.

“No no it’s fine you’re-”

“There you two are.” Jeff’s voice has Harry dropping your hand as if he just got caught doing something horrible making your brows furrow as you watch his arm fall back to his side and the corners of your mouth tick downwards a bit as he tucks his hand into the pocket of his black slacks as if to hide the evidence of a crime.

“Yeah here we are.” You say as you put on a smile while standing up so you can face Jeff who is looking at Harry with a raised brow and a knowing look on his face and once again as you look over at Harry and allow yourself to take in his appearance, his cream and light blue short sleeve dress shirt letting you get an eye full of the ink scattered on his arms and his perfectly tousled hair that gives the allusion of it being how he looks when he rolls out of bed has you feeling that nagging sensation in the back of your mind as you try to pinpoint exactly where you know him from.

“The party is inside you know.” Jeff teases as Harry rolls his eyes and takes a step away from you and turns to face the house.

“That’s a bit odd though isn’t it? I mean considering this party is supposed to be about you showing off your backyard.” Harry states with a hint of annoyance in his tone that you immediately pick up on but Jeff either doesn’t notice or decides to ignore as he just laughs and gives Harry a shrug.

“What have you two been doing out here?” Jeff asks ignoring Harry’s statement entirely as he looks over at you with playful gleam in his eyes.

“Your roses are dead.” Harry bites his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing as you point towards the very dried up bush by your feet. “And your fountain is broken and your hydrangeas are beyond saving so whoever your gardener is I’d uhm well-I’d fire them.” You state bluntly before bringing your champagne up to your lips to take a sip while Jeff stands there with a half shocked and half amused expression on his face.

“Okay then.” Jeff says with a laugh as he looks around his garden that he knows could use some help. “Why don’t you take over then?” Harry looks at you as Jeff proposes his offer to you and when you roll your eyes he can tell it’s something you don’t do often as it only comes across as teasing and the tiniest bit adorable which is odd because he doesn’t know why he finds the simple action of you rolling your eyes at one of his closest friends adorable but he does.

“Me? Take over your garden?”

“It’s what you do for a living isn’t it? Landscape design and all that?” Jeff watches closely as your head tilts to the side ever so slightly and he knows now that’s your tell for when you’re mind is catching up to the world around you and letting you in on parts of yourself you haven’t learned yet like your job, the one Jeff hand picked for you out of a list of a thousand possible choices. He was sure to pick something that would make you seem nurturing and down to earth in Harry’s eyes without being too over the top and he also knows Harry’s soft spot for all things flowers.

“Well yes-yes it is but don’t you have someone already?” You question and Jeff just shrugs as he looks around his sad excuse of a garden.

“Yes but you said so yourself I should fire them.”

“Jeff are you seriously offering her a job in the middle of a party?”

“Yeah? Why not? My garden looks like-”

“Shit.” You blurt out remembering Harry’s earlier comment on how the backyard looked. This earns a laugh from both men making you smile as you take one last sip of your champagne and place the empty flute down on the bench in front of you.

“I’ll do it.” You state as you walk around the stone bench so you can reach your hand out for Jeff to take. “Now if you don’t mind I think I’m going to head home.” Harry feels a sense of sadness as he hears you say your goodbyes to Jeff as he gives your hand a shake sealing your deal of becoming his new landscape designer. “It was a lovely party thank you for inviting me.” You add with a smile making Jeff just nod and smile back as he lets go of your hand allowing you to begin heading off towards the back gate, wanting to avoid having to go inside the house at all costs.

“Let me walk you out.” Harry says as he rushes to catch up with you, not ready to be away from you just yet. “So how exactly do you know Jeff?” He asks once he’s next to you and your slow careful steps make him get the feeling that you also aren’t quite ready for your time together to come to an end.

“A friend of a friend sort of thing.” You explain with a shrug not really sure how else to explain your relationship with Jeff because you feel as if you’ve always known him. “What about you?” This has Harry chuckling as he gives you a questioning glance as if he doesn’t really believe the words that just came out of your mouth. “Sorry is that too personal? You don’t have to-”

“He’s my manager.”

“Manager of what?”

“Uh well you know that’s a great question.” You stop at the gate and turn to look at Harry who is already staring at you with a look that makes you think he doesn’t fully know if you’re real or not. “How have we never met before?” His voice is quieter as he takes a small step towards you making you feel your cheeks get warm when you feel his eyes roam over your face like he’s trying to memorize it so he can think back and picture it perfectly when you’re not around.

“I’m not sure.” You answer in a hushed tone that matches his and when you see his hand reach out to gently brush some hair out of your face you feel your heart do a weird double beat thing in your chest that has you taking a small step away from him and turning towards the gate. “Nice to meet you Harry.” Your words are jumbled together as you unlatch the gate and walk through it in a rush to get some distance between the two of you so you can try to get your breathing and heartbeat under control.

Harry stands there with his hand still in the air and he swears he can still feel the warmth of your skin on his fingertips. He lets out a sigh as it falls to his side as he watches you walk down the driveway and then turn down the sidewalk, the lilac coloring of your dress getting caught in the streetlights. Harry isn’t sure how long he stands there staring at the now empty street, but clearly it’s long enough for Jeff to walk up to him and place a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay H?” There’s a minor hint of concern in his voice as he gives Harry’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Oh uhm Yeah yeah I’m-I’m fine.” Jeff smiles to himself as he notes the very obvious flustered state his best friend is in and he knows this can only mean one thing, you’ve caught his attention.

“She’s-”

“Different.” Harry says as he turns to face Jeff. “In the best way.” He adds with a smile making Jeff raise an eyebrow at him. “Fuck I didn’t even get her number.” The look of pure defeat has Jeff slightly feeling bad for Harry but then he remembers the whole reason for this meeting in the first place, to make him want you until it drives him to a point of madness and then when you finally give in to him it will hopefully make him take those feelings and put them into songs.

“I’m sure you’ll get it eventually.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah. Trust me you’ll see her again.”

[arielleslipgloss]

How to Stop People Pleasing!!

(none of these photos are mine)

“I don’t like studying. I hate studying. I like learning. Learning is beautiful.” - Natalie Portman

Give it to yourself!! Why should you try to make others like you? You don’t even like other people. In fact, do you even like yourself? The person who is with you every second, do you like them? You keep abandoning yourself, yet you don’t even notice. All that attention you wish and crave for is right in the mirror. That attention you seek, you can give to yourself. All that pleasing, do it for yourself. You did good on a quiz? Tell yourself you’re proud of your accomplishment. You went out on a solo date? Tell yourself that you deserved that fun alone time. Give that love to YOURSELF, because you deserve it. All that pleasing should be used to please yourself!!

2. Stop over apologizing!! Start saying thank you instead. Someone listened to your rant and you want to say sorry? Don’t, just say “thank you for taking the time to listen.” If you ever think of apologizing, take a step back. Then, think of how you could thank that person. Expressing your gratitude to a person is an incredible healthy habit. Of course, when appropriate saying sorry is necessary though. Just try to think before you say sorry. Instead of immediately saying sorry, ask yourself “is it appropriate to say sorry?” You could even ask yourself “does this situation best fit a sorry or thank you?”

3. Embrace and grow from rejection!! Rejection happens to everyone. Every single person has went through it. Whether it’s a small or big rejection. It’s a normal thing that happens to all humans. A lot of rejections even result in life lessons. It can also help us learn and move forward. I promise, being afraid of rejection is perfectly normal. Now, how can you embrace it? Well, start thinking getting rejected is a gate to better opportunities. I mean, so many celebrities have been rejected. They have experienced it in relationships, publishing books, auditions, castings, etc. Despite of that, they are still famous and they’re still doing great! They still get many of better relationships, brand deals, movies to be in, etc. Overall, better opportunities come to them later. That means the same will happen to you! You just have to trust the process and believe. Believe not only in getting better opportunities, but in yourself.

4. Say no when necessary!! This means you need to have boundaries. You have to be able to say no. If you can’t say no you will be stuck in so many uncomfortable situations. Now, I promise that saying no is not rude. It’s actually a sign of self respect, which is amazing. However, how do we know when saying, no is necessary? For starters, think of the situation you’re in. Then, ask yourself “am I uncomfortable and in need of saying no?” If you are uncomfortable with whatever say no. You are not obligated to say yes to every single thing. You’re the one in charge of your life. So, take some action when needed and say no. Never ever, let people change your mind or peer pressure you.

5. The image you made…?!? Lastly, let’s discuss and transform this image you’ve made. Take a deep breath, because that image has gotta go. If you are constantly thinking of if this person and that person will like what you do? Then, knock it off and start doing what you wanna do. This is about to seem cliche, but life is too short. You need to stop and take a second to think about yourself. Do what you want to do. Do what makes you happy. Not what makes others like you more. Learn to be your true authentic self. If your true self is shy, extroverted, cold, bubbly, etc. Whatever it is, be yourself and if others don’t like it. So what? They are just projecting their insecurities on you. Learn not to take people’s opinions personally.

“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” - Dr. Seuss

Love you so much dolls!! Remember to keep your head high and stay pretty 💋🎀

[boarloved-art]

OH also, AU I've been thinking about where the Lan are known for being professional ballet dancers/teachers and Lan Sizhui is like Lan Wangji's protégé (/son) of sorts. Meanwhile, Mo Xuanyu is like a self taught ballet dancer that learned everything he knows from trial and error, and online. Cut to Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji's favourite musician (anything but classical) and the guy whose music he used to dance to just for fun, who has been basically dead to the world for thirteen years, putting out a call for two young ballet dancers to help him with his new music video. Lan Sizhui and Mo Xuanyu, who both grew up dancing to his music (Sizhui with his father), offer auditions. Wei Wuxian has always loved the Lan and is honoured to have one in his music video, and he is in love with Xuanyu's raw, emotional dancing. Cue found family and all that, I've just realised how insane this actually sounds

-> be four

-> make au thats specifically catered to kill eli (found family, modern au, mo xuanyu and wwx bestieisms)

-> end ask with 'this sounds insane actually', as if Modern Wangxian In VariousCareers Having Found Family Moments isnt my personal brand of crack ????? never slander urself again smh!

anyway is most of this just my 'wangxian are yves-core' agenda....well yes......however.........

[lua-magic]

Mercury and your buisness Mind .

This blog is for those specially who wants to get into business or are confused between job and buisness or what kind of business would suit them.

Mercury is our logical mind, we also call it our business mind.

Which ever house Mercury sits in your chart that house related work or buisness you can easily get into.

Mercury in ancendent.

Native is made for business, he/she can get into any business and be successful. Such native has got strong business mind

Mercury in second houses

Mercury is exalted here, it makes you great speaker here, however this house is of family, so native can get into family Buisness or run buisness with family.

This house is alsovforbfood, so if moon is exalted then native can go into food related or kitchen or cloud kitchen business as well.

Mercury in third House.

Native would be great in communication, media, tours and travel and commission related work or business. If Mars is exalted then native can work with his siblings as well.

Mercury here decreases your courage, so native would be unwilling to take initiative, but if Mercury is not afflicted then person could work with his friends and would get support from his friends as well.

Mercury in fourth house.

There are two placement of Mercury which is tricky, one is fourth and second is in ninth house.

Whenever Mercury sits with moon or in cancer, Mercury make native obsessive and disturbs the mental peace of native.

It gives native OCD, especially if moon is afflicted then it causes anxiety, fear and overthinking.

As Mercury is fast moving planet so it makes moon highly disturbed 😧.

Remedy.

Remedy is to actually, decrease the strength of Mercury, ie, Mercury is your friend and social circle, such native should sit in isolation and should have minimum friends, Quality over quantity.

For gains and Money this placement is excellent.

Well, such natives are good in real estate, and with land related work or business.

They can also go for home related buisness like home decoration, or selling home decoration, furniture, luxury furniture, especially if their Venus is also exalted.

Mercury fifth House.

Best placement for Mercury, native is fast learner and life long Lerner and teacher.

Native would be successful due to his own intelligence, and learning.

Native could be author and writer as well.

Native could also opt for teaching and counseling.

Native can also do books related buisness.

Native is great with children and could get into buisness that is for kids, like, children book, teaching, selling toys or even writing children novel.

Mercury in sixth house.

This is the only placement where Mercury is comfortable doing job as it loves to solve day today problems, it is great problem solver here

But, you can go into service related buisness like, food service, taxi services any buisness that provides service to its customers.

Mercury is seventh house.

Relationship wise this is problematic placement, as Mercury is asexual planet and also fast moving planet, so it creates problems in relationship but buisness wise it is an excellent placement.

Native can get into retail buisness, or go for branding, networking, even make themselves as big brand.

Mercury in eitgth House.

Native thinks alot about money and gains, and money wise it is good only when native is involved in eighth house related work like Bank, insurance, CA, occult, auditing, digital marketing , crypto currency such person could also become great detective, they can go into Research and development as well.

Native is great when it comes to dealing with other's money 🤑, they make good salesman as well.

Mercury ninth house

Here, placement is challenging as Mercury damages the Jupiter, Mercury is selfish, while Jupiter is divine and loves to give that is why Jupiter rules twelfth house which house is house of giving.

Jupiter also rules ninth house, which house of Dharma, religion and rules, and Mercury being prince doesn't like to follow rules

So, when you have this placement then it is better you get into business where religion is involved like selling religious books so, you can save your Jupiter and Mercury is also happy.

But, be careful never go against morality in business because you will block all your blessings.

Native can sell, religious ornaments, things or books.

Mercury in tenth house 🏠.

Such people are great sales person and excellent at marketing and PR, these are the person who would sell comb to a bald person.

So, they make great salesman and marketing.

Such native could also work with government,or collaborate with government like government tender and work with them.

Mercury in eleventh house.

Such natives are great with masses, friends and are good in dealing with large number of people.

They should get into work that involves large numbers of people like forming corporative society, NGO, even they make great speaker, counsellor and teachers. People love to follow them, hence, they make great influencers as well

Mercury in twelfth House.

This is not good placement for Mercury and Mercury is uncomfortable here, Piesces is deep ocean and Mercury being prince doesn't like to go in dark, Mercury is also selfish so it doesn't like the idea of unconditional giving and charity which is also twelfth house.

But, twelfth house is also of, foreign land, meditation, spirituality, yoga, charity, and investment.

So, person could either work outside their motherland or get into import and export business.

They can also do business related to meditation, yoga, and spirituality.

They can also go for investment.

Now, Mercury also your speaking skills, If Mercury is afflicted by malefics then person would be extremely rude with thier words and would hurt lot of people.

When Mercury is with Mars native can go for automobiles or even in technical line.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Hi! I don't know if you already have an idea for the birthday post, if you do feel free to ignore this...my favourite trope is dad!harry too...what if H has to go for an emergency meeting somewhere else out the country even before his birthday and he has to spend his birthday there too and he is bummed about it...the fmc can fly out with their daughter/son and when he is back from his meeting his room is all decorated and stuff and she tells him she asked jeff to cancel everything...and they do a bunch of fun stuff but at night, after dinner she and the baby surprise him with another baby or something and he is like best birthday ever, 30 is already amazing

Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - thank you so much to @missbearforfun for sending in this request, ive had had a fun time writing this, ive changed a few things up, so i hope that ive done it justice.

i can’t believe that my boy is 30….like i swear he was just auditioning for the x-factor yesterday. 🥹

word count - 4.4k

in which, harry gets called to do a meeting in italy, two days before his birthday, which means that he’ll be spending his 30th out there with just his manager jeff, what he doesn’t realise is that you, his darling wife, fly out to surprise him and hopefully give him the best birthday he’s ever had.

You’ve been in Harry’s life for just over ten years.

You’ve spent five of those years as boyfriend and girlfriend, two of those years as his fiancé, and now, this year will be leading up to the third year being each other's husband and wife.

The first birthday of his that you spent with him, was his 20th all the way back in 2014. He had organised an intimate get together at a restaurant full of all of his closest family and friends, and it was the first time that you would be turning up together, as an official couple seeing as the only people who knew about the two of you were his band mates and his mother,sister, father and step father.

It was also the night that he confessed to you that he loved you, and that you were the one person that he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with.

From that moment on, every birthday became a cherished chapter in your shared history.

Waking up in each other's arms has become a comforting tradition, marking the beginning of a day dedicated solely to celebrating Harry's existence. The warmth of those morning embraces symbolises the depth of your connection, a connection that has withstood the tests of time.

As the years unfolded, you've witnessed the evolution of Harry, both in age and character, yet the love between you two has remained unwavering.

From his 21st to his 30th birthday, you've made it a point to spend the day in a way that brings him joy. Whether it's exploring new places, indulging in his favourite activities, or simply relaxing together, the focus has always been on creating memories that reflect the essence of Harry.

Each birthday has become a canvas on which you paint moments of happiness and shared experiences.

You had spent every birthday with him, but for this one, it appeared to already be turning out in a way neither of you had expected.

A mere few days before Harry's anticipated birthday, an unexpected call from his manager, Jeff, sent ripples of disappointment through his plans. The urgency of an issue related to his beauty brand, Pleasing, required Harry's immediate attention in the Italy.

The brand we’re thinking of opening a pop-up shop over there, seeing as the country held so much adoration in both of your hearts, it was the place where you got married, the place where he proposed and where he now wanted his fans over there to have access to him and what he had to offer.

With flights already booked, he faced the heart-wrenching reality of having to leave just over two days before his special day. Devastation etched across his face as he contemplated the unforeseen disruption to the birthday celebration he had eagerly anticipated.

In a desperate attempt to reason with Jeff, Harry explained his deep desire to spend his birthday with you, sharing the disappointment that overshadowed the joy of the impending celebration.

However, the urgency of the matter prevailed, leaving Harry torn between personal desires and professional obligations. As his best mate and manager, Jeff empathised with Harry but emphasised the gravity of the situation, reinforcing the necessity of this unexpected journey.

Amidst the disappointment, you stepped in to comfort Harry, assuring him that celebrations could be postponed but his presence and well-being mattered most. You offered solace, reminding him that distance could not diminish the love and connection you shared.

The promise of a belated but equally meaningful celebration upon his return brought a glimmer of hope to the gloom that hung over his imminent departure.

You had promised him, that you would FaceTime him on his actual birthday and that you would both order the same takeaway that night and have a little over the phone date, just to celebrate this big milestone.

On the morning Harry was set to depart for Italy, the anticipation of his journey hung in the air. Dressed for travel, he stood before you with a small suitcase by the door.

Shoes on, cap snug, and sunglasses concealing his eyes, he exuded a mix of excitement and reluctance. Despite the January chill in London, the promise of Italy's warmth upon landing prompted him to prepare for a contrasting climate.

Your eyes held a silent plea as you stood before him, sorrow evident in your gaze.

"I wish I didn't have t’go," Harry admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

You nodded, understanding the weight of the situation, your silence echoing the unspoken emotions in the room.

Milo, your ten-month-old Rottweiler puppy, sensed the sombre atmosphere, wagging his tail as if trying to infuse joy into the moment.

Unable to contain your emotions, you wrapped your arms around Harry in a tight hug.

"I'll miss you so much," you whispered, your voice betraying the ache within. Harry's embrace tightened, and he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I'll miss y’more, m’love," he murmured, the sincerity in his words resonating with the depth of his emotions.

Crouching down to pet Milo, Harry spoke to the pup with a soft smile, "Take care of mummy for me, little buddy."

Milo responded with excited barks, seemingly understanding the impending absence.

Standing up, Harry looked into your eyes, his own reflecting a mixture of love and longing.

Your gaze locked with his, finding solace in the promise of a future reunion.

"We'll have the most amazing belated birthday celebration," you said, trying to inject positivity into the moment.

Harry smiled, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"I can't wait f’that. Until then, stay strong f’me," he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

As the door closed behind him, the echo of his departure resonated through the silent space. Left with the imprint of his touch, the memory of his presence, and the anticipation of his return, you and Milo faced a home that suddenly felt emptier without him.

"I'll make sure t’send y’pictures from Italy," Harry called out from the hallway.

"And don't forget to spoil Milo a bit extra for me!" he added with a playful grin, the reassurance in his voice providing a small comfort amid the impending distance.

The day of his actual birthday, you woke up at seven am, which meant it was eight am for Harry.

It was a nice early face time call, in which you had called someone from the town near your shared beach house and got them to deliver flowers so they we’re scheduled to arrive whilst the two of you were calling, so you could see his face when he received them.

Little did he know, as the virtual celebration concluded, that you were already en route to Italy to surprise the love of your life.

His manager, Jeff, had orchestrated the clandestine journey, booking a flight that not only allowed your presence but accommodated Milo, your loyal puppy companion.

On the fairly empty flight, with just a few scattered passengers, you found solace in the quiet journey across the skies. Milo, nestled on the seat next to you, peacefully dozed off, completely unaware of the grand surprise awaiting his owner.

The hum of the plane engines provided a soothing backdrop as you envisioned the joy that would light up Harry's face when you appeared unexpectedly in celebration of his special day.

Upon landing in Italy, you and Milo were swiftly escorted off the plane by a discreet security team. The importance of maintaining the surprise for Harry became evident as the team efficiently navigated through the airport. The mission was clear: to whisk you away from the public eye, avoiding any chance of word spreading that Harry's wife had arrived.

Passing through passport control with just a carry-on bag in tow, the security team ensured a seamless transition. The anticipation heightened as you and Milo moved through the airport, surrounded by the subtle hum of secrecy. Every step taken was a careful manoeuvre to preserve the surprise and shield the unfolding celebration from prying eyes.

Exiting the airport, you were guided to a waiting jeep. The security team orchestrated a smooth transition, knowing that time was of the essence.

Jeff:

H just left for a meeting, so you’ve got at least an hour to get everything ready !!

As the jeep sped toward the villa, Jeff's text notification illuminated your phone screen. His message revealed that Harry was currently engrossed in a meeting, providing a valuable window of time to set up a birthday surprise.

The prospect of transforming the house into a beautiful haven of celebration filled you with excitement. Knowing you had at least an hour before Harry's return heightened the anticipation, and thoughts of his surprised expression fueled your determination.

The journey continued through the picturesque landscapes of Italy, the half-hour drive feeling like both an eternity and a heartbeat away from reuniting with Harry. Milo, sensing the energy, shifted restlessly in anticipation, adding an extra layer of warmth to the already charged atmosphere within the jeep.

The realization that the culmination of meticulous planning was drawing near only fueled your eagerness.

The mere thought of seeing Harry after two days of separation fueled your determination to make this surprise an unforgettable celebration of love and connection. The countdown to the reunion had begun.

"Here we are," the driver announced as the jeep came to a stop in front of the villa. You thanked him and handed over a ten-euro tip, expressing gratitude for the swift and discreet journey.

Grabbing Milo's leash and your bag, you stepped out into the Italian air, the scent of anticipation mingling with the promise of celebration.

As you approached the door, the distinct aroma of Harry's aftershave enveloped you, confirming his recent presence. A pair of his white vans neatly placed by the entrance hinted at the intimate details of his daily routine.

With a smile, you inserted the key into the lock, unlocking the door to a space filled with the essence of the man you dearly missed.

"Milo, we're home," you murmured to your furry companion, who eagerly bounded into the living room.

The atmosphere inside resonated with familiarity, and Milo, seemingly aware of the joyous occasion, leaped onto the sofa, his tail wagging in sync with the pulsating excitement in the air.

Upon stepping into the villa, you wasted no time. The suitcase that accompanied you served as a treasure trove of celebratory delights. With swift precision, you unzipped it, revealing an inflatable 3 and 0, along with vibrant banners that spelled out "Happy Birthday."

The living room became a canvas for your creativity, and the decorations unfolded in a dance of colors and joy.

Inflating the giant numbers, you strategically placed them to catch Harry's eye the moment he entered. The banners crisscrossed the room, creating a vibrant tapestry of celebration. The atmosphere transformed with each decoration, turning the space into a haven of love and festivity.

The decorating didn’t take long, maybe around half an hour, so that left you waiting, and each minute felt like hell.

You so badly just wanted him in your arms.

Seated in the midst of the festive setup, you pulled out your phone, eager to share the news of your safe arrival with your family. Fingers danced across the screen as you texted messages of reassurance and excitement, capturing the essence of this special moment.

The living room, now a symphony of color and joy, served as the backdrop to your messages, each tap echoing the anticipation of the grand birthday surprise awaiting Harry.

As you sat in the living room, engrossed in your phone, the jingling of keys outside signaled Harry's arrival. Swiftly, you rose from your seat, Milo by your side, his tail wagging in silent excitement.

Attempting to be as quiet as possible, you made your way to the entry hall, your heart pounding with anticipation. The festive atmosphere of the decorated living room served as a backdrop to the impending surprise.

Harry entered, shutting the door behind him with a sense of routine. His tote bag dropped to the floor, and in his initial distraction, he failed to notice the pair of women's shoes by the entrance.

His gaze scanned the surroundings briefly before turning away, only to snap back with wide eyes when he caught sight of you standing there.

His mouth parted in shock, a mixture of disbelief and joy washing over his face.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Harry processed the unexpected presence before him. The shock gave way to a radiant smile, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. Milo's tail wagged furiously, mirroring the palpable joy in the room.

Harry's initial shock dissolved into pure joy as he stared at you standing in the entry hall. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed over, gathering you into a tight embrace. The warmth of his arms enveloped you, an unspoken reassurance of the love that bridged the distance between you two. Your eyes welled up with tears, mirroring the emotion evident in his gaze.

"Happy birthday," you whispered, the words carrying the weight of your love and the joy of this surprise.

As Harry lifted his head, his lips sought yours in a cascade of affectionate kisses. Each press was a testament to the depth of the connection shared, a celebration of love that transcended the days of separation.

The room, filled with decorations and the silent witness of Milo, became a sanctuary for this spontaneous reunion.

In the midst of the kisses, Harry's laughter bubbled up, the sheer delight of the unexpected surprise washing over him.

"M’can't believe you're here," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy, wagged his tail energetically, completing the tableau of love and celebration.

“I couldn't not see you on your birthday," you admitted with a warm smile, still wrapped in Harry's embrace.

"Milo missed his daddy so much that we had to come and surprise you." You winked playfully, a cheeky smile tugging at your lips. "And, well, maybe I missed you a bit too."

Harry's eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Y’really came all the way here just for me?" he asked, his voice filled with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy in the room, barked in agreement, tail wagging enthusiastically.

Cupping his face in your hands, you responded, "Absolutely. Birthdays are meant to be celebrated with the ones you love, and we couldn't let a few miles keep us apart, now could we?"

“But I’ve got meetings the entire day,”he pouted, head getting thrown back slightly. “But I wanna spend the entire day with you.”

You played with the peach fuzz at the back of his neck. “Well it’s a good job I’ve cleared your schedule then, huh?”

“Wait,”he snapped his head over to yours from where he was staring lovingly at Milo. “So I’ve got the whole day with you?”

“We’ve got the whole day together, baby.” You confirmed, watching as his dimples appeared on his face.

In need of a refreshment, you and Harry migrated to the kitchen. As he poured himself an ice-cold glass of water, you settled at the kitchen island, nibbling on a cracker slathered with butter.

Looking at Harry, you asked, "Any cravings for today?"

He grinned and replied, "Actually, I've been craving a nice stroll around the town with Milo. Maybe we can stop for some ice cream and, perhaps, a cheeky bottle of rouge."

Harry's eyes sparkled with the prospect of a leisurely day. He reached for your hand, fingers intertwining, and continued, "What do you think, love?"

You offered a small smile, well aware that your current circumstances limited certain indulgences. "Sounds lovely," you responded, playing with the cross necklace around his neck. "I'm up for a walk and some ice cream.”

The wine….not so much.

/ /

As the day wore on, bathed in the warm glow of the Italian sun, you changed into a pair of comfortable denim shorts and one of Harry's shirts, embracing the casual charm of the town. The borrowed shirt hung loosely on your frame, carrying the familiar scent that provided a comforting connection to Harry.

Together, hand in hand, you and Harry strolled along the old streets, a timeless backdrop for the unfolding birthday celebration.

Milo, ever the enthusiastic companion, trotted alongside, his leash held firmly in Harry's hand. The cobbled streets echoed with the gentle sounds of your footsteps, creating a serene melody as you explored the charming corners of the town.

The quaint architecture and rustic charm of the surroundings added a picturesque touch to the shared moments of the day.

The narrow alleyways led you to hidden gems and inviting cafés, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet treats filled the air.

Each step carried with it the promise of discovery and the joy of simply being together. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm hue over the town, and the leisurely pace of the day allowed you to savor the simple pleasures of the moment.

As you continued your leisurely walk through the charming streets of Italy, Milo suddenly stopped in his tracks, his nose diligently sniffing around the ground. With an amused grin, you watched as he searched for just the right spot to do his business.

After a moment of consideration, Milo found the perfect place, and you turned to Harry with a playful expression.

"Happy birthday to you," you teased, handing Harry the poo bag with a grin. He laughed and fake gagged, taking the bag with a theatrical expression of horror.

Milo, seemingly oblivious to the lighthearted banter, continued with his canine duties, contributing his unique birthday gift to the day's events.

Continuing your walk through the enchanting town, you and Harry engaged in easy conversation, the cadence of laughter punctuating the air. The narrow streets echoed with the shared joy of the day, every step deepening the connection between you two. Silly anecdotes and playful banter flowed freely, turning the casual stroll into a delightful journey of shared moments.

As you meandered through the old streets, each corner unveiled new surprises, and every twist and turn became an opportunity for discovery. The simple act of being together, immersed in the charm of the surroundings, fueled the laughter and strengthened the bond between you and Harry.

As you continued your stroll through the charming town, the sight of a small bistro with a quaint outdoor seating area caught Harry's eye.

"How about we grab a bite there? it looks like a nice spot," he suggested, nodding toward the bistro. You agreed with a smile, appreciating the thought of a cozy meal in such a picturesque setting.

Heading towards the entrance, you were met by a friendly waiter.

"How can I help you?" he inquired. Harry responded,

"Just a table outside, please." The waiter, with a welcoming smile, gestured for you to follow, leading you to a charming table nestled in the outdoor seating area. The sun cast a warm glow, creating an inviting ambiance for a leisurely meal.

Seated at the quaint table, Milo by your side, the waiter handed you the menus. "Browse through these, a waiter will be over shortly, and let me know if there's anything else you need," he offered before leaving you to peruse the options. The aroma of delectable dishes wafted through the air, enhancing the anticipation of a delightful meal in the heart of the town.

Harry, glancing at the menu, looked up at you with a playful grin.

"What are you in the mood for, m’love?" he asked.

You.

Wait what?

As you and Harry enjoyed the cozy atmosphere of the bistro, another waiter, a friendly woman with a welcoming smile, approached your table.

"Good evening! Do you know what you'd like to order?" she inquired, pen poised above her notepad.

Harry, ever decisive, was the first to respond.

"I'll have a glass of y’house red wine, please," he said, glancing at the wine list.

Turning to you, the waiter asked, "And for you, ma'am?"

You flashed a smile and softly shook your head.

"I'll just go for a fresh lemonade, please." Attempting to steer away any suspicion, you added, "Feeling like something light today."

Harry, catching the cue, chimed in, "Just a light and easygoing evening, you know?"

He winked at you, his eyes filled with playful complicity.

The waiter jotted down your drink orders and nodded. "Certainly, a glass of red wine and a fresh lemonade. Now, what can I get for your main courses?"

You perused the menu, deciding on a chicken salad, and Harry opted for the salmon antipasto. You exchanged glances, sharing a silent agreement on the choices. As the waiter collected your menu choices, she remarked,

"Excellent choices! Your orders will be out shortly. Enjoy your evening!"

With the waiter's departure, Harry leaned in with a teasing grin.

"A fresh lemonade, m’love? Feeling like a saint today, are we?" he quipped, his playful banter laced with affection.

You chuckled, playing along. "Well, saints need a refreshing drink too, don't they? Besides, I'm saving room for that delicious chicken salad."

Harry laughed, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. "Alright, alright, I won't question y’saintly decisions. S’just enjoy this lovely evening and the meal to come."

The waiter returned with your drinks about five minutes later, placing a glass of red wine in front of Harry and a refreshing lemonade for you. As she walked away, leaving you two to enjoy your beverages, you lifted your glass and initiated a spontaneous toast.

"Cheers to your birthday, my love," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with affection. "I just wanted to take a moment to say how much I love you. I can't wait to spend eternity together, celebrating moments like these."

Harry's gaze softened, and he blinked his glass against yours.

"To eternity and beyond," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "M’the luckiest person to have you by m’side. Here's to many more birthdays and unforgettable moments together."

The bistro's ambiance embraced the intimate exchange, and you continued to express your love and appreciation for Harry.

"You make every day special, but today, on your birthday, I want it to be extra magical for you," you confessed, your sincerity echoing in the quiet moments between sips of the refreshing lemonade.

Harry's smile widened, and he reached across the table to gently squeeze your hand. "Having y’here is the best gift I could ever ask for. Every moment with you is magical, and m’grateful for it all."

/ /

As the early evening settled around the villa, you found yourselves back in the comforting haven of your shared space. In the bathroom, bathed in a soft glow, you stood before the mirror, carefully removing mascara and eyeliner.

The simple act of cleansing away the day's makeup was a routine that marked the transition from daytime adventures to the quiet moments of the evening.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Harry lay on the bed, Milo nestled at his feet. He absentmindedly scratched at the short growth of hair on his head, a subtle reminder of a recent decision to shave it off.

The room radiated with a sense of tranquility as you each indulged in the rituals that marked the end of the day.

Wearing one of Harry's shirts that enveloped you in the familiar scent of him, you busied yourself in the bathroom, preparing a late evening birthday surprise.

The soft rustling sounds of your movements echoed against the backdrop of Harry's contemplative scratching, creating a harmony of shared space and intimate connection.

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror before deciding it was time to return to the bedroom.

Your hands were discreetly behind your back, holding a late evening birthday surprise for Harry. As you stepped into the bedroom, Harry, already seated on the bed, noticed your presence and sat up, beckoning you with open arms.

"I want a cuddle," he declared, his eyes twinkling with a playful warmth. Unable to resist his endearing request, you let out a soft giggle at his baby-like antics.

Playfully, you approached the bed as he beckoned you forward.

Crawling onto the bed next to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his arms. You laid your head on his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart echoing comfort and love.

The anticipation of the surprise gift still hidden behind your back added an extra layer of excitement to the intimate moment.

"I missed you," Harry murmured, his voice a gentle caress. You pressed a kiss over his heart, savoring the warmth of the connection. His arms tightened around you, embracing the familiar comfort of being close.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at Harry with a warm smile, saying, "I've got one last present for you. Close your eyes."

Harry hesitated for a moment, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, before obediently shutting his eyes. With gentle steps, you moved towards him, the late evening's golden glow casting a soft ambiance around you.

In your hands, you held a delicate gift, and with a mix of hesitation and tenderness, you softly placed it in Harry's hands.

"Okay, open your eyes," you instructed, your heart fluttering with a secret that had the power to change your lives forever.

Harry blinked his eyes open, and as he glanced down at his hands, a flicker of confusion passed over his face. Then, his gaze landed on the small object nestled in his palms.

It took a moment for the realisation to sink in, and when he saw what it was, his eyes widened, and he gasped.

"What... is this?" Harry stammered, his voice shaky with emotion.

His trembling fingers picked up the small pregnancy test.

The room fell silent as the weight of the revelation settled in. Harry's eyes locked onto the test, and tears immediately welled up.

"S’this for real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't some sick joke, right?"

You shook your head, a mixture of joy and vulnerability in your gaze. Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against his, tears streaming down both your cheeks.

"It's true, H. I'm eleven weeks pregnant," you whispered, the magnitude of the moment engulfing you both in a wave of overwhelming emotions.

Harry's breath caught, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes.

"I... we're going to be parents?" he uttered, a mix of disbelief and elation in his voice.

A tender smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "Yes, Harry. We're going to be parents."

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I can't believe it. M’going to be a dad," he mumbled against your hair, his voice filled with a joy that echoed through the room.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Harry leaned forward, his hand gently pressing against your stomach as if trying to connect with the new life growing within.

The tender touch conveyed a depth of love that words could only strive to express. His lips found yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, and as he pulled back, he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

“This is the best birthday ever,”he spoke, chocking out a soft sob. “Thank you m’love, thank you, thank you for making us parents.”

You softly placed your hands on his cheeks to get him to look at you, and when his green eyes met yours, you smiled at him tenderly.

“Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.”

[leather-n-velvet]

High & Low: Part V

A Drew Starkey x singer/actress!OC SMAU

Summary: While on hiatus from touring and wanting to branch out with her career, Ivy Blake auditions for OBX, immediately hitting it off with none other than Drew Starkey during their chemistry read. As tension and drama brew between the two, can they get through the highs and lows that come with fame and relationships together?

A/N: I just want to preface this chapter- this is FICTION. This is an alternate universe and in no way reflects the actual people. I have just used them as a device of convenience due to picture availability. Please do not send anyone any hate.

Also, there are two more little blurbs in this one. I'm still getting back into the swing of writing, so I'm very sorry if it's horrible 😬

Chapter warnings: allusions to sex (no actual smut, but MDNI), cursing, O mentions (sorry).

Dividers by: @cafekitsune ⭐️🌙

Previous Part // Masterlist

ivyblake

Liked by drewstarkey, haley_james, and 3,293,389 others.

ivyblake IB x Naked Cashmere

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haley_james BEAUTIFUL. AMAZING. STUNNING. SHOW STOPPER.

drewstarkey wow. fuck me.

*comment has been deleted*

drewstarkey wow

madelyncline WIFE

user5 BODYODYODYODY

user7 perfection

hater1 why is she always half naked

haley_james because she can. hope this helps. 😊

NakedCashmere

Liked by haley_james, TheIvyLeague, and 764,386 others.

NakedCashmere We are so excited to have @/ivyblake as our newest brand ambassador. Catch the live stream of Sunday's show on our website!

#IBxNakedCashmere

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user4 can she be any more perfect?

user8 MOTHER

user2 I can't think of a better collab for her

TheIvyLeague ready to try to get my hands on this collection

Ivy’s phone:

Finstas

sonotivyleague

Liked by starboyd, madrecliner, and 213 others.

sonotivyleague happy 🩵 @/starboyd

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madrecliner AKDNFJSKAB

rude_boy bout damn time

djdavisssss ^^^^ RT

lacigurl MY BABIES

highwaytohale CUTIES

starboyd my girl 🩵

starboyd

Liked by sonotivyleague, lacigurl, and 108 others.

starboyd happy 🩵 @/sonotivyleague

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lacigurl YES I TOLD UR ASS

madrecliner my work here is done 😌

sonotivyleague 🩵🩵🩵🩵

O's phone:

Drew’s phone:

Drew was… for lack of a better word, fucked. At least, he thought he would be once he told Ivy the situation. Of course, Ivy was a very understanding person but this was a big deal to her. But how could he go back on his word to O*dessa and A*aron? The guilt was already building, knowing he’d have to disappoint one person he cared about.

“Baby?” He called, walking to the doorway of Ivy’s home studio. It was her sanctuary, truly. All the plants, the warm colors, the mismatched rugs, the couches from her favorite antique stores, she could truly let her creativity flow in a place like this. 

She turned, her beautiful smile lighting up the room as she rose from the piano. “Hey, I didn’t hear you get back. I was talking to Poppy about Sunday and since you and I don’t want to go fully public yet, she said you can hang out with her and Haley while I do my photo ops.”

Their lips met in a sweet but steamy kiss before he pulled back, hands resting on her hips. “About that, I have some bad news.”

Her eyebrows crinkled, wondering what in the world could have happened between when they'd woken up wrapped in each other this morning, her blissfully sore from their reunion the night before, and the hour he had been on his run. “What?”

“Um, I have a thing for a friend that I promised I’d go to. I’m so sorry, baby. Everything has just been insane lately and I completely forgot. I didn’t even remember until O*dessa reminded me.”

Ivy felt a slight dip in her stomach at the mention of the girl’s name. Drew hadn’t given her any reason to be jealous nor to worry, but O*dessa always just seemed to be there. Something in her gut told her not to trust her completely, but until Drew gave her a reason not to trust him, she wasn’t going to be the crazy girlfriend causing issues with his friends.

Drew watched as the disappointment settled on her face, making his heart ache. There weren’t many things in this life that he absolutely hated, but this was definitely the top of the list. Only a month together and he was already disappointing her. 

“Oh. Well, okay.” She muttered, pasting on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

She sighed, “I mean, I’m a little sad but you made a commitment. I can’t be mad at you for being a good friend and following through.” 

“I swear, I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart.” He pulled her closer, brushing his lips against her forehead. “I hate that I’m not going to be there. I know this is a big deal for you.”

She smiled softly at him, “It’s one event, honey. I’m a big girl.”

ivyblake

Liked by madelyncline, JillianBlake, and 14,239,489 others.

ivyblake Thank you for having me, @/NakedCashmere 💋

#IBxNakedCashmere

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JillianBlake so proud of you honey ❤️

madelyncline GODDESS

user1 utter perfection

user8 GLOWING

Ivy's phone:

After Drew had gotten back to her house twenty minutes after their last text, she had pretended to be asleep but her mind was racing with worry. He brushed a kiss to her head before settling in behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

Ivy couldn't shake it as she looked back at her dimmed phone. The pictures that O*dessa had posted made her blood boil. An event supposedly so important that Drew had to come to and they looked like they were playing dress up to pose for selfies. She didn't want to judge, O*dessa and A*aron were younger than she and Drew were, so maybe she was overthinking it and looking for issues but she couldn't help it.

Haley and Poppy were genuinely confused as to why Drew wasn't at the show after she had talked him up so much and was so excited that he was accompanying her. To tell them that he had to cancel last minute was borderline embarrassing.

Even through text, she could tell Drew was feeling guilty about the situation, so it was hard to be completely mad at him. There was just something that was telling her that the whole thing seemed fishy.

A/N: Aaaaaand we have drama. Please let me know what you think and if you'd like to be added to the taglist. I'm so grateful for all of the likes, reblogs, and feedback I've gotten! HUGE thank you to @starkeysbebe for all of her help in this fic!!!

Taglist: @davinashifts333, @rafegf-real

[superavenueunknown]

Is threads the new digital marketing trend to watch out for?

Social media marketing is the domain, and content creators are the kings, and each ticking second we have new players stepping in, a lot of them, since no one is a by-stander anymore. Every business organization, an MNC or a small up and coming startups. Every business is a brand. And every brand narrative needs a media platform. A new digital marketing trend is here.

Social media literacy is its zenith and the peak no longer exists for virtually everyone –  humans and humaiods – are on the screen. Mobile marketing is scaling new heights, and artificial intelligence is emerging and show significant signs of dominance given the ChatGPT advent, but this also could lead to a phenomenon called the AI Fatigue, here, the content becomes overwhelming and people just scroll through, or skip sections. We see the traces, surely you have scrolled through reels in the first couple seconds if it does not strike your fancies, and as Deluze coined, its all a copy of a copy of a copy. Originality lacks, hence humans shall never be obsolete, and this can be attested if one takes a look at the quick growth of Threads.

Threads is the favourite darling child of all content creators, with new features coming out each day, perhaps, even as we speak; customized feeds, trending topics, they also list out algorithm trending topics yet you have the space to customize and the freedom of feed curation. It does look like a feasible competitor to X and the fact that it is close to amassing a billion users speaks for itself. Independent content creators are in throngs and looks like businesses are also throbbing in. it’s a great tool to start discussions and propose ideas or opinions – a great way for audience engagement; it focuses on text only content, and that works as a great antidote for the AI Fatigue we were talking about earlier, since it allots a much needed break from video content. Speculations are rife that they might soon begin monetizing via ads and this development shows us why threads could be the next big trend in digital marketing.

So hop on and reap the benefits.

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[trexalicious]

WAAAAAAGH! I'm the victim...again! Of course it's Catherine's fault...

[randomfoggytiger]

Gillian Anderson: a Retrospective Glance

Gillian Anderson, in her own words.

The Short Route

May 7, 2006:

'I'm never satisfied. That's part of me, part of my make-up.'...

[On The X-Files] 'You know, early twenties, all the emotions, and I had a baby, and then a divorce, and I was on a brand-new series that was doing well, and all the publicity surrounding that, all the nonsense about David and I, and there were times when it was unbearable.' Hastily, humbly, she adds, 'And yet, I was so fortunate to be a part of something that was so exceptional. We did have fun.'

'I do try, very hard, to be happy where I am, I work extra-hard at it, but it's difficult for me, because what is around me is not enough.'

...She describes her current house as 'big and open and white. My... [there's a long pause, while she works out the correct term] husband liked white walls. I like white walls, too. A mixture of funky but mostly standard elements, contemporary, but classic. Then the one before that, off Portobello Road, I just went mad with colour. Spent an exorbitant amount of money on layers and layers of paint. Very funky, bohemian, Moroccan. One before that, in Canada, lots of wood and glass, looking out at the ocean, very grounding.' An eternal cycle of reinvention.

February 24, 2025:

It wasn’t until probably about 15 years ago, when I played Stella Gibson in The Fall, that I started to pay attention to fashion and beauty—the quality of her clothes, her sensuality, and how she put herself together. It was through playing her that I started to actually feel that paying attention to it felt good, and how good it felt to be in those clothes, connected to a sense of personal power because of how one presents. So, I feel like I’ve come to it quite late in my life, and it’s interesting that this opportunity would also come to me quite late in my life.

[During the early years]: Interestingly, Scully wasn’t connected to beauty at all. She wore a lot of single-color polyester pantsuits, which were made fun of by people, especially in retrospect. Scully’s style was a reflection of her character. She wasn’t trying to be glamorous or fit into traditional beauty standards. Her minimalist look and sharp, elegant clothes were a form of strength. It wasn’t about appearance; it was about being intelligent, strong, and independent.

...Back then, it felt less glamorous than it had in previous eras and less glamorous than it is now. But honestly, I prefer the glamour of today, if I’m being honest.

The Long Route

AMBITIONS AND PRIVATE LIFE

October 1994 (first interview):

EXTRA: O.K. are we ready. I'm going to ask you some extra questions from America Online and then we'll get to the other ones if we have time. Now are you a skeptic or are you a believer in the UFO?

GILLIAN: In real life? Oh in real life. Me as Gillian Anderson I have a tendency to be more of a believer than a skeptic. There certainly things that I am hesitant about but I have always had a fascination with some kind of a belief system with psychokinesis and E.S.P. and astro-projection and life after death and all that wonderful stuff.

1996:

Because the play in New York would have conflicted with other projects, Anderson opted to make a two-for-one swap and take the other two parts, doing the movie and then “The Philanthropist”. As it turned out, the latter ultimately led her to Los Angeles after she became involved with another actor on the show, following him to the West Coast and eventually moving in with him. “I’m not sure if I hadn’t made those choices that I would be doing The X-Files right now,” she muses. 

..."The X-Files”, in fact, was the only pilot for which Anderson auditioned in 1993, at that point possessing little knowledge regarding what the whole process entailed. She even had to ask her manager what a pilot was and had no idea that each network commissions about four times as many pilots as they end up ordering as series. “I naively assumed that we were going to be picked up,” she says, with the hope that landing the part and doing 13 episodes of a TV show (the number networks order for starters) would put her in a different echelon of casting. She anticipated at most committing a year to the project. 

May 19-25, 2001:

For the record: She was not originally blonde; she does have a dog, but it's a King Charles spaniel, not a Jack Russell terrier; and she has been nicotine-free for just over a year. "It isn't as hard as I imagined it would be," she says of kicking the habit. "I am in a state of grace with it."

A practicing Buddhist, Anderson seems to be in a state of grace with life overall. And although she enjoyed directing an episode of The X-Files, she says it's so time-consuming that she can't imagine doing it again until Piper is at least 16. But Anderson makes no secret of the fact that she's ready to move on. When her contract expires after next season, she wants to return to the stage.

January 22, 2006:

Anderson says she did take a year off to travel with boyfriend-now-husband Julian Ozanne, a photojournalist and filmmaker....

Anderson also engaged in charity work overseas, including with an organization called Artists for a New South Africa....

May 7, 2006:

She [Gillian Anderson] seems to have had it with theatre. 'Usually when I do a play - and this is why I don't do them very often - you start rehearsals, it's all great fun, then you get halfway through and you think, "...it's too hard, too stressful." And then you get over that and it's fine, and then you absolutely love it for a couple of weeks, and then you start thinking, "...is this ever going to end?" and then you realise it's not going to end and you have to make the best of every night. And then you start to learn again, and you do that for a little while... and then you get to the place where you're like, "...it's going to be over soon, and this is such a wonderful experience!"' She forks in some duck salad. 'I'm never satisfied. That's part of me, part of my make-up.'

...Gossip has had the pair [Anderson and Ozanne] splitting for a while; she put out the lawyers' statement in the hope that 'it might change the dynamic if people just knew it, outright'. In the expectation that you might be able to take back some control? 'One hopes so.' Anderson hails a waiter, asks if she's allowed to smoke in here. No, she's not. 'I don't know why, I'm dying for a cigarette....'

'You know, early twenties, all the emotions, and I had a baby, and then a divorce, and I was on a brand-new series that was doing well, and all the publicity surrounding that, all the nonsense about David and I, and there were times when it was unbearable.' Hastily, humbly, she adds, 'And yet, I was so fortunate to be a part of something that was so exceptional. We did have fun.'

'I do try, very hard, to be happy where I am, I work extra-hard at it, but it's difficult for me, because what is around me is not enough.' Four years ago, she went through a really good stage, she was 'really, really happy', and there's a long, dreamy pause while she drifts off, remembering this happy time, and then she comes to and says, briskly, 'Yeah, but I was doing loads of yoga and meditation. I was going to say I was eating wholefoods a lot, but I think I was living off frozen yogurt.'

...Her chief recreation is 'buying houses, doing them up, selling them up for a little bit more. Structurally, working with architects, interiors, I love that stuff. I've done it a lot. Twice in London, twice in Canada, twice in California.' Ah, that dissatisfied impulse again. I'll bet she's already starting to think about the sale of the marital home around the corner, and the next purchase.

She describes her current house as 'big and open and white. My... [there's a long pause, while she works out the correct term] husband liked white walls. I like white walls, too. A mixture of funky but mostly standard elements, contemporary, but classic. Then the one before that, off Portobello Road, I just went mad with colour. Spent an exorbitant amount of money on layers and layers of paint. Very funky, bohemian, Moroccan. One before that, in Canada, lots of wood and glass, looking out at the ocean, very grounding.' An eternal cycle of reinvention.

February 25, 2017:

There were occasions during that series [The X-Files] when I wasn’t sure whether I could go on. I started having panic attacks on a daily basis while we were shooting, around the time Piper was born. It was a mixture of not having dealt with childhood problems, the work being intensive, living in the spotlight and the expectation on me, as well as not knowing how to get balance or properly take care of myself. The panic attacks forced me to start practising meditation, just to eke out a tiny bit of space for myself, and that made it possible to continue.

Gillian and Clyde divorced after three years (she later said she had been too young and has encouraged her daughter to travel and ‘make the most of her life’ before getting seriously involved with a man), and she was briefly married to Julian Ozanne, a filmmaker. She then fell in love with Mark Griffiths, a businessman, with whom she has two sons, Oscar, ten, and Felix, eight.

Despite achieving fame on both sides of the Atlantic, she remained insecure: ‘For years I was very self-centred and focused on my body, my weight, and it caused so much sadness. That really moves me now, just how much of my younger life I missed out on because I was so focused on my thighs or my outfit; it was such a waste of time.’

Obsessing about appearance is part of the career she chose, Gillian concedes, ‘but it’s becoming the world we all operate in because of social media. Facebook and Instagram have made all women focus on how they look and how they’re represented.’

...Motherhood brought its own pressures, especially for Gillian, who finds the noise and chaos of young boys unbearable at times. Maybe other mothers have ‘tougher nerve endings’, she says. She does the ‘right thing’ and gets down to play Lego but ‘my kids can sense it’s not easy for me. I struggled when Piper was little as well. I remember getting restless and feeling this pressure that I should be doing something else, but when I was doing something else feeling this pressure that I should be with my child. It’s that constant tug of war…and I don’t think I’m alone with that. I try to be tolerant and patient. How I am in the house depends on my time of the month: I’m either embracing of the noise or it’s nails on a chalk board. But they know that it’s just Mum. There’s an acceptance and a lovingness.’

...‘Independence-wise being an only child is good, but there are traits that I have seen in other only children: being quite selfish, not really wanting to share. It’s taken a long time for me to push the boundaries of those and be less controlling, less protective of my world and my space.’

...Gillian saw a pattern with her partners: ‘I’d meet someone, instantly fall in love and spend every waking hour with them, but stopped doing the things I enjoyed doing, stopped taking care of myself. I adopted their interests, friends, music, tastes…before long I’d start to resent them, even though it was me who actively let myself go.’

After six years together, she and Mark split up (they didn’t marry) and she has used some of the experience of her dealings with her ex in her book. ‘A spiritual adviser encouraged me to start thinking of [him] as my “beloved”, that regardless of our separateness we will be raising two children together for the rest of our lives and that makes him one of the most important people in my life, whether I like it or not. As you can imagine, this is not easy, but the times I am able to communicate with him from a place of love and appreciation rather than resentment, or as he says “againstness”, the more my perception shifts.’

MOVING ABOUT THE GLOBE

“First of all, I swore I’d never move to Los Angeles,” she admits, “and once I did, I swore I’d never do television. It was only after being out of work for almost a year that I began going in [to audition] on some stuff that I would pray that I wouldn’t get because I didn’t want to be involved in it.” 

February 1998:

Born in Chicago to Rosemary and Edward Anderson, Gillian accompanied the family to Puerto Rico before settling in London, where her father studied film production. Her mother says she was adventurous and welcomed “new experiences.”

“One of my very favorite stories happened when we were in London,” Rosemary Anderson recalls. “It was her first day of nursery school. Her father was taking her down the stairs and she looked back up at me, saw my face and said, ‘Don’t cry, Mom.’ She was fine. I was not.”

After nine years, the Andersons returned to America and settled in Grand Rapids.

“By the time I was 11, I had been on 40-some planes,” the actress says, lighting another cigarette. “I remember my parents taking me to parties a lot. Running around, then falling asleep. Having my pajamas on and being carried to the car. … Some of my greatest memories are of them shoving me in the back of a VW Bug and sleeping on the way home.”

July 19, 1998:

The 1,000-mile commute was wearing him down. "We're [David Duchovny and Tea Leoni] like passing ships in the night because of our different schedules," he said at the time. His co-star Gillian Anderson supported the move, adding, "I love Vancouver. I think it's a beautiful city. But it is not and never has felt like home. Los Angeles feels like home."

1998:

During a brief break, Anderson, looking radiant in a long red cocktail dress, said she was invigorated by filming in Southern California.

“It’s really been going great, and the episodes are really good this season,” she said. “It’s really made a difference for me being here. I have a lot of friends and a great support system.”

Anderson added: “The sunshine does have a lot to do with my mood, feeling healthy and whole. It’s nice to sit out in the sunshine with my daughter.”

March 2001:

leolady19682001: Hi Gillian, how are you? when you're in London do you feel like you're coming home? or is living in London a distant memory?

gillian_anderson_live: I always feel like I'm coming home when I go to London. It's one of the places where I feel most at home. I hope to eventually live there, part-time, again.

November 8, 2003:

All I know is that for my whole life I have been pulled towards the African Continent. I was born in America, live in London and my heart is in Africa.

January 22, 2006:

Anderson says she did take a year off to travel with boyfriend-now-husband Julian Ozanne, a photojournalist and filmmaker. The two married in Kenya in late 2004 and have visited 30 countries in three years -- among them, Lebanon, Syria, India, Sri Lanka, Russia, Romania. Some of those places are considered risky travel destinations.

"They consider Beirut to be the Paris of the Middle East, and it certainly is," Anderson says. "It's a beautiful, beautiful city that also still shows signs of the devastation that has gone on for years and years. Every other building has blown-out windows. But it wasn't scary."

Anderson also engaged in charity work overseas, including with an organization called Artists for a New South Africa....

May 7, 2006:

She married Julian Ozanne - who was the FT's Africa bureau chief and is now a financial consultant and a director of a biofuels company - in Lamu's Shella island, off Kenya's Indian Ocean coast in December 2004.

...But she and Piper will remain in London? 'Yeah. For now. And maybe we'll be here in 20 years. Or maybe I'll fall in love with Spain. Or India. Who knows? Things are all changing right now.... '

August 2006:

Are you staying in London?

Yes, we [Gillian and Piper Anderson] are. We've been here for four years, so this is home - for now, anyway.

You grew up in the UK until you were nine and you live here now, and your daughter is growing up here, going to school here. Do you feel more British or American?

Neither. When I'm here, I'm conscious of having an American sensibility, but when I'm there I don't fit in, I feel more British. I have different conversations here. I meet people who are intelligent and well-informed and interesting, but there's more reluctance to be personal, to discuss the ways we feel and think. But it is changing. Even in the four years I've been here I've seen that begin to shift.

January 2016:

We made 202 episodes in the end, over nine seasons, and worked long 16-, 17-hour days.  David and I were in almost every scene for years - often at night, in the rain, on location.  So much of it was shot in the dark, with us lighting ourselves by flashlight, in all kinds of weather, and in the forest.  Oh, the forests.  When the show finally moved to Los Angeles I can’t say we missed them, or the weather, but Vancouver really did set the mood for the show in a fundamental way.  

FASHION AND SELF-IMAGE

July 10, 1998:

WHAT’S UP WITH SCULLY’S WARDROBE (I)? Not that we’re complaining, but when did the dowdy agent develop such killer fashion sense? Is it a side effect of alien abduction? “In the beginning of the series, I was into the frumpy FBI agent look, but I got tired of it pretty quickly,” Anderson says. “I’ve been paying more attention to my clothes. And with the movie, we had more money, so we could start doing things with Italian fabrics and stuff.”

August 2006:

Were you drawn to the Scully character - was she like you?

I did bring a lot of myself to her. I wanted her to be a different kind of character. It was more important to me that her dress sense was conservative and frumpy, that she was kind of awkward with that side of thing, it wasn't what she was about.

February 8, 2015:

Was she surprised to be voted sexiest woman on the planet? She answers in single-word sentences. “It. Means. Absolutely. Nothing. If you look at all the pictures of me back then I had the worst hair, I was the worst dressed, I never put any time or energy into how I looked in public, never put makeup on, never even got out of my house trousers.... So what’s it based on? It’s surely not based on Scully and her three-piece suit and her awkward hair and the pink pastel Lycra suit, so what is it?”

You?

“But no one knew me,” she protests.

She says it’s only over the past three years that she’s paid any attention to her appearance.

January 2016:

For the 2015 reboot of six episodes, the question naturally came up: to dye or not to dye?  My hair was already falling out from playing so many platinums (Stella in The Fall, Bedelia in Hannibal, Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire), so “wig” was the answer.

Cut to day two of filming in the heart of downtown Vancouver (taking the role of Washington, DC), smack in the middle of lunch hour.  We were drawing crowds, and these days “crowds” means phones, photographs and instant internet activity.  A close-up of my hair was immediately posted online: “It’s not the right red!” (outrage); “The parting is wrong!” (disgust).  Fans ,who know more about the show than any of us making it, were spot on - they had been watching Scully right from the show’s beginning - and a new wig was made....

One thing that was going to be different this time around, though: Scully’s wardrobe.  During the original series, I had paid not a lick of attention to her style.  I had known that I wanted her to be homely, because I was determined to be a real actress who didn’t care about vanity.  But little did I realise that my lack of awareness would lead to years of bad hair and polyester suits.  To be fair, the show’s costume girl was great and was simply pulling outfits from what was on offer in the mid-Nineties: fabrics that I can’t even think of without shivers running up my spine; double-breasted suits and shoulder pads as big as a house.  Scully’s taste got better as the seasons went on, but it wasn’t really until the sixth season when we moved down to Los Angeles and a new team came on board, that I was forced to address the issue, head-on.  New, hipper clothes and a slicker haircut for Scully.  Even a leather coat, here and there.

This time around, after 13 years of creating other characters and realising that I not only have a say in how they appear but that I actually enjoy that part of the process - I have strong opinions about how my characters express themselves through clothes - I worked much more actively with The X-Files wardrobe designer Chris Hargadon to hone Scully’s style.  I had worked with Chris on Hannibal, in which he got to express his creative genius through Hannibal’s fine tailoring.

February 2019:

One morning a decade ago, Gillian Anderson started crying about the cruelty of ageing and didn’t stop until evening. “If you watch yourself on film, there is a certain point you see yourself... change. It’s arresting,” she says, sitting on a velvet sofa at home, dressed in black, her stiletto boots tucked under her, and with such fine features it’s as if she’s been drawn with a very sharp pencil. “It can either be completely traumatic or something that instigates a shift of consciousness towards thinking about what’s important. But you have to go through that trauma first, to mourn.”

Anderson takes a sip of tea. “The thing to remember is, how one looks in the mirror is the youngest one will ever look again. So you can’t do anything but celebrate it! Ageing is something we all need to find a way to embrace – the inevitability of age, of decline, of… rot.” She cackles, hearing herself, a well-attired goth contemplating death on a winter afternoon.

February 24, 2025:

...Interestingly, Scully wasn’t connected to beauty at all. She wore a lot of single-color polyester pantsuits, which were made fun of by people, especially in retrospect. Scully’s style was a reflection of her character. She wasn’t trying to be glamorous or fit into traditional beauty standards. Her minimalist look and sharp, elegant clothes were a form of strength. It wasn’t about appearance; it was about being intelligent, strong, and independent.

...Back then, it felt less glamorous than it had in previous eras and less glamorous than it is now. But honestly, I prefer the glamour of today, if I’m being honest.

FLUCTUATING INTEREST IN SCULLY AND THE X-FILES

1996:

Despite what she now calls her “very snobby view of doing television versus film,” Anderson read the pilot script for “The X-Files” and found herself immediately drawn to both the character of Dana Scully and her relationship with fellow FBI agent Fox Mulder. 

November 1998:

“It’s incredibly gratifying,” says Anderson of what it’s been like to play Dana Scully. “It would have been harder to stick with it were I not playing such an intelligent, such an interesting, and multidimensional character as Scully is. When I read the pilot, I was struck how unlike a TV script it was and, also, by how complicated and interesting the relationship was between Mulder and Scully. I think that more than anything,” she continues, “[it was] her intelligence and her strength in standing up to Mulder and feeling confident about expressing her beliefs in front of somebody who was touted as being near God in terms of his work at the FBI.”

November 2000:

And that's where the real push came in her contract negotiations, which hinged on her belief that her pay versus Duchovny's was too unfair. "At the end of the fifth year, it became just ridiculous and unacceptable that there was the disparity," she says. "So we took steps to remedy that and we were successful. Then there was the issue whereby I was already signed on for the eighth season and David was not, which put him in a better position. "He was in a better leveraging position," she says candidly.

"Therefore, in order to get what he felt was fair, he agreed to do the eighth season. Conversely, I had to do what I felt was fair. Fox was asking for a ninth season and I said no. "And they said, 'well if you're not going to do a ninth season then we're not going to pay you what you want.' So in order to negotiate fairly, I had to agree to do the ninth year."

"There's no two ways about it. I was over a barrel, a very big barrel. And it was uncomfortable, you know, to be in that position. Here's a company that I had worked so hard for for so long and I put a lot of time and energy into doing the best work that I could.

"For them to come to me and say, 'Well, you know, forget about that. This is what we need right now and we don't care what your needs are. This is what we need in order for you to be compensated,' it was unfair," she says without hesitation. "We worked it out in the end but it was incredibly uncomfortable and unfortunate."

Still, she did so begrudgingly. 

January-February 2001:

GA: ...I do think that over time, as I have changed and matured and gotten more comfortable with myself, so has Scully. And there's also a difference now that Mulder is temporarily gone. She seems more well rounded somehow. With Mulder around, there was always a piece of Scully that was...

Interview: Suppressed?

GA: Yeah, in a way. When you're in a relationship with someone, no matter how much you fight to maintain a sense of self, when that relationship is over, there's always a piece that comes back to you. And I fee that's kind of what's happened.

January 18, 2002:

The future of “X-Files” has been a topic around Fox for much of the last few seasons, as both Duchovny and Anderson expressed a desire to move on. Duchovny worked half of the episodes last season. And Anderson, who wanted to leave earlier in the show’s run, was contractually forced to work this year.

Like Anderson, viewers may already have had enough.

May 10, 2002:

Dave Letterman: What was it like when you got together to get ready to go for the final time there?

Gillian Anderson: Well, I think I expected it to be a lot more emotional than it actually was. Like a week beforehand I started saying this is the last day that we are filming at the studio; this is the last day that this person is going to touch up my lips; this is the last...you know, you start to take in those things. And after a while, you just go blank...it just gets kind of blank. And ah, ... blank. Kinda like I am right now, blank.

Dave Letterman: You did that to sort of protect yourself from the real emotions of it, you think?

Gillian Anderson: I think so. And I also think that it is somewhat unfathomable, you know. And I think that I am so used to the routine and I am also used to going on hiatus that probably come July, when I would normally go back, is when I'll start to feel it.

July 2002:

And now it's over, and she's not quite sure how she feels about that. "Don't get me started. I don't know why, but I woke up feeling so emotional today. It's so surreal.... it's only starting to hit me over the past couple of days. And it just feels like nine years was so short. You know what I mean? While we were in the middle of it I felt that it would never end, and now it's just all of a sudden... it just feels unfathomable. And that's all I have to say."

It sounds as if she might be having second thoughts about Chris Carter's decision, but ultimately she realizes this is the moment to call it a day. "No, no, no. I think ultimately that it's good to finish now. There's a time for everything to end, and I think this is the right time. I think it's good for everybody and I think that everybody has put in such a huge effort over the years in really trying to keep the quality of the show up and to continue with its integrity as much as it can. Now everybody in their own way is excited about moving on to other things. Both things can co-exist. One can be sad and in the process of mourning and at the same time be excited and hopeful for the future and change."

August 2002:

While many originally perceived The X-Files as being all about Mulder's quest, in the end, it was clear that the show was as much about Scully's quest as well. Cancer, abduction, infertility (and its mysterious reversal) were just some of the story threads that affected Scully directly. "I think the show certainly did start out just as Mulder's quest; the show was primarily about his character and his genius and his revelation. And Scully's job was to kind of help solidify that in the questions that she would answer."

Together, she adds, "they created a whole." The path toward having Scully carry as much weight in the stories as Mulder was a gradual one, though, she recalls, laughing. "It was 70-30, then 60-40, then 50-50.

In seasons eight and nine, the fact that the saga of The X-Files completed its morph into revolving around Scully's journey is something that Anderson feels, "happened by necessity, because of the fact that David was going to be leaving. And I think for the first year that he was gone, the writers did a very good job of keeping him in the public consciousness even though he wasn't around."

After two years of will-they-or-won't-they return false starts, the reality that the end is near has struck the red-haired actress full force. "I woke up feeling so emotional today," Anderson admits on a bright Friday afternoon, with just four more episodes -- including the show's two-hour finale -- still to shoot. "This is surreal. It's only started to hit me these past couple of days. It feels like nine years was so short. While we were in the middle of it, I thought it would never end. Now, all of a sudden, it's just unfathomable."

January 22, 2006:

Anderson says that nine seasons of the science-fiction/paranormal hit just sapped too much from of her real life. So stepped out of the Hollywood grind and headed to London, perhaps led by memories of a childhood spent there. She bought a house and met the man she married. "I know what it's like to do things that are soul-decaying," she says. "And a lot of, you know, a large aspect of life in Hollywood, in a stereotypic way, I find soul-decaying. And I choose, albeit frustratingly to other people in my life, not to expose myself to too much of that. And what that has translated into is that I live in a country that I absolutely love, in a city that I am awakened by and educated by on a daily basis."

...After tackling Edith Wharton and now Dickens, it's easy to imagine that she has a bookcase filled with Penguin Classics at home. But she was unfamiliar with Bleak House till she was approached for the project. Most of her upcoming work, she says, is contemporary. For her, it's all about good writing.

August 2008:

So, what's it been like pinning on your FBI badges again?

Gillian Anderson: It's been good. But hard work. It's been a long time since I've done such a long shoot – I've chosen things between three and six weeks, and this has been the first time for ages that I've done two-and-a-half months. David has a lot of physical stuff to do in the film, and I feel like on the one hand I've gotten off easy and on the other hand I'm still exhausted. I just feel old. (Laughs) ...The shoot was pretty gruelling on everyone. The cold, the long nights... Some of the crew were saying it was the hardest one they'd ever done. I got pretty sick, and at one point my son had scratched my cornea, so I was doing shots with a red eye and snot coming out of my nose. Look out for those ones.

A lot of fans were unhappy with the way it ended, which was, it has to be said, with a whimper rather than a bang. Do you concede that they have a point?

Anderson: You know what? By the time it was done I couldn't even have a conversation about it. I don't have enough of a perspective to say whether questions were answered or whether it was all wrapped up, and honestly, there's part of me that doesn't care. I'm sympathetic to die-hard fans who might feel left in short shrift, but...

Feb 2016:

Was it easy to convince you to film this new season?

I didn't like the idea at first. When we were shooting the show twenty years ago, we were young, grateful, ready to give it our all, and we had no personal lives. Today, I have three children, a husband, and various commitments. So the producers and Fox did everything they could to make things easier for me. And I signed on…

... I really liked the idea of ​​giving fans what they've been wanting for a long time. Namely, the return of the two heroes, but also all the ingredients that made the series a success, from its mythology to the "monster of the week" and its comedic aspects. There too, I think we succeeded in this challenge.

So The X-Files would definitely be a television series, not a movie franchise...

A series—as everyone in the audiovisual world agrees today—offers the freedom to develop a main plot, but also its ramifications, its characters, their connections, and many other aspects. Chris Carter, for example, explored throughout The X-Files a mythology and a subtle sense of irony that one, two, or even three movies cannot capture. All of this is reflected in the new series.

December 28, 2015:

...Anderson’s being back on The X-Files seems oddly seamless.

Indeed, she’s somewhat surprised it’s taken this long to happen. Along with Duchovny and X-Files creator Chris Carter, she always thought there could be a third feature film. “I think we realized that we needed to wrap up the story in some way,” she suggested. But “we got to a point where that was clearly not going to be possible.” Certainly not on TV, since neither actor could imagine going back to 20-plus episodes a year. But once networks began to see that short stacks of series could be a feasible formula, the three of them were ready to try.

January 2016:

Sure, there have been X-Files movies, but when the last season ended it seemed unlikely there would ever be a television series again.  Until recently, a new show would have meant making another 24 episodes - something not remotely possible for David or me.  So it wasn’t until TV networks became more open-minded about shorter series that it even became a possibility. David took the lead and ran with it, but it took me a while to catch up.  In other words: over my dead body.  But I reconsidered, and it suddenly started to sound as if it might be the only feasible way for us to achieve closure while giving the fans a taste of what they had been clamouring for.  Also, I figured it might possibly be quite fun.

...If we didn’t know it already by the time we wrapped this latest series, David and I were both profoundly aware of how lucky we have been.  How fortunate we are to have played these two characters who have had such an impact on television, defined a genre, found affection with so many people - and lasted for so many years.

February 22, 2017:

You don’t miss it at all, something that’s been a huge part of your life. And actually, life-changing?

Um. I wouldn’t say I miss it [The X-Files], no. I mean, there are other… things that I’ve done that I would say that I miss more. And I don’t know how much of it is because I played her for so such a long time that I… that it doesn’t feel…. It was long enough, in a sense. I miss… I would say I miss Blanche in Streetcar more than I miss Scully or even Stella from The Fall. Yeah, there are characters that I miss. 

April 4, 2024:

So does that mean Anderson, 55, will put her dark suit back on as FBI agent Scully to investigate more shadowy cases involving the paranormal?

“There’s a chance it will happen,” she said. “Whether I’m involved in it is a whole other thing. But in his hands — but I’m not saying no — because I think (Coogler) is really cool, and I think if he did it, it would probably be done incredibly well, and maybe I’ll pop in for a little somethin-somethin.”

November 2024:

A teenaged William became a key figure in the overarching Season 11 narrative, while Scully became a more passive character by the end of the season (leading to the announcement of yet another surprise pregnancy in the Season 11 finale). “It felt like Scully’s trajectory was no longer one of strength and agency,” Anderson said on the podcast. “It felt like it was beholden to an old idea of what a woman is… Literally all she could talk about was William and finding William. That’s literally a one-track song.”

Anderson also said that “I wasn’t really enjoying the direction that it was heading… and I didn’t have a voice in it. And so I felt like I needed to move on to something where I might have more of a voice.”

Additionally, Anderson and Duchovny touched on the fact that in 2000, Duchovny also quit the show without discussing it with Anderson first, something for which he took the opportunity to apologize. But she said that, “[At the time], I thought at first I thought, well, then we’re both going to [quit], because clearly I can’t go on without him. I don’t think I blamed you at all. I don’t think I was upset.”

April 16, 2025:

During his conversation on The Last Podcast on the Left, however, he [Ryan Coogler] was asked – half jokingly – about whether he had spoken to Gillian Anderson. He not only confirmed he had, but that he was “hopeful” something might come of it, which suggests a new series could well still feature the original characters in some capacity. This aligns with Anderson confirming to Today she had spoken with Coogler about the idea last year....

CONCLUSION

Gillian, like a phoenix, is apt to cyclical rebirth and redefinition.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[the-menace-in-pink]

The Phantom Troupe auditioning for Romeo and Juliet (chaotic headcanons)

Letting these rascals live up to their theater kids fantasies… how bad can it get? 💀

Chrollo: He wants to be Juliet AND Romeo because he believes he’s got a deep understanding of both characters on a level no one else does, and he gets cast as neither. He ends up getting Prince Escalus’ role as the director thought Chrollo had the regal and commanding look for that.

Machi: She doesn’t bother auditioning—clearly not a big fan of the play. But the casting director is very adamant about her being the perfect Tybalt.

Pakunoda: Gets cast as Lady Capulet, Juliet’s mom, after so many people insisted she was so ‘mother’. Casting director said bring me the mother in question!!!!

Feitan: He wanted Tybalt’s role so badly but got everyone thinking ‘Damn, even Tybalt isn’t that much of a demon.’ No. Surprisingly nailed the Nurse’s role??? And no one in the Troupe is letting him live that one down.

Shalnark: Everyone thought his boyish and mediator (lmao) vibes were 100% Benvolio. Surprisingly he did very well, but kept cracking up every now and then during rehearsals—to the point Machi almost stabbed him fr during the early Benvolio vs Tybalt show off. No one knows how she snuck that sword on stage. Props staff had to make sure the rest of the weapons were fake.

Phinks: Was in competition with Feitan over Tybalt’s role even though he secretly wanted to be Romeo. Almost became Tybalt if not for Machi. He gets to play Count Paris ultimately. Hated the role but eh.

Nobunaga: Lord Capulet your honor, and Shalnark couldn’t resist making comments about him looking like the perfect ‘distinguished-but-not-so-much middle aged man’ for that role. But he was one of the most convincing on stage!

Kortopi: Wanted no part in it. Absolutely none. Got eventually cast as Peter and even that was too much for him.

Shizuku: Casting director wanted her to be Juliet but she couldn’t remember any line for crying out loud. She let out a very rare laugh over reading R&J’s first ever flirting sene. Also deadpans ‘Why must I say Romeo so many times in one sentence? Was Juliet summoning a demon?’ ‘This sounds so bad. They’ve known each other for 2 hours, why is she asking him to get disowned?’ She ended up walking out of the play, and bringing confettis with her to cheer on the others during rehearsals. The Critic no one asked for (Kept pointing out their mistakes all thorough and shouting/whispering every characters’ respective lines to fumbling actors. So much for not being able to remember her parts—)

Uvogin: Got Mercutio’s role a bit too easily. Was proud of himself until he got absolutely livid after finding out he’s gotta die in the play, by Machi’s hands no less! Each time he took a bit too long to give it up, drew out his last lines in the most dramatic ways possible. But audience loved it.

Franklin: Friar Laurence excellence. Pretty much the only person besides Pakunoda who didn’t make much fuss, although him having to stick around as Romeo and Juliet turned to sleeping beauties had him stand like 🧍‍♂️ ‘I thought that was supposed to be the greatest love story of all times?’

Bonolenov: Acted unbothered but begged the director to let him be one of the musicians during the ballroom scene instead. He got in a few nights just fine before some fussing spectators and sponsors inquired about why a mummy was on stage during R&J’s most iconic scenes, and if that was supposed to be a Halloween rendition or something.

Hisoka: You can bet he acted his arse out thinking he could bring a brand new flavor to Romeo. He’d have LOVED having to act it out with Chrollo as Juliet lmao, especially if the decors and stage burned down as the two ended up more busy aiming props and unlucky spectators at each other than acting.

All in all, the ones who got no roles: Shizuku (hates her character and can’t remember her lines), Hisoka (self-explanatory).

Members who got kicked out after a few performances: Bonolenov (stood out too much), Phinks (got out of character by bickering way too often with Feitan, made people think Count Paris was into the Nurse), Machi (she took her Tybalt era a bit too seriously), Chrollo (he kept trying to steal the spotlight like sir YOU’RE A SECOND ROLE SIT DOWN).

[pupslimes]

how easy you are to need part 1

so. inspiration struck. blame haz for how long this is he infected me with the making stories a million pages bug. thank you to like all 5 of the people who read this before i posted it. anyways id like to present what i think is tumblrs first grizz x reader. definitely its first biz x grizz x reader because ive been scouring for that shit. love you guys!

.............................................................................

It was a good session again. Of course, anything Nate DM’ed was going to be great, but every session felt better than the last. You hadn’t expected to become a recurring character on Riptide when Nate had invited you to join at an open audition you met at, but you were more than excited to be. You didn’t expect all your nervous ramblings to end up taking you anywhere past an Instagram follow at best. But after you hopped down from the stage, Nate had booked it over. “I don’t even care if either of us get the part anymore,” he tripped over his feet and his words as he skidded to a halt in front of you, as if desperate to reach you. “Do you play DND?” At your excited nod, he had launched into an explanation of his podcast, particularly the campaign he ran, and you’d jumped at the chance, excited to maybe grow your own audience. And it had grown, but so had your friend group. By so many now, well beyond the five who you met when you started guest appearing. You’d even made your way into a few of Charlie’s videos at this point. A few speculations had swirled around about if you were dating anyone you were appearing with, but you’d solidly put those rumors to bed on your first stream post guest appearance. Your regular chat new you were an aspiring voice actor, and several of them were apparently also JRWI fans, cheering for you when they’d heard you’d met Grizzly. You were probably going to have to start seeking mods at this point, with the few people who just couldn’t seem to let your relationship status go, or thought they had the right to be assholes now that you’d gained a little notority with the boys and Milo. Jealous freaks.

You had poured a lot of yourself into your DND character, and it showed. He was incredibly flirty, just like you were in real life. It was what had helped you build your brand, a sharp sense of humor and an almost strange openness to your chat hitting on you. Not many guy streamers responded like you do to your chat, so you saw a small flood of watchers when you started. After you were outed, the viewership might have gone down, but you hardly noticed after the queer community had started pouring into the chat, their support becoming your mainstay in the community. You’d branched out from gaming, now running practice lines or even cooking streams with your close community of followers. You were nowhere near quitting your day job, but you loved your audience for their kindness, not the money. Of course some of the new people had also seen Just Roll With It, and had guessed when you mentioned you’d be guest starring on a show soon, and described your character in great detail. You’d kept quiet about confirming it outright, however, and enjoyed the excited messages from those who were proven right when the episode dropped. The chat demanded a watch party, but you cringed at the idea of watching yourself for an entire episode, especially with the knowledge that you were around for several.

Of course you’d stayed for several. Any time everyone gathered in LA, the boys filmed as many episodes as possible. There was a huge popularity in the in person episodes compared to the rest of them, and it was obvious to you why after sitting in on a few. The energy between the five was abundant, everyone practically bouncing off the walls both on and off camera. You had to toss back a few energy drinks to keep up with the rest of them, especially Charlie, who seemed like a boundless ball of energy, bouncing around at lightspeed and chatting your ear off. Your only solace was Milo, who seemed to also hang back just a little bit, except when it came to Zach. You were immediately taken under her wing, as another Riptide newbie, and she demanded you sit with her all day, claiming you needed to team up against the rest of the group. You giggled, and everyone else laughed with you, especially after you cracked a joke in response. The tension rolled off your shoulders after that, and you found yourself able to settle in more easily. You made a mental note to thank her later, which you did, profusely, but she just waved it off with a light shove to your shoulder.

Of course, being in an enclosed basement with five other people, in incredibly close quarters, meant you noticed things better. Meant you noticed a lot of things better, actually. For instance, you noticed the way that Nate constantly fiddled with his hair, pushing and shoving it around his forehead, tossing their head slightly to keep it away from their eyes. Their hands were never still either, twisting at any prop he could get his hands on, or on any jewelry he was wearing. Those were definitely the reasons you spent so much time staring at their hands and face. That and the fact that he was the DM. That was it, absolutely no other reason. And your cheeks were flushed from the heat in there! No matter that Zach had, as usual, set the AC to 69 degrees, six bodies in a room together was bound to generate a lot of heat. 

Speaking of Zach… well. From the beginning, you couldnt help but notice him after the two of you were introduced. His hair fell around his face very nicely, and his stubble looked like it would be almost soft to the touch. You were looking because you were envious, obviously! Getting on T had changed your hair pattern, and it kept a slight wave to it now. You had no idea what to do with it, but Zach obviously did. You’d have to ask him for his hair routine later, even though you assumed it was probably just three in one or something. Ugh. Cis men were so lucky, and they had no idea. The beard was also a source of envy for you. Yours grew in patchy and scraggly, the texture making you bristle when you touched it, so you kept your cheeks, chin, and neck absent of any hair. Sure it contributed to you not passing as well, but after getting top surgery, you really couldnt bring yourself to care. Everyone in the room made it a point to respect your pronouns, and your stomach only twisted when Zach called you man or dude because it gave you euphoria! Absolutely no other reason…

Safe to say, you were probably fucked.

So what if every time you made eye contact with one of them your cheeks flushed a little darker? It wasn’t visible on camera (yes, you did check, and no, it wasn’t weird that you asked to see the footage. Image as a streamer was important, okay?), and none of them commented on it, so you did your best not to draw attention to it either. You only laughed a little too loud at a joke once or twice, and it could totally be played off as nerves about the game. It was fine! Everything was going to be fine! You carefully kept watch on both Zach and Nate the first day, noting the glances they exchanged, but it never seemed to be anything past about the campaign itself.

You were able to relax more on the second day you trampled down the basement stairs, already buzzed on an extra large coffee from the shop up the street from Charlie’s place. You’d hit up the gas station as well, picking up snacks for the group along with your energy drinks you had found yourself craving yesterday. As you tossed a bag of Donettes on the table, Zach’s hand shot out to snatch them. “Bro! These are my favorite! How did you know?” He tore into the bag.

“Dude! It’s day two! Do you already have no fucking sense of decorum left?” Milo ribbed.

Zach lobbed a doughnut at her, which she caught on instinct, before lamenting her now powder covered fingers. Zach just snorted. “Serves you right,” He looked over to you, sticking a thumb out towards Milo and jamming it towards her. “Women, am I right?” You cackled, elbows dropping to the table to hold your head in your hands as you laughed with him.

“Lord forbid women do anything!” Milo called. “You’re officially uninvited from sitting next to me today, by the way. Hang out with your traitorous boy friends or whatever,”

“Fine! Maybe I will!” you chuckled. “Girls have cooties anyways!”

Zach slipped an arm around your waist, smiling triumphantly as he pulled you towards him. Your yelp came from nothing except surprise, thank you very much, and your glance to Nate was only to make sure that they weren’t waiting to get started, thank you very, very much. Nate’s gaze was trained on you, but he seemed a little spaced out, so your stomach settled quickly. Removing Zach’s hand from your hip gently, you scolded him.

“Hands off, unless you want me in your lap, Biz,” you joked, attempting to ease the tension slightly.

“Maybe I do,” he purred, jokingly. Jokingly, right? Obviously. Whatever. So what your heart caught in your throat?

You shook your head, face reddening slightly. “Gross dude, I’m not fucking gay,”

The rest of the room burst out laughing with you two this time, and you shoved him away from you as you crashed down into the chair next to him. You all settled down pretty quickly at Nate’s urges, and you jumped into session after session, poking a little more fun at Milo today than you had yesterday. The rest of them were treated with even more fervor, just like your other interactions with them. Eventually, after a few Riptide sessions, full of screaming, bullying, and threats, you all cut the cameras and broke for lunch, ordering a practical buffet from the Asian place down the street. It was dead silent for the first several minutes after the food had been divvied out, everyone ravenous after all the effort from the morning. Eventually, Nate broke the silence, turning to you. “Hey,”

“Yeah, Grizz?”

“You know you can call us all our names right? Like, off camera? I know it’s weird to use two names but. We like using names outside of session,” he smiled at you gently.

Your cheeks darkened immediately. “Ah! Um… well. If anyone is going to be good at using two names for people, it’ll be me,” A general chuckle from around the table. “I just wasn’t sure we were friends like that quite yet,”

Nate piqued an eyebrow at you. “What is that supposed to mean? You’re in the inner circle at this point! Once you’re in a Charlie video, you’re in!”

“Even if you’re only there virtually? Among Us doesn’t usually indicate the highest level of friendship,”

A snort from Charlie. “Well, yeah I guess, but you’ve joined the slompound officially, dude,”

A grin split your face. “Okay! Thanks, Sli- Charlie,” 

He smiled back at you. Nate pouts. “Hey! I’m the one who brought it up!” 

You turned back to them. “Of course, how could I forget? Thank you, Nate,” You must have imagined the color that dusted high on his cheeks when you said his name.

When you all made it back down to the basement, you decided to push your luck a little. “Miloooooo,” you whined. She turned to you, and so did Zach and Nate, Charlie and Eric continuing to swap out props for Judgement sessions. “If I apologize for earlier can I sit next to you again? Zach smells,”

Her face perked with a laugh, but before she could get any words out, Zach wss on top of you. “Hey!” He smacked at you gently a few times. “Fucking rude bitch,” You stuck your tongue out at him, and he smirked, before grabbing for it, his thumb grazing it before you could slip it back in your mouth. You reacted a second too late, pretending to be disgusted at the taste of his skin, sputtering and spitting, before retreating towards Milo. 

She looked at you with false pity in her eyes. “Oh you poor thing, of course you can sit with me!” She fliped off Zach, and you joined her. He flipped you off back.

Condi’s voice boomed out in the room. “Ooooooookay, you guys. Let’s cool off now, yeah?” The fingers all turned to him. “Hey!”

After several sessions of Judgement, you all stumbled, bleary eyed, up the basement stairs, slamming bodies down onto the couches forming the pit in Charlie’s living room. Charlie groaned, turning his head to the side. 

“Half an hour of rotting, and then dessert and a movie?” More groans, ascension from the others and yourself filled the room. You closed your eyes, letting the shapes behind them spin and lull you into a stupor. 

Before you knew it, someone was shaking you awake. You blinked heavily, hands reaching out to tangle in a shirt, and a small grunt was let into your ear, breath brushing your face. “Come on, man,” a gravelly voice nearly cooed down at you. Your eyes opened wider. Oh, shit. That would be Zach above you, and his shirt you had your hands tangled in. You released it quickly, pressing yourself back down into the couch. 

“Sorry, bro!”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nothing to apologize for. You’re cute when you’re sleepy or whatever,” he winked at you.

Despite knowing it was a joke, your breath caught in your throat a little. “And you’re a sight to wake up to,” You shot back. He grinned.

“Come on, argue with me for ice cream,” he referenced your favorite dessert, warming your heart that he remembered it.

In the end, you got ice cream. Nate also immediately glued themself to your side when you walked in with Zach, and became your ally in the dessert argument. His weird tension towards Bizly relaxed after he advocated for ice cream as well, and you couldn’t help but wonder at what was happening between the two of them. You didn’t have enough brain power left that night to really bring yourself to decode it, so you let it go. After the movie, everyone unanimously agreed to crash as fast as possible, and you barely even made it to your room before you passed out. 

That was how you found yourself now, on your third day with the group. You squint against the sun, streaming through the blinds you hadn’t closed last night. You consider going back to sleep for another hour or so, but the disgusting taste in your mouth eventually forces you up. You had definitely forgotten to brush your teeth last night. As you scrubbed at your teeth with a heavy hand, you woke up slightly more, checking the time on your phone. 11:30. You were grateful you only had the one session to film today, and then you’d have time to just hang out with everyone. They’d even agreed to stream with you later, insisting you all play Jackbox together. You spat into the sink. Gross. Orange. Rinsing out your mouth and splashing your face, you ponder on who else could be up. You decide to sneak into the kitchen and see who’s around. Padding in on gentle feet, you can smell coffee brewing. You peek around the corner, and long silvery hair catches your eye. 

“Hey, Nate,” your voice is always a little gravelly in the mornings, catching in the back of your throat until you’ve really woken all the way up.

He startles a little at your call, head snapping over his shoulder before he relaxes. “Oh, hey! Sorry, voice I’m not used to hearing in the morning. You sound like you smoke a pack a day or something,”

You chuckle, hand rubbing the back of your neck. “Is it at least hot?”

His cheeks flush a little, but he grins. “Very,”

You hum in appreciation, sliding over in your sock feet to the coffee pot. “Almost ready?”

They nod. “Started it about 5 minutes ago. Sorry if the noise woke you up,”

Unable to fully communicate, you shake your head and reach for him, dragging him into a hug to show your feelings instead. He lets out a slight noise of surprise, before reaching to hug you back. Arms tangle over your waist, and his head drops to your shoulder, where it fits perfectly due to your height difference. You hum lightly, gripping him a little tighter, before drifting away mentally just a little, drinking in the warmth and softness of his support beneath your head, clad in a comfy red sweatshirt. He smells like some kind of plant life and petrichor. You inhale more deeply, trying to catch what kind of plant it is, but the long breaths and comforting position go straight to your still hazy brain, and you find yourself relaxing into them further. Nate never protests, his head shifting further into the crook of your shoulder ,a gentle sigh escaping him.

When the coffee timer goes off, beeping a singular time, both of you tense slightly. You realize just how long you’ve been wrapped in each other, and you step away slightly. “Sorry,”

His face is almost the same color as his hoodie. “Don’t be,”

Before you can say anything else, a voice sounds from the hallway. “Do I hear coffee?” Eric strolls into the room. “Thank you guys so fucking much, holy shit. I alwways feel hungover after big session days. I’m not sure how we ever recorded The Suckening all at once,”

“I’m assuming a lot of caffeine,” you huff, and Nate nods at your side, attempting nonchalance. 

“That and going crazy in the red room,”

You all giggle together, pouring and sipping at coffee, the other two feeding you stories of different campaigns, you drinking them in with glittering eyes. The others eventually make their way in, joining the three of you at the table. You don’t even notice that Nate’s leg has pressed against yours under the table until Zach pulls up the chair to your other side, squishing himself up to you. “You snore in your sleep,”

You smack at his wrist, skin to skin echoing in the room as your eyes widen. “Good morning to you, sunshine,”

He smirks. “I got up to piss in the middle of the night and heard it,”

“Fuck you,”

“If you insist,”

You stick your tongue out at him again. He raises an eyebrow before reaching to pinch it again. This time, you snap your teeth at his fingers. “Feisty boy,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Freak,”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who tried to bite me,” 

You huff. “I’m talking to Nate now. Goodbye,”

He pretends to pout as you turn yourself to Nate, leaning in further to him. “Hi, handsome,”

He swallows heavily before responding, but recovers fast, leaning into you as the conversations continue, Milo now yelling at Zach for being a bitch. Again. You giggle. Breakfast goes by quickly, and before you know it, you’re back in the basement. You stay attached to Nate this time, even after he pulls off his sweatshirt, and your skin is pressing directly to his. Everyone is crowded together more today. No one will notice.

After you finish the session, much more quickly this time, you peel yourself from him. “I’m going upstairs for another energy drink,” you declare. “I’ll need it to survive the day. I can come clean up later,” The rest of them wave you off, insisting you shouldn’t be cleaning after your first in person week, and you blow them a raspberry as you bounce upstairs. 

Reaching into the fridge, you pull out an ice cold can, relishing in the feeling against your heated hands. You crack open the can over the sink, and take a long pull from it. You close your eyes as you feel the caffeine start invading your bloodstream, and your thoughts wander back to the events from below.

Lost in thought about the session, and maybe about Nate and Zach, you don't notice anything until the sound of rustling perks your ears. you turn around at the noise. He's standing behind you, inches away, grinning. You stumble back a few steps. "Oh! Biz... ah, Zach...hi," The name still feels foreign in your mouth, not your gut reaction, but they’d all practically demanded you start calling them their names. As you move backward, not looking where you're going, you back into a wall...no... someone. someone warm, someone whose arms wrap around your waist as they press a kiss to the shoulder they were buried in only hours earlier. "Hey, sweetheart," Fuck.  "Hi, Nate,"

[rambosgirl]

Mesmerized - Logan Howlett x ballet dancer!reader

Summary: You need to break in your new pointe shoes, which leads to Logan catching you dancing in the kitchen in the middle of the night (takes place during the original trilogy, I specifically thought of the first or second movie)

For an elevated experience, I would listen to Tchaikovsky while you read (the one below is pas de duex) OR I personally would listen to Barbie and the 12 dancing princesses theme - don't judge me until you listen to it

Masterlist

If there was anything you hated about ballet, it was this.

You stood in your room, dressed for a late-night practice session in a leotard and shorts when you remembered your pointe shoes were pretty worn. Apparently, your brain underestimated just how worn out they were.

It had barely been four weeks since you started using your current pointe shoes, but they looked like they had been through a hurricane - no surprise, considering how often you used them.

As you held a borderline unusable pair of pink shoes in your hands, you contemplated waiting until tomorrow to fix this mess so you could practice.

No, you didn't want to run the risk of people seeing you dance. You hated the idea of someone seeing you. It's why you didn't audition or perform, even though you could. The only people you were comfortable watching you dance were Charles, Jean, and Ororo. Even then, your shyness often got the best of you and you often cut those sessions short.

You were too shy and stubborn to wait for tomorrow, you concluded.

Luckily, you had a stash of brand-new pointe shoes in your closet for times like this. You picked the ones you wanted from your closet and began the process you knew well, one that would likely look insane to other people. You put a cloth over the box part of the shoe, and stood on it, pressing your weight down from your heel to widen them. Content with your work so far, you picked them up again, sat on the floor, and started to bend the heel portion back and forth, carefully avoiding the center. You smiled at the satisfying crackling sounds that came from each shoe as you worked them.

Now for the mentally insane part.

You grabbed both shoes and started smacking the tips of the toes together, making a thudding noise every time. Halfway through, it occurred to you that it was getting late. You shifted your eyes to your clock - 12:49 am. Oops.

Well, it was too late to back down now, and plus, your door was closed. You continued your assault on the shoes until they made a nice, softer thud when you tapped them on each other. Perfect.

The next step in your process was to actually wear the shoes and dance in them a bit, but you had a slight setback. Your room was carpeted.

Charles was in the middle of designing a dance studio so you could teach at the school, but it was just that right now. A design.

'I'll just see if anyone's in the kitchen,' you thought, quickly grabbing your inserts and new shoes. You silently made your way to the kitchen, relieved when you found it empty, bathed in the blue light from the microwave and oven clocks. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now. Plus, you didn't want to turn on lights and accidentally wake someone. If you haven't already.

You sat on the kitchen floor, slipping on your inserts, then your shoes. You stood, testing your pointe one foot at a time before going to both feet, testing your balance with a few steps.

Stretching, you felt the shoes give a little, molding to your movements. Soon, you lost yourself in the familiar rhythm of your warm-up, the quiet shuffle of your feet against the smooth kitchen floor the only sound.

You slowly transitioned from warm-ups to full movements. Each step, every rise to your toes was precise, your muscle memory taking over and guiding you through different steps.

Logan woke with a start, drenched in sweat. He couldn't remember what he was dreaming about, but his adamantium claws stabbing his mattress told him it wasn't good. He glanced at the alarm clock by his bed - 1:03 am.

There was no way he was going back to sleep. His heart was pounding, his mind too chaotic to be put to rest.

That's how he found himself wandering aimlessly through the mansion in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. He turned to go down another hallway, but a tapping noise caught his attention. He hesitated, using his senses to figure out where it was coming from.

The kitchen.

He started towards the rhythmic tap-tapping with a newfound energy, his sharp instincts pulling him closer to the kitchen.

He paused when he reached the doorway, his brows furrowing as he took in the sight. There you were moving with effortless grace and fluidity, he wondered how it was even possible. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, staying in the shadows to observe you quietly.

Logan's eyes narrowed, studying you. Your movements were somehow relaxing to him, you just looked like you were completely enveloped in your element like this was how you normally moved.

With a deep breath, you began a series of fouetté turns. Your arms swept out as you spun, your leg whipping around each turn, propelling you in a perfect circle. Your movements were sharp, yet controlled, balance unwavering as you transitioned from one turn to the next.

You gradually let the turns slow, your momentum dying out as you shifted your body into an arabesque, extending one leg behind you as your arms reached forward, forming a perfect line.

You paused in that position, your muscles stretching in a familiar burn before you moved to start a pirouette. You lifted your leg and started the turn, the rotation smooth, like second nature. You ended the spin in a deep plié, the tension in your legs releasing as you sank closer to the floor, only to rise again, light as a feather.

You released a breath as you stood normally, moving to take your pointe shoes off. Your mind was busy, thinking about what you did good and what you wanted to work on. So busy, that you didn't notice the man who had been watching you from the shadows smirk and walk away.

You woke up later than usual the next morning, your tiredness from last night evident in all your features. After a half-hearted attempt to tame your hair, you gave up and threw it into a messy bun. Your oversized hoodie swallowed your frame, covering your shorts completely, and you pulled your favorite throw blanket around your shoulders like a shawl as you shuffled down the hall toward the kitchen. Food was the only thing on your mind, your stomach reminding you about it every 30 seconds.

As soon as you got to the kitchen, you went straight to the cabinets looking for your one true love: cereal. Its usual spot was empty. Frowning, you rummaged through other cabinets in hopes that someone just misplaced it.

"Scott, if you took the rest of the cereal," you mumbled, "I will shove my pointe shoes so far up your -"

A throat cleared behind you.

You froze, turning slowly to see who just witnessed your plotting against Scott. You really hoped it wasn't Scott.

You didn't recognize the man casually leaning against the wall, smirking at you with his arms crossed.

"You know, if I knew this place came with free ballet performances at midnight, I’d have moved in sooner," he drawled, his voice thick with amusement.

Your face warmed. "Wait what?"

His smirk widened as he pushed off the wall and took a slow step toward you. "I saw you last night. The kitchen floor is an interesting stage for a ballerina."

His eyes never left yours as he walked closer, your shock and embarrassment slowly sinking in.

"I didn't think anyone would be up," you said, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie, looking down, "and I've never seen you around before."

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stopped right in front of you, his presence towering over you as your back pressed lightly against the counter.

"Logan."

You looked up at him, almost right above you with how close he was.

"What?"

"My name," he clarified, the tension between you rising, "It's Logan."

"Well Logan, like I said, I didn’t realize I had an audience," you half-whispered, refusing to look away for even a second. You could feel the heat from his body, the subtle scent of leather and cigars drifting from him, making it hard to focus on your words. "I don't usually have people around when I dance," you admitted, your breath shaky.

"Well, I guess I'm just lucky then," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Couldn't keep my eyes off you."

Your mouth parted slightly, taking in the meaning of his words. Your face got impossibly warmer.

Logan clearly enjoyed the effect he was having on you, but it was time to shake things up, he thought. You were starting to look like a deer in headlights.

Almost as quickly as it had formed, the tension broke as Logan pulled back slightly, though he didn’t fully retreat. "Anyway," he said, his voice shifting back into that low, gruff tone, "you look like you could use some breakfast."

"I was thinking the same thing, but Scott had other plans." You rolled your eyes.

"I can beat him up for you," Logan quipped.

"I was gonna do that," you laughed. Logan just raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down.

“Tell you what,” he said, heading toward the fridge. “Sit tight. I’ll whip up something better than cereal, save you from committing a crime and getting killed by Scott.”

You chose to ignore the second part, surprise taking over your features. “You cook?”

Logan gave you a sideways glance featuring a raised eyebrow as he pulled out some eggs and milk.

"It would be just embarrassing if I couldn't manage something as basic as scrambled eggs," he said with a small scoff as if offended.

His eyes met yours again, that playful glint back in full force. “But don’t get too used to it, ballerina. It’s a one-time deal.”

You smiled at his teasing. "Sure. One-time deal."

Hope you all enjoyed my first Logan fic! This idea has been floating around in my head for a while :)

I got the pointe shoe info from here and the dance move info from chat gpt because I'm not a dancer lol