#Books & Bribes

[jolieeason]

January 2024 Wrap Up

Here is what I read/posted/won/received/bought in January. As always, let me know if you have read any of these books and (if you did) what you thought of them. Books I Read: Books Reviewed: The Doom of Odin by Scott Oden—review here The Ball at Versailles by Danielle Steel—review here On the Plus Side by Jenny L. Howe—review here Second Duke’s the Charm by Kate Bateman—review here Public…

[cheralith]

what happens in gunsmoke... — 「 knives (nai) x reader 」

content warnings ; gn!reader, no pronouns used (i think), reader wears makeup, one-sided jealousy, suggestive but not nsfw material, a really poor attempt at hints of comedy, explicit alcohol consumption

contains ; college!au, modern!au, reader and nai have known each other since childhood, some wolfwood x reader, "nai" is used instead of knives and is used as a nickname

word count ; 7.0k

notes ; heavily inspired by @demxnscous's magnificent college!au involving hundred spoons himself! highly, highly recommend reading all the blurbs involving it if you want to see nai being a foolishly and obliviously in love and some other comical headcanons!

“I’ll pay you five bucks to come with us.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

Vash pouts and his eyes droop at Nai’s nth refusal to go with his brother and his friends to the new nightclub that had just opened on the corner of uptown that’s been all the hype nowadays across campus. Vash has heard about the throwback hits the DJ plays, the flashing lights that shine just right, the unique drinks that were offered there—he’d be insane not to go on a relieving Friday night after a week of midterms and essays. It wasn't unusual of the spiky-haired Saverem to go socialize and go all out with his closest friends as a way to relax and relieve some tension.

The story is the opposite for the other Saverem, however. Nai prefers to stay inside and be mellowed out with his usual oversized hooded snuggie and some warm tea, perhaps even binging a new show. Isolation wasn’t foreign to him either, and if anything, it’s what he would want on a Friday evening instead of being around sweaty, booze-scented college kids amidst a darkened club with flashing lights. Why would he bother with all-too-loud, outdated music with much too intimate lyrics when he could be savoring melodic Fauré’s barcarolles, instead? The answer seems too obvious.

“You can’t even buy a shot for that much in most clubs in the area,” Nai scoffs, taking off his grandpa-styled rectangular reading glasses and staring dully at him, not phased at Vash’s pleading puppy eyes. “You’re either gonna amp up the cash or come up with another dumb bribe to get me going to that madhouse with you and your little friends.” 

Vash whines, slinking his tall self onto the couch. “You know I don’t have much to spare on me, Nai…”

“And yet instead of using that money to buy yourself a new jacket,” Nai eyes Vash’s worn-out crimson jacket their mom made for them when they were children that hangs by a thin thread on the coat rack; Nai feels as if that jacket has seen better days and even impressed it made it this far in its life. “You choose to spend it on a one-time trip at a stuffy nightclub, instead.”

“It’s not about the money, though!” he retaliates, sitting up. “It’s about the memories and friends we make on the way!” he singsongs.

Nai grimaces at Vash’s cheekiness. 

“I’m not going. That’s final,” he says sternly, shoving his glasses on his face again and resuming his book.

A thick, uncomfortable silence fills the Saverem residence, only broken by the ticking of the clock and Nai’s occasional page turning. Vash breathes out a stubborn huff—he thinks his older brother has been locked up in the house too much for his own nowadays, even refusing to go out for a casual dine-in at nearby restaurants. Some people even ask about Nai’s whereabouts, to which Vash can only shrug and give the same reply: “Didn’t feel like coming.” given with a soft and dismal half-smile.

Vash studies Nai from the corner of his eye. He’s tried money, he’s tried bribing him with free food, he’s tried exchanging favors like doing his homework for him, but all have failed miserably and have fallen victim to Nai’s disturbed looks that just scream, “NO.”

So he pauses and thinks deeply for a moment. What’s something that could possibly change Nai’s mind about finally leaving their apartment that could also simultaneously let him let loose for a change, give those stiff nerves a chance to unravel and be free for a change? 

His mind flutters from option to option, all of them dying in the same instance they’re taken up inside his head… until…

Perhaps it wouldn’t be something that convinces him, but someone. Vash’s eyes slyly go to stare at Nai directly, a large grin on his face that uneases Nai ever so slightly because he knows something mischievous is brewing behind that smile. 

“What…?” he mutters, breaking eye contact. 

“You know,” Vash murmurs as he sits up, stretching, “There’s a bunch of guys that we know that are going, so you don’t have to go out of your way to meet new people.”

Nai raises a brow. He’s not too impressed at Vash’s last-minute attempt to try and get him on his feet. He doesn’t even like the majority of Vash’s companions. “So?”

Vash begins to stalk off to his bedroom to start getting ready to go to the club, anticipating Wolfwood's car that’ll pick him up in an hour or so. “Meaning Nico is coming, Meryl is coming, Milly is coming, Livio, Legato, Elendira… they’re all tagging along with us,” Vash says with a twirl of his hand, feeling Nai’s eyes dagger into his back. 

“Oh, and I also forgot…” Right before he closes his door, however, Vash glances back at his brother, stating the one thing that he knows for a fact will get Nai up and going. 

“(Y/N) will be there, too.”

Nai can already feel sick. He can feel the bass of a song thunder from the parking lot as he drearily exits Wolfwood’s car, staring up at the flashy neon sign that screams “GUNSMOKE” in bright green text. There’s a vast array of people lined up outside, all tittering with excitement at the fresh nightclub that’s finally replaced the dingy bar, Jeneora Rock, that most people go to for a casual night out. But the bar had much too many rules to abide by because of its nonsensical history with the nearby college students, limiting what could and couldn’t be done inside. Now with little to no restriction in the new nightclub, who knows what could happen?

The unknown is what Nai fears the most, really.

He doesn’t even remember why he decided to go here on a whim, he thinks to himself as his feet carry him to the back of the line while Vash and Wolfwood talk noisily amongst each other, sulking behind them. He stares at himself in the semi-reflective surface of the window as the line moves up inch by inch, thinking he might’ve overdone himself. Nai thinks there’s too much gel in his hair, thinks that the cologne he spritzed on was too much, thinks that the Vash’s short-sleeved button-up he borrowed is too bold and a little tight, even, just barely squeezing around the biceps that blue geometric sleeve tattoos wrap around. His fingers begin to fiddle with the opened V of it, attempting to clasp in more buttons to hide his chest, but Wolfwood smacks his hand away from them. 

“Let ‘em breathe, man,” Wolfwood states, gesturing to his own exposed pectorals that almost rival in size to Nai’s. “You worked hard for them—don’t think I haven’t seen ya at the gym. Y’always hide them with those loose ass sweaters, so show those girls off for once.” He allusively cups one of them in his hands, raising his brows.

“I think I’ll decide that for myself, thanks,” a blushing Nai snaps at him and manages to close up a button that hides a sly inch of his chest, though frustration follows suit when it pops open again thanks to their prominence. His jaw tightens. He’s already in for a rough night.

It doesn’t take Nai long to regret his decision to tag along with his brother from the first step he takes into the nightclub, already overwhelmed by the thick air of sweaty bodies and dazzling lights that sparkle all across the dance floor. He especially doesn’t like the gleaming, large sign that reads, “What happens in Gunsmoke, stays in Gunsmoke.” straight across a wall that seems to be eyeing him with mischief.

The music is significantly better than most clubs and bars have to offer, but the volume and bass is still too plentiful for his liking. Nai is only halfway across the nightclub, he thinks that he could probably make a run for it when Vash’s back is turned and just walk home… maybe hitch an Uber if he’s feeling lucky. 

His second guesses, however, all manage to dissipate when he spots the one thing that managed to lure him into this hellhole in the first place.

Arctic blue eyes grow hazy when they land on a familiar figure adorned in a red top with a heart-shaped chest cutout in the middle, a pair of curve-hugging, white corduroy bell bottoms and a crescent moon buckle belt to match. Nai swallows thickly as he watches you listen intently to Meryl’s story about the latest professor-student scandal, his chest growing a little tight at the sound of your soft giggle even through the thunderous music—he’d be stupid to think it’s Vash’s shirt. It grows fuzzy by the second the more he stares at you, you still not noticing the three newest additions to the nearly full semicircle table. He picks out the smaller details of your appearance from his spot—the moon-shaped earrings match with the hardware of your belt buckle, he notices, as well as the glitter that sprinkles across your eyelids that’s framed by a razor-sharp eyeliner that rounds your eyes just right. Your lips, too, look so full with that shade of dark red lip gloss that stretches into a grin. Were they always that plump? Did they always have the bitten look to them? Why were they—

“You’re staring too much.”

Nai’s vision suddenly clears up the hazy background of the nightclub and his hearing sharpens to the music again with Vash’s voice sending chills up his spine. Vash’s lips splay a smirk that basically says he’s won in this little game of tug-of-war—for today at least. Wolfwood, too, doesn’t take long to imitate his best friend.

“There you guys are!” Milly’s voice echoes. They all go to whip their heads around and face her, a hand gesturing to them to come over to their table. “Hurry! Come!”

Another rock-hard swallow inches itself down Nai’s throat when your gaze lands on him, and he swears your eyes had grown a little larger at the sight of his attire that was very much not like his usual wear—but it’s hard to see with the darkness of the club, he can’t get his hopes up so quickly. Vash and Wolfwood greet everyone with equal fervor, Nai quietly following behind them. 

There’s an empty spot that sits right to the left of you, your eyes meet Nai’s and a silent exchange between you and him talk through stares and blinks. It’s a hesitant exchange of “No one’s sitting here right?” from his side, but he can’t exactly decipher if you’re exemplifying “It’s yours for the taking.” or “You can sit here… if you want.” Two messages with contrasting tones, Nai can’t let himself fall victim to a possible miscommunication.

But from the way you scooch closer to Milly, who’s the only other person next to you, Nai decides you’re letting him gracefully take what belongs to him…

… that is until a certain ravenette moves ever so slightly swifter than him and plops himself right next to you.

“Ah, shit,” Wolfwood expresses, manspreading his legs so there’s little to no room on the rest of the bench. “Sorry man, were ya about to sit here? My bad, but today was leg day at the gym. Hope ya can understand.” An impish smirk toys on Wolfwood’s lips as they dangle a cigarette almost mockingly. He gestures to the more gracious space on the other side of the table, where Vash pats down a spot for Nai to sit, Wolfwood’s antics going unnoticed by him.

You take the cigarette out of his mouth, your fingertips just barely feathering over Wolfwood’s lips. “Not here, mister. There’s a strict no-smoking policy here.”

Nai can only grimace and sit stiffly next to his brother, his eyes never leaving Wolfwood’s playfully wicked ones. 

With hardened icy orbs, he closely examines the sight across from him as you and Wolfwood exchange words, catching up for the evening and laughing nonchalantly, something Nai was never to particularly do as easily as him, something he was never able to get the hang of. A few drinks that the people had ordered earlier come by, and the veins in his eyes nearly pop when Wolfwood reaches over and sips your mango and dragonfruit cocktail from the same straw your lips had touched. 

“Hey!” you exclaim. “At least ask permission first, Nico.”

Nico.

That nickname that you affectionately give Wolfwood sounds like nails on a chalkboard to Nai’s ears, or like a fork on a ceramic plate. He twinges, his neck cracking menacingly from the reaction.

Wolfwood smacks his lips, fully examining the flavor before complimenting it. “Y’got good taste in liquor, sweetheart. Gimme some more.” 

“Absolutely not,” you huff. “This cost me too much, go get your own.”

Wolfwood’s arm suddenly lazily plops itself across your shoulders, pulling you (and the drink) into him closer. “Now, don’t be like that. Do some charity work for this old man. C’mon, didn’t mama ever tell ya to share?”

Nai’s eyes narrow behind the cocktail menu as he watches you blithely attempt to wriggle out of Wolfwood’s grasp, both of you exchanging inaudible laughs with each other. You sigh and cave in to his stubbornness and Nai miserably watches as you indirectly kiss Wolfwood through the shared straw that switches between your lips and his, you being completely oblivious to the gesture.

He looks over to the doors. The exit sign looks deliriously tempting right now.

For Nai, the night is quiet, something that isn’t a stranger to him when he’s around a group of people that he isn’t used to. For everyone else, however, it’s rowdy and boisterous and exciting. Adrenaline and alcohol is the only thing that everyone knows of. A song would come by and people would be racing to the dancefloor, flooding it with slurred-out lyrics and stimulating dance moves. Various glass and food trays have splattered themselves over the table, and Nai himself can feel a hefty buzz from the alcohol he’s consumed beginning to kick in.

His vision has finally adjusted to the darkness and he can see you much more clearly now. You’re envisioned in his sights just chattering aimlessly with Meryl, you three being the only ones seated still at the table as everyone else dances their night away—it’s then that Nai realizes that you haven’t gone out to the dancefloor like he has, yet, seeing as how you lacked the sweat and exhaustion everyone else was ornate in. 

It’s also then that Nai realizes he still hasn’t said a single word to you tonight—the one person that he managed to fix his appearance for.

He’d never admit that though, he thinks to himself as he downs another shot, he’d rather slit his own throat than willingly admit he attempted to fix up his appearance for your sake. Tongue hissing through his teeth at the sting of it, he blinks slowly at you when Meryl finally escorts herself out to go back to the dancefloor.

“You’re not gonna join them?” Nai finally begins, the hesitation in him hours beforehand suddenly dissipating as the alcohol reaches his system.

From your own reaction, it seemed as if you didn’t expect Nai to talk to you first, especially in such a social setting. Your mouth opens, but no words exit your lips for a few seconds before you softly smile and shake your head, “They have yet to play a song I actually want to dance to,” you murmur with your gaze turning affectionately to your friends. 

“So what’d you even pay your money for here?” Nai snorts. “Just to drink and eat? Do that at Jeneora Rock, then,” he mutters.

You narrow your gaze at him suspiciously through the frame of your drink, sipping on it ardently. “That’s rich coming from you, hm?” you test, raising a brow. “If anything, I should be saying that to you, Mr. Shut-In.”

A scoff brushes through his lips. “I was dragged here by a certain someone, if you haven’t realized yet. I’m not here voluntarily. Why would I be?” 

“It’s still quite odd to me, though,” you chuckle. “You’re quite the stubborn one, how ever did Vash manage to drag you out of your man-cave that you call your room? Truly is a mystery.”

Your tongue is just as sharp as ever—just how Nai likes it. Loves it, even. Maybe it’s because you’re the only person that returns his energy back with equal zeal, or maybe he just merely laps up any bit of attention you give him. He’d rather be tortured than admit it, but there’s that certain sting that he lavishes in at your insults. It’s the same sting that mimics itself in the alcohol he consumes ever so slowly… perilous, but addicting. Dare he say it’s the internal masochistic tendencies he lets out once in a while that makes him tempted to lure them more out of you.

Opportunity arises and he replaces Milly’s spot on the curved bench. It’s his turn to let a breathy laugh escape him, not sure whether it’s because of amusement from your words or because he’s amused at his own out-of-the-ordinary behavior tonight. “Figure that out by yourself,” he replies coolly, his fingers fiddling with the shot glass. “Since you’re so smart.”

“Oh?” you raise a brow, a faux gasp escaping you. “Was that a compliment from the one and only Nai Saverem? Should I be graced with such honor?”

He sneers lightly with a roll of his eyes following shortly. “Savor it while you can, because I’m not handing any more out.”

You feign a light pout with your lips, and Nai swears that the small head tilt you give him will lead to his demise. A swift glance at them reveals that even in the dimness, there’s a hypnotizing gloss left upon them, but Nai can’t tell if it’s because of the shared saliva between you and a specific smoker or if it’s just from all the alcohol left on your lips. Do they taste like the mango dragonfruit cocktail from earlier, he wonders, or do they now taste of a mixture of—

He blinks and returns his eyes to yours, a curious glaze still running over them. A poor attempt at distraction for himself is made by pouring two shots for you and him. 

“Oh, boo,” you sigh as you gracefully take one of the shots given by him before clinking your glass together with his. “What a waste.”

A blonde eyebrow raises itself up as you and him down your shots together. “Waste of what?”

You smack your lips from the sting of the shot. “Waste of time getting ready,” you shrug as you examine your painted fingernails. Your eyes suddenly fleet to his from a side view, and Nai swears that there’s the lift of a disappointed smile creeping on your face. “I got dolled up for no reason, then.”

And it’s there where his nerves go haywire for a split second. Nai is about to shoot back with something along the lines of wanting you to elaborate, wanting to know what the hell you meant by that, but he’s cut off at the sudden boom of the bass and beginning lyrics that makes your head whip to the dance floor. A celebratory shout rings through the nightclub at the song, per usual, with the additions of some whistles and woops from your friends. 

“C’mon, (Y/N), this is your song!” Vash shouts, motioning his hand to join you with everyone else. Everyone else chimes in with their attempts to woo you in with them. 

A short burst of laughter leaves your vodka-stained lips before you lick them, shrugging your shoulders again in fake-doubt. Panic shoots through Nai oh so suddenly. His plans to gain some alone time with you are ruined by the song that booms through the speakers. Quickly, he pours two shots into the two spare shot glasses and shoves one of them to your hand to attempt to distract you. He’s about to protest against you joining them, but a certain black-haired bastard cuts through one again.

“Promiscuous girl… wherever you are~” Wolfwood sings roughly, approaching you with his hand out rather princely. “C’mon, now, you heard ‘em. Time for ya to shine.”

“Dunno, the floor looks pretty packed…” a soft tease creeps through your tone. You share a glance with Nai and you’re a little taken aback by the irritation that he doesn’t try to hide anymore towards Wolfwood’s consistent cockblocking given how furrowed his brows are.

And it clicks to you suddenly—as to why Nai, the man who appears outside of campus once in a blue moon—was here in the first place. Why he wanted to sit next to you, why his eyes were consistently on you throughout the night, why he even came to an event like this. It drips with a one-sided acknowledgement, and your tongue darts out to lick your lips once more just before you down your handed shot for an extra confidence boost and take Wolfwood’s calloused hand. You might as well toy with him now that he’s here.

“Fuck it. Let’s go, Nico.”

Nai twitches again at the nickname.

“These for us?” Wolfwood snatches the spare shot Nai poured for himself on the table. “Thanks!” With him downing Nai’s shot meant for himself, Wolfwood shoves the shot glass back into Nai’s hand and escorts you to the dancefloor with his hand on the small of your back. 

But not without throwing a smirk over his shoulder to Nai.

Nai’s blood is about to boil to demonic temperatures whilst he watches a rare side of you expose right in front of him. He thinks the sight should be reserved just for him; hips swaying, head thrown back to relish the rhythm, lips syncing to the lyrics. But no, you’re there for all eyes to see and admire, especially a specific flirt’s.

Wolfwood trades the lyrics on and off with you, taking the role of the male voice in the song as his hands run down from your waist to your hips. Your back touches his front chest, lip bitten as he whispers the lyrics into your ear. His ringed fingers teasingly drum themselves on your curves, and there’s a desire embedded in them to go just ever so slightly lower on your body. A flash of red races through Nai’s vision when Wolfwood gently pulls your body towards him, unaware of a pair of eyes that carefully watch his reaction at the intimacy you and Wolfwood share.

“I want you on my team…” Wolfwood mutters hotly into your ear. His teeth get tempted by the shell of your ear that almost asks to be pierced by his sharpened canines, and he draws them slowly closer to it to mark his territory, a tongue running over them hungrily.

But you spin around and push him away teasingly, leaving the stubbled man tempted. 

“So does everybody else,” you chant with a cheeky smile before you fend off to dance with the others.

Nai is almost proud from the way you just about make yourself out of reach for Wolfwood. He watches as Wolfwood pokes his tongue in his cheek from what seems to be… frustration, perhaps? A flush of amusement goes by as quick as it comes in Nai’s head. The ravenette man merely shakes his head with a chuckle before resuming his antics with the others, but Nai notices how his tawny eyes don’t exactly leave you when you indulge with the others—much like his own sky blue ones.

The song ends with a riotous cheer through the dancefloor that haunts Nai’s ears. Now the only one isolated at the table, he can only watch from a distance as you smile widely and thank everyone for dancing with you. His heart lifts from its place in a pit at the sight of your footsteps beginning to come back to the table—to come back to him, but you’re yanked back by Milly and Vash when another familiar song seeps through the speakers. Wolfwood, however, manages to return you to him as a Pitbull song bellows from all sides, and his grip on you seems more stubborn, more resistant this time. Your chests are dangerously close to each other and the mere centimeters of distance between you two makes Nai’s jaw grit with aggravation. 

Wolfwood mouths to you some suggestive lyrics that make you raise a brow and grin at him. Nai hates, despises, even when he shortly follows up with his fingers close the distance between your bodies and whispers promiscuously, “And baby, I'ma make you feel so good, tonight,” into your ear.

With a gasp, a shy shiver runs up your spine at his breath so close on your skin. Nai’s grip on the shot glass is so dangerously tight, the glass threatens to self-destruct in his to-be-bleeding palm if it doesn’t loosen up any time soon. But it doesn’t seem like his grip is going to weaken and if anything, it strengthens in power when Wolfwood’s teeth go to finally bite the shell of your ear tauntingly, whetted canines glinting with deviltry back to Nai.

Nai is seeing red—angry red—like a bull to a scarlet cape. A single crack crevices itself in the shot glass. He slams it down on the table at the peak of his torment and stands up.

“Nico!” you exclaim with a strained throat at his gesture when he pulls away. You nervously laugh and create a space between you and Wolfwood, who merely replies with a chuckle and a bounce of his shoulders at your embarrassed reaction. “That was—!”

Amusement diffuses across his features, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just playin’ with ya, darlin’.”

“Mind if I come through.” 

Nai’s deadpanned voice interrupts, and it’s toned more as a declaration more than a suggestion. It hasn’t even been a minute, yet he already acknowledges the attention that’s beginning to bring a certain spotlight on him. But it isn’t just his voice that makes heads turn, it’s Nai’s presence itself that makes people all around a little stunned. And Nai knows it, he can feel the stares of not only Vash’s friends, but people all over wondering who the mysterious platinum blonde was on the dance floor whose aura just oozes a certain enigma. 

“Nai?” Vash is the first to question what on earth the Knives Saverem is doing on a dance floor, amidst a crowd that isn’t designated for his liking. “You gonna dance your heart now for once? Don’t be shy now, what happens in Gunsmoke, stays in Gunsmoke!”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Nai huffs as a response to Vash’s delight. His impassiveness doesn’t waver his twin’s smile, though. “I’m not here to dance or sing or whatever.”

Wolfwood goes to give him a wily look, already knowing the answer to his upcoming question. “Then whatcha here for, big guy?”

You flinch at the way Nai cracks his neck to look at you, his brows furrowing in dismay and it truly doesn’t take long for Vash and everyone else who gazes upon Nai in wonder to realize why the reserved and solitary older twin is here. 

Because he’s here for you. 

Ignoring the way the tightness in his pants form when he subtly wonders upon your lustrous face from the perspire and heat from the body heats (he’s trying unnecessarily hard to avoid looking at your chest window that is glazed with crystalline sweat), he grabs your wrist and only yanks you from the crowd and a smirking Wolfwood, your complaints and pleas falling deaf on his ears.

“Nai?!” you yelp as he leads you down a skinny hallway made up of scarce couples eating each others’ faces off. “What are you d—hey! Answer me!”

Nai hisses you to shut up after a lengthy, boiling silence, to which you sullenly obey to your own wits end. The hallway seems endless, almost, if it weren’t for the emergency exit flashing in the furious red that had filtered across Nai’s vision for a brief moment earlier. 

Now it’s clear to him his true motivation for coming to this inferno of liquor and lust between strangers. The thought of you possibly meddling with someone unknown makes his chest cringe with a flicker of resentment, your body being pressed up against someone nameless is just an upcoming recipe for his own disaster. A gross taste on his tongue suddenly forms when he imagines you entwined with someone’s limbs hotly in the middle of a crowd with intentful eyes that could possibly land on you and your being.

A single bathroom lies at the near end of the hallway and Nai angrily raps his knuckles on it before bursting in when no reply echoes from the other side after only a mere second.

Wolfwood’s younger brother, Livio, stills idly in front of the toilet, and stares directly at you and Nai. While you knew he wasn’t a man of many words, an odd utterance escapes his lips obviously indicating confusion. 

Nai groans and juts his thumb behind him. “Get out.”

“But—”

“Get out, brat.”

Livio stands significantly taller than Nai, despite both men being over a hefty six feet, but Nai’s gaze toward him shoots nothing less than daggers and it’s enough to make the nearly seven-foot man scurry away from the bathroom like a frightened field mouse.

You scoff at him, pitying poor Livio as Nai slams and locks the bathroom door shut. “You could’ve waited for a few minutes for him to do his business.”

“What the hell was that?” Nai spits venomously as he ignores your previous statement. For any person, that icy glare that he currently spots at you would make anyone fall to their knees and do his every bidding. But for you, it stirs up a sudden excitement in your stomach.

“What was what?” you question innocently, eyes fiending a fake confusion.

Nai goes to let out a brief, amused laugh that has traces of spite embedded into it. It’s a mocking sort of laugh—one that powers over your faux ignorance. 

“Don’t play coy with me,” he mutters as he drags a watch-embedded hand across his face, the silver of it glinting at you with temptation. His mind replays the intimacy shared between you and Wolfwood, how there was no gap to bridge between you and him and how his teeth had pierced a piece of him onto you. Malice flickers through his face when the imagery becomes too vivid. “What the fuck was that with you and him?”

“Who? Oh, Nico?”

Disgust fills Nai’s mouth.

“Don’t call him that around me,” Nai states sternly. His body begins to mirror how Wolfwood’s body was acting towards you on the dancefloor, except in the bathroom, you’re all for him to take in. No other bodies, no suffocating heat, no overlight head—just another neon light glowing brightly in the darkness with just enough illumination to bask only you and Nai in a chilled, misty purple fog. “You know that I hate that name.”

“It doesn’t bother you when Vash or Livio says it,” you retaliate with a suspicious look glaring in your eyes. “So why am I the odd one out, huh?”

“Because—” Nai’s voice falls short. He grits his teeth in agitation and to seal the true reason as to why he hates it when your voice specifically calls Wolfwood that stupid name. “‘Cause… ‘cause we’re no longer ten years old, so it’s about time you stop calling him by that childish nickname.”

You let out an obnoxious laugh, obviously poorly humored at Nai’s reasoning. Him and you know that you’ve called Wolfwood “Nico” for ages, that the nickname is older than a decade and giving it up would be out of the blue and uncharacteristic of you.

“If that’s the case,” you mutter as Nai cages you in between the cold bathroom wall and his body, your gazes challenging each other. It takes you an incredible amount of strength to avoid inhaling the sweet scent of his cologne that you’ve savored in before and will savor again and again, and also to avoid questioning the sudden get-up that reveals his skin like never before to others, but seems all too familiar to you. “Then does that mean I should start calling Milly ‘Millicent?’ Should I start calling Vash ‘Valentinez?’ Or perhaps… since nicknames are so childish to you… should I start calling you ‘Knives’ again?” you eye him with darkened eyes, searching for any illicit reaction.

Nai fights the urge to grimace at the strangeness of his real name falling from your lips by pressing his palms deeper into the grout of the tiled bathroom. Anyone that wasn’t you or Vash were only permitted to call him by his true name, that his own nickname given by Vash as children was reserved for people that knew him from a young age—one of them being you. “That… that isn’t what I meant.”

“But you don’t mind, right?” you press. “You want me to call Nico by his proper name? Fine. Then I’ll do it with you too, Knives.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek, rolling his neck out to ease the exhaustion given to him by tonight and you before he brings it back to face you properly. Now instead of his usual frown that’s grimaced with annoyance, there’s now a smirk toying on his own lips; and it’s one that mirrors your own to your own hesitation.

“Funny you say that,” he murmurs, gently pushing one of his legs between yours and nestling his knee between them. He scans your face and satisfaction laces itself in his being as you stiffen as his gesture, letting out a small exclamation. “Because I don’t really think that name sounds too nice when you'll scream it in bed, just like how you did the other night.”

Your eyes widen at his husked tone, taken aback. Another yelp passes through your lips as Nai lifts his knee teasingly higher and the slight force of it makes you grasp onto his exposed, tattooed arm for proper balance. “Wait… Nai—”

“Oh, dear, I thought my name was Knives, though?” he taunts and puts an end to your cockiness. “Mmh, I guess it doesn’t sound too bad. I suppose I like the sound of ‘Oh, god, Knives, fuck me harder!’” He slurs, mimicking your voice. Your mouth goes agape at his poor imitation of your own breathy moans he’s heard you echo time after time. “Or perhaps ‘Knives, I’m sooo close… don’t st—”

It’s your turn to hiss at him to shut up and silence his lips with your own palm despite no one being around you. A bolt of fear runs through your nerves at the sight of Nai’s eyes entwined with a hushed craving that only you know can suffice it. Your brows knit together and Nai’s smirk peeks through the side of your hand, making your eye twitch at his arrogance that’s infected you.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whisper hotly.

Nai takes your hand away from his lips, a firm grasp around your wrist. “What? All I’m doing is just repeating what you said… what was it? Not even two nights ago?”

You bare your teeth in an attempt to hide the rising heat which begins to creep up your skin at the mention of you and Nai’s somewhat disorderly relationship with each other. 

It confuses the both of you—you’re not exactly friends-with-benefits, but you and him tiptoe along the border of what a possible relationship could be like and it’s you and him alive by the day. The only way you and Nai cope with the big pot of feelings boiling in as one in a cauldron is nonsense is through a physical intimacy shared with each other, one that tells the other that no one else gets to have you and him except each other—at least for that tumultuous night tangled in each other’s limbs because neither party wants to share their feelings first. It’s a current deciphering between whether you and Nai assume it’s a weakness to admit your heart, or you merely don’t want to ruin what you have with each other because the potential of it breaking down into nothing scares you both.

You don’t really know how much more you can take, though, prancing around a solidification of a potential label. It’s like toying around with a jack-in-the-box. The crank goes around and around time and time again for endless laps, but there eventually comes that breakthrough where something from the unknown finally bursts open and reveals itself. It could be ugly, it could be beautiful. 

But both you and Nai don’t want to know and would rather drown in ignorance. It is bliss, after all—both metaphorically and physically.

“You wanna play it that way? Alright. Then tell me, what led to all of this?” You gesture to the current position you were entrapped in—Nai confining you with his body and arms, breaths just barely exchanging with another, and a certain aura lingering around in the dim bathroom where the music just barely booms through the walls. “What? Don’t tell me you were jealous of him?” you dare not to say Wolfwood’s nickname directly in front of the very man that loathes him entirely tonight. Your answer comes in the form of Nai’s eye twitching with a poorly-hidden covetousness. “Hm. So you were.”

“I wasn’t, stop jumping to conclusions,” he mutters immediately. Nai can’t tell whether his consciousness is being blurred by the intake of alcohol he’s consumed in the past few hours or if it was the lascivious images of you dancing to your heart’s desire on the flashing dancefloor that managed to hypnotize him.

“Oh, but you totally were,” you titter with a taunt. “C’mon, don’t think I didn’t pick up on the fact that you wanted Nico’s spot next to me when you came in, that you saw him bite my ear—” you see Nai’s eyes flicker on the same ear where a soft mark positions itself on the cusp of it made by yours truly. “—and it being the sole reason why you came to me.” You lift your head up.“Don’t think I didn’t know why you came here, to a nightclub out of all things, either, especially in this outfit,” you whisper.

Nai feels your hands touch his chest, fingers ever so gently running down his exposed skin. They unbutton a singular, tempting button to expose the beginning crevices of his abdominals before your hand latches onto his belt and pulls him towards you by the yank of it. You fight the urge to grin when he grunts and lazily sling your arms on your shoulders to bring him closer to you. 

“... I’m not stupid, Nai.”

He doesn’t pull back when you run your fingers through the locks of his white blonde hair, the same shade of blonde that frames his glassy stare that prods through yours. He knows you aren’t an idiot like most people, that you’re able to read them like a book all too easily, him not being excluded in that. So he gives in—sighs softly and presses his forehead to your own, now being able to smell the faint perfume you usually wear mixed in with some hints of booze. It’s a gesture of intimacy he’s only revealed to you, and he’ll only ever reveal to you.

“So, now what?” he cedes. “Stop torturing me and tell me what you want. What do you want from me, (Y/N)?” 

Eyes lifting from his exposed chest to his that stare you down with a familiar hunger, you mumble to him, “Do you want me?”

You move his hands from the wall to your hips, the same place where Wolfwood’s hands touched moments earlier. It’s almost like you want him to replace Wolfwood’s touch entirely, as if there was a space there only Nai’s hands can fulfill, now. His fingers brazen with anticipation, he drums them the same way Wolfwood did, but to his own beat… to his own rhythm… to his own song.

 Nai stays physically silent, with his only reply being his hands gripping your hips tighter as a confirmation of sorts.

You take his hands squeezing your curves ever so lightly as a yes.

“Then have me.” 

And with that, Nai doesn’t waste any time locking his lips with yours, doing the very thing he wanted to do tonight with the one person he desired with. All flavors of fruit are on your tongue, with his own tasting every inch of you as far as it can reach. A radiant atmosphere of lust and yearn permeates in the bathroom. The bass of the music is the only thing keeping you and him steady together as one connected being, albeit if it wasn’t there, you and him would’ve collided with all surfaces a long time ago due to the haze of desire burning within you both.

You don’t know what’s to come after this. You’ll never know as long as this torturous cycle of a fire of passion blazes in flames on a routinely basis continues because you’re not sure what to feed it next. Nai isn’t sure, either, both persons being ignorant to what has to keep the fire going for more than just a singular, libidinous night amidst each other's bodies. It nips at him and you, the way you’d share such intimacy one night, only for the morning after to go back to what you would consider “normal”, of you and him sharing bickers and taunts instead of blissful sighs and soft whispers of each other’s name, desires of want going hushed between the sheets.

A soft plea of his name echoes through the air before you’re silenced by a deepened kiss that makes you grasp onto his shoulders for dear life because you know that everything will just grow in strength the more seconds pass by. Him and you can only hope what’s to come in the lone bathroom you share with each other on such a fateful night in a fateful nightclub.

After all, what happens in Gunsmoke, stays in Gunsmoke, doesn’t it?

(a/n): situationships amirite

hi hi! i'm really surprised at myself for cranking out a fic this long in the span of only two days. for reference, "if the shoe fits" took me probably a week and a half to write or so, but i'm gonna take a wild guess and assume i wrote this to use as a distraction from my many essays due soon—yikes! that's okay, as long as i'm writing, still! i actually went to a nightclub that was the prime inspiration for this fic the other day, but i spent my time daydreaming (or nightdreaming? eveningdreaming?) about what knives would do in such a setting instead of being a normal person and drinking and clubbing. the mango dragonfruit cocktail is an actual margarita i drank during then, and though it was pretty delicious, it didn't have wolfwood spit on the straw unfortunately :/

anyways, thank you again to dem for her wonderful trigun college au (please go read it, im on my knees atp), and you for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are never unnoticed and always appreciated <;3!

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Morning Things (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: It’s another morning in Eddie’s room, just a slice of peace before you have to face the world.

AN: Found an old Eddie fic in my OneDrive back when I still fancied him/liked Stranger Things lmaoo, might as well post it.

Reader is gender neutral, no use of Y/N.

Masterlist

You didn’t realise that you were being greedy when you first woke up. As you rolled over to your back, you found your body was bundled up in the double duvet, which you sent sprawling out as your legs and arms stretched out across the span of the boxspring bed. A distinct dip cradled your head, between the two pillows that assigned sides to you and your boyfriend. Cracking open your eyes revealed the ceiling - the only dull wall in this room. 

It was like rolling to see the posters popping off their paper roused your other senses. You felt the entire duvet around you with no tug of war from Eddie to retrieve his fair share. No contact was made no matter where your hands reached. 

The twang of a beloved electric guitar caught your ears. No amp powering its usual timbre, its strings pinged against Eddie’s calloused fingertips before pausing. The man was down to his boxers, his instrument balanced across a bare thigh, and a sleeveless shirt hung off his shoulders to expose most of his tattoos to the break of dawn. Eddie placed his pick between his lips, swapping it with the pen already in there so he could scribble in his song book in front of him. He hummed the tune as he scribbled. He began mumbling then some semblance of lyrics emerged through half-closed lips before he flipped back to his pick to strum again. Once he’d repeated the tune, he experimented with a new sequence but winced, shaking his head with his mop of hair following behind.

Groggily, you managed to say, “Morning.”

The second Eddie laid his eyes on you, he dropped the pen from between his teeth, threw off his guitar, and dropped his pick onto his open song book. 

“Oh, I was enjoying that,” you complained pathetically.

Completely disregarding what you said as he crawled over you, Eddie’s nose nudged up against yours. 

“Good morning, sweet thing,” he grinned whilst he balanced over you. 

After stretching up, you rested your arms around his neck and anchored Eddie into the bed, half laying atop you. 

“What were you playing?” You sighed against his neck. 

“Just mucking around, throwing some bits I’ve been thinking of together. Seeing if they mesh.”

“And do they?”

“They’re starting to align.” Eddie rolled over onto his back, bringing you with him as he gestured above you, “I gotta encourage them to get their shit together a little more before I can show you.”

“Can’t fucking wait,” you said into the ticklish tips of his curls. 

Eddie kissed the crown of your head, “You gonna get up?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“You inspire me no matter where you are. From lying here in my bed,” He waved grandly to wear his feet almost hung off the end, “To perched at the end of it.” You let out a close-mouthed giggle, invoking Eddie to do the same and allow those dimples to peep out of his cheeks, his hand crossing behind your back and squeezing you as he said, “So, you got places to be?”

“Nowhere but next to you.” 

“Does that include the bathroom?”

“You wanna shower together again, after what happened last time?”

“I was thinking more like pooping together.”

Hiding in his neck again, you groaned, “Eddie.”

“I feel like we’re at that stage in our relationship.”

“Nothing like communal shitting to inspire your next big hit, I guess,” and you pushed up a little, “Wanna stay here a bit longer first.” To sweeten the deal, you squashed his left cheek with your lips, smacking them loudly when you slumped back down into him. 

Accepting the bribe, Eddie tightened his grip around you and said serenely, “I can make time for that.”

[lettingthoughtsflow]

season 1: episode 1 (crush, chop, & burn pt. 1)

alright y'all I'm bulletpointing as I watch so let's go!!

the whole "mrs. and mr. davenport" beginning scene is literally seared into my brain from childhood-i think it's funny how clearly i remember it

when we meet the team they're in these mission suit esque things and seeing as all they do is train, is that what they live in????

davenport saying "i don't want to brag, but i am incredibly smart" when introducing the kids is so wild when you consider the fact that he probably didn't have anything to do with making the kids

i love how offended they get when tasha calls them robots

tasha and leo have such a cute relationship i freaking love it

i know we hate donald, and rightfully so, but this episode really amps me up bc dude you are literally introducing them to your wife and you keep talking about them like plants you're growing

when donald is introducing the kids, tasha's the only one recognizing that they're children

"i wanna go upstairs" 😭

they literally never leave the room, it's not just because of filming and set design, they don't even have a place to run THERE'S A RAT WHEEL

@fairytalesociology said that davenport feeds the kids glorified dog food and they're so right

you can't just feed them food??? even preordered????

they eat, sleep, and bathe in their capsules no one can convince me the man was just looking to be cost effective in getting these inventions perfected (they were not children to him AT ALL)

bree is just a girl and i love her for it bc thinking about breaking into song/dance numbers is so real

If you pay attention to the background you can see chase playing with a random locker for a while and I think it’s so funny/cute

Honestly I with it opened and he was just using his bionic hearing to unlock the locker

i just noticed leo has brown paper wrapped around his textbooks and it reminds me of when my mom and i use to make book covers out of trader joes bags and decorate them 💗

baby chase was insterested in chess club and taking med school courses, he deserved more extracurriculars and hobbies in the show

the early heat vision graphics 😅

"i know a chiropractor in the phillipines" is so cute

davenport is awful but the freaking out performances are great

30 grand for a situation to go away is insane bc what really happened??? like yeah the mascot's head caught on fire but it wasn't like they destroyed the building. and even if it was a bribe to get rid of witnesses, you'd have to adress the entire school bc it was a pep rally

tasha being a mom to the kids is so cute like yeah, they're just kids

bree immediately getting excited about the party with tasha is freaking adorable, we deserved more Tasha fr

honestly i think she was more freaked out about the kids than their bionics

lecturing them about how they were designed for missions is so disheartening bc 1. you've probably told them all about how they're top sercret their whole lives and 2. they are superHUMANS

it honestly feels akin to when a parent tells a child they have to be perfect or pushes them into a career they never wanted

yes bc having no contact with the outside world will prevent their glitches and train them for missions (not to mention real life)

obviously it's the perfect solution

honestly if they socialized they would probably have better emotional regulation and control over their glitches. like you could have at least brought them to a company party (and told everyone to treat them as humans) so they have practice talking to people.

chase really was always in blue plaid from the start huh?

"they are not just science projects, they're teenagers" TELL HIM QUEEN

bro you're going to tell me that you can't reprogram your ROBOT FRIEND to like your WIFE

like he can still be snarky but he literally hates her

i really hope someone gets this, but there are a few scenes where Adam feels more like a regular person than just someone who's core personality is being kind of dumb and reckless, and the ending scene before everyone goes to bed is one of those few scenes

[ddejavvu]

not to be self indulgent but poly!marauders sirius being ur go to salon therapy guy. he’s the kinda person who walks around equipped with tweezers and has a weird thing abt wanting to pop ppls spots (u know the type)

i have untamed eyebrows!! my mum forced me to get them 2000s type thin when I was like 11 and it traumatised me so i only brush em and gel em for makeup looks now!! they have a nice shape but okay they’re a bit unruly to ppl who care!! they’re luscious and dark and have a good enough shape to em and i like em enough but sometimes i wish I could just have em a little bit cleaner in shape just for the feel etcetc etc!!!

and sirius would talk and talk talk talk his way into letting himself at em with some tweezers for fun. for him, ofc. he would just love the blank canvas and he’d enjoy shaping em and u can’t tell me he wouldn’t rugby tackle u and just like. Sit on top of ur chest. Like a cat. Suction cup grip to ur head with his free hand to keep you still.

don’t talk to me about the ‘convince her to let me at her brows’ phase. he’s pulling out all the stops, he’s bribing, he’s blackmailing, he’s puppy-dog-eyeing. if it’s magical - he’s giving u a suspicious amount of padfoot attention. if it’s non-magical, he’s overly-overly touchy in public, the cheesy kinda amped up flirting. oh you want him to stop? …well it’s only a small price, he supposes..

fun tidbit! getting ready for bed and he tries to ambush you, swearing it’ll be all relaxed and calming and spa like and James probably crawls over you and just covers your eyebrows solidly with his palms to ‘save u’ from him. but James is James and all saviours need a reward :) kiss or ur eyebrow protectors are gone :)

okay sO funny little story about me is that i don't actually have eyebrows but i used to and i got them waxed once and i would have totally let sirius pluck 'em instead bc omg waxing hurt like a bitch..

sometimes he catches you pulling at your skin in the bathroom to straighten them out or angle them up or peer at the stray hairs there and he's standing behind you with his tweezers like >:)))) it's like a horror movie where you see him standing in the mirror behind you, and his weapon of choice is tweezers

but he would!! he'd do it in your sleep, he'd crawl into your bed and pluck away and you'd wake up to a sharp tug at your eyebrow and ohmygod you can't breathe what's on your chest?? oh. it's sirius. and his tweezers.

you recruit james as your eyebrow protector, but like u said he needs payment, he doesn't work for free, of course!! so he keeps his chin on your forehead and every page of your book that you turn is one kiss that you owe him, and sirius lunges at him with the tweezers for revenge. now i know james potter has never groomed his brows a day in his life so sirius has his work cut out for him, but then there's a red sore patch on james's skin 'cause that really hurt! and u gotta kiss it better <3

he's telling you he'll buy you that new book you want if you just let him at your face, he'll clean your room, he'll wash your laundry, he'll cook you dinner, he'll do anything just let him !!!!! he crawls into your bed one night as padfoot and snuggles up to you and then bites the skin beside your brow just at your temple, a little nip with his teeth, and you're like >:O HEY >:O

[88-special]

Masterclass in Denial

Jeff Winger x reader

Part 4 of 5

The 4 times you and Jeff denied your feelings for each other and the 1 time you couldn't.

Troy, Abed, Annie, and Pierce were all down with the flu. Pierce went straight to the state's best hospital and booked their biggest room, a maternity suite to be specific, equipped with a jacuzzi tub, kitchen, and a California king size hospital bed. Meanwhile, Troy, Abed, and Annie were all cooped up in their tiny apartment. Y/n tried avoiding, what she was calling, their den of disease, but caved when Abed stuffed up and raspy called begging for her homemade chicken noodle soup. She knew they planned it that way. Annie and Troy she could ignore, but everyone felt the parental urge to care for Abed.

Y/n sighed through her cloth mask, shifting the giant pot of soup to her hip, and knocked on their apartment door. She was surprised to see Shirley on the other side. Shirley's skin was flushed, her nose and eyes red.

"Oh thank goodness you're here!" She shuffled back into the apartment, shouting orders over her shoulder. "They all just took cold medicine, I stocked up on tissues and Lysol, the humidifier will need to be refilled in an hour or so..." 

Y/n wide eyed and hesitant, followed Shirley into the kitchen. "They're all in the living room, the boys have lost their cough drop privileges -don't ask- Annie is not allowed to have the Flonase doctor's orders, and keep an eye on Britta, she keeps trying to smoke in the bathroom."

" Wait, Britta?" Y/n was already overwhelmed.  Shirley continued rummaging around the apartment, she grabbed her purse. " Yeah, Abed had her bring them pizza, then they all convinced her to stay for a movie, and now she's just as sick as them. Good luck"

Shirley passed a final look at their surroundings, gave a quick nod and headed for the door.

"Shirley, wait where are you going?"

"I've been here the last two days, and the school just called, my kids caught the flu as well. I gotta go home and take care of my actual babies." And with that, she was out the door.

Panic

"Shirleyyyyyyyyy, can you bring me a water?"

"Me too, and another box of tissues?"

"The humidifier stopped working. ''

They were all so stuffed up, and raw voiced, Y/n wasn't sure who had asked what.

" Shirley, I know what the doctor said, but I can't breathe. Where is the damn nasal spray? " Well, that one was Annie.

Y/n glanced longingly at the door, then made her way to her newly acquired patients. The usual living room set up had been pushed to the side. Instead, there were mattresses, blankets, and pillows in a mess of the floor. Along with four of her friends, all in various states of infirm.

"Ob, hi Y/n. Where's Shirley?" Annie sitting on the floor propped up on pillows against the wall. Her hair was mused, forgotten tissues sticking out of her sleeve and shirt collar, her usual pale skin amped up to a ghostly white.

"Uhhh, she left." Y/n kept as much distance from her infectious friends while taking their seemingly endless order of requests, before speeding back to the kitchen. She doled out bowls of soup, while frantically scrolling through the contacts on her phone.

"Hello sunshine."

"Jeff! Jeff, I need your help. I'm over at the kids apartment, they're ALL sick, Jeff, all of them! Shirley just bailed on me! I need you to come over and help me!"

"Yeahhhh, that's not going to happen. I got tickets for the playoffs this weekend, I'm not going anywhere near them."

Y/n puffed out her cheeks. There was no way she could handle this herself. Should she bribe him? Bargain? Beg? Threaten...? That could work.

"Jeff, I swear to whatever bullshit you believe in that if you're not here in the next 30 minutes, I will dedicate my life to stalking you. And every time you go out on a date, I will show up, and ruin your date worse than I did for Starburns, you'll never get laid again. Every. Single. Date." Y/n didn't wait for a response, "You have 30 minutes. " She hung up.

27 minutes, and five trips to and from the living room later, there was a knock at the door. 

Hour's later, the two of them sat on the floor of the kitchen, chests heaving, protective gear long discarded, hands permanently pruned from excessive hand washing throughout the night. They were all finally asleep, the four of them had run them both ragged. None of them had the same symptoms at the same time. One needs the humidifier, another complains it's too humid, one needs the tv on to be able to sleep, one says it's too loud, it's too bright, turn up the heat I'm freezing, no open a window it's a million degrees in here, can I have a water, where are the tissues, Troy threw a cough drop at me, stop breathing on me, will you make us tea, this tea is minty I wanted chamomile, is there any soup left?

 More than once Y/n had to stop Jeff from giving them extra codeine . But It was finally quiet, and they were starting to get better. Before they fell asleep Annie took herself to her bedroom, and Abed had gotten himself a drink on his own.

Y/n's back ached as she rose to hobble around the kitchen picking up the mess and setting up medication and snacks for the group to easily grab after she went home. After stepping over Jeff's outstretched legs for a third time, she kicked his foot to get his attention.

"Come on, help me dry the dishes, then hopefully we can sneak out before they wake up again."

Jeff groaned and stretched, before following her to the sink, grumbling "I hate you."

She smile and winked at him, "love you too."

Y/n was jolted awake by incessant knocking. It had been two days since the nursing shift from hell, and she had since succumbed to the flu. The masks, disinfectant, gloves, and hand washing didn't stand a chance against the four harbingers of pestilence. Unlike her younger friends she had prepared. After she left the group, she went straight to the store and stocked up on everything she would need if she fell ill. She had just dozed off watching TV in bed when the unwanted visitor made their presence known. The knocking continued as she dragged her sore body to the door.

"I'm coming!" She rasped reaching for the handle. 

Standing in her doorway was Jeff, clad in sweats, a blanket, with two tissues shoved up his nostrils. 

 "This is your fault." Was his greeting as he brushed past her and made his way to her kitchen.

"They infected you too, huh." Y/n shut her door and followed him, opting for a cup of tea, while he dug through her fridge.

"No, YOU infected me." He growled, "I should be at Ball arena tailgating, drunk off my ass, but instead because of you, I'm at deaths door. And since this your fault, I'm going to make this your problem." Finding a bottle of vodka, he slammed the refrigerator door, and turned to glare at her.

Y/n rolled her eyes, earning her an instant headache. She took the vodka out of his hands.

"That's only going to make you feel worse." She sighed, she knew she could simply kick his dramatic ass out and go back to sleep, but she did feel partly responsible. He looked worse than she felt, his eyes were puffy and red, the skin around his nose was chapped and inflamed, the short walk into her house was enough to stir up a wheeze in his chest. She knew she didn't have the gall to go through with. "Go sit, I'll get heat us up some soup."

They watched TV in her bed as they ate, and dozed off shortly after. Y/n's snoring woke Jeff up a couple hours later. He was in disbelief at how quickly he was feeling better. He watched Y/n as she slept, her mouth open, a string of drool pooling on to her pillow, her face was damp with sweat, he brushed the hair off her forehead and pressed the back of his hand to it. She was burning up. He eased out of bed, and gathered up her next round of medicine, fresh water,  and a cold compress. Stroking her hair, he gently woke her up. Y/n whined and pulled her blanket over her head. 

"Come on sunshine you need to take these." His voice was soft, he tugged the blanket back, holding out his hands to help her sit up. Her hair was stuck to the sweat on her forehead again, eyelids heavy, he could hear her stuffed up nose whistle. Anyone else he would find revolting, but even now he still found her beautiful. 

Y/n threw the pills back, and took a slip of water. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why do you look so good?" 

Jeff cheeks warmed. "You think I look good?"

She chuffed. "You know what I mean, how come you don't look like shit anymore?" 

"Guess your soup worked it's magic." He shrugged, climbing back into bed he pulled Y/n into his arms, tucking the blanket around her. She tensed, but quickly relaxed into his embrace. His warmth comforting her aching muscles.

" Wait, your game, you could still make it!" She struggled in his grasp to turn at look at him. He held her tighter, turning the tv back on.

"Traffic'd be a nightmare, and this is much more comfortable than the stadium." He rested his chin on the top of her head, settling her back down against him, barley a minute had passed before her soft snores assured the end of that conversation. 

Part 5

[jonathanbiers]

For the prompt meme, how about 20 and 34? Looking forward to reading whatever you come up with, I love your stuff 🥰

send me a pairing + a number and i'll write a mini-fic! 20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear  34. things you whispered in my ear  assuming you meant this for steddie! also full warning, i got carried away with this one. it's a lil angsty

Steve's running late; it's not his fault, really, even if it kind of is. He promised Dustin he'd take him to the nearest bigger city that morning, one with an exotic pet shop. Somehow, even after Mews, Dustin's enthusiasm for reptiles hadn't waned. He wanted a bearded dragon, and his birthday is coming up...

He didn't anticipate that he'd fall in love with the beast, too. He lost track of time, letting the little baby reptile — "Her name is Skurge, Steve!" he can hear Dustin's exasperated voice still — crawl all over him, cling to his shirt.

He didn't forget. He's just running late. This is what he tells himself as he parks in the street in front of Gareth's house, the open garage revealing all four members of Corroded Coffin inside, practicing. None of them notice him, the music is too loud for the engine of his car to be noteworthy. The song ends just as he's getting out of the car.

Ever since Eddie got out of the hospital, him and Steve are pretty close friends. Steve let him and Wayne stay at his house for a while, while they looked for a place after their trailer was torn to shreds. He didn't mind the company, welcomed it in fact. He thinks Eddie knows this, he still stays over from time to time. They take turns picking movies, listening to each other's music. Eddie visits Steve at work. Steve comes to Eddie's band practices. None of it is helping the silly little crush Steve has. It's making it worse, actually, having to watch the effortless way Eddie sings into the mic, eyes closed and skilled hands dancing along the fretboard of his guitar. It's not fucking fair.

The logical solution should be that Steve stops going, but he can't lie to himself. He loves the torture of it. Loves when Eddie turns to him when they're done, a little sweaty, breathing a little hard, his smile a little wild as he asks what Steve thinks. Steve just says it was good, never tells him what he's actually thinking. He can't very well say that he thinks he wants to kiss him until he's that breathless. He can't.

Because hanging out with Steve, being his friend, that's one thing. Steve's different than he was when they went to school together, he's a good person now, nice. Easygoing when he's not in babysitter mode. Even the rest of Corroded Coffin has come around to him, even if he had to bribe them with cold beer for a few weeks first.

He's not delusional enough to think he's Eddie's type, though. Eddie's never mentioned it, but Steve knows him — he likes metal, fantasy books, imaginative games. Steve, only half-jokingly, tried to help Dustin come up with a character for one of their D&D campaigns and got laughed at. He tried to start reading Lord of the Rings once while he was over at Eddie's, and felt like he was drowning in the words more than he was reading them. They're not from the same world, and that's okay. Being friends is enough.

Eddie's back is to the driveway, and none of the rest of Corroded Coffin notices Steve either as he walks up, weaving between the few cars parked there. He's just passing Gareth's dad's truck when he's able to hear the back half of their conversation.

Jeff and Eddie seem to be bickering, "...only sounds shit 'cause you're sulking 'cause your boyfriend isn't here."

"Wha—" Eddie sputters, "okay, first, he's not my boyfriend, what—"

"But you wish he was," Jeff goes on, monotone as he adjusts dials on an amp, as if he's discussing something as matter-of-fact as the weather.

"No, I don't," Eddie insists, and if Steve wasn't already frozen in place he would be now. "I don't— he's not even my type, come on."

"No?" Gareth asks, muffled as his head is bowed to adjust something on his drum kit. "Is that why you've spent the last thirty minutes going on about where's Steve, Steve is usually here by now, have any of you heard from Steve?"

Eddie's sputtering again, and Steve tries to ignore how his heart sinks when he begins to speak. "That's not— We're just friends, alright? Close friends, but I definitely don't like him like that— He's— he's a jock, for fucks' sake. He wears polos and spends an hour on his hair every day—"

"He's also nice and a good guy, you spent a full week convincing us yourself..." Gareth trails off as he lifts his head, must be satisfied with whatever he was messing with. He locks eyes with Steve, and there must be hurt evident on his face, because Gareth's brows draw together. "Eddie."

"Yeah, Steve's cool," Dan, their bassist cuts in, and Jeff nods in agreement.

Eddie keeps going, though. "Cool, sure. Doesn't mean I want to date him, and I'd really appreciate it if you guys stopped pestering me about it—"

"Eddie," Gareth says again, his voice insistent. Jeff notices, turns to follow Gareth's eyes. Steve is still frozen to the spot. Eddie is still going on.

"—Like, it's getting really fucking old and— ow, Jeff, what the fuck?" Jeff smacks Eddie on the arm to get him to stop, and gestures toward where Steve is standing.

Almost in slow motion, Eddie turns. So does Steve, though, finally snaps out of whatever has kept him rooted to the spot. It's one thing that now Gareth and Jeff know, but he doesn't want Eddie to see just how hurt he is by his words. Doesn't think he could take it, the look of pity. He's trying not to think, letting his feet take him back toward his car. Distantly, muffled behind Eddie's voice in his mind repeating all the reasons Steve isn't good enough, he hears Eddie calling his name. He ignores it, he doesn't want to hear whatever apology Eddie has for him.

"Steve, fuck— please, look at me." Steve feels a hand on his forearm, Eddie isn't grabbing him, just trying to get his attention.

Despite thinking better of it, Steve still turns, faces Eddie. He doesn't see pity, not exactly — guilt, sure, and something else. "It's alright," he says, feeling the opposite, "you don't have to apologize, it's— I get it, y'know? You don't have to...explain, or whatever. You don't like me back, it's fine, it's whatever—"

"I didn't mean it," Eddie blurts, eyes wide and looking everywhere but Steve's face. "I don't hate your hair or your shirts, I— wait," Eddie stops short, meets Steve's eyes, squints a little. "Back?"

Shit. "Um. I didn't..." Steve doesn't know what to say at this point, doesn't know how he can backtrack that. He thinks it's obvious considering his reaction to the conversation he walked into, but now it seems like Eddie had no idea.

Steve is still floundering when Eddie says, his voice soft and tinged with something like disbelief and wonder, "You like me?"

Steve just shrugs, and his voice sounds small to his own ears. "Yeah, but it's— You don't feel the same, and that's okay, so I'll...I'm just gonna go."

This time, when Steve turns, Eddie does grab his arm. He brings them face to face once again, and Steve's just about to open his mouth to say something when Eddie's hand moves to his cheek. All thoughts leave his head immediately, because now they're just...standing there, and Eddie's holding his face, looking at Steve like he's not sure he's real.

The moment feels like forever, but Steve knows it's only been a second, because he doesn't even have time to take a breath before Eddie's lips are on his. Thinks that might be for the best because it would've just been knocked out of him anyway. Eddie's a good kisser, and his hands are warm on Steve's cheek and his lower back. It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up that this is reality, it's not a daydream and he finally kisses Eddie back, lets his arms wrap around Eddie's shoulders. He hears the other three quarters of Corroded Coffin cheering, hollering, Gareth banging on his drums. He thinks they're assholes, he thinks he loves them.

It's over too soon, but finally Steve can breathe. "You..." he starts, his brows furrowing in confusion. "You said—"

"I lied," Eddie interrupts him, presses their foreheads together. "I just wanted them off my back about it. Steve, I've been kinda crazy about you for— Too fucking long."

That brings a laugh out of Steve, because the feeling is mutual. "Since when, huh? Tell me."

Eddie just pulls Steve close, and Steve thinks he's leaning in for another kiss, but instead his lips graze against the shell of his ear as he whispers, "Ever since you took a bite out of that bat."

[hamayumis]

oh no, make my heart grow just a little bit fonder

i didn’t even know that i would get that drunk (in love), leave me alone. or, them as academic rivals to lovers.

ft. heizou, ayato & kazuha x gn!reader // note. rbs & feedback appreciated!

shikanoin heizou [ 鹿しか野の院いん平へい蔵ぞう ]

the top students of the class, always fighting for the number one spot. you'll never forget the grin on his face when your eyes land on your name on the entrance exam scores, right below his. from that day onward, you're known as the rivals of class 4-a. study dates ... studying in the library, heated stares during exams, fuming at the other's sly smirk afterwards. heizou sometimes tries to distract your during certain study sessions, poking your nose with his pencil. “you’re so dreamy, y/n ...” he says. you scoff. “you must be joking. that’s not going to distract me..” but you get the feeling that heizou isn’t joking at all. (your mind changes when he throws rolled up paper balls at you during class.) you secretly doodle him in your notes to get you motivated, arrows pointing angry faces to his twin moles. much to your chagrin, you exchange notes by accident, and it's not long before mr detective finds out about your secret affections. with the teasing he puts you through, you almost forget the part where he's kissing you behind a book in the empty classroom after school. you can take back the number one spot, sure, but heizou's heart? never ♡

kamisato ayato [ 神里綾人 ]

the class presidential candidates with an unfriendly rivalry. ayato has won almost every single class election with you as his rival, and this year, you're determined to beat him. you amp up your campaign, even going as far as bribing his own sister and best friend to be your managers. you ruin his boba stand by replacing all the normal toppings with the peculiar things ayato himself likes. ayato sabotages your campaign posters in return, replacing "y/n for class president" with "y/n for ayato's vice president". now everyone’s excited at the thought that the two biggest contenders are finally teaming up after years of banter and sore losing. you're furious once it's discovered, and yet a tiny voice whispers, "would it be so bad after all?" you've been close with ayato since elementary, and you don't miss the way your traitorous heart flutters whenever he shoots a glance your way. but you regret everything when he changes your nickname in his contacts to “my vp:)” (seriously, why did you still even have him on there?) ultimately, you both get disqualified for tampering with either one's opposing party, but the student body thinks that it would be a better idea to vote the both of you as best couple instead.

kaedehara kazuha [ 楓原かえではら万葉かずは ]

the annoying pretty boy on the debate team (and his opponent who always falls for his charms). kaedehara kazuha always finds a way to best you with flowery words, and you hate it. you're determined to beat him before the school year ends, but you can't help but swoon a little whenever words come out of his mouth. you start to avoid him on all your other debates, opting to go against other students instead. when others ask, you say you're tired of losing. but in truth, you're practicing and honing your skills for the day that you will wipe the calm smile off of kazuha's face. but there's not a single day where your mind isn’t clouded by kazuha. and when the day finally comes, you accidentally blurt out a confession instead of a speech. "i hate the way you smile when you greet me in the hall. i hate the way that you’re so stupidly pretty. i hate the way you stand before me and pull the words out of my mouth, even if yours are more flowery than mine could ever be. i hate the way that i think i might love you but i'd rather deny it instead, but i can't help but think if you'd feel ... the same way ..." your voice trails off as you realize what you're saying. your hands try to clamp over your mouth, but kazuha has (un)fortunately heard it all - and so has the entire assembly. you're about to strangle whoever flipped your script, but next second, kazuha walks over and plants his lips on yours.

© hamayumis 2022 all rights reserved. do not claim or repost any of my works.  

[aricazorel]

"Are you jealous?" "No...Maybe." suggested by @russian-dumpling

pairing: Kaidan Alenko x Rebecca Shepard; set during ME1; word count: 1759

Noveria was cold. There was no doubt about that. It was a planet full of constant snowstorms. Nearly an ice planet.

Just like Hoth, Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko thought, unable to help the Star Wars reference. He glanced up at the thick transparent steel windows above that kept the raging winter storm out and the heat in. At least it was warmer than the Rebel Base…

“Hey, Alenko! You still with us?” Shepard’s voice called from beside him.

He glanced over at his CO noting that Ashley and Garrus had disappeared. “Don't you mean you, ma'am?”

“Oh for crying out loud! Don't ma’am me when we're alone,” she chided, a hand on her hip.

“We're still on the job, Commander.”

“Kaidan, is there a reason you're always so formal?”

“Habit it, ma'am, and it keeps me out of trouble.”

“Trouble? You, Alenko? Never.”

The Lieutenant snorted. “You don't know everything about me, Shepard.”

“Not yet,” the red head smirked with a wink.

***

While waiting to meet up with Gianna Parasini, Shepard unsurprisingly had elected to visit a few of the shops for tech and weapons mods. In truth it was the weapons mods that the Commander was really interested in. She only mentioned the tech mods to entice the Sentinel to tag along. In reality she didn't need to bribe him with anything other than herself.

He knew shortly after the Eden Prime mission that he was in trouble. Romantic entanglements with anyone he served with had always been a no no in his book. Falling for a superior officer was definitely not something he had ever seen himself doing. Yet there it was or rather she was standing outside yet another shop staring at the display in the window.

The Lieutenant was definitely in trouble.

He'd once told her he liked adventurous women. Kaidan would be lying to himself he didn't admit that Shepard fit that description to a tee. And that taste in the opposite sex is what would land him in trouble by the end of their current mission. Especially if the glances she was throwing over her shoulder towards him were any indication of things to come.

And there it was. The flirting grin she'd shoot him when she thought no one was looking. Of course Ashley had caught glimpses of it and teased the fire out of him about it. Despite his misgivings about the feelings he knew he was developing for his CO, Kaidan returned the smile as she motioned for him to join her at the display window. And of course he did.

As the Lieutenant walked over to her, Shepard motioned to a cluster of omni tool mods and one very specific omni tool. His eyes lit up as she casually mentioned, “I can open a line of credit with this store. You know. Get the license for the Normandy’s requisition officer so we can access their inventory anytime we want.”

“Really? Alenko asked excitedly as he looked from the Logic Arrest omni tool to Shepard.

With the amused look on her face he couldn't be sure if she were serious or not. Remembering himself he said, “I shouldn't ask you to use Alliance resources or your Specter status just to get me a new ‘tool.”

“But you didn't ask, Kaidan. I offered,” she corrected as she entered the shop. “Besides they have weapons mods too.”

Alenko cocked an eyebrow as he followed. She was his CO, a fellow officer, a friend. Yet he couldn't help but think she might harbor some feelings beyond all of that for him just as he did for her. Should he say anything? Should he let her make the first move? Should he see how things played out?

He sighed as he watched a salesman approach Shepherd with a broad grin. There were regs against fraternization. They were on a mission to stop a rogue Specter and his synthetic army. There was no place for romance, yet his feelings remained.

In an effort to distract himself, he focused his attention on the Logic Arrest Shepard had pointed out. In truth he did need a new omni tool, especially with the current mission. A part of him however couldn't shake the feeling that if he had said yes just a few minutes ago he'd already have a new ‘tool instead of looking at it in the display.

Kaidan let out a low growl. He should be able to focus on things without his thoughts circling back to Shepard. On a mission, in combat, doing his duties. Those instances were too problematic to allow that. The only acceptable exception was if Shepard was in danger.

But his down time? Sure she was nice to look at, athletic, red hair, nice smile, gorgeous eyes, great personality, honest, compassionate, amazing sense of humor, humble, firm. Anyone would be lucky to be the focus of her attention. Yet in the reflection of the display glass he saw her glancing at him as the salesman went on about various mods for her weapons the other man had were noticed Specter issue.

Apparently her status as a Specter had made the rounds rather quickly. Of course salesman wanted to land a large purchase from her then. Either way the Lieutenant could have sworn he saw the Commander wink at him in the reflection before she turned her attention back to the very friendly salesman.

“I can see the Specters have outfitted their newest agent with the latest weapons. Of course you can never go wrong with modifications,” the blond-haired man said smoothly. “Surely having the best mods on the market would help keep your lovely self safe.

“They certainly wouldn't hurt,” Shepard replied an even tone.

“Well, what is your primary weapon?” the man asked. “Maybe your favorite?”

“Those are two different things,” Shepard smirked with her arms folded across her chest.

“Really? For most customers those are one in the same,” the blond man muttered.

“I'm not most customers,” the Commander assured him confidently.

“I see,” the salesman muttered as he opened his ‘tool, showing the inventory available. “Perhaps something for your assault rifle first. We can't have our first human Specter being mowed down by rogue Geth. Protection is everything especially for a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

Kaidan rolled his eyes at the man's blatant attempt to flirt with the Commander in order to make a sale. Fundamentally the Lieutenant knew why the other man was doing it but that didn't deter the desire to tell the man off for disrespecting his CO. If he was totally honest with himself he had to admit that it wasn't just the man's lack of professionalism that bothered him.

He shifted, resisting the urge to go to Shepard’s aid. If she needed help, she would say so.

“I have plenty of protection already,” Shepard said as she gestured towards him. “My Lieutenant over there is an accomplished soldier and biotic. He's covered my six more times than I can count.”

Kaidan knew he was smirking as he caught her eye in the reflection once again. Whether she had intended to or not she had just padded his ego though he would never admit that. “Biotics will only get you so far,” the salesman muttered, his mood souring much to Alenko's delight.

“Oh but you haven't seen the Lieutenant train with his biotics,” Shepard mused with a big grin. “It's …quite the sight.”

Kaidan knew he was blushing as the salesman said, “I can provide you with top-of-the-line weapons mods. I'm afraid I am not licensed for biotic amps.”

Shepard made a noise of acknowledgement before she said, “You know what? I think I'll take that Logic Arrest in the window…and any mod you have for it.”

“Oh well, what about the weapons mods? Surely you need –“

“I already have the most advanced. Me being a Specter and all. But my Lieutenant needs the best omni tool available,” she insisted as she turned to Kaidan.

“I understand but you are his superior. Doesn't that mean –“

“If you can't sell me what I want, I am sure another shop can,” the Commander interrupted as she walked over to the Lieutenant.

“No. No. I can accommodate that,” the salesman said conceding that his sale to the first human Specter would not be as large as he originally thought.

Kaidan couldn't help the shit-eating grin as the salesman was forced to wait on him instead of Shepard.

***

Half an hour later Kaidan sat on the retaining wall of one of the many reflection pools near the shopping promenade as he fiddled with his new omni tool. They were waiting for Ashley and Garrus to rendezvous with them before taking the next step of their mission. For whatever reason, the Commander had spent her time watching him program his preferences into the new Logic Arrest.

He did his level best to ignore the attention until she said lightly, “Are you jealous?”

The Lieutenant paused in his motions as conflicting emotions demanded his answer one way or another. “No …maybe.”

She crossed her arms as she asked in surprise, “Really, Lieutenant? Of a weapons mod salesman?”

Kaidan knew he was blushing as he glanced at the nearby fountain. Was he that obvious? Was she going to give him a dressing down or just tease the crap out of him? Maybe even enlisting the help of Ashley and Joker?

“Hey, Kaidan?” Shepherds voice call to him as he felt a light pressure on his forearm from her hand. The use of his first caught his attention more than her touch.

He glanced back at her, seeing a tender smile. “I can promise you there is nothing to be jealous of. All my attention is on a certain L2 biotic. You might know him.”

Kaidan smiled as he replied, “Yes ma'am.”

Shepard opened her mouth to say something else when she heard Ashley and Garrus call out to them. She shrugged at him as she turned to greet them but not before she winked at the Lieutenant.

He watched as she walked over to their teammates as he finished setting up his tool. Any doubt he had about being more than comrades-in-arms or friends had evaporated. He was more certain than ever that things between them were more complicated than the mission parameters allowed.

But he didn't care. He was definitely in trouble, but he found himself not giving a damn about that either.

He liked adventurous women, and Shepard was definitely that. And so much more.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Hello, I hope I'm not bothering you, but do you have any good "enemies to lovers" recs, may they be books or movies?

I neeeever am bothered by people asking for recommendations.  Those are my favorite asks because I am nothing if not in love with my own opinions, lol

Books

Obviously, The Viscount Who Loved Me by Julia Quinn, the best Bridgerton book, because I’ve been blogging about it lol.  If you haven’t read it, it’s basically “rake tries to seduce the beauty of the ton, beauty’s older sister cockblocks him, he realizes that He Is Into It” 

The Hating Game by Sally Thorne is a classic.  Very light and fluffy contemporary, two people who’ve always hated each other begin competing for the same job and fall in love.

Kate Quinn’s Mistress of Rome series is a saga and the initial big ship of the first book (which you do have to read lol) is not enemies to lovers.  However, the NEXT ship which dominates the last two books of the series (which is four books long, and tbh... I recommend the second book but it’s a prequel and can be skipped technically) is SOOOOOOO GOOD.  It’s really “childhood friends to young lovers to SEVERE ENEMIES still secretly in love” and it’s literally epic lol.  Essentially, the series is set in Ancient Rome and Sabina (very bitchy Roman noblewoman) and Vix (child of a former gladiator, soldier) are friends who I think lose their virginities to each other?  And are in love as kids.  But then she fucks him over and marries the emperor.  Who he actually begins to loyally serve!  But he haaaates Sabina because she.... constantly backstabs him lol.  But he also looooves Sabina and gets off on everything she does.  And she wants him so badly.  And it is delicious.  And I live for it.

Both of the Evie Dunmore books I’ve read, Bringing Down the Duke and especially A Rogue of One’s Own are very enemies to lovers.  In Bringing Down the Duke it’s a bluestocking versus a duke who for political reasons is her enemy.  In A Rogue of One’s Own it’s another bluestocking versus a rake who has known her basically all their lives.  They have to begin working together and fall in looove.

Sarah MacLean LIVES for this trope lol.  Her first true enemies to lovers was Twelve Scandals to Start to Win An Earl’s Heart, in which the heroine is a scandalous young woman and the hero is a duke determined to avoid scandal--and he rebuffed her before the book began, so they hate each other.  But he also has a massive boner around her, of course. 

My favorite MacLean book, A Rogue By Another Name is another “childhood friends turn enemies to lovers”.  The leads, Penelope and Bourne (last name lol) were best friends as kid and he basically fell off after life set in.  Her family now has hold of his ancestral lands, and Bourne essentially blackmails Penelope into marrying him so that he can get those lands, after which she DESPISES him even though they had..... extremely great sex lol.  It’s SUPER GOOD, and it involves borderline voyeurism, which is great.

Then No Good Duke Goes Unpunished is very enemies to lovers.  The heroine was set to become the hero’s stepmother--then he woke up covered in blood with her missing. He then finds out, after years of being despised by society as a presumed murderer, that she is very much alive with a fake identity lol.  It’s WILD.

The Rogue Not Taken is an enemies to lovers roadtrip romance.  The heroine thinks the hero is a horrid rake who purposefully ruins marriages.  He thinks she’s a stuck up brat.  They end up journeying together and he eats her out in a moving carriage.

Theeen there’s Daring and the Duke.  The hero literally thought the heroine was dead (MacLean loves this) and is OBSESSED with her, but she hates him because the man who raised them both basically pitted them against each other after their days of being childhood sweethearts.  It’s very dark and delicious, and there are blow jobs!  Blow jobs don’t happen enough in romances, especially historical romances.  More BJs!  They are fun!

If you’re interested in a dark and BONKERS romance, Desperate Measures by Katee Robert is a retelling of Disney’s Aladdin about a modern Jafar and Jasmine getting together after he takes over her father’s criminal empire.  It’s definitely extremely explicit and a bit fucked up.  The book comes with content warnings; the first sex scene is dubcon.  (Like you’re reading from her perspective and she WANTS IT but she says no.)

Beach Read by Emily Henry is a cute contemporary in which the hero is a literary author and the heroine is a romance novelist.  They find themselves in neighboring beach houses and basically challenge each other to write in the other person’s genre.  Very light enemies to lovers.

A Heart of Blood and Ashes is a fantasy romance by Milla Vane!  Essentially, the hero’s parents were killed by the heroine’s father and he’s out to kill her father and overtake his throne.  Luckily, she’s on board.  But he needs to marry her in order to accomplish his goals.  They do not trust each other whatsoever and torment one another a lot.  For context, within the first fifty pages she gives him a handjob while her hand is covered in her own brother’s blood (and yes, he did kill her brother).  It’s great.

The Worst Best Man is about a wedding planner who suddenly finds herself needing to work with her ex-fiance’s brother... who she holds responsible for her fiance leaving her at the altar.  Very fun and sexy contemporary.

The entire Four Horsemen series by Laura Thalassa.  In each book, the heroine falls in love with a literal embodiment of one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, who is here to bring the end of the world.  VERY heavy enemies to lovers.  Kinda dark at times?  Kinda fucked up at times?  I love it a lot?  It begins with Pestilence; War and Famine have already been released, but Death has not.

From Lukov with Love by Marina Zapata.  It’s a figure skating romance; a down on her luck skater pairs up with a male skater who is extremely successful, and who she’s known for years and hated.  Verrrrry slow burn, but fun.

Movies

The Proposal, of course, starring Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds.  You’ve probably seen this, but the setup is that she’s his evil boss, he’s her assistant, and she’s about to lose her visa so she bribes him into marrying her so that she can get citizenship.  But ruh-roh, they have to go to Alaska for his family reunion and he’s also got a great body and is like, an Alaskan Rockefeller?  

Obviously, Clueless which is enemies to lovers by way of former stepsiblings, and also by way of the only valid retelling of Emma.  Emma itself is not enemies to lovers, really, but Clueless amps that aspect up a bit.

If you want a super tragic version, warning lol--House of Flying Daggers.  It’s a wuxia movie, so melodramatic to the max.  She’s a blind daughter of the leader of a vigilante group, he’s a soldier who’s gone undercover to follow her to their stronghold.  Many reveals and one of my favorite dramatic love stories ensues.

Princess Diaries 2, duh.  Baby Chris Pine?  Anne Hathaway?  PLEASE BITCH.

365 DNI.  If you haven’t watched yet, watch it and thank me later.  The greatest cinematic contribution of the last decade.

Down with Love.  It’s a delightful take on like, 50s/60s sex comedies in which the heroine writes a book that convinces women to ignore love and men, which makes the hero look bad and makes it difficult for him to get laid.  So he sets out to basically.....  wear a different persona?  And seduce her?  It is one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen, and I adore it.  Renee Zellweger and Ewan Macgregor have great chemistry in it too.

The Thomas Crown Affair, starring extremely hot Pierce Brosnan and Renee Russo.  She’s an insurance investigator, he’s a billionaire who basically is suspected of stealing priceless works of art because he’s bored.  She investigates him and immediately begins fucking him.  Has a scene where she dances with him while wearing a completely transparent dress.  Then they fuck everywhere in his house.  I have never wanted to be between two people more.

The Painted Veil.  A socialite marries a dorky scientist for convenience, then cheats on him.  He finds out and basically forces her to go to China with him, where he is fighting the cholera epidemic, as an extremely long and petty murder suicide attempt.  But they get to know each other!  And the ice begins to melt!  Warning: tragic but lovely.

Casino Royale YES I SAID THAT.  The James Bond reboot movie that explains why he’s such a whore!!!  HE WAS BROKEN!!!  Basically James Bond is not like... a learned man... in this movie.  So he’s a cocky bastard and the Bond girl is impossibly sexy Eva Green as Vesper, who’s the “money man” on his mission.  They begin as bickering assholes and then fall in love.  But also!  Tragedy!

The animated Anastasia movie is one of the finest enemies to lovers movies of any time, I will defend this forever

Anyway....  Hope this gives you some ideas!  Lol

[brianc521]

Valentines | CEO Peter

Peter was a classy man. He wasn’t one that went for cliches and he wasn’t one to fall for the world's antics on celebrating a ‘day of love’ just as a ploy to spend money on candy and flowers. 

Last year, since you were in love with the idea of valentine's day, he agreed to take you to dinner, allowed you to dress him up and then dress him down at the end of the night.

Hearts and flowers weren’t totally this thing, or well at least not in public. 

This time around? Different story.

Peter is really lovesick. He is head over cufflinks in love with you. You’re wearing his ring, and your initials are tattoo’d just behind his ear. He is devoted to you, and he wants you to know that. So he might have gone a little crazy. It really didn’t help that he hasn’t seen you all week.

You’ve been in Ohio, with he who shall not be named, on a work business trip. You were meant to be home yesterday morning, but weather loves to fuck things up. Your plane was delayed and you didn’t end up getting into town but around 3 am this morning. Since your brother lives just around the corner from the airport, and you and Peter live a good 45 minutes away, it just made sense to crash at Ashtons. 

Peter understood, and really didn’t want you driving that far while being dead tired, he needed you safe. With that said, it still really sucked to spend yet another night alone in the cold sheets. 

Soooooo, that amped up his wanting to do something special for you.

The man not only had the whole store catered for breakfast for you and your employee’s, he also had your office completely filled with dozens of bouquets of roses and sunflowers (your two most favorite flowers). 

But that’s not all. You kept finding little gifts everywhere. Opening your desk drawer to grab a notepad left you munching on a box of chocolates. Accepting the shipment for the day had you hugging a 6 ft teddy bear. 

You called him once the shipment guys left, leaving you alone in the back of the shop.

“Mrs. Mendes, Happy Valentine’s day!” Stan answers cheerfully. 

“Hi Stan! Happy Valentine’s day to you too!” 

“Thank you Mrs. Mendes.” 

“He busy right now?” You ask, chewing on your thumb nail. 

You hear some shuffling and a murmured voice. “He’s about to step into a meeting, he’s walking past me as we speak.” 

“My wife?” You hear in the background, and then suddenly his voice fills your ear. “Hi Baby.” 

“Hi Love.” You sigh, melting into your seat from the sound of his voice alone. “I don’t wanna keep you.” 

“Please do.” He responds.

“Bad meeting?” 

“A fire is about to go out.” He nods, using some code to tell you he’s about to fire someone. 

“Oh, well then call me after.” 

“Or better yet, I’ll pick you up after.” He quips. 

“Um,” 

“I got the rest of the day off.” He bribes. 

“Okay, when should I expect you.” You grin.

“Really? You can come?” 

“Baby, I’m the boss, I can leave if I want. I’ve just spent the week working for this place in a different state.” 

“It’s sexy when you say things like that.” You hear a gag and then Peter’s rough chuckle. “Fuck off Stan.” 

You smile and bite your lip, taking notice of how good of a mood he’s in. 

“Well? Am I ditching this place or what?” 

“Be ready in 30, this fire won’t take long.” 

“Okay, and Mr. Mendes?” 

“Yes?”

“You’re always sexy.” 

He chokes a bit and you giggle as you hang up your phone, strutting your stuff off to the sales floor to tell Micheal you’ll be leaving soon.

**

You start running a little when you see him leaning against his 2019 Porsche 911. He looks too good to be true, and he’s all yours.

“Baby!” He cheers, standing up straight to catch you as you jump into his arms. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back. His arms tighten as you bury your face in his neck, and he kisses your neck as he takes in a deep breath of your perfume. A plus from you working at a body shop, you always smell so good. 

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your skin. “Don’t ever leave me for that long again.” 

“I won’t, that was pure torture.” 

He walks you around to the passenger side of his car, tapping your bum a few times to get you to hop down. 

“Can I drive?” You grin at him, eyeing the car. 

“If you’re good maybe I’ll let you someday, but today I have plans in store that are meant to be a surprise.” He says helping you into the seat. He shuts your door, walking around the car and slipping in himself. 

“Can I have a kiss then?” 

“You don’t even have to ask that question.” He hums, leaning over the console to plant his lips on yours. 

“Thanks for my flowers, chocolates, and teddy bear. Although I don’t need a teddy bear, I already have you.” 

“Okay, so you’re going to be extra cheesy today?” He raises his eyebrow at you as he pulls out of the parking garage. 

“Me? You sir had me drowning in roses today.” 

He grins, shaking his head. “I’ve arranged for Bailey to get your gifts at the end of the work day when the store closes. I don’t want him messing up your conversion walking in and out so much.” 

You stare at him in awe and lean over to kiss his cheek. “The team says thank you for breakfast, and I’m saying thank you for being an incredible husband.” 

“Speaking of that.” He clears his throat. “We keep calling each other husband and wife.” 

“Yes we do and it confuses the hell out of everyone, I love it.” You giggle. 

“What if it didn’t anymore?” He inquired. 

“What do you mean?” 

“What if I told you we’d actually be married by the end of the night?” 

“Really?” 

“What if I told you Bailey was setting up an Officiant right now?” 

“Really?” You squeal turning to him. “What about the wedding we’re already planning? You know with our Mom’s, the planner, the dress designer?” 

“We’ll have that.” He nods. “But it’s taking too long to make you my actual wife. So what if we got married today, and again in a year when the wedding’s planned. We’ll know we’re already married, to everyone else they’ll celebrate our marriage, for us we’ll celebrate our anniversary?” He grins, looking at you.

“I think I’m in love with you, and that I’ll do anything you want.” 

“Anything?” He teases. 

“I mean a honeymoon has to happen right?” You tease back. 

“Oh Baby you don’t even know what you just asked for.”

**

You stare at yourself in the mirror and smile. Peter had taken you to pick out a simple dress for tonight, then to a jeweler to pick out his and your ring, and then dropped you off at home with a stylist team to glam you the fuck up. 

Bailey holds the door for you as you climb into the limo. Peter’s going full out tonight. Pulling out all the stops.

The drive to the venue is short, mainly because you’re heavy in your thoughts, but before you know it Bailey is opening the door for you and helping you out. 

You’re handed a bouquet of roses and sunflowers while ushered into the dim building. A few of the stylists fuss about a few strands of your hair, and fix your dress a bit. When they finally have perfected your look they scurry away.

Music starts and Bailey appears to open the double doors for you. “Ready?” He asks softly.

“More than ready.” You smile at Bailey.

“You make a beautiful Bride Mrs. Mendes, thank you for being in our lives.” With that Bailey opens the door and watches you walk down the aisle. 

Peter has booked out the most amazing venue, it’s empty, save for an arch in place behind Peter and the officiant. Raul and Shawn stand in the front row, both in nice slacks and a button up shirt. Raul’s in red, Shawn’s in yellow, matching your flowers. They both smile at you and watch you walk to Peter at the end of the aisle. 

Before you know it Peter is dipping you down to kiss you fiercely, you’re named Mrs. Mendes, officially, and suddenly the world is just right. You finally feel like you belong in this crazy place. 

“Congrats!” Shawn cheers, Raul whistling as Peter stands you back up, hand firmly gripping your ass. 

You giggle as you pull away, turning towards the boys. Peter kisses your cheek and is ready to whisk you off, but you laugh harder as you stare at Shawn and Raul.

“What are you laughing at Sis?” Raul asks. 

“You look like Ketchup and Mustard.” You lose it when they stare at each other and laugh too. Peter lets out a good belly laugh and shakes his head. 

“Let’s go, I’m ready to take my wife home, and kick these losers out.” He tugs you down the aisle. 

“Oh we can at least get the McDonalds boys dinner.” You giggle, cackling at the fact that your jokes are just gonna keep on rolling. 

“Wow, make her a Mendes and she suddenly feels like she can tease you.” Shawn says to Raul, nudging his elbow. 

Raul grins and rushes towards you and Peter, swooping you up over his shoulder, twirling in circles. “Oh Sis, what’s the matter? Feeling a little dizzy?”

“Raul stop!” You laugh, hitting his back repeatedly. 

“Raul.” Peter stands straight, crossing his arms over his chest. “Put my wife down before something seriously happens to you.” 

“Ooh, scary.” Raul scoffs, setting you back on your heeled feet. You sway and reach for Peter as you try to regain your footing. 

Peter swings you up into his arms, holding you with one arm under your back and the other under your knees. 

“What is with you two and picking me up?” You ask, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s customary for the groom to walk his wife over the threshold.” 

“We’re not home though.” You point out with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m practicing then.” He grins, leaning down to kiss you softly. 

“Okay, we don’t need to see you practice for the honeymoon.” Shawn gags. 

Peter rolls his eyes, looking to Bailey as you all step outside. “Bailey, take Mickey-” He points to Shawn, “And Dee-” He points to Raul, “Home so I can take my wife away from the greasy mess they are.” 

“Haha.” Shawn rolls his eyes. “Very funny dickhead.” Raul shakes his head. “You wanted us to match her flowers, we were good brothers and followed your orders. Should be thanking us.” 

Peter smiles, looking at his brother, setting you down and engulfing each in a huge hug. “I do thank you. Thanks for being the witnesses to the greatest achievement of my life.” 

Each brother wraps you up in a big hug, leaving you with your Husband. 

“Well Mrs. Mendes,” Peter holds your hand as he leads you to his Porsche. “What do you say about driving me to the beach house?”

“I get to drive?” 

“I told you if you were good you could.” He nods opening the drivers side for you.

“And if I want to be bad?” 

“Oh Baby you’ve got a whole mini honeymoon to be bad.” 

“Mini honeymoon?” 

He nods, leaning against the car. “Beach house this weekend, alone. Month in Bora Bora once you’re settled at work.” 

You raise your eyebrows, grinning at him. “So I have a lot of time to be bad.”

“Do your worst Mrs. Mendes.”

[aion-rsa]

How The Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main Street Earned Its Rep

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Apple TV+’s docuseries 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything makes it seem like The Rolling Stones’ Exile On Main Street album was more fun to record than listen to, and that sets a high standard. The record distills the band’s sounds, from acoustic world music political ballads, through deep heartfelt blues, to honky tonk so funky you have to shake your ass. The group plays country, Southern blues, R&B, and the almost-punk-before-punk “Rip This Joint.” “Tumbling Dice,” is a radio staple. Keith Richards even took the lead vocals on a track to keep you happy. There was so much material, it came out as a double album. What could be more fun than that?

Richards’ Nellcôte mansion, on the Côte d’Azur in the South of France, was the hardest rocking musical getaway paradise in 1971. It was a Rock and Roll Main Street, and even the most mainstream players mainlined the exile vibe. Guitar god Eric Clapton and underground country legend Gram Parsons mixed drinks and drugs with movie stars like James Caan and Faye Dunaway, while playwright Terry Southern stopped taking note, according to Robert Greenfield’s book Exile on Main Street: A Season In Hell With The Rolling Stones. 

William S. Burroughs inspired Mick Jagger to cut and paste a word collage together to form the lyrics to “Casino Boogie.” Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr dropped by the almost-week-long afterparty for Jagger’s wedding to Nicaraguan-born model Bianca Pérez Morena de Macias in Saint-Tropez. John Lennon, who was on methadone treatment, reputedly threw up at the foot of the grand staircase and passed out in it.

“The sunshine bores the daylights out of me,” Jagger sings on “Rocks Off,” the album’s opening song. The Rolling Stones strolled through their recent past darkly. The murder of Meredith Hunter at the Altamont speedway concert in late 1969 signaled, to many, the death of decade’s peace-and-love counterculture. But the band’s troubles went all the way back to the Redlands drug bust of 1967, and the death of Brian Jones. Adversity worked well, creatively, for the Stones, and they continued to pump out classics like “Gimme Shelter” in 1969, and controversy like “Brown Sugar” in 1971. Sticky Fingers, their ninth album, hung nicely at the top of the charts on both sides of the Atlantic.

The songs, and Allen Klein’s aggressive managerial money-making maneuvers, put the band in the 93% tax bracket for Britain’s highest earners. The Stones owed more than they could pay. To avoid penalties, they moved to France. Mick went to Paris. Mick Taylor, Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts bought or rented places along the French Riviera. Richards and his girlfriend, German-Italian actress and model Anita Pallenberg, moved into Nellcôte, a villa in Villefranche-sur-Mer, near Nice. During the Nazi occupation of France during World War II, the seaside mansion was the headquarters of the local Gestapo. Swastikas were carved into floor vents, staircases and ventilator grates.

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As pointed out in 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything, the Stones had recently signed with Atlantic Records, and the label wanted an album. The band scoured the Riviera for a suitable recording studio, but wound up parking their mobile studio next to Keith’s house. Richards transformed the basement into a recording studio, and the band stole electricity from the railway tracks across the street to power amplifiers and the mobile recording truck. 

The layout wasn’t the best. Bill Wyman, who is only credited for eight of the album’s songs on bass, plugged into an amp which was mic’d up in the hallway. Producer Jimmy Miller ended each take by running from the truck into the basement to check sound. The humidity caused the guitars to go out of tune. This gave the album its working title: “Tropical Disease.” The song “Ventilator Blues” was inspired by the conditions.

The band also had to deal with Keith’s erratic schedule. “I never plan anything,” Richards says in the documentary Stones in Exile. “Mick needs to know what he’s going to do tomorrow. Whereas I’m just happy to wake up and see who’s hanging around. Mick’s rock; I’m roll.” Richards, Taylor, Watts, pianist Nicky Hopkins, saxophonist Bobby Keys, drummer Jimmy Miller, and horn player Jim Price would jam all night while engineer Andy Johns ran the reels. Sessions would start when the guitarist rolled out of bed, or before he slipped off to put his son Marlon to sleep. After that Keith might pull a disappearing act, playing guitar in the un-mic’d second floor bathroom, or passing out. Richards was open about pot and alcohol, sharing liberally, but quiet about his heroin use.

Richards got clean in the spring of 1971, but hurt his back in a go-kart accident, according to Greenfield’s book. His vehicle flipped while racing his friend Tommy Weber at a track in Cannes. Richards took morphine for the pain, and within a few months, was using again. For sessions, he’d down a Mandrax, which is like a Quaalude, with whiskey. Charlie Watts was drinking brandy until he was past sloppy, and Jagger was taking speed to keep up with the hours Keith set. It was Richards’ place, and Mick was almost a hostage. When he left, it seemed nothing got done. Richards, left alone, could be downright dangerous. He almost burned himself, Anita and the entire house down when he fell asleep with a lit cigarette.

Richards was buying pure, uncut heroin from Castilian dealers. He was getting it by the kilo, and it became part of the social regimen of the villa. He shared so regularly with Gram Parsons that Mick got jealous, professionally. Parsons wanted Richards to produce his next album and join him on tour, which would have left the Stones without their guitarist for two years. Parsons was quietly asked to leave. Drugs split the Stones into two camps: Jagger, Wyman and Watts stuck to pills, booze and softer drugs. Richards, Taylor, producer Jimmy Miller, sax player Bobby Keys and engineer Andy Johns shot dope.

It cost them their gear. Wyman’s bass, Keys’ saxophone and nine of Richards’ guitars were stolen by dealers from Marseille who were owed money, while the entourage was watching television during the day. The Stones’ lawyers bribed local police to keep the party going, but even the most corrupt French cops, like Captain Louis Renault in Casablanca, have their limits. Besides, the Stones were welcomed in France because they were rich rock stars who were going to spend lots of money. If all their cash went to illegal and nontaxable drugs, the French government didn’t have much use for them.

The tipping point seems to have come with Anita Pallenberg. She maintained a steadily rocky relationship with the Stones. Richards stole, or saved, her from a paranoid and abusive Brian Jones, and there were rumors Jagger had an affair with her while filming Nic Roeg’s Performance in 1968. According to Greenfield’s book, Mick also slept with her while Richards was on the nod during the Exile sessions. Police came knocking to ask about a claim that Pallenberg had given heroin to the 14-year-old daughter of the villa’s chef. 

The French police left without validating the charge, but said they’d be back to have a better look around the mansion. Richards and Pallenberg took off on his speedboat, fittingly named Mandrax II. The rest of the band slipped out soon after with the tapes. Pallenberg and Richards were charged with possession of heroin with intent to traffic in 1973. They were then exiled from France for the next two years.

The party continued when the Rolling Stones reconvened in Sunset Sound studios in Los Angeles. The band tossed TVs off the balconies of hotel rooms with Marc Bolan and Neil Young. The tapes for the album stretched from 1969 to 1972. The band edited hours of jams into song structure. Jagger scatted melodic placeholders for unfinished lyrics, and recruited session players like Billy Preston and Doctor John to fill in any sonic emptiness. The words to “Tumbling Dice,” for instance, were written last minute. The song has an unusual structure, as the verses become shorter, the choruses get longer. It may have Watts’ best drum performance.

Exile on Main Street contains some of Richards’ best guitar work. The album really belongs to Keith. “Happy” is almost entirely his. He’s on vocals, guitar and bass, with Miller on drums, Keys on maracas, overdubs from Taylor, and backing vocals from Jagger. “Sweet Black Angel” is a political love letter to civil rights activist Angela Davis. “Shake Your Hips” put the hair on ZZ Top’s lips. The album cover set the visual tone for punk. Some people claim it’s the Rolling Stones’ best work. It is a classic which catches them at their hedonistic peak. Its dirty, loosely played backing created an identifiable sound. The Stones’ first double LP, it is best heard in its entirety, and earned its street cred.

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1971: The Year Music Changed Everything is available to stream on Apple TV+ now.

The post How The Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main Street Earned Its Rep appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[thecomposerthatwaspromised]

Were you familiar with His Dark Materials franchise before you signed onto the project? Had you read the books before, or was the whole thing just kind of new?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. It was deeply in my life. It's kind of one of those jobs that when you hear about it, I had to be involved, and whether I bribed somebody to get me the job or turned up at their office, I knew I had to do it. It was with Mission Impossible. I was a massive fan and with Mission, it had been in my life for 20 years. I'd been basically subconsciously writing Fallout out in my head. Just that famous Lalo Schifrin theme, I had been trying to write it for 20-odd years. With Dark Materials, I think... When was the first one? It was in the '90s. '95, gosh, how old was I then? I'm 42 now... Oh well, I'll figure that one out and text you. However old I was, it was a long time ago.

But yes, it was the same heritage and folklore of the likes of Harry Potter and Star Wars to me. Basically, I found out about it and I just knew I had to be part of the team. It's always very intimidating, especially with literature, because the thing is that everybody has created their own soundtracks in their head when reading these books, and you don't want to mess it up.

What kind of inspiration and influences did you take into consideration when you were crafting the His Dark Materials score? Since it's the kind of source material that everyone interprets in a different way, what was kind of important for you in creating your take on it?

I always treat these books as steampunk. I was very aware of the different worlds and the fact that you weren't too sure of what the technology was, and if it's present or past. Musically, I knew right from day one I wanted it to be a mixture of organicness and electronic-ness, and have it so that the organicness was being manipulated, so sonically you don't know what you're hearing and you're not too sure if this is real or if it's not.

I also kind of wanted to always make sure that with Lyra --I'd never worked on a show where it has such a strong young female lead, and I just wanted to make sure that I wrote it so it wasn't patronizing to her age. She is the future and she's just strong. I think that I wanted to make sure that she dramatically was as strong and powerful as if it was Princess Leia, for example.

And also what I wanted to do was very clearly set out each character's themes. Before we even started, I really spent a long time just creating everybody's dramatical world. With Mrs. Coulter, it's powerful but also slightly sexy. I'm not too sure if I can say the word "sexy" for Mrs. Coulter, but the thing is that her character, the way Ruth [Wilson] plays her especially, it's very imposing.

There are so many sides to it. I just wanted to start off composing and just making sure all of our characters have very clear dramatical worlds, and also their own instrumentation. I think that color-wise, I wanted to make sure that they have their own performances. In the same way, I started thinking about who was going to perform the music. And ironically with Mrs. Coulter, I got Chad Smith from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the drummer, to come and play on it. Because it was like "This is serious now, and this is powerful." For some reason, I just kept thinking of Chad.

On other themes, with the Egyptian theme, I was lucky to get [violinist] Lindsey Stirling involved to come and play. Everybody's theme, I wanted to get musicians that I could work with, that would also be that character sound.

I'm just remembering now, the same with [cellist] Tina Guo's playing on the soundtrack. She's the main cellist for Wonder Woman. I'm probably forgetting names. I should have practiced. KT Tunstall, the singer, is on the score. Sarah Willis is a French horn player with the Berlin Philharmonic. I was calling her a month ago in Cuba, in Havana, because she's on tour. And then Rich Harvey, one of the top recordists... Recorder players? Is that a recordist? I'm not too sure. So yeah, I wanted to get that high cast of musicians as well as the show, the cast, their actors.

What's your favorite thing about the score for His Dark Materials? Is there a certain theme or a certain sequence that you're just like, "I can't believe I was able to pull this off"?

I wish I could have more faith in my own music. Unfortunately, I don't. What we're doing with the soundtrack is that when the show starts, we're going to release two albums. The first album is going to be a musical anthology to our world, and it's all of the character's themes and the show's themes. And then the second album will be actual cues from the actual show. I'm still writing at the moment, so I want to say that the best is yet to come because I'm still at episode eight. But I think everything has been a challenge, because I think with Lyra, I think very, very aware of thinking about the fans.

To me, it's a hard job. It's very like working on games, because there's such a heritage and loyal fan base, that you can't please everybody. It's just impossible. But you've got to be loyal. I tried to do some research to see what fans would be listening to, and I found some references to the music of Algar, so I took some inspiration from that. To me, I've tried to just do my best to what people might feel with these characters. And also everybody working on the show are fans of the books -- whether it's the costume department or the makeup department or the camera department, everybody's wanted to be involved with this because of their love of the books. It's apparently a team effort.

And I think that the opening sequence has been one of the hardest jobs I think I've ever had because you're trying to write a theme and a piece of music that represents this story, which is mammoth. I think [it's like] being asked, "Who's your favorite child?" It's impossible, but I think that the journeys through it is all fun. We're recording all over the world, musically. We've been recording in Los Angeles and Cuba and Vienna, and we've been recording an amazing female choir in Bulgaria. We're recording the BBC Welsh Symphony Orchestra in Wales. Just the recording of the music alone is mammoth. I'd say there is no favorite, but I hope the main theme of the show gets people excited.

I'm really excited about the two different albums. I always love it when shows or movies really let people experience the music of the show, outside of them actually watching it in the moment.

I think there's a lot on the first album that's not necessarily a written picture, but it's a listening experience. And because I wanted to try to, maybe for two and a half, three minutes, be able to clearly represent who these characters are without being interrupted by people talking on top of it, selfishly. I think that's been a fun part of this journey.

[...] And then just to wrap it up, what can you tease about your future projects beyond His Dark Materials? What do you have coming up that we can look forward to?

[...] That's the plan, but also I'll start the second season of Dark Materials, probably after Christmas. There won't be much of a gap. I'm on the last episode at the moment, so there'll be a few months, and then I'll start on the next season, which I'm very, very excited about.

[ashleyspinelliburnbook]

S1E3: Jinxed/Officer Mikey

Two very different episodes today, both about the power of friendship (and some other stuff). Let’s dive in.

Jinxed

Before I begin in earnest, I just have to say OH MY GOD that kid getting bitten by the lizard at the beginning and screaming “My nose!” over and over is one of my lifelong “line from media” earworms that I haven’t been able to pinpoint the source of until now!!!

Anyway. We start our adventure by learning about the “kids unwritten code of honor,” which Gus is expressing an interest in breaking because he’s unhappy he got a harmonica in a trade for his lizard. Reneging on the trade, the gang explains, would be a violation of the code, which includes things like never cutting in line and always holding your breath when you go past a cemetery. It’s very important, Gretchen explains, because it separates the kids from the adults.

Enter... THE ASHLEYS.

(L - R: Ashley A., Ashley T., Ashley Q., Ashley B.)

They’re bored, see, so when Ashley A. — who has just overheard Gus’ harmonica troubles — comes over with a scandalous idea, they just have to do it. It’s a dastardly idea: swipe Gus’ harmonica.

But it gets even darker than that when the girls establish that all Gus wants his his harmonica back, so when he says, “It’s my harmonica,” all four Ashleys join him on “harmonica,” and then say, “Jinx!”

(What are the rules around several people jinxing the same person at once? What if one of them calls “jinx” after that? Or if the target is the same, does that all cancel out? It’s probably in the code.)

So anyway, Gus can’t talk, which is a real shame. Because as I’ve learned in the first two recaps, Gus is the kind of kid who will absolutely stand up for himself, whether the gang is with him or not. To have him so viciously taken out of the game like this is a real tragedy.

He goes around the school trying to get someone, anyone, to unjinx him, trying hand motions and writing it out in the sand (which gets destroyed by an Ashley A.-orchestrated kindergartener stampede) before seeing a notebook on the steps and deciding to take it. Unfortunately, that notebook belongs to a sixth-grader, who immediately takes Gus to see King Bob.

King Bob punishes Gus for his insolence until Miss Finster arrives to break it up. When she can’t get Gus to talk, she takes him to Principal Prickly, who calls district headquarters.

Two cops show up along with a Freud-looking psychologist, who tries unsuccessfully to get Gus to talk. They don’t know his name — maybe they still think of him as New Kid — so it’s decided that the cops will take Gus “downtown” to make him talk.

As Gus is perp-walked out of the building (my god, this kid code thing runs deep), the gang overhears the Ashleys gleefully talking about what they’ve done and try to intercept their friend. But they can’t get through the masses that have gathered, all chanting “Quiet Boy, Quiet Boy, Quiet Boy.” It’s a really touching moment only disrupted by the fact that two district cops are taking a child out of school because he won’t talk oh my god

TJ, because that’s just who he is, notices the intercom is unmanned, and he delivers a succinct explanation to the student body: “Gus Griswald has been jinxed.”

“Well what do you know, another jinxed kid,” one cop says to the other. “That’s the third one this week!”

Gus is now known as “Jinx Boy,” his heroic act even more heroic now by his strict adherence to the code — which none of the kids now think might be a bad idea — and the episode ends as the gang jinxes the Ashleys on “Scandalous!”, which, yes.

“Scandalous” count: 5

Takeaway: It’s revealed that the district cops know about the kid code, so I wonder if school employees of a certain level know all about the kids’ secret rules on a deeper level than, say, Miss Finster and Principal Prickly (who, ironically, see the kids every day). Remember last episode, where the workers who came to tear down the jungle gym were sympathetic toward them even as Principal Prickly tried to paint their protest as a riot? There’s something afoot here!

Officer Mikey

Responsibility sucks.

A lot of kids grow up doing chores, sure; helping their parents around the house, cleaning their rooms, that kind of thing. The necessities. So the thing that really gets a kid amped, aside from, you know, kid stuff, is the opportunity to take on responsibility that they’ve chosen for themselves. Something like a sport or an instrument, as long as it hasn’t been forced upon them by a well-meaning parent (or less than well-meaning, because, boy, is there a spectrum there).

Until, well. The kid realizes that in order to get good at the sport or instrument, they have to practice it. And it might be fun, at first! A lot of kids push through the initial frustration of not being good at something right away, because once they’ve got the basics down, it can be fun. Practice isn’t a chore anymore, and going to games or recitals or auditions early in the morning now comes with the reward of seeing their hard work pay off. I, for one, went from thinking about quitting the flute in my first few months because I couldn’t get it to make a sound to getting a flute scholarship for college.

But it doesn’t always happen that way. Sometimes, kids realize that the idea of doing the thing was the fun part, and doing the thing itself is, well, just another responsibility. And that’s not to say it isn’t worth a try, but this process can also function as an early reality check for kids who think that creating their own destiny will always result in a good outcome. (Is that too deep? Was I just a really sad kid? Is this greater conclusion anything bordering relatable?)

Anyway, responsibility? It sucks!

All this is to say, this episode is pretty straightforward (aside from Spinelli being called out by the captain as a “jaywalking punk anarchist,” a label I cannot believe she disputes later in the episode).

Mikey wants to be a school safety ranger, but the captain doesn’t want him. Upon learning that there’s a statute in the safety ranger handbook wherein the captain’s decision can be overridden if two safety rangers sponsor a new recruit, the gang sets out bribing a chain of people to get those two safety rangers to sponsor Mikey: the rangers get to sing the national anthem at the weekly flag raising ceremony, as long as the office aide gets to carry Ashley A.’s books for her, as long as Ashley A.’s little sister (who has stolen her big sister’s diary) gets to sit in King Bob’s throne, as long as King Bob gets a real friend (in this case, a puppy). So, Mikey becomes a safety ranger...until later on his first day, when he reveals he’s quit because he didn’t like getting up early and missing breakfast. Now, he wants to be a jet pilot.

The gang is less than impressed, and so am I, quite frankly. But I get it.

Takeaway: Kids gonna kid. Let them.

[tessatechaitea]

The Extremist #3

I'm disappointed that this half picture doesn't match up exactly with the half picture from Issue #2.

It's probably good I didn't post any of the blurbs that tried to bribe him with a handjob in the backroom of the Portland Comic-con.

Anyway, let's see what happened in "July, Nineteen Ninety-Three"! I'll try to baby it up so Tumblr doesn't shit its diapers.

Peter Milligan begins this issue all Peter Milligany.

Remember that this was written in 1993 when Peter Milligan makes mention of how a person could, at some point, be alone in anything. But also imagine now how the death of an intimate would go in 2019. Back in 1993, Judy is surprised to find that she's whisked away from her grief for long interludes by the bureaucratic machinations of a death in a capitalist democracy. This same kind of thing probably still happens except with more texts and emails and less phone conversations and driving to speak to people in person. But also imagine the non-bureaucratic side of death. We probably have far less close intimate contacts in our physical space now than we had in 1993, at least by percentage when compared with all people we would consider contacts (intimates who now live in another part of the world, people we know only from online, friends of friends we've maybe met once but now sometimes interact with over social media). In 1993. it would be phone calls and personal visits with flowers and cake or cookies. In 2019, you probably receive a deluge of crying emojis and people replying "*hugs*" to your post about your world crumbling beneath you as you try to stagger on with your remaining years bereft of the person you thought you could never live without. I suppose there are plenty of apps where people could send you cakes and cookies so I suppose it wouldn't be too terrible. Should I create an app that sends cakes and cookies to people when they've lost a loved one? It wouldn't cost anything. You'd just have to send me a small cake and some cookies with every use of the app! I can't wait to get extraordinarily fat! The journey is going to be so worth it!

Grief is a savory, selfish feast.

Peter Milligan has a way of expressing potent, terrible truths in such a casual manner that most people probably don't even notice them. There's an almost expressible power in believing you're experiencing something that nobody else has or will ever experience. Or just in knowing that you lived a part of your life unknown to your closest friends and family. I cherish, greedily, the moments of my life spent alone and far from those closest to me and I parcel them out as stories in only the most meager of manners. Hell, I've probably told more about myself and my experiences here on this blog exactly because I know my friends and family don't read it. I might say this every commentary until this series is over but I still don't know if I understand the point of the overall plot. But I do understand that the plot is a way for Peter Milligan to be Peter Milligan. I understand the need for a framework to say things you want to say. Or to just put scenes out there that you don't want to bother encasing in some kind of larger whole that you're less interested in. So here's another scene Peter Milligan had to have thought about and then needed a place to mention it:

Of course people still get horny for their dead partner! But how often does anybody talk about it?! Maybe it's common and I'm just consuming the wrong kinds of media. Alex Trebek never once asked a contestant if they jerk off thinking about their dead spouse!

Netflix's Dead to Me has some pretty frank discussions about the loss of a spouse but while Christina Applegate talks about being horny and wanting to fuck somebody, I don't think she ever says she masturbates thinking about her dead husband. If the point of this story is about dealing with loss, I'm beginning to get it. And that would completely explain why I missed it at twenty-one. I'm only three pages into this issue and it's kicking me in the face with existential issues. Was I too dumb at twenty-one to understand any of this or just too sheltered to really feel it? Maybe I was just too fucking young. Judy finds the key to Jack's Extremist apartment. After looking around the place, she thinks, "It was like having Jack die all over again, but this death seemed more profound. 'I never knew you,' I thought." It's an easy statement to point out that nobody ever really knows anybody. But once, because Jim Starling wrote a terrible run on Stormwatch, I wrote an entire rant about how we all hide our innermost dark secrets from even the greatest loves of our lives. I was essentially asking how can we know anyone if we won't even let those closest to us know our most vulnerable thoughts and terrible crimes (I don't mean crimes in the law and order sense! I just mean like that time you put your finger in your ass and then made sandwiches for your friends and they all got sick and you didn't do it on purpose but you made the connection and nobody must ever fucking know! You know, those kinds of crimes. But not that specific one! I totally just made that one up for effect). So I could repeat myself or just link to the rant or just (and — Spoiler! — this is the choice I'm going with!) move on to page five of this comic book. Judy discovers an old diary written by The Extremist (but not Jack!). Then she finds some of the tapes he burned and salvages a few. She hears Jack speaking about murder and getting pissed on and, most appallingly, calling her "poor dull dead little Judy." She smashes the place up, finds The Extremist's gimp suit, and tries it on thinking, "What the fuck?! Maybe I'll feel sexy and start speaking in sex metaphors!" Then the phone rings. And I suppose the rest is history! And by history, I mean Issue #1! Except I'm only on page seven so maybe I'm jumping the gun. I guess we need to learn how Judy met Patrick and why she decided her life would be better by going out at night murdering people until she comes hard in a leather suit. Oh, I hope that last sentence wasn't too adult for Tumblr! A bunch of pages are taken up by the plot stuff that I apparently paid the most attention to in 1993 and which is the least interesting part of the story (so far!). Patrick "accidentally" runs into Judy and he pretends he doesn't know who killed Jack. He offers to help her find out if she'll pose as The Extremist and do murders and blow jobs for him. Judy is all, "What the hell! Maybe I'll understand Jack a little more! Maybe I'll know why he needed a boring piece of shit like me when he was having such fantastic fuck and murder adventures!" No wait. That's what I would say. Judy just wants to find out who killed Jack and to, maybe, feel a little closer to him. I don't think she's as amped up as I would be about the loads of indiscriminate sex and murdering of the most perverse perverts. The main story ends with Judy making her first kill. She learns that her problem was that she was always living in the past and the future. So even if she had wanted to kill somebody in the moment before, she'd be all tangled up in the past and whether the person deserved it and maybe some of it was her fault and perhaps she's been too hasty with her murder decision. And she'd also be lost in the future like how the person will stop existing and how she might wind up in prison and how the victim's guts are going to be hell to clean up off the floor. But in the moment, she can just satisfy the need without consequence or conscience! She discovers it's a thrill! Well, I could have told her that! I've been playing Dungeons and Dragons since I was ten! Never worry about what the orc did or if it deserved it or if it has family or if you're actually the asshole raiding its lovely home! The actual issue ends with Tony, the black guy on the stoop, sitting in The Extremist's apartment listening to Judy's tapes. He's just finished the last one where she says she's going off to kill Patrick and he's completely caught up in the drama. He wants to know who killed who just as badly as, well, not me but I'm sure some readers were on the edge of their seat at this point. The Extremist #3 Rating: B. I don't find myself caring about the framework. But Peter Milligan has thoughts and those thoughts are well worth the admission price to this story. In a way, this is just an extension of his run on Shade the Changing Man. It's almost the same story if you squint your eyes and unfocus your vision and punch yourself in the genitals. Patrick is the guy on Meta who was pulling the strings to get Shade to go into the Area of Madness and eventually Earth (I forget his name! I bet it was Patrick!) And The Extremist is Shade and Kathy too (they both have similarities to both Judy and Jack, so I don't mean to say either Shade or Kathy is essentially one or the other). The Extremist has crazy missions where they kill and fuck just like Shade and Kathy had! I think. I mean, probably! And Tony is just Lenny in someway that I haven't spent any time thinking about but they were the only characters left!

[wandalives]

This is verging on a form of Holocaust denial and it disgusts me. I feel physically ill at the amount of antisemitism on this person’s blog (a supporter and friend of thanoswarfare). It is a historical fact that Poles collaborated with the Nazis in turning their Jewish neighbors over to them. In some cases, once their neighbors were gone, the Poles stole their belongings and their houses, and when the Jewish survivors came back, some of them were killed by their Polish neighbors. I implore everyone reading and the OP of this post to please continue reading this post, as I have complied quotes and sources that prove what janiedean and thanoswarfare and their supporters have been outright lying about Poland’s role in the Holocaust: Polish Collaboration With Nazis: “Consider the weeks after the German invasion of eastern Poland on June 22, 1941. Public authority collapsed in the face of the advancing German army. In many communities, local Poles and other non-Jews beat, robbed, raped and murdered their Jewish neighbors. Our forthcoming book, “Intimate Violence: Anti-Jewish Pogroms on the Eve of the Holocaust,” documents 219 such pogroms in cities and small towns across eastern Poland, nearly 10 percent of the 2,304 localities where Jews and non-Jews dwelled together. Ethnic Poles were the primary perpetrators in approximately 25 percent of the pogroms; in the remaining instances, ethnic Ukrainians predominated. Consider Szczuczyn, a town of approximately 5,400 inhabitants located near the Lithuanian border that was half Polish and half Jewish. The Germans arrived immediately after the war began and pushed on quickly, leaving behind a small field troop. That same night, groups of local Poles fanned out on the main streets and began murdering the town’s Jews. Not all Poles participated in these crimes, but many did. According to Chaya Soika-Golding, a Jewish survivor from Szczuczyn, the perpetrators roamed the main streets and broke into apartments to steal goods and to murder women and children. In 1945, she wrote a letter to a friend, saying: “They killed Rozental’s children in the marketplace. They had also killed Kheytshe with her six-month-old child at breast and her older boy Grishen.” One Polish eyewitness reported seeing someone grab a Jewish child by the foot and smash the child’s head on the ground. The testimony we’ve assembled reveals that these events had a carnival-like atmosphere to them. In the end, approximately 300 of Szczuczyn’s 2,500 Jews died in this festival of violence. And as strange as it may sound, here’s what brought the violence to an end: The town’s Jewish women appealed not to the Polish elite, who refused to do anything, but to the otherwise diffident local German troops, bribing them to stop the pogrom.” Source: https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.washingtonpost.com/amphtml/news/monkey-cage/wp/2018/02/02/yes-some-poles-were-nazi-collaborators-the-polish-parliament-is-trying-to-legislate-that-away/ The Jedwabne Pogrom: “After being controlled by Russia for two years, Jedwabne, a small town in northeastern Poland, was captured by Germany on June 22, 1941. One of the first questions the Poles asked the Nazis, their new rulers, was if it was permitted to kill the Jews. Brutal killings by the Poles immediately began, and included a Jew stoned to death with bricks as well as a Jew slashed with a knife, his eyes and tongue cut out. According to Jan Gross's book, Neighbors: The Destruction of the Jewish Community in Jedwabne, Poland, the Nazis tried to persuade the Poles to keep at least one Jewish family from each profession, but the Poles responded, "We have enough of our own craftsmen, we have to destroy all the Jews, none should stay alive." Gross writes that Jedwabne's mayor agreed to help facilitate a massacre and that Poles from local villages came in to watch and celebrate the event as a holiday. About half the men of Jedwabne's 1,600 Catholic community participated in torturing Jedwabne's 1,600 member Jewish community, corralling them into a barn, which was then set ablaze.” Sources: https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/the-massacre-in-jedwabne A source for the Kielce pogrom, in which Poles massacred Holocaust survivors: https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/the-kielce-pogrom Please, please don’t let these people get away with this Holocaust revisionism. It is dangerous.