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jokeroutsubs · 11 months

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tportal.hr interview

“Joker Out about success, Let 3 and the Eurovision Song Contest: We are big fans of kitsch!”

Interviewed by Matej Ivušić.

We talked to Slovenian rock 'n' roll sensation Joker Out, the young men who, after a successful performance at Eurovision, sold out Tvornica kulture twice in a few hours, where they will perform in mid-November

Joker Out is the newest sensation of Slovenian, regional and European rock 'n' roll, the result of a very successful performance at this year's Eurovision. They got together in 2016 in Ljubljana, and they have two albums. The band members are Nace Jordan, Bojan Cvjetićanin, Kris Guštin, Jure Maček, and Jan Peteh. They stopped in Zagreb on their way to Belgrade to, among other things, satisfy the media's hunger for interviews as well as to get to know Tvornica kulture, a venue they sold out twice in just a few hours and where they will have two concerts in November. The line for the interview was long, so it's no wonder that everything was a bit late. While we were waiting, their PR Gregor Zalokar kept us company, and he revealed in a pleasant conversation that the boys would perform as an opening act for the renowned band Franz Ferdinand at this year's Špancirfest. What we experienced for the first time was that the interview was interrupted at one point for the boys to sign a bill from the mother of one Ivana, and she will surely remember that day. Although mainly Bojan was giving the answers, everyone wanted to be present during the interview, thus making the atmosphere exceptionally relaxed and cheerful. We mostly talked about their meteoric rise, performance at Eurovision, collaboration with the legendary Elvis Costello, and their plans.

How does it feel selling out two Tvornica kulture in such a short period of time?

Before the concert at Šalata with the group Buč Kesidi, we thought we could count on a solo concert of 250-300 people in Croatia. After that concert, we started thinking about selling out one Tvornica by November. The day before the announcement of Tvornica, we were in agony, skeptical - it is a large space, after all. What happened is unreal. It's incredible that we are in Tvornica for the first time today and we managed to sell it out. It reminds us of Kino Šiška in Ljubljana, that's the vibe. It's bizarre that we released a concert for November that sold out after five hours, and we thought - it's a shame that it's not this Friday!

Although you sing in Slovenian, it is not an obstacle in the region. People see you as their own. Have you considered switching to English, or will you stay with Slovenian?

We will, absolutely, work in multiple languages. Most of the songs on the third album will probably be in English, but I can't say for sure. We will most certainly work in English, Slovenian, and Serbo-Croatian. We are even considering some Spanish and French options. We don't want language to be a limitation for us. It even seems that this experimentation with languages will open new doors to us, which we don't expect, and draw creativity in a different direction. If Enrique Iglesias comes, I think they understand him just as much as us in Slovenian, maybe even less, and that has never been a problem. We don't know why Slovenian would be a problem. If you look at Måneskin, they do it – a little bit in Italian, a little bit in English.

‘WE ARE ALL BIG FANS OF PARNI VALJAK! WE EVEN WENT TO THE LAST CONCERT THEY HAD IN SLOVENIA. IT WAS GREAT'

And what kind of music did you listen to growing up?

Basically, it was rock 'n' roll, different types of rock 'n' roll. Kris mostly listened to The Beatles and Brit-rock music, Nace mainly Fleetwood Mac, some Pink Floyd, and hip-hop. Jure is a big fan of Dire Straits and Parni Valjak.

Parni Valjak?

We are all big fans of Parni Valjak! We even went to the last concert they had in Slovenia. It was great. We also listened a lot to Slovenian music, Slovenian rock music like Siddharta. A great role model is ex-Yu rock and ABBA later on.

I have a related question - how do you view the legacy of the Yugoslav New Wave? Is it the best music from around here?

Bojan: It would be enough for me to listen to the music that has been created on the territory of the former Yugoslavia for the rest of my life. If they shut down all my other media, I wouldn't have any problem with it. As for me, that's the maximum. I'm not talking about the new wave only. I'm literally talking about the end of the sixties; there were great sequences then already. I am a big, big fan of Balkan music.

'WE WERE PART OF THE BIGGEST BAND COMPETITION IN SLOVENIA AND, PURELY AS A JOKE, TO STAND OUT, WE SAID THAT THE GENRE WE PLAY IS 'SHAGADELIC ROCK 'N' ROLL'

Do you guys agree?

We agree!

What would shagadelic rock 'n' roll be? I know it has something to do with Austin Powers, but can you elaborate a bit?

We were part of the biggest band competition in Slovenia and, purely for fun, to stand out, we said that the genre we play is shagadelic rock 'n' roll. Now we see that it applies to the sincere, joyous feeling we have on stage, which translates very well to the audience. When asked why it is, it is because it is honest. People feel friendship, they feel happiness, which is a natural thing for them. It became clear at our concerts, especially now that we are playing outside of Slovenia.

‘WHOEVER SAYS THEY DON'T WANT TO GO TO EUROVISION REALLY WANTS TO GO TO EUROVISION BUT WILL NEVER BE THERE'

Why did you decide to perform at Eurovision? That competition is usually, at least from the perspective of people who play rock 'n' roll, looked down upon - it's a parade of kitsch...

We are big fans of Eurovision and kitsch! We think it is positive that we are not a rock band, but a rock 'n' roll band, a shagadelic rock 'n' roll band. That means that we are not ready to accept established frameworks. The result we are experiencing now is the result of always saying 'no' to those frames. We certainly play pop-rock and mainstream music, but there is more hidden inside than the surface - that's why it was successful. Eurovision was a wonderful mini-experiment, a chapter in our book that we really wanted to experience once in our lives. We are happy that we got to experience it this year, as if everything is happening at the right moment. Anyone who says they don't want to go to Eurovision wants to go to Eurovision but will never be there.

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How was it to you?

Terrible! It was a great experience, not only in Liverpool but also at all the pre-parties in Europe. We were in Barcelona, Madrid, Warsaw, Tel Aviv, Amsterdam, and London. We met all the representatives of other countries. We are even performing with the representatives of Ireland. We had two concerts in Dublin and now have a British tour. Many doors are opening for us. It was stressful, but also a wonderful experience, which we will remember for the rest of our lives.

How did you like the performance of the Croatian representative?

They were great! They hit everything from start to finish. The song speaks for itself, but visually it was one of the strongest performances. As people, they left a good and positive impression on us. We spent a lot of time with them, they were very warm and accepted us very nicely. We are proud of that. It is a band with a long history, after all.

'IF YOU WANT TO FOLLOW THE MUSIC SCENE IN THE BALKANS, YOU MUST FOLLOW TRAP. WE DON'T LISTEN TO THAT, BUT WE HAVE A LOT OF FRIENDS WHO LISTEN TO VOYAGE, FOR EXAMPLE'

Now something completely different, which surprised me. How did the collaboration with the legendary Elvis Costello come about?

You only saw that yesterday?!

Yes!

We were collectively on a safari. A lion attacked a neighbouring truck, attacked Elvis. We jumped off the truck and caught the lion. We held him long enough for Elvis to run back to the truck. After that, he had huge scratches on his legs and arms. To calm him down, we gave him headphones with our album. The song 'Novi Val' calmed him down so much that he wanted to write lyrics in English. When he was in the hospital, we held his hand while he received the antibiotic, and we sang together. It came to the point that it had to be a collaboration.

Did you make this up right now, or is it a story you usually tell?

It's not a story. It happened. It's true.

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As young people, do you follow the most popular genre at the moment – trap?

If you want to follow the music scene in the Balkans, you have to follow trap. We don't listen to it, but we have a lot of friends who listen to Voyage, for example. We'll probably start hanging out with these artists soon, performing together, which seems fun. We got introduced to z++ at Šalata. He is the only trap artist who is pop enough to be great to listen to. We were starstruck. We hope that there will be more such opportunities in the future. In the club, that is fine too, but in the general spirit it may be a sign that something is wrong with society, purely because of the message, not because of the music. The theme is usually pure hedonism that is not based on reality. There is a lot of crime, which might be reflected in society. Maybe we need more songs about love, even if it's an unhappy one.

Would a collaboration with Senidah be acceptable to you?

Senidah is, collectively, very dear to us. She was the first Slovenian performer who 'killed it' in the Balkans after a long time, but it was music in the Serbo-Croatian language. It was a sign that it's possible to go out of the area that is not accepted as the Balkans, and still succeed there. We wanted to try what she was doing.

'WE'RE GOING ON A BRITISH TOUR, A SHORT TOUR – MANCHESTER, LIVERPOOL, GLASGOW, LONDON, WHICH WAS, AMAZINGLY, SOLD OUT IN FIVE MINUTES'

What are your future plans?

A lot of plans. We pride ourselves on still being an independent artist. We base all plans on the fact that a team can withstand it. We're going on a UK tour, a short tour – Manchester, Liverpool, Glasgow, London, which was, amazingly, sold out in five minutes. We will play in the Electric Ballroom in London, a legendary venue in Camden where the greatest artists have played, which is beyond reality. We will also have a Nordic tour - we play five concerts in Norway, Sweden, and Finland. We are also planning other European countries, which we will not announce now because we do not have confirmed dates yet. There will be at least one new single along with the start of working on a new album and concerts in Europe.

Pictures source: TPORTAL.HR

Author: MATEJ GRGIĆ

ENG translation by Teo (@yiboego on Twitter)

#joker out #nace jordan #jan peteh #bojan cvjeticanin #jure macek #kris gustin #Youtube

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parthia-valdi · 9 months

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It is done... I hope you like it @crees-a

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

From the day they were born, they knew that this would be their future. A forbidden and impossible union that took place in a strange and suspicious way. In the form of a pair of babies with identical bodies and faces, but totally different and bizarre complexions for those who belonged to that world. A strange combination of the people of the day and the night with different results.

One of the little ones was all bright orange marble, with a beautiful shine. The only thing that betrayed its abominable origin was that fur on the left side of his head, darker than the rest of him. He also had fue around his head. White and in the shape of huge flower petals... Or like sunbeams. While the other was a dark shade of blue, with part of his white fur on his chest he had a long mane on his head that fell back in a cone shape, fireflies always encircling his body. But like his twin, there was something terrifying about him. Half of his face was white marble, as fine as the moon itself. And it even had its shape.

When they were found, the little ones were baptized as Sunrise and Moondrop. And separated by their peoples at that precise moment. Both were welcomed by the guardians, and thus they grew without the presence of the other. But they weren't totally oblivious to it. The incessant whispers, the gazes that dug into his skin like sharp stones, and the constant mention of his twin was something Moondrop had to live with on a daily basis. For being how he was, for being different. The only way he could escape from those noises, from that incessant murmur, was by sleeping. When he slept, nobody did anything to him, and everything was calm. Because when Moondrop slept, everyone in the night forest slept with him.

But Sunrise didn't have an easy upbringing either. The rocks could hardly be damaged. But his fur side had been the victim of many abuses. The pain was such that he spent the whole day hiding. Always behind his teacher so as not to be humiliated or attacked again. But when he was alone, the insults and taunts would not stop. Until one day... He just decided to smile. Sunrise believed that if he always smiled, the pain would go away and he would truly be happy. The big smile was etched on his stone face, his beautiful amber eyes with no visible pupils narrowed, giving his face a creepy touch. No one ever knew where they were looking, and many times the smile scared many. Sunrise began to act more cheerful, more childish, more... Irritating. Gradually the discomfort stopped. And no one but the guardian could bear to be with him.

Separated and in worlds that caused them pain, they both grew up away from everything. Until the day destined for them...

___________________________________________

"Moon! Wake up!"

"zzzzzzzz"

"Moondrop, I know you are awake. If not then everyone would be falling asleep right now. So stop pretending and get up! This is the day that you were expecting all your life!"

"Yeha, the day of my doom"

The faun was in a sleep position inside his favorite tree. The one furthest of everyone and everything else. Right on the edge of the woods.

"Come oooon! Don't be like that! Get up right now!"

The little bird started pecking on the faun's head, that made him sit up very fast.

"Ok! Ok! Ok! I'm up now, Chica! See?"

Moondrop sighed at his friend's insistence. His only friend. He sighed and climbed out of his tree as the small white, pink and green bird followed him, flying right next to him.

"This is amazing! The next Guardian of the Moon being late for his own ceremony! What will others think of you?!"

"Their opinion about me can't get any worse. I'm tired of even caring about it"

"But! Today you will become a guardian! His opinion of you could improve!"

"I don't mind"

The little bird could only sigh as she continued to fly next to the faun, a sad feeling gnawed at her inside.

"Not even to meet your brother?"

That's why Moondrop stopped. Chica recognized the look on his face. Curiosity, uncertainty, fear...

"... Neither I care."

___________________________________________

"RRRRRRRRRISE AND SHINE! MISTER-!

"Sun! I'm awake already! I'm always awake"

The guardian of the sun was high above his temple, heading towards the meeting place to start the ceremony.

"I always wonder how you can scale the temple so quickly. As far as I know, you can't fly."

"Ho Ho Ho. As the next Guardian of the Sun, I can have my secrets, right?"

Sunrise hugged the former guardian tightly, its bright amber color gone with the passage of time, cracks appearing every time he moved. The guardian hugged the little sun back.

"I can see you're excited about this"

"Oh yeah yeah yeah! I mean, I've always wanted this! Do you think a lot of people will come? I hope so! Should I prepare a special speech? Or do an act praising the sun? I have sooo many ideas!"

"And you will do absolutely none"

His master's harsh tone silenced him immediately. Clear. He couldn't go off script.

"Of course not..."

"It's okay. You're excited. It's normal"

"Uhm... Do you think he'll be there?"

"Who? Roxxane? I already told you that love is a big distraction in your tra-"

"No! No! No no no no! No Roxxane! I... My brother. He'll be there, right?"

"Of course I do. If it's the next Guardian of the Moon together with you, it should be present."

That was the best news. He could finally meet his brother.

___________________________________________

Seconds turned into minutes, and then into an hour. An hour since the ceremony had started. An hour of waiting for the next Guardian of the Moon to show up. The people of the night whispered among themselves, while the people of the day complained loudly. The Guardian of the Moon just sighed every so often, and the Guardian of the Sun tried to maintain his composure. But of all, the most nervous was undoubtedly Sunrise. He trembled from his place in the light, enduring the little taunts directed his way. Where was his brother? Why didn't he come? Had something happened to him? Should he go and look for him?

That's when Moondrop appeared, coming out of some bushes from the forest. They all looked at him, some with disappointment and others with anger. As the little bird next to him apologized on his behalf for being late, he simply walked over to his place at the ceremony. Even after this day, nothing was going to change for him.

"... Brother?"

A voice he did not know called out to him. And immediately he knew who it was. He did not hesitate to turn around to face the one who had been separated from his side. The shape of their bodies and faces were identical, except for many things, such as the colors and shape of their fur. The amber rock being was the only one who looked at him differently. There was wonder in his pupilless eyes, and a small smile on his face. His face, half stone and half fur. Same to him.

Skipping all protocol they both approached the shadow part. They wanted a closer look, they wanted to be together. A strange voice in their heads asked them to. Near the two at last, neither knew what to do. If Moondrop turned his head to get a better look at the other, Sunrise copied him, in perfect sync. If Sunrise raised his hand, Moondrop would do the same. Both at the same time approached their hands and joined them by their palms. Strangely. One furry and coarse, soft to the touch. The other fine and shiny, with small claws at the end, hard as stone. But they both fit perfectly, the same size, the same shape. But opposite, and equal in some way.

#fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant sun #daycare attendant #daycare attendant moon #daycare attendant au #Mune! Au #mune guardian of the moon #fnaf chica #glamrock chica #Creesa_Mune!AU

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 months

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The Waves are Rising and Rising

|Beginning| |Previous|

Chapter 16

Nearly there! The final chapter will post on Monday.

--//--

Jin Guangyao wakes slowly and groggily. His mind is a hazy mess of spinning thoughts, none of which he is able to reach out and focus on, so he lies still and stares up at the ceiling for a while.

It is morning, he is able to deduce, eventually. The shutters over his window are closed, but the light is leaking through, and it looks like morning.

Alright. He should get up and get ready for the day. He’s probably late for something… and yet for some reason he cannot summon the appropriate panic; so far he can only focus on one thought at a time.

So. First, he will get up and get ready. He pulls back the covers and sees that he slept in his day robes, which is strange but not an insurmountable issue. He will just have to change. He stands and strips methodically, folding each layer with his usual meticulous care, before lifting the pile to-

A pile of cream silks. Rumpled and dirtied, with some parts torn beyond repair.

A slowly growing puddle of blood.

Jin Guangyao drops his clothes and drops to his knees, fingers clawing in the silk, gasping for breath.

No, that couldn’t have…

Did he kill his father? Did he kick his own father down the Jinlintai steps?

No, no, that couldn’t have happened. And Jiang Yanli lying for him, and Nie Mingjue telling him he loved him — it’s too bizarre. The story is hazy and strangely elusive, like snippets of a half-remembered dream.

Could it have been a dream? It must have been. That’s the only thing that makes any sense.

Jin Guangyao dresses himself in fresh clothes purely on muscle memory. He puts on his boots, combs his hair, reapplies his vermillion, puts on his hat, and stands in the middle of his bedroom, staring at everything and nothing.

Is his father dead?

Did he kill his father?

Surely not. No, he could not have. What a ridiculous idea.

He walks blindly across his room and opens the door. He blinks as he sees a small gaggle of anxious, harried looking servants, and his most senior assistant.

“Lianfang-zun!” The assistant blurts, clearly deeply relieved. Ah, of course, Jin Guangyao realises — he must have overslept. That’s why he feels groggy, and why everyone is so desperately waiting for him.

There will be serious consequences for this. Jin Guangyao is certain he will start feeling dread just as soon as he can shake off the lingering dreamlike haze.

“I have orders to bring you to Jin-zongzhu immediately,” the assistant says, glancing anxiously back at the group of servants who also clearly need his direction. They will have to wait; the sect leader always gets prioritised, as is right. Once he has finished bearing his father’s wrath, he will be able to move along and help them too.

You killed your father, his mind whispers, but he ignores it. What a ridiculous notion. He is a filial son. He would never do such a thing.

He follows the assistant through the corridors towards the sect leader’s official office. It feels like he is in a play, just acting out his part, just going through the motions. The son attends to his father, and so he goes, yet he is completely detached from the whole thing. The assistant knocks, and when the door is opened another crowd of servants are revealed. They all part immediately when they see him, to reveal…

Jin Zixuan sitting at the desk.

He looks about as exhausted as Jin Guangyao feels; he is usually a man who takes great care in his appearance, dressing and styling himself immaculately with the famous Jin vanity, but today there are bags under his eyes that he has not bothered to conceal, his vermillion dot is slightly smudged, his golden guan is just a little crooked atop his head, and there’s a poorly cleaned spit-up stain on the right shoulder of his outer robe.

Why is Jin Zixuan sitting at their father’s desk?

You killed your father.

The image of the crumpled pile of silks surfaces abruptly in his mind and he nearly staggers with the force of the realisation that it wasn’t a dream at all, none of it, he actually killed his father, he actually did that, and —

Don’t think that I won’t put your tendencies to good use, my boy.

I gave her that worthless pearl and she fell for the same old story as all the others.

Hot on the heels of the horror is fierce, burning anger, and the shock that… he does not regret killing his father. And mixed up in all of those feelings, there are more, complicated ones —

Jiang Yanli lied for him.

Nie Mingjue said that he loved him.

But people are looking at him expectantly and only one of those facts is relevant here, standing in this office. He shoves down the clawing yearning that the memory of Nie Mingjue’s tender embrace evokes and tries to keep his expression neutral. The dread he’d been expecting finally arrives. The hazy feeling has gone and now he feels nothing but pure fear and panic, making his mind race and stomach churn.

What does his brother know about what happened? If he has been summoned to the office, rather than immediately dragged to the hall for a public execution, does that mean-

“Leave us,” Jin Zixuan says, gesturing dismissively with his hand — and then ruins the regal command by knocking over a pile of papers with his voluminous embroidered cream sleeve. Jin Guangyao scurries to collect them as the servants file out (taking the opportunity to pull himself together properly) and once the door has shut, his brother hides his face and swears under his breath.

“Thanks,” he groans, when Jin Guangyao stacks the papers back on the desk neatly. “Sorry, I’m — I’m a mess. I spent half the night meeting with the elders, and the rest of it trying to get A-Ling to sleep.”

The sleep deprivation seems to have left Jin Zixuan unusually candid. Jin Guangyao spares a moment to feel glad that it does not do the same to him.

“Do xiongzhang and his wife not have a nursemaid for such situations?” He asks politely.

“Oh we have a nurse, I just…” Jin Zixuan drops his hands from his face onto his desk, and then looks down at them, “well, to tell you the truth, I… I wanted to get better at it. I get so nervous looking after A-Ling by myself, and A-Li said the only way to get over that was to practise, and god knows she needs the rest, so I usually try and get him back to sleep at night and just bring him to her for feeds…”

He trails off. “I’m- I’m rambling aren’t I? Shit. Sorry. This has all been so sudden,” he shifts and resettles himself in his seat, straightening out his spine. “Sit down, please. Um. How are you? Zewu-jun seemed very… concerned. He said you were in shock.”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao says, kneeling on the cushion on the other side of the desk, awkwardly neatening his skirts around him. “Fuqin’s death was…”

Karmic, his mind supplies with an unexpected viciousness.

“A great blow, both to the sect, and to myself personally.”

Jin Zixuan nods solemnly, “It must have been terrible to witness. I know you two were… close.”

Close? Close? Jin Zixuan’s voice has a note of envy in it, which is deeply fucking bizarre. Did Jin Zixuan really believe that their father actually valued Jin Guangyao — and valued him more than his legitimate son? True, Jin Guangyao spent more time with their father than Jin Zixuan, but only because it was Jin Guangyao’s job to be at the sect leader’s beck and call, not because they had some kind of… loving rapport.

Jin Zixuan truly had no idea what was going on right under his nose at Jinlintai. Jin Guangyao’s head spins trying to imagine how the world must look from his half-brother’s perspective. His head spins faster trying to figure out what exactly is going on here. What does Jin Zixuan know?

What is going on? What is going on?

He can do little more than nod.

“I have heard the account of what happened from A-Li, so I don’t need you to tell me about it, don’t worry. Although…”

Jin Zixuan’s gaze turns strangely assessing, and the hairs on Jin Guangyao’s neck stand up as he is abruptly reminded that this man used to be a soldier. He’s such a ridiculous, awkward fop of a man that it’s easy to forget that he is just as dangerous as any other young master of their generation. Threat, his hindbrain hisses in response to that look, despite the crooked guan and spit up on his robes.

“Zixun had quite a few things to say about how he believes fuqin died.”

A bolt of cold terror shoots down Jin Guangyao’s spine. Jin Zixuan grew up side by side with their cousin, a legitimate-born Jin man, and only met Jin Guangyao a few years ago; of course he would take Jin Zixun’s side over his bastard half brother. Shit. Jin Guangyao’s muscles tense, as if readying him to flee.

And then, utterly unexpectedly, Jin Zixuan gives him a wry, tired smile. Jin Guangyao freezes, no idea what to expect.

“But he has been talking a lot of utter rot recently — accusing Wei Wuxian of cursing him when everyone knows he’s been in Gusu for weeks?” Jin Zixuan snorts, “The elders and I agree that it’s likely stress from the Hundred Holes curse. So don’t worry about that, I’ll deal with him.”

Can it really be that simple? Has Jin Zixun really inadvertently absolved Jin Guangyao through his own reputation for paranoia? Jin Guangyao’s mind spirals. After everything, could it really be that easy? Has Jiang Yanli lied to her husband to save him with the drive of second-hand sartorial affection? Or does Jin Zixuan know the truth, and he’s just chosen to let the rest of the world believe a lie? Jin Guangyao doesn’t know, and even through the strange flood of relief, the not-knowing itches under his skin.

“There was, uh, something else he said, though.” Jin Zixuan’s intimidating air disappears immediately as his shoulders grow tense and he goes back to looking down at his hands, pressed flat on the surface of the desk. “Something that I thought I should check with you about.”

The dread instantly reappears in Jin Guangyao’s stomach. Mouth dry, he makes a questioning sound; far too informal, but he cannot manage to speak, gripped with such sudden paralysing fear.

Jin Zixuan cringes pre-emptively, and immediately Jin Guangyao knows what he’s going to say. “Zixun said that you’re sleeping with Chifeng-zun and Zewu-jun. Um. Both of them. Together.”

Oh gods. No, no, no — this can’t be happening. Nausea rises in a bubbling wave. Jin Guangyao should keep his face composed and deny it all, just laugh it off as another ridiculous story from their cousin, truly the curse must be addling him if he’s coming out with such things-

But he hesitates to reply, and whatever shows on his face must be enough to confirm it, even as he blurts, “Ah, xiongzhang, I-”

Jin Zixuan quickly lifts up his hands, cringing again, “No, no, you don’t need to tell me — in fact, I don’t want you to tell me! I have no idea why people seem to relish discussing other people’s private lives so much,” he huffs, visibly marshalling his embarrassment, swallowing and valiantly attempting to meet Jin Guangyao’s eyes. “Look, as far as I’m concerned, what happens between you and your sworn brothers behind closed doors is your own business, alright?”

Jin Guangyao stares at his half brother, utterly stunned. He can think of nothing at all to say.

“Do they… um, do they treat you well?” Jin Zixuan asks.

Jin Guangyao nods numbly.

“Good. Good.” Jin Zixuan fiddles with the end of one of the ink brushes in its holder, eyes darting back and forth to Jin Guangyao’s face, then down to his desk, “I, uh, thought they would but - but A-Li said it was important for me to check. As your brother.”

“Right.” Jin Guangyao manages weakly.

An awkward silence descends between them. As the adrenaline from the fear begins to recede, Jin Guangyao feels almost giddy; he has the strangest urge to laugh, and has to clench his fists in his robes across his lap to keep the impulse trapped behind his teeth.

Jin Zixuan blurts, “I just- I just need you to let me know if you’re planning on marrying either of them and leaving the sect, alright? Because I…” he makes a somewhat hysterical noise in the back of his throat and squeezes his eyes shut, “gods, I have no idea what the hell I’m doing — fuqin didn’t exactly plan on dying so soon, so he did not prepare me at all, and it turns out he kept me in the dark about a whole lot around here, a whole lot of things that really should not be happening, and I-” he sucks in a frantic breath, “-and this is just the worst timing because A-Li is still recovering and she needs me, and A-Ling still isn’t sleeping through the night-”

Jin Guangyao realises, to his surprise, that he actually feels… sympathy for Jin Zixuan. The man is pathetically, woefully out of his depth here, and clearly doing his best not to fall to pieces in a way that, irritatingly, makes it oddly easy to look at him and see a person, rather than just a very privileged obstacle.

Jin Zixuan sucks in another breath, deeper this time, clearly trying to compose himself. “Ah. Anyway. I’ve appointed Mianmian as my Vice General-”

“You mean Luo-guniang?” Jin Guangyao cannot help but interrupt, confused and incredulous, “Xiongzhang, that position is tang-xiong’s by birthright, is it not?”

“Yes, technically, but… well, with the stunt he pulled with Wei Wuxian — it has somewhat eroded our faith in his judgement, and no one wants another diplomatic incident with everything else going on. The elders have recommended that he go and visit our outer cousins in Laoling for a while, whilst he recovers from the curse. Forcibly, if needed,” Jin Zixuan grimaces at the prospect of such familial disgrace, then moves on quickly. “And even muqin agrees; Mianmian has a lot of martial experience from the war and she's got a good tactical mind and a level head, she's the best choice. Anyway, she's my vice general, and I want to make you my vice envoy. I realise it's the same position you had with Nie Mingjue so it's, uh, it's not really a proper promotion and I'm sorry about that but it would make you my second in command and-”

Jin Zixuan keeps speaking, but Jin Guangyao doesn’t hear. Abruptly, he sees the future rolling out in front of him like a scroll; his brother, a well-meaning, honourable family man, good at keeping up appearances but poorly equipped for politics, without a single canny, cunning bone in his body. Himself, a bastard son, still doing the same work as he did for their father, but with a proper acknowledged rank now, carrying true authority, at the right hand of someone who desperately needs his help and knows it, who is willing to acknowledge it.

Someone who actually appears to want to be his family, even if it's only to make his wife happy.

“I'll do it. Yes.”

Jin Zixuan stares at him, wide eyed, mouth gaping stupidly, “You'll be my second?”

“Yes.”

“Oh thank the gods,” Jin Zixuan slumps in his seat, radiating pure genuine relief. Jin Guangyao can't help the dazed smile he gives in response. “I mean, technically it's your right as my younger brother, but A-Li said you might like to be asked properly in case you had any better offers elsewhere.”

Better offers…? The only role above the right hand of a sect leader would be sect leader itself, and he couldn't-

Oh. Or spouse of a sect leader, which, considering their previous conversation, makes more sense. Before he can spiral down that particular rabbit hole, he realises dazedly that Jin Zixuan is talking again.

“-And obviously you’ll have to get rid of that hat.”

Jin Guangyao’s hands immediately go to the hat on his head, touching the gauze protectively with his fingertips. “But… fuqin gave it to me…”

It would look bad to immediately get rid of it as soon as Jin Guangshan has died — and, despite it all, he still feels a deep sad ache in his chest at the prospect of relinquishing his father’s first gift to him. It had meant something to him, to receive this hat.

Jin Zixuan raises an eyebrow, puzzled. “But that is the hat of an administrator, or… or an accountant, a civil servant. If you are my second, you should dress like it, should you not? You’ll need some new robes, too.” Jin Zixuan searches through the piles on his desk until he finds a specific sheet of paper, which he scribbles a note on. “Take this to the tailor tomorrow and they can get started on a fresh wardrobe for you, and you’ll need to consult the sect jeweller to get you a set of appropriate guans, and maybe a new belt.” He pauses, and squints at Jin Guangyao, holding out the note, “Are you okay? You’re swaying.”

Is he? Jin Guangyao hadn’t even noticed. He feels… dizzy.

There’s a knock on the door. Jin Zixuan calls for them to come in, and several servants enter carrying arms full of white cloth.

“Ah,” Jin Zixuan says, face falling. In his busyness, it must have slipped his mind that he is only in this position because their father has abruptly died. Jin Guangyao sees the grief flash over his face briefly before he is able to pull himself together again.

One of the servants hands Jin Guangyao his own set of white grieving robes, with a sash to wear for more public events. Jin Zixuan is talking tiredly about needing to cut A-Ling’s celebration short and send their guests home so they can organise a funeral, and Jin Guangyao should be paying attention because this will likely be his job to do, but all he can do is nod vaguely.

“A-Yao?” Jin Zixuan calls, in the manner of one who has already called for him and not received a response, and Jin Guangyao blinks rapidly.

“Ah, xiongzhang, my- my apologies…”

Jin Zixuan frowns. “Perhaps you should go to the infirmary.”

“No, that’s not necessary, I’m quite alright.”

“I insist,” Jin Zixuan says, in the sternest tones Jin Guangyao has ever heard from him. “Take those robes back to his rooms,” the grieving robes are lifted out of Jin Guangyao’s unresisting arms, “and A-Yao — go and get some rest, alright? This can wait until tomorrow.”

Jin Guangyao leaves the room feeling just as strange as he had when he’d walked in, but it is as if the whole world has turned upside down in just the few minutes that they have been talking. He walks the corridors back towards his rooms in a daze, desperately trying to make sense of it all. After passing three or four members of the Jin court who immediately break into whispers upon seeing him, the part of his brain that is always sharp and alert for any kind of social danger finally surfaces and urges him to take a moment to collect himself.

He finds a side room, bars the door, then backs into a corner, drops into a crouch, and cradles his head in his hands. His breathing is fast. He tries to wrestle his thoughts into something that makes sense.

What are the facts?

Jin Guangshan is dead. Jin Guangyao almost certainly killed him.

But no one is investigating Jin Guangshan’s death; Jiang Yanli’s account appears to have been largely accepted and so it has been agreed as an accident. Jin Zixun’s claims have been completely unsubstantiated.

With Jin Guangshan’s death, Jin Zixuan has become sect leader.

He may not have the brains or political acumen of their father, but he knows those are skills Jin Guangyao has, and he’s acknowledged that he needs his help. And by making Jin Guangyao his second, officially (and by commissioning him the correct robes and guan to convey his status) he is showing the world — and their family — that Jin-zongzhu thinks he has worth. That he has bestowed authority upon Jin Guangyao, the authority that is his birthright.

And, finally… Jin Zixuan knows about his relationship with his sworn brothers.

And he doesn’t care.

Jin Guangyao will not be exploited, or humiliated, or sold for political favour. Jin Zixuan doesn’t want to blackmail him with the information, or hold it over his head. He just seems to want to know as little about it as possible.

The sickening, bone-deep terror that had been so all-consuming that Jin Guangyao’s own mind had hidden it in self-defence has just… vanished.

What now?

What is he supposed to do now?

The trembling in his hands slows and he gradually becomes aware, like surfacing from troubled sleep, that his breathing is scraping in his throat, the ragged back and forth of it the only sound in the room.

The first order of business is probably to stop breathing like that, as he’s fairly sure it’s at least part of the reason he’s feeling strangely light and floaty. It’s easier said than done with only himself to rely on, but he manages it in increments, forcing himself to inhale without gasping; hold it as he counts to seven; and then exhale again with control, counting once again to make sure he’s actually slowing down and not just hyperventilating in a different way.

Breathing normally — done.

He lifts his head to look around and finds that he can do it without things tilting or warbling around him, which feels like a step in the right direction.

You’ll be alright, A-Yao. We have time.

Nie Mingjue’s voice is crystal clear in his memory and despite his efforts Jin Guangyao sucks in another sharp gasp, though he catches himself in time to hold it in his lungs and not let it ruin his hard work.

They have time.

Time that he desperately wants to have with them. Time that he can spend loving them knowing that he has his brother’s approval to do whatever he wants with them. He has his Sect Leader’s express approval to court his sworn brothers, and the promise (that he trusts entirely) that Jin Zixuan no more wants to know what they do together than Jin Guangyao would want to tell him (i.e. not in the least).

Jin Guangyao lurches to his feet and practically flies out of the room again, startling a serving girl just approaching from further down the corridor into squeaking and dropping the artfully arranged flowers in her arms. He doesn’t stop to apologise, he simply lengthens his stride and arrives nearly running in the guest area of Jinlintai, each lavishly decorated pavilion tucked among the gardens suited to showing off as much grandeur and wealth that Lanling Jin can boast. Jin Guangyao slows his steps only when he passes the few visitors milling around in the mid-morning sun and does his best to ignore the thought that further whispers must be starting in his wake as he goes.

He can feel another wave of trembling weakening his knees, making his palms sweat, curling nauseously in his belly, tightening his lungs. It’s like a storm on the horizon, looming over the sprawling plains that surround Jinlintai with enormous thunderheads flashing from the inside out with bolts of lightning, roiling and far-off yet, but looming closer and closer.

He stops for nothing, not even to knock, and when he throws open the door to Lan Xichen’s guest quarters he feels wild, scraped raw around the edges, something far too big and heavy doing its best to escape his throat as he finally stops in the doorway with a white-knuckled grip on either side of the frame.

“A-Yao?” Lan Xichen asks, startled, as he whips around from his pacing back and forth in the middle of the room. Nie Mingjue is there as well, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him with wide, wary eyes. Jin Guangyao doesn’t blame him for his caution, he feels like he must look like a wild animal. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Lan Xichen crosses the empty space between them in three long strides to take him by the shoulders and bring him into the room, sliding the door shut behind him much more gently than Jin Guangyao had opened it.

Nie Mingjue stands, his expression quickly darkening as Jin Guangyao assumes he begins to think the worst; how could he not, after Jin Guangyao’s fears last night and his harried appearance this morning? He has to say something, he has to stop their fretting, he has to tell them-

His hands are shaking — all of him is. He has to tell them-

“I love you!”

It’s mortifying. It rings in his ears, it burns in his chest and in the corners of his eyes. It’s far too much, and it’s such a meagre offering; it’s been so painfully obvious from the start, and it’s one of so many things he had vowed he would never, ever burden them with.

Lan Xichen’s hands tighten on his shoulders. Jin Guangyao looks up at him, full of frantic fear that has him in a chokehold, and he curls his hands under Lan Xichen’s elbows to hold him right where he is. He thinks if Lan Xichen pulled away from him now he might finally shatter.

Neither of them say anything for a few beats too many; he can’t stand the silence, and though he doesn’t exactly want to keep talking about feelings, though it makes him want to crawl under the bed and hide for at least a week to let the embarrassment of wanting lose some of its sting, he meets Lan Xichen’s gaze first, then Nie Mingjue’s, then back to Lan Xichen to add, “I’m in love with you… both. Both of you.”

Not his smoothest speech ever, he notes with a distant sort of hysteria under the high-pitched ringing in his ears that’s sprung up in the sudden absence of the weight on his chest. He watches Lan Xichen’s face carefully, hunting for the smallest indication that Jin Guangyao has somehow read him wrong all this time.

But no, that’s impossible. This is his er-ge. His shock fades into a smile that would melt a much harder heart than Jin Guangyao’s and his hands slide up from his shoulders to cradle his jaw like Nie Mingjue had before he’d left last night. Jin Guangyao knows him, knows his heart like no one but Nie Mingjue could hope to match. His doubts have no real basis whatsoever, not with Lan Xichen. How silly of him to have forgotten, even for a moment.

“See I told you it would be fine,” Nie Mingjue grumbles from right beside them, but before Jin Guangyao can ask what he means Lan Xichen takes one hand off his jaw to jab his index finger into Nie Mingjue’s sternum, his smile still firmly in place but with a strangely manic edge as he turns it on their sworn brother.

“You and I are not done talking about this, but now is not the time.”

“What else is there to talk about?! He’s fine!”

Actually he’d very much like to sit down for a minute.

“A-Yao!”

Jin Guangyao lets Lan Xichen lower him to one of the cushions at the table in the centre of the room in a much slower descent than his buckled knees would have allowed unassisted, and Nie Mingjue has the decency to look at least slightly apologetic as he joins him to pour him a cup of tea once Lan Xichen scoops his guqin off the table and back into his sleeve.

“Alright, so you’re slightly less than fine. Do you want to talk about it?” Nie Mingjue offers with the warm ceramic he presses into Jin Guangyao’s palm. Jin Guangyao takes a moment to lament that this is apparently one half of where his heart has gone, but, well. Very few people in this world know Nie Mingjue as he does. It might have been an accident but he can’t say he was uninformed of the risks of falling in love with a man as bull-headed and tactless as Nie Mingjue can afford to be.

Jin Guangyao sips at his tea and watches Nie Mingjue over the rim of the cup for a long moment, Lan Xichen falling to his knees beside him in a rustle of silk to rest a cautious hand on his, below the edge of the table. Jin Guangyao tangles their fingers together without thought and tugs until Lan Xichen comes closer, then closer still, pressed against him from shoulder to knee. Jin Guangyao leans more heavily on him and sets his empty cup down with a quiet click; Nie Mingjue raises an eyebrow at him, still waiting for his answer.

He knows he could say that he doesn’t want to talk about it. And he really doesn’t, not actively. Life would be so much easier if everything could be understood without having to be said, if everything important that needs to be communicated could be done silently the way he and Lan Xichen can do — entire conversations held in gestures and smiles and glances across a room.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t have to, but he will.

“I saw Zixuan this morning,” he says and Nie Mingjue’s other brow rises to join the first on its way towards his hairline. “He… knows. Zixun told him.”

A muscle in Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenches and Lan Xichen goes stiff as a board beside him, his perfect posture somehow even straighter.

“What does Zixuan know?” Nie Mingjue almost growls. “And what has he threatened to do?”

Jin Guangyao blinks a few times and then thinks back to the previous night, to the things he’d told Nie Mingjue, the things Jin Guangshan had done and said–

The panic sparked by the thought of Nie Mingjue tearing through Jinlintai to find and threaten Jin Zixuan right back for whatever imagined intimidation he thinks has happened is enough to break the dam holding back the latest flood of words waiting to break free.

“About us! Only about us!…I think. Zixun told him what fuqin learned and I-I couldn’t deny it in time, I didn’t... I couldn’t deny you, either of you. He… asked me to be his vice envoy. He wants my help, he wants me to stay here and not to marry out of the Sect, which — I know-” he addresses that last to Nie Mingjue, whose mouth had fallen open at the word ‘marry’ and though he’s sure Lan Xichen’s reaction is worth seeing as well, quite frankly he’s too afraid of how much longing he’d see on his face to actually look up at him, “— which is out of the question when one thinks about the long-term realities of it. But he doesn’t… he doesn’t mind what we do, short of that. He doesn’t want to know. He won’t... he’s not like our father.”

That is, perhaps, the understatement of the century.

Silence falls briefly as Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue both process the, admittedly slightly disjointed, account Jin Guangyao is trying to give them. He has no patience for silence at the moment though, and it’s hardly fallen before he’s talking again to fill it, unable to sit through it calmly.

“I want to stay in Lanling. I will be a proper member of the family now, Zixuan has already begun making arrangements, I’ll be allowed to hold A-Ling-” it hits him like a bolt of lightning as he’s rambling that that will undoubtedly be part of the deal and he can’t help the bewildered smile that stretches across his entire face. He doesn’t dwell on it for more than a moment though before he’s continuing, “-and of course we will need to readdress the logistics of our arrangement; my initial rules no longer apply for what I feel are very obvious reasons. Perhaps a contract is in order — I can’t marry out of the Sect but a marriage is as much about insurance for mutual benefit as it is anything else, we can do that, er-ge is there paper and ink here? I can write something quickly, it could be similar to our brotherhood vows for simplicity’s sake in which case it would hardly take any thought at all-”

Jin Guangyao manages to get one foot under him and twist at the waist to try to stand before Lan Xichen’s arms lock around his waist from behind, hard as iron and utterly inescapable.

“You will do no such thing,” Lan Xichen ducks his head to press against the curve of his neck, punctuated with a firm kiss that lingers for long enough that Jin Guangyao gradually becomes aware of his pulse hammering in his chest, thrumming under the steady pressure of Lan Xichen’s mouth.

Silence falls again but this time Jin Guangyao doesn’t break it, choosing instead to accept the cup of tea Nie Mingjue pours for him and passes him with far too much amusement in his expression for Jin Guangyao’s liking. He just drinks it instead of attempting to do anything to wipe that smug look off his unfairly handsome face. (Mostly because his preferred method would be, of course, to kiss it off him, but there’s a table and Lan Xichen’s restraining arms in the way.)

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen finally murmurs and rocks him gently back and forth a few times, smiling against his skin, “my heart, of course we can do whatever suits us all best, we would never ask you to leave your family. Perhaps we can discuss it later?”

Jin Guangyao’s heart does something complicated in his chest that he has trouble parsing through. The most easily identified element is a clench of panic at the thought of delaying the process of… whatever they’re going to do; he’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s told his sworn brothers he loves them and neither of them have, as of yet, returned the sentiment in as many words. Is there a window of opportunity he’s going to miss to secure their continuing presence in his life if they delay whatever it is they can do to bind themselves together in a new way?

“Of course, er-ge,” he agrees — is he allowed to disagree? He tries to gauge Nie Mingjue’s thoughts on it but for once his expression is inscrutable as he glances between them for a long moment or two, clearly thinking about something, though what is a mystery.

“Writing up a…contract can definitely come later, after you’ve rested some more,” he finally says, slowly, “but I don’t think we have to wait to at least discuss some things. I think maybe we should do it now, actually.”

That tickles something in the back of Jin Guangyao’s mind; Nie Mingjue had said something very similar last night, hadn’t he? He tilts his head a little and studies the tense set of Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, the determined clench to his jaw.

“Yes,” he agrees, finally. “Yes, please. I have some… questions.”

“Thought you might.”

Lan Xichen presses another kiss to Jin Guangyao’s neck and sits up straight again with a little huff that from anyone else might be irritation.

“Considering you barged into his room during a traumatic time, confessed your feelings, then simply left, one would say it’s perfectly understandable and expected that A-Yao has questions,” Lan Xichen says a little too tartly, so apparently the huffy sigh was a rare sign of irritation for him as well. Interesting.

“Yes I had that same thought,” Jin Guangyao says with a little twitch of his lips. Perhaps it’s the adrenaline wearing off, perhaps it’s the absurdity of all of this, but unlike last night he finds himself more amused than anything now. What had Nie Mingjue been thinking? He’s sorely tempted to ask that question directly, but instead he settles for, “Why now? I thought you couldn't stand me. What’s changed, da-ge?”

Nie Mingjue’s voice is so tender it borders on unbearable as he asks, “Hasn’t everything?”

The irritated tension in Lan Xichen’s arms around his waist loosens. “Mingjue?”

Nie Mingjue scrubs a hand over his face once aggressively enough that Lan Xichen tuts, but he doesn’t reach across the table to try to stop him.

“Look, I just… I’ve been so angry for years, and even I couldn’t tell how far I’d gone until that night we cultivated together properly and I felt like me again, how I used to be, before the war. I can’t think straight with Baxia screaming in my head more often than she’s quiet. But even before that night I couldn’t just ignore everything I saw; I’m not some monster incapable of observing the evidence right in front of me!”

Nie Mingjue visibly takes a deep breath and, as he had last night, seems to drag his rising agitation back in and re-center himself before he continues.

“The things you did in Qishan were things that I couldn’t overlook, A-Yao. And in a lot of ways I still can’t-” Jin Guangyao forces himself to ignore the way that twists a barb under his ribs “-but I think… I understand now, in a way I didn’t before. You give everything you possibly can — to everyone important to you, not only to me — and you’ve been trying to make me see for years that it doesn’t make a damn difference. It was easier to believe the worst of you when I couldn’t see your bruises and your exhaustion and your pain, but I refuse to take the easy way out anymore. You deserve better than that, A-Yao.”

That sounds far too good to be true.

“I just told you last night that my father ordered me to kill you.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of it, but there’s no taking it back (no matter how much he wants to the moment he says it).

“Why didn’t you? You had countless opportunities, so why didn’t you?”

Excuses immediately spring to the front of Jin Guangyao’s mind, the sorts of things he would have said (that he did say) to Jin Guangshan when he demanded to know the same thing. He couldn’t have done it without Lan Xichen figuring out what was happening; there was more information to be gained if they waited; there were other projects that took priority.

But that’s all that they are — excuses. Excuses aren’t reasons.

Nie Mingjue meets his eyes like he already knows (because he does; Jin Guangyao told him the night before last, confessed it in the calm after the storm when they’d been alone together with the weight of Nie Mingjue’s fragile mortality hanging like a sword over their heads). “I didn’t want to. I don’t want you to die, I never have.”

“Because you love me?”

Jin Guangyao breathes slowly through the squirming discomfort at being seen through so clearly — it’s his own fault, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Because I love you.”

Nie Mingjue shrugs and it’s only slightly less irritating today than it had been last night. “I’ve decided everything else is secondary so long as that remains true. Maybe things are clearer after nearly dying, or maybe it was A-Huan’s scolding, but I’ve realised some things… matter more to me than others.”

“You have deserved every scolding I have given you these last two days,” Lan Xichen sniffs, but Jin Guangyao can feel the tension in him again for daring to stand his ground in a way that, by its very nature, involves being something other than conciliatory. Jin Guangyao can empathise.

“I know. Nothing about this has been fair to you, A-Huan.”

Lan Xichen relaxes again ever so slightly. “I would hardly say ‘nothing’ about this has been fair. I can think of a few... select moments that have been better than even I dared hope.”

The innuendo is impossible to miss and though Jin Guangyao resists the urge to lean back enough to insinuate himself into Lan Xichen’s lap, he can’t help but smirk even as Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“Ah yes, of course. So I shouldn’t apologise for this entire ordeal then?”

There’s no trace of teasing at all in Lan Xichen’s voice when he replies, “You do not have to apologise for any of it, Mingjue. You know I would do all of this and more; I would do anything it takes to keep you.”

Nie Mingjue’s expression softens again; Jin Guangyao isn’t entirely certain he can take much more of this. They’re so earnest, and so clearly in love with each other. It’s impossible to figure out if he wants to bask in it or close his eyes so he isn’t forced to witness something that feels like it should be shared in complete privacy.

“You shouldn’t promise that, A-Huan, we still don’t know what will happen in the future even if I try to find some solution with Wei Wuxian-”

“I know, but that can hardly change that I will do everything in my power to help no matter what comes.”

“A-Huan, my love, you have to be realistic-”

“Sweeping statements are best avoided when entering into contracts. If you would just let me begin outlining one we could avoid such promises that could prove too difficult to keep!”

This time he makes it as far as actually rising from the floor before Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen both pull him back down (gently, carefully) until he’s once again kneeling at the table and tucked even more firmly in Lan Xichen’s embrace.

“A-Yao you’ll be just as capable of writing something suitable in a few shichen as you are right now. Sit with us for a while at least, hm? You should still be resting.”

How is he supposed to argue when Lan Xichen is like this? He concedes with as much dignity as he can muster and earns himself a kiss on the cheek for a consolation prize, so perhaps it’s worth it to let Lan Xichen win every so often.

Nie Mingjue props his chin in his hand as he watches them, seemingly content to end the conversation there for now. Jin Guangyao supposes that’s fair — there’s more that they need to discuss, perhaps just the two of them, but he finds that he trusts Nie Mingjue. As sudden as this all is, it doesn’t feel wrong, and in fact on further consideration it actually isn’t all that sudden either. After all, hasn’t Nie Mingjue been calling him ‘A-Yao’ since the day he drained himself and his core down to nothing to try to prove his devotion? Hasn’t Nie Mingjue been softening towards him by degrees for the greater part of a year? Perhaps they were always going to end up here, and it’s only with the benefit of hindsight that Jin Guangyao can see the path they’d set their feet on a long time ago.

Either way, they’re here now, and Nie Mingjue is smiling softly at him as Lan Xichen toys with a lock of his hair just beneath the brim of his hat in a way that would put him to sleep if he were slightly more horizontal, so what is there left to question, really? The rest of it can wait, as they’ve been insisting.

“I agree with A-Huan, the contract or whatever you want to do can be done later. Right now you need to rest.”

“You know, you both keep telling me to do that right after saying things that make it incredibly difficult to sleep,” he gripes, despite the fact that his eyelids are, in fact, growing heavier by the moment. It’s Lan Xichen and his beautiful hands — how’s he supposed to stay awake with gentle fingers combing through his hair like that? But he has a point to make, damn it, and undermining it by passing out cold is going to be annoying.

“Mm don’t worry, my heart,” Lan Xichen murmurs with another soft kiss to his cheek, “I’ve already made it clear to Mingjue that he needs to make it up to you, what happened last night. Later.”

Jin Guangyao grumbles but lets himself be hauled off the floor at least and cajoled (gently) into bed, once Lan Xichen has carefully divested him of his hat, boots, and his outermost robe for the sake of comfort. He makes it as far as laying down with one of Nie Mingjue’s arms beneath him, prepared to pull him to his side, before he sits bolt upright so quickly Lan Xichen has to jerk back lest he get a headbutt straight to the nose.

“Wait — I have to… arrangements, for the guests! A-Ling’s celebration, it’s… well it’ll have to be a funeral and there are things to arrange with the servants before everyone grows too restless-”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Nie Mingjue growls and he doesn’t pull, but he does tighten his grip enough around Jin Guangyao’s hips that it would be more effort than it’s worth to attempt to break it. Besides, even if he did break it Lan Xichen is still standing beside the bed, arms slightly outstretched like he’s prepared to tackle him back to the mattress if need be, and he’s certainly in no state to avoid both of their efforts simultaneously.

Perhaps he should just… lie down again. Just for a minute.

Nie Mingjue pulls him to his chest as soon as he’s horizontal again, tucking both arms firmly around his waist and tucking him under his chin which is really just fighting dirty at this point. He’s warm and sturdy and his shirt is unfairly soft, all his stiff outer layers already discarded with his and Lan Xichen’s usual alacrity.

“There will be time for arrangements later, and quite frankly I would fear for the future of the jianghu if a friendly gathering of fully grown cultivators couldn’t handle themselves long enough for you to have a nap,” Lan Xichen agrees much more softly as he joins them, slinging his hair casually over his shoulder to avoid laying on it as he gets comfortable on his side, facing them. Jin Guangyao’s eyes sting a little as Lan Xichen leans in to kiss his forehead once, and then tips his chin up the few inches necessary to do the same for Nie Mingjue.

“You forget, er-ge, that there has been a poisoning and a nasty… accident-” he barely manages to force the word out at all, it certainly isn’t possible to say it normally, but neither of his partners indicate that they’ve noticed his hesitation, “during the course of their visit. It’s natural they would look for some sort of direction from their host sect as to how to approach the situation-”

Lan Xichen kisses him, which as far as redirection tactics go is both effective and pleasant.

“I haven’t forgotten at all, A-Yao. They are, in fact, my primary motivations to ensure you rest. I believe you will be kept quite busy handling all of this the moment you leave our sight, so will you let us be selfish and keep you to ourselves long enough to feel reassured that you are heading into battle properly rested and armed?”

There’s truly no winning when Zewu-Jun joins the battle against you. What else is there to do but give in? Jin Guangyao relaxes into Nie Mingjue’s chest and only feels a small flash of guilt for the relief of having the choice (lovingly, gently) taken from him.

Nie Mingjue’s hum of approval is nearly subvocal, more of a low vibration in his chest pressed against Jin Guangyao’s back than a true sound. Jin Guangyao’s eyelids droop and he doesn’t fight it. He stays awake just long enough to send a mental apology to anyone who will be inconvenienced by his disappearance, but the guilt isn’t quite keen enough to stop him falling asleep within the next moment.

|NEXT|

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #The Waves are Rising and Rising #Jin Guangyao #Nie Mingjue #Lan Xichen

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stardustndreamsofsilver · 1 year

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Figment

Part Three

Jake x Reader (f)

Warnings: none

Find All Parts Here

The next morning you woke up to the sound of birds outside your window. Opening your eyes, you sit straight up in bed. All the memories from the night before come flooding back. Jake suddenly disappearing. The panic and fear taking over before you blacked out. How did you get into bed? When did you change into the pajamas you were wearing the morning before? Your heart started to race. Throwing off the blanket, you rush out of bed and toward the hall. Just as you step out of your bedroom, you hear, “Hey babe?”

You stop in your tracks. “Yeah?” You answer nervously.

“Can you come here for a second?”

The feeling of deja vu courses through you. “Sure, hold on!”

Walking toward where you’d heard the voice come from, you swallow thickly. Trying to calm yourself, you take a deep breath and enter the sunroom. There he was, sitting in the same spot as he was yesterday. Confusion swept over you. What was going on? Where had he gone last night? Why had he said those words?

“Hey baby. I heard you get out of bed, so I wanted to see if you wanted to go get breakfast at that little cafe you love.” Jake said with a soft smile, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Uh, sure. Jake, what happened last night? Where did you go?” You question.

“I didn’t go anywhere.” Jake says with a confused expression. “You came home late from work and went straight to bed.”

“Did I?” You ask, raising your hand to your head. “Are you sure? What day is it?”

“I’m sure. It’s Sunday.” Jake says with a furrowed brow.

Sunday. But Sunday was yesterday. Sitting in the chair closest to you, you run your hands through your hair. How is that possible? Jake stands from his seat and walks over to you. Kneeling beside you and placing his hand on your thigh, he looks up at you and asks what’s going on and if you’re okay.

“I— I don’t know. Maybe it was all just a dream.” You mumble.

Then you remember the journal entry you’d started before Jake called for you the day before. Practically leaping out of the chair, you jog to your office. Walking around your desk you grab your journal and open it. Everything you’d written was gone. It was if it had never even been written. Jake comes in as your flop into your office chair.

“What’s going on?” He asks, worry lacing his voice.

“I had the most bizarre dream.” You say.

You proceed to tell him all about it. About how he’d called for you the same way he had this morning. How he’d said he’d missed you because you’d been so busy with work. About the two of you spending the day together. You told him about the dinner you’d made and how you’d eaten it on the back porch. You told him the song that played as he swayed you back and forth. The words he’d said before everything started to spiral. How you’d searched for him and there was no trace of him anywhere.

“That is some dream. I’m sorry it scared you so much.” Jake says as he pushes off the desk he’d leaned against as you spoke.

“It felt so real.” You mutter.

“Sounds like it. But I can promise you it wasn’t. I’d never not eat a perfectly good steak.” He jokes.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Yeah, that really should have clued me in, huh?” You chuckle.

“It really should have.” He laughs.

Taking your hand, he pulls you up out of the chair and into his arms. “Let’s get you dressed and out of the house. We can do whatever you want today.” He says, kissing your temple.

“Sounds good to me.” You breathe.

Leaving the office, you go and get dressed. After you’re dressed, you walk into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee before you and Jake go out for the day. Grabbing the old coffee pod, you go to throw it away. Opening the trash can lid, you freeze. Inside is a white bag. The words ‘The Baked Bear’ written across it. The bakery you’d ordered dessert from. The bag you’d grabbed from the delivery person. Your face goes pale and you feel all warmth leave your body.

The sound of footsteps jerks you out of your stupor. Putting the coffee pod back in the coffee maker, you go to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“Are you ready babe?” Jake asks with a smile.

“Yep, let me just grab my purse.” You say sweetly, acting as if nothing was amiss.

You grab your purse and head outside. The two of you walk to the car and get in. Once you’d buckled and settled in, Jake reaches over and grabs your hand.

“I love you.” He says.

You smile and say it back. Jake grins and starts the car. As he pulls out of the driveway, you look out the window and rack your brain for an explanation for what is going on. Nothing seems to make sense. Shaking your head, you inhale deeply.

“Jake, if it was all a dream, why was there a bag from the bakery we ordered from in the trash?” You question.

Jake stops the car and looks over at you. Eyes dark and cold. “You saw that?” is the last thing you hear before the world once again goes dark.

#jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka greta van fleet #jake x reader #gvf jake #gvf blurb #gvf imagine #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf series #gvf mystery #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van mystery #greta fic

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scrapyardboyfriends · 1 year

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So I watched the Charity/Mack wedding episode since I’m working from home today and happen to have not had a meeting during it...

I just can’t believe they actually had them get married and they’re dragging all of this out even longer.

Also they need to name all of these babies better...Reuben?! I mean we’ve got a Rueben and an Esther and a Dotty and let’s not forget Moses. I mean I also hated the name Seb for a long time and got used to that but still...

But back to Charity and Mack and this terrible story...I just...

It’s the Charity/Jai/Rachel story mixed with the Robron/Rebecca story but worse than both.

At least you were rooting for Robron and you could kind of hate Jai and see the writing on the wall because they fundamentally disagreed on the kids issue. With Charity and Mack, I’ve never known how to feel because it all just feels like a lot of last minute decisions to cover Michelle’s maternity leave.

So on the hand you have Vanity who are the popular ship and all of their fans loathe Charity with Mack. And there’s the question of whether or not they will eventually try and put Vanity back together once Michelle stops having kids but is it too late for that at this point? Or will they still try?

And so the part of me that kind of likes some aspects of Charity and Mack in that he does seem to love her for her and not need her to change (kids issue aside, and even that I think he does kind of ultimately want her more than kids of his own even though that’s what he’s got now) is doubly frustrated because they feel doomed due to the story and due to a possibility of future Vanity.

One of the things that always frustrated me about Vanity was that Vanessa never really seemed to get Charity in a lot of ways, was always trying to change her or getting upset at her for any scheming and such. And some of those changes were good but also it was just the same conflict over and over and that got exhausting and she never seemed to really trust her with the big stuff like cancer and Johnny.

But, while majorly underdeveloped due to everything feeling like a last minute change, Mack does seem like a decent choice for her if you ignore you know the whole lying to her for months and cheating on her and having a baby with someone else part. And his bizarre age thing, but that’s a whole other story. So I could like that.

But was this all set up to fail just to bide time for Michelle to return? Possibly. Probably. And then there’s the fact that they’ve done a whole lot of damage to both characters to facilitate this idiotic pregnancy story no one asked for. The kids conflict is annoying and already done with Charity multiple times. Charity looks like an absolute idiot not noticing anything is going on despite Chloe living with them and everyone acting shady. The fact that multiple family members know about the Chloe situation and no one has told her is even worse. And any character growth she has had now that she thinks she’s in a stable relationship is all just going to get trashed again and for what?

And then of course it all makes Mack look like an asshole. At least Robert came clean and he and Aaron dealt with everything before they had their legal wedding. All this carrying on with Mack lying constantly just makes him look worse and worse and I don’t really know where they take his character after this. When he first showed up he was fun and snarky and full of possibilities and now...what? He just gets stuck in a revenge story with Charity? Plays Daddy to Reuben? Yells “My boy, my son” a lot with no reprieve? It’s just kind of a waste.

That’s not even addressing Chloe who got sucked into this story after getting passed around to all the village guys for the sake of plot who has had so many convoluted revelations about her backstory that she’s just never been properly developed as a character but guess what! You’re a mom! And that’s all that matters on this show. Congrats, you’ve been fulfilled.

(this isn’t even getting into the absolute absurdity that was the entire A Team wedding nonsense that seemed to have come out of nowhere just so they could do something dramatic and silly and promote it)

Sigh...And this is why I usually only watch one episode every two weeks. Haha.

#ed lb #emmerdale complaints corner

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changingplumbob · 7 months

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Knightstone Household: Chapter 7, Part 3

Suzanna and Silas are looking forward to a new addition to the family but Adam still has some reservations. Suzanna has a pretty difficult workday thanks to mood swings and a nosy coworker. Silas has zero patience and asks his parents what birth is 😬

The Knightstone family send out signals for local aliens to drop by their house for a nice pride get together where they don't have to act human. Suzanna has met some before but for Adam they're the only ones he's met apart from his wife. Silas is delighted to discover more aliens do exist.

Alas the hour grows late and Silas needs a power nap. The aliens take time to discuss the bizarreness of human food and what they imagine Sixam might look like. Talk turns to Suzanna's pregnancy and they debate good names, and wonder who he will grow up to be.

Everyone seems interested in Suzanna's desire to reach the top of the science career so she can find a way to Sixam. They make her promise to keep them informed, they are all curious about a place they belong to yet have never seen. The night draws to a close, everyone dons disguises and heads home.

Silas: I not want to sleep, I want to see aliens

Suzanna: I know starshine but it's past your bedtime, do you want a story

Silas: Yes please

Suzanna: Nice manners, pops will come tuck you in after he finishes writing

Silas: But if I'm asleep-

Suzanna: He'll still be in

And indeed he is.

Adam decides to start the week right with a workout. My sims haven't been completeing the jogs I send them on lately so TV workout it is. Silas wakes up happy, excited about his upcoming brother. He tucks into his breakfast while his parents bustle about the kitchen.

Silas: Mummy will my brother be here today

Suzanna: Not today starshine

Silas: Tomorrow

Adam: Babies take time to grow son

Silas: Oh, day after tomorrow

Suzanna: *chuckles* We'll have to wait and see, birth can take a long time

Silas: What birth

Suzanna: Hmm

Adam: Remember the bird story

Silas: Blue birdies loved pink baby bird

Adam: Remember how the bird hatched from the egg

Silas: *nods*

Adam: Birth is how aliens and humans hatch, it'll get your brother out of mummy

Suzanna: Many animals give birth like cats-

Silas: Mummy please don't break like egg

Adam: *pales*

Suzanna: I won't

Adam: Where to son

Silas: I garden with mummy

So Suzanna sets about harvesting, weeding and watering while Silas plays in the dirt. After a while she notices he seems sad.

Suzanna: Are you okay Silas

Silas: I want my brother to have fun with me

Suzanna: He will, just not today

Silas: But I want him now

Suzanna: Silas we can't have everything we want right when we want it, sometimes we have to be patient

Silas: No!

Suzanna: Well you can say hi to him even though he's inside

Silas: I can?

Suzanna: Yes, he can't hear just yet but we can still talk to him

Silas: Hi brother, I hope you are warm in there

Silas: Mummy, what if he not like me

Suzanna: Not everyone will like everyone BUT you can show him you love him

Silas: I love you brother, please love me

Suzanna: Come here starshine, pops and I love you

Silas: Forever

Suzanna: And ever

Silas tells her all his plans to make his brother love him.

Suzanna's first work task is to try an Ox Strength serum. She doesn't have the ingredients but there is one already in her inventory, bottoms up! And... Well there's just no moodlets at all from it. She acts nauseous but the thought bubble assures me that's pregnancy related.

Suzanna: Hey Nalani, funny thing

Nalani: Yes

Suzanna: Aging is on this week and I noticed your son aged from baby to infant

Nalani: That's right

Suzanna: I also saw he's called Silas, just like my son

Nalani: What a coincidence

Suzanna: Don't copy my next baby name all right

Nalani: You're pregnant? Congrats

Next serum of the day, fixers luck. Suzanna has to make it, test it and then tinker. I worry things may have gone wrong with those sparks. She's already sad from pregnancy mood swings. I'm in luck though and the serum works fine. She gets an electronic upgrade part tinkering with the coffee maker.

Now to make and give away some synthetic food. I know Suzanna is sad but really hoping she can make a successful batch. No one at the lab seems to like testing her serums, especially when they appear tainted.

Suzanna: Could you try this

Nalani: Will it make me pass out like Faye

Suzanna: It's not a needs fixer

Nalani: Will it make me a perma ghost like Shelly

Suzanna: I really thought that would have worn off by now

Nalani: Not last I saw her. Fine, you're my friend, I'll try it

She drinks and observations show no bad reactions

Suzanna continues with her work day, trying her best despite feeling blue. When she finishes her tasks for the day she takes some time to socialise with her co workers. She has been so busy trying to be promoted she doesn't know them all. But she knows Faye who is lost in her own little world.

Faye: I know you're an alien

Suzanna: What? Because I praised your work ethic

Faye: You're glowing blue. Do you think as a scientist I wouldn't believe in aliens? It was a ruse to get your guard down

Suzanna: Oh, I-

Faye: Relax, I won't tell. If I was an alien I wouldn't want people to know either

Suzanna feels embarrassed and her relationship with Faye drops into negative. She felt so proud to be an alien yesterday but now new doubts are surfacing. Is Adam right? Is this world determined to make aliens feel bad? Should she be excited or guilty about bringing a new kid into this environment?

Suzanna tried her best to put her worries aside once her workday was over. She was meeting Adam for their second ultrasound. Since he was panicking about their second son she didn't want to risk proving him right by expressing her own doubts. They made it just before Dr Farias shift ended.

Dr Farias: I must say I've never seen anyone in their second trimester with so much muscle

Suzanna: I think the balance of the Ox serum must have been off, it looks weird for me to

Dr Farias: How are you all feeling today

Adam: Sad

Suzanna: Hungry

Dr Farias: Remember to look after yourselves

Suzanna: We try

Dr Farias: Your boy seems to be developing well

Adam: That's a relief

Dr Farias: Are you still opting for natural delivery

Suzanna: Yes

Dr Farias: It will be quite different from giving birth by surgery machine

Suzanna: I know but I want to try

Dr Farias: I'll see you when it's time

Adam: You're quiet, is something wrong starlight

Suzanna: Faye knows

Adam: Knows what

Suzanna: That I'm an alien, she just declared it at work

Adam: That boar

Suzanna: What if you're right? What if bringing another alien into the world is a terrible idea? Am I just condemning him to a life of misery?

Adam: My life doesn't feel miserable. I love my life with you! Does your life feel miserable?

Suzanna: Not normally

Adam: All kids have troubles right, his will just be unique

Suzanna: Do you think we could... go see that counselor again?

Adam: For unwanted pregnancies? Yeah, I'd appreciate it actually

Suzanna feels lighter after their session and checks in with Adam. Turns out he has thought about this enough and is ready to accept the pregnancy! Suzanna is delighted and has a chat with the baby inside her before heading to sleep with less worries.

Previous Part ... Next Part

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #Rotation7 #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #KnightstoneHousehold #SilasKnightstone #SuzannaKnightstone #Adam Knightstone #R0702

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e1igius · 1 year

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couches have always been a little small for him ; but it's better than sleeping outside. and at least the place is warm. the man's pretending to be asleep , half wake in some bizarre state of exhaustion. when he'd arrived in town two weeks ago he certainly was not expecting to have reconnected with anyone there. and the last person he'd expected to reconnect with was the man now sleeping in the other room. but as thoughts waned and melted away he wasn't sure what to do with them all. there was so much happening , and just like last time he felt like an outsider to it all. as if he had gotten there late. as if he had never been meant to be here. he wants to know what to do , what the right next step is. but he can't do most of the things he wants to ; not right now. with the fbi searching for him across the country. with his name plastered on the news in every major city in texas &. california. he has to be careful.

it's pure surprise that he hasn't seen it here. but even then he's hesitant to stay in a motel or hotel and risk leaving a paper trail. he had broken into empty houses the first week. slept on peoples beds but never in them. he's eventually found a place to rent , but it isn't available till the end of the month ( a couple more days ) , so he was just planning on sleeping on a park bench somewhere. the marine corps is good at teaching you how to be homeless. he certainly hadn't been expecting the biker to wake him up from the midday nap in the park and ask him why he had all his shit with him. one thing left to another and he'd been offered the couch for a few days. a strange act of kindness form an even stranger ally.

so there he was , sleeping ( or pretending to ) on a rundown couch someone had probably fucked on. but he was thankful , even if he didn't have the strength to say the words aloud. he couldn't do anything right. and the thought of it was just exhausting. even the one thing he was good at ; he'd ended up failing.

as minds race , they move , he does. a soft groan escapes the thrity-two year old's lips as he moves into a seated position. he can't sleep. so he's not going to bother. hands find his hair as he starts to mess with it. trying to think from one thing to the next , his head is focused on the missing. the missing men from the town that no one seems to remembers. but he remembers , and caed remembers , and --- and he feels bad. as if his return has caused it , or maybe if he had been there sooner it wouldn't have happened. he doesn't know why , this place always feels like he's made it at the wrong time. it's aching for him to return , but it screams at him to leave. he tosses his head back. reaching into his travel backpack for a can of coors. downing the can in seconds and tossing it into the nearby trashcan. his entire life is in the bag. a cell phone sitting at the bottom has two numbers saved on it. a passport , his old military id , cash , and a fresh change of clothes. everything else had been taken by the government. he'd lost everything.

he wanted to kill everything. everything that had caused this downfall needed to be removed form existence. everything needed to die. but one thing at a time , one step in front of the other , one mystery , one tragedy , one crime at a time. the missing men ; he needed to focus on it. william was missing. eddie was missing. and he doesn't think he'd be where he was today if it wasn't for either of them ( though that might , have been a good thing ). it's then that he remembers something. they've looked everywhere there used to be portals. but the portals before were linked to ---- their childhoods , their important locations , their impactful moments. and huck would venture a guess that , all of those are different now. he knows for sure none of his life moments are here , all except --- one. so , they're probably looking in the wrong places. all of which would be great , except he doesn't want to wake up caed. because he's probably wrong and overthinking it. or under thinking or something.

but his feet move before he askes them to and before he knows it the man is knocking at the door of the other's room at three in the morning. with an unhinged theory and a fresh can of beer.

@prettybrawler gets a early 2000s lets save the s/t world starter

#prettybrawler

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xtruss · 1 year

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Moustafa Bayoumi: Republicans Have a Serious Antisemitism Problem. It Isn’t Ilhan Omar

The GOP’s animus is based on what the outspoken, Black, African, female, Muslim congresswoman is and what she does

— Friday 3 February 2023

The GOP continues to vilify Ilhan Omar because they believe they can. And they believe they can because she’s everything their constituents are afraid of. Photograph: Jonathan Ernst/Reuters

Who remembers how, in 2018 and just days before the deadliest attack on Jewish people in US history, a prominent US politician tweeted: “We cannot allow Soros, Steyer, and Bloomberg to BUY this election!”? The tweet was widely – and correctly – understood as dangerously antisemitic, particularly heinous in a period of rising anti-Jewish hatred. And whose tweet was this? If you thought the answer was Minnesota’s Democratic representative Ilhan Omar then, well, you’d be wrong. The author was none other than the House majority leader at the time, Republican Kevin McCarthy.

And who can forget when Marjorie Taylor Greene, who has tweeted that “Joe Biden is Hitler”, speculated that the wildfires in California were caused by a beam from “space solar generators” linked to “Rothschild, Inc.”, a clear wink to bizarre antisemitic conspiracy theories. Incidentally, Greene, who has a long record of antisemitic and anti-Muslim statements, has been recently appointed, by the same Kevin McCarthy, now speaker of the House, to the homeland security committee.

Then there’s former president Donald Trump, who dines with Holocaust deniers like Nick Fuentes and antisemites like Ye. In stereotypically anti-Jewish moves, Trump has repeatedly called the loyalty of Jewish Americans into question. Just this past October, he wrote that “U.S. Jews have to get their act together and appreciate what they have in Israel – Before it is too late!”

In case it’s not obvious, let me state it plainly. Today’s Republican party has a serious antisemitism problem. The easy acceptance and amplification of all sorts of anti-Jewish hate that party leaders engage in emboldens all the worst bigots, raving racists, and far-right extremists across the globe, all the while threatening Jewish people here and everywhere.

“What really gets under the skin of the GOP (and some Democrats) is that Omar won’t merely fall into line and toe today’s gentle political orthodoxies”

So it is more than a little rich that House Republicans voted on Thursday to remove Ilhan Omar from the foreign affairs committee, where she’s served since 2019, because, they say, of her antisemitic views. Suddenly the Republican party has found God, so to speak, on this issue? Hardly. In fact, any reasonable observer would see that the Republicans have set out to punish Omar for an alleged set of misdeeds which they themselves frequently indulge in. The fiasco would merit a hearty eye-roll if it didn’t cheapen the very real threat that antisemitism is today.

The Trump-aligned wing of the Republican party has long had it in for Omar, and it’s not difficult to understand why. They’ll tell you that it’s a matter of what Omar says, but in reality it’s about what she does and who she is.

What really gets under the skin of the Republican party (and some Democrats) is that Omar won’t merely fall into line and toe today’s gentle political orthodoxies. She has a point of view. She is often critical of the actions of both Israel and the United States (and Saudi Arabia, India, Russia, the Taliban and many more). As the political analyst Peter Beinart argues, she uses her position on the foreign affairs committee to ask tough questions to everyone. But instead of seeing her willingness to challenge convention as a right of democracy, her detractors see her principled questions and positions as an anti-American threat. This is unsurprising, considering the banal state of our overly conformist foreign policy politics. “Her worldview of Israel is so diametrically opposed to the committee’s,” the Texas Republican Michael McCaul told the AP. “I don’t mind having differences of opinion, but this goes beyond that.” Difference of opinion is great, McCaul seems to be saying, just as long as it’s not real.

Then there’s the political angle. In the last session of Congress and in a break from tradition (which usually leaves party discipline to each party), Democrats stripped Republicans Marjorie Taylor Greene and Paul Gosar of their committee assignments after the two fomented violence against specific Democratic lawmakers. Now, the Republicans want their turn. Representative James McGovern, the top Democrat on the House rules committee, characterized the actions against Omar this way: “This is about vengeance. This is about spite. This is about politics.”

But to think that only cynical politics or lack of principle is motivating these specific attacks on Omar is to miss the bigger picture. The fact is that almost no one (except perhaps Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez) endures the same avalanche of hatred and abuse that Omar suffers daily. Trump called her his “worst nightmare” and led a campaign rally in 2019 where the crowd chanted “Send her back!” in reference to Omar, who came to this country as a child refugee from Somalia. Today, she is routinely assigned a security detail because of multiple credible threats on her life. Because she represents the promise of a multicultural, multifaith, multiracial and multiethnic America, her presence alone is a threat to those who think their version of the United States, along with their traditional privileges, is evaporating in front of their eyes.

The Republican party continues to vilify Ilhan Omar because they believe they can. And they believe they can because she’s everything their constituents are afraid of. Omar is outspoken, principled, Black, a refugee, African, female and a hijab-wearing Muslim. But what they’re really showing us is something far more important. They’re showing us how antisemitism and Islamophobia travel on the same road, and how that road is a dead-end highway to nowhere.

— Moustafa Bayoumi is the author of the award-winning books How Does It Feel To Be a Problem?: Being Young and Arab in America and This Muslim American Life: Dispatches from the War on Terror. He is Professor of English at Brooklyn College, City University of New York

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biak-kei · 2 years

Text

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Relationships: Giorno Giovanna/Jolyne Kujo, Diego & Johnny as the couple's children. Stellar appearances by other characters.

Words: 4000+

Warnings: Some surrealism. Canon typical violence.

Context: Giorno and Jolyne are a divorced couple. This is an excerpt that can be read as a standalone from Chapter 4 of my fanfiction A Shadow in My Heart. It is not necessary to read the whole story to understand.

Disclaimer: JJBA does not belong to me, it's by Hirohiko Araki. I'm doing this just for fun.

[...]

xox

Giorno opened his eyes to the sun shining on his face. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t find Jolyne next to him in bed. He closed his eyelids again with heaviness. It stood to reason that she would not come back to him. He knew that. He had accepted that reality, so he soon got used to the idea of getting ready for the day and practicing his masquerade in front of the mirror.

He came out of his bedroom expecting to meet Jolyne in the dining room sooner or later. However, as he went downstairs, he began to hear familiar little voices arguing below, sounds that he, of course, didn't expect to hear that day.

"Mom! He's touching me!" Johnny complained.

"That's not true, you're lying," Diego accused him.

"You liar, you stone-eater!" he bellowed.

"You...!" Diego banged his fists on the table, ready to throw grain in the shape of dinosaurs from the box at his brother.

"Hey, you two, stop," came Jolyne's voice from the counter, apparently too busy to deal with her children's antics. "Give me a fucking break. I'm making breakfast on the fire, so if I hear you fight one more time, the family trip to Disney World is canceled."

"But Mom!" they protested in chorus.

"No 'buts'. Now eat your breakfast, or you'll be late for school."

"Va vene," the little ones said with resignation, again in unison.

Giorno stayed on the threshold of entry, trying to make sense of what was happening: Diego and Jonny were having waffles, cereal, and milk for breakfast; meanwhile, Jolyne turned her back on them and used the coffee maker and pan with the help of Stone Free.

Seeing him standing still doing nothing, Johnny called his mom to let her know.

"Ma’, pa’s down."

Giorno remained alert.

"It's about time, GioGio-Pie," she said, between mockery and charm.

When she turned around to greet him, Giorno saw Jolyne's huge belly, which had not been noticeable at all from behind, and which of course was not there the day before. In general, nothing was as it was supposed to be today.

Seeing the guarded look on the face of the father of her children, Jolyne hurriedly said in a coquettish voice:

"Hey, I promise you that they’re not on the due date yet. But even if I were to give birth today or tomorrow, I would do my best to keep this little one inside while you're in surgery, at least until you can be called to attend the birth."

‘Surgery? What...?’ Giorno didn't quite square that sequence, although something in the back of his head told him that everything was correct, indeed.

Seeing that he still stood there with his eyes wide open, his wife's smile began to disappear. She approached him and spoke quietly so that the children would not hear them, though they were very busy eating.

"Giorno Giovanna, don't tell me you’re anxious about being a father for a second time."

No, it wasn't that. He was never good at expressing his feelings, but now in particular, he didn't know what to say or how to act. Something didn't fit. More than a single factor, actually. His expression suddenly darkened.

At last, he opened his mouth to respond.

"I thought you didn't want to have any more children," he said, once he was sure to spin a reason that, to his amazement, sounded right. "That's all," he lied.

Jolyne softened her expression and looked at him with tenderness in her eyes, approaching him to then do the second thing that would surprise him most that morning: kiss him good morning on the lips in front of their children.

Diego and Johnny made sounds of disgust. Jolyne broke the kiss, laughing.

"Come on, you're both acting as if you've never seen Mom and Dad kiss."

Jolyne laughed again, pointing out how dramatic her children were. Her smile was so contagious that Giorno smiled too.

She turned to him, even more beautiful than he remembered.

"Well, these two are going to turn ten years old soon, then it will be high school, and in a matter of few years, they'll be off to university..." She explained to him, with tenderness in her voice as she looked at her children, whom she loved above all else, then caressed her belly, where the new child was growing inside her. "This house is going to feel so lonely when they leave, so this happening was for the best," she said, looking at him with a love in her eyes that Giorno thought he would never see in her again.

"The two of us…" he began to say, as memories crowded in his mind.

"We're going to be parents again, yes."

His doubts vanished with that statement. He, Giorno Giovanna, was chief surgeon of the city's hospital, also a stand user, like his wife, whom he met at university during his postgraduate degree, and like his children, whose low control of the power of their stands kept them living on the outskirts of the urban area, in a warm and suitable home.

Many years ago, he had a dream: the dream of going to the United States to study medicine and helping people. And he was able to achieve this thanks to the unconditional support of his mother and his stepfather, who loved him as if he were his own son. The two encouraged him all his life to follow his self-imposed goal.

Both gave him values and self-confidence and made him the good man he was today.

Giorno stroked his wife's face and stopped to look at her with compassionate eyes.

"I love you," he confessed. He didn't know why it hurt so much to say it, something he said frequently.

Jolyne smiled at him.

"I love you too, GioGio-Pie," she replied, before giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Now sit down for breakfast, or you'll be late."

He smiled at her and went to the table to sit next to his children, accustomed to eating breakfast beside their father. Next to him, Johnny was watching him for a long time, until his mother interrupted them by putting a cappuccino in front of her husband.

"Don't you have to say something to your dad, Johnny?"

The little guy began to play with his fingers and bow his head in embarrassment.

"I have to make a model of the layers of the skin, and I... umh... I was wondering if you could help me, because I'm not good at biology like you or Diego."

"I could teach you, of course, if you beg me," Diego hastened to say with exaggerated mannerisms in his hands and torso.

"No! I can't stand you!" said Johnny, his cheeks flushed.

Before they started fighting again at the table, Giorno cleared his throat. His two sons calmed down and soon returned to eating breakfast quietly. For some reason, that surprised him, although it shouldn't.

He turned his gaze to his second son.

"Sure, let's work on that model together."

Johnny's eyes lit up.

"Really, pa’?"

He gave her a genuine smile.

"Of course, I wouldn't lie to you."

"I know you're always very busy," Johnny said quietly, "but Diego bothers me a lot whenever he discovers that he's smarter than me at something and..."

"You don't have to explain anything to me. I would be very happy to spend quality time together."

His son's blue eyes flashed.

"T-thank you very much, pa’!"

Giorno gave a genuine smile to his children. His wife sat next to him for breakfast and hurried the children. Outside, Danny Jr.'s barking gave the final brushstroke to the scene of the happy family.

Giorno felt content and at peace like never before, although this moment was completely out of the ordinary.

This was the life he dreamed of. He couldn't think of anything else as he watched his family share breakfast, as happy as they were and always should have been.

The barking of the dog was accentuated. Jolyne frowned.

"Is something wrong with Danny?"

The sun made a complete turn and brought the place to night, which in turn sought passage back into the day. The whole family got up from the table in a state of alert.

"Time... It's accelerating!" He watched is wife's face become disfigured by terror.

As the children hugged their mother, crying with fear and calling out to their father, the days and nights became shorter.

What could this mean?

"Gold Experience Requiem!"

Golden Experience appeared behind him, but not in its Requiem form. His stand was as surprised as he was when they looked at each other.

No, this could not be happening. Without the power of the Requiem, he was unable to protect his family and save them from the fate that awaited them.

"Giorno!" called Jolyne, as a whirlwind in the sky threatened to take her and her children, who were attached to her with Stone Free's strings that appeared to help.

There was nothing Tusk or Scary Monsters could do, even though they appeared alongside their users to protect them. Soon, the couple and their children were devoured by the whirlwind.

Giorno took his wife's hand as soon as he reached her through the gusts of wind. But her strings could barely hold her beside him for a moment before her children were out of sight and she went after them.

All that remained of his wife was the hand he held as she left him behind, trying in vain to save her children.

"Why can't I save my family?" He howled in agony. "Why?!"

"Because you decided to live a quiet and happy life, instead of taking charge of your destiny and unleashing your full potential." Pucci appeared before him in the midst of chaos, just before blowing a hole in his chest and ripping out his still beating heart. Giorno spat out blood and collapsed on the ground as the Father spoke. "It took me longer than I would have liked, waiting for you to take your rightful place, but now I know you didn't deserve to be DIO's heir."

This could not be happening.

In his still linked hand, the few strings that remained from Jolyne’s hand, at least shaped like it, held him in his last breath, while he howled a cry of pain and betrayal that was heard from the beginning of creation.

Was this the end of everything?

"Honey!" Jolyne'a voice called.

Giorno came to his senses with his mouth open in a silent scream. After his eyes stopped glowing, he blinked a few times in order to adjust his sight to the long, elegant dining table of the Giovanna mansion in Italy. His wife was next to him holding his arm, watching him with concern. Next to him, there were their two children also at dinner, watching him with wide eyes, full of fright and curiosity.

"I'm sorry," he tried to say, seeking an explanation for what had just happened.

Jolyne massaged his elbow over the table, calming him down.

"Don't worry, amore, you've been under a lot of stress recently."

Something didn't fit again for Giorno. The more he tried to remember the reason for his scream, the further the memories seemed to drift away, as if they had never happened.

"Dad, are you okay?" asked Diego, his eldest son. At least he remembered that.

Everything else was blurry, although he was sure that Diego and Johnny were his children and Jolyne, his wife. The rest kept fluttering in his head until they adjusted like pieces of a puzzle. However, he wouldn't say anything to his family so as not to worry them. They had already seen too much.

He smiled at his firstborn.

"I am."

Neither Diego nor Johnny seemed convinced when they exchanged those complicit twin looks. Jolyne, on the other hand, smiled at him as if nothing bad happened.

"Finish your dinner, GioGio-Pie." His wife kissed his lips and took his hand in hers, kissing his knuckles too.

Giorno was surprised for some reason. Seeing that his children were unfazed, he realized that perhaps they were accustomed to their parents' displays of affection.

What was this feeling?

The sun was about to set. The chiaroscuros of the sunset outlined the faces of his family as they dined at the long table. He was the only one who didn't taste his food again. He cut the steak. He blinked for only a second. The piece he forgot to bring to his mouth was no longer on the plate. Not even on his fork. He couldn't have eaten it; he would have remembered if he had.

Something spilled near him. Drops of that something hit the ground. Red liquid stained under the table. Blood. The windows were full of holes with the glass on the floor and over the inert bodies of the servants on the floor.

At the dinner table, sordidly arranged for their dinner, the bullet-ridden bodies of his wife and children painted the scene of his nightmares.

"No..."

His arm trembled and he let go of the fork. He had to use his hand to stop the shudder that spread throughout his body. He put his hand to his mouth at the vomitive reflex that the sight caused in his stomach.

Giorno hurried to inspect the bodies, which had not completely lost the warmth froom minutes ago when they chatted with him, and tried to treat each of the wounds, bullet by bullet, removing any logic that told him the uselessness of his efforts, that they were already dead and still would be after all that blood on the ground.

No, no, no. This was not real. It couldn't be.

"This... It can't be happening."

In the end, all he had in front of him were the empty bodies of his entire family.

"Golden Experience Requiem!"

The stand stood in front of him and looked into his eyes from above. Red, bloodshot eyes. Unbenevolent, ruthless eyes.

"Why didn't you save them?!" he incremented.

"My only duty is to protect you, master," he said calmly, without a shred of guilt.

Giorno slapped his own chest.

"Their lives were much more valuable than mine!" he clarified. "My life, my dreams, absolutely nothing matters if they are no longer here!"

He took a fragment of glass from the floor from the ground and proceeded to cut his jugular.

Golden Experience Requiem didn't let him die, making the blood return to the open wound and close on its own, as if he had never tried to kill himself. Giorno brought his hand to his neck, unharmed.

"Why?" he insisted under the impact, with the pain of loss trapped in the throat he tried to cut. "Why didn't you let me die too!?"

Golden Experience Requiem did not give him an answer.

Giorno heard certain voices at the other end of the room again, as if decades had not passed since he last heard them. A dark corner lit up for that single table:

"You little brat, did you really think you deserved to be happier than any of us?" asked Abbacchio, sitting at the table of Libeccio, next to Buccellati and Narancia. "Did you really think your dreams were more important than ours?"

"Abbacchio." Giorno stood up and advanced towards him. "I..."

Again, he was fifteen years old, and he was in Libeccio as in the year 2001. Again, he was that teenager sustained by his dream, but his heart still carried the full burden of a lifetime of holding the world on his back.

"I was going to go back to school and look for Fugo to convince him to come back to our side, remember?" said Narancia, stopping playing with the Carbonara on his fork, the same dinner the three of them ate on their plates. "I would have asked Trish to go out for a Margherita when we finished the mission."

"Na-Narancia..."

"Why did your dream come true and not ours, Giorno? Why?" The noblest of his demons insisted.

He didn't know what to answer. Don Giovanna led a whole life wondering the same thing.

"Did you think you deserved a happy ending instead of us, insolent boy?" Abbacchio insisted.

Again, that question. Giorno had asked himself the same question for more than twenty years, unable to find an answer that would calm his soul and justify his dream above that of any of them.

What hurt him most of all was that Buccellati was there and didn't even speak to him. With a glass of red wine in his hand and a thoughtful look, the man who he once obeyed, the elder brother he never had, was unable to look at him.

Giorno Giovanna was aware of why without needing to be told. In his years as Don of Passione, he managed to keep the sale of the drugs away from children, although he could not prevent it from reaching them in one way or another. Nor weapons from taking the life of the innocent from time to time. "Collateral damage" Fugo used to call them, but he knew they weren't doing enough.

It was never enough.

"I... I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Giorno," Bruno said, then returned to look at him, regal. "Did no one ever tell you that the price to pay for a dream like yours is loneliness?"

"Dreams can become nightmares." Giorno had to learn that in the cruelest way.

"When you want to protect someone, sometimes it's best to sacrifice yourself," Dr. Kujo's voice echoed in his memory.

Giorno returned to being the adult Don Giovanna. Life would not be so kind for someone who stopped being a child a long time ago.

The world needed him. His family needed him too. Renouncing his position as a Don was not an option on behalf of the comrades who perished to get him to where he was, nor for all the people who worked every day to make his dream come true. Naples, Italy, and the entire globe required his presence among their leaders.

The peace of this world demanded his power. The family he formed with Jolyne demanded that he be powerful enough to fight the tragic fate that awaited all Joestar, but he also had to be able to step aside from the narrative of their lives and stay away from them so that the dangerous life he had chosen would not reach them.

It was best to keep the people he loved away from him to continue his dream. Even if it hurt. His agony would be the price to pay for the safety of their loved ones.

In the back of his mind appeared a memory of him on the phone the night they recovered Jolyne and the slap of reality that hit him when he saw her injured, only because some unhappy person wanted to used that to get to him.

"Dr. Kujo, I know I'm not in a position to ask for anything, but I need you to listen to me. I just signed the divorce papers. Jolyne is free," he said over the phone. On the other side, he only heard complete silence. Not that he expected any answers. "I'd like to ask you to please come to Italy and help with moving her and the children back to the U.S. She must get out of here. The sooner the better."

Without his farfalla, he was just a rose doomed to quietly wither, but that was better than seeing her dead because of him.

The only act of cowardice he would never regret was dodging Jolyne’s pleas to not sign the divorce, without giving her an explanation. He was weak before her. Every time he looked into her eyes, the hope grew that there was still a future for the two of them. Until that almost ended up costing him the life of the woman he loved.

"You have my respects, Giovanna," came Dr. Kujo's voice. "You did the right thing. I've never sympathized with you, but now I see that you're not the bastard I thought you were. Remember this in the darkest days: any pain is bearable if your family is safe, away from you and the world around you. That's all that matters."

"That's all that matters," he repeated to himself, closing his eyes. When he opened it, neither Buccellati or Abbacchio nor Narancia were there. Not even Doctor Kujo.

Giorno was again on the threshold overlooking the kitchen, while his children ate their breakfast. They were no longer at home but at Jolyne's. He sought to make his own home always resemble that of his wife to evoke the warmth of the home to which he no longer belonged.

All identical pieces arranged on a different stage.

"Mom! He's touching me!" Johnny complained.

"That's not true, you're lying," Diego accused him.

"You liar, you stone-eater!" he bellowed.

"You...!" Diego banged his fists on the table, ready to throw grain in the shape of dinosaurs from the box at his brother.

"But Mom!" they protested in chorus.

"No 'buts'. Now eat your breakfast, or you'll be late for school."

"Va vene," the little ones said with resignation, again in unison.

Everything was just as he remembered it. Jolyne turned around without a bulging belly. He didn't see it.

She passed by him as if he didn't exist.

"Umh, Diego, I was wondering if you could help me with the model of the skin layers. Umh, you know, you're good at biology..." Johnny said. It was obvious that he swallowed his pride to ask his brother for that favor.

"If you beg me..." he insinuated. Jolyne gave him a warning look. Diego seemed to know very well what that meant. He sighed. "Fine. I'll help you."

His mother smiled, satisfied with the answer.

"You're both brothers. You have to support each other, okay?"

Don Giovanna couldn't help but smile. So, they were fine. It was possible for them to overcome the fate bequeathed to all Joestar if they had each other.

"Hurry up, or you'll be late," their mother reminded them.

"Va bene," they replied, hastening the march.

His ex-wife made herself a coffee and looked at her children with a certain pride. Even though he was also there, standing in the distance separating her two children, she didn't see him. She smiled at his children with a tenderness on her face that he remembered was no longer for him.

She loved her children as much as he did. And that was fine, because their lack of love for him in no way diminished the love that either parent had for the kids.

Giorno placed a hand on each of his children's little heads. As expected, they did not feel that gesture. He knelt, wanting to get a better look at them and see how much they had grown in his absence. Because he was not really present with them, nor in their lives.

That's how it should be. Even if it hurt like hell.

He gritted his teeth and avoided looking into their eyes, helpless.

"Go wash your hands, grab your backpacks, and get in the car!" their mother announced, quickly drinking the rest of the coffee she had left.

"Ok!" the little ones replied, jumping up and down in their chairs to get out.

Giorno got up from the floor and watched them leave the corridor. He turned around, now alone with his ex-wife. At first, he didn't know what to do as she hurried to wash the dishes. He hesitated to approach, but since she couldn't see him anyway, he stood still watching her.

She probably still hated him. Even so, his natural instinct was to push aside the bangs in front of her face that bothered her and that she couldn't push back on her own. It was useless. Somehow, his hand only stroked her cheek.

She reacted.

"Huh? Is anyone there?"

Giorno opened his eyes in surprise, and hope slowly lit up his eyes. He clenched his fists and forced himself to remain calm, taking a step back in more than one way.

He could talk and tell her that he was there, that he had always been and would be with her, but that would not be right. That wasn't what he was supposed to do. It was no longer his place.

"Be happy, Jolyne Kujo," he murmured sincerely, with a strong longing, harboring that desire in his heart.

Giorno turned around and left like a soul in sorrow condemned to wander forever on the face of the earth.

xox

[...]

#fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #jjba fanfic #JJBA #jojos bizarre adventure #Giolyne #Stone Ocean Fix-it #my writing #Giorno Giovanna #Jolyne Kujo #Work in progress

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thunderheadfred · 3 years

Text

🦅Hawks HC’s🦅

This is SO unnecessarily long. Some NSFW. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

Has zero social life or hobbies outside of work. He knows it’s unhealthy, but like, who has the time?? Oh? Lots of people do?? Haha what are healthy work/home boundaries? He desperately wants to retire and always talks about a world without heroes, but the truth is he would have no idea what to do with himself if he got his way. Take him to a park at midnight and watch him turn into a giant repressed child on a swing. He’ll do a standing-360 and it will be terrifying.

Listens to music way too loud in his headphones to drown out wind noise. Probably half deaf at this point. His musical taste is wild; listening history all over the fucking place. Algorithms have no idea what to do with him.

That visor? It’s prescription. Wow is he far-sighted. He wears glasses. He’s not blind without them (rather the opposite) but they help him see things directly in front of him without massive eye strain. Yeah, he looks really hot in glasses.

Prefers communicating via text. Sometimes it’s a lot of dumb memes, but mostly it’s sincere. He can say what he means when he doesn’t have to put on a public front.

Smokes like a chimney. Self medicates with stimulants. Coffee, tobacco, sugar. Fidgety, likes things in his mouth or hands. Gnashes on toothpicks and popsicle sticks. He really should go back to therapy, huh? His teeth are sparkling white for the cameras but his breath could use some work. Chews gum a lot to compensate, and always does it really loudly with a big shit-eating grin.

Impatient as fuuuuuck. Rude about it. If you take too long doing anything, you’re going to hear a foot tapping. He’ll smile and laugh it off, never ever directly criticize you about it. But lord, the dramatic sighs. He WILL nudge you out of the way and take over in order to finish a task faster, and it’s truly fucking annoying.

LOVES food. Has the metabolism of an actual bird. Will seize upon any excuse to eat. No need to be self-conscious about eating in front of him; he wants you to enjoy it. Steals bites from you and talks with his mouth full. Prefers street food and take-out, usually eats while walking or flying. Sit-down restaurants are an invitation for gawkers.

He’s one of those celebrities that looks way taller on TV. In real life, he’s small and compact. So you’re surprised the first time you see him in person. He has a big head. Literally.

If you’re taller or bigger than him, he does Not Care. He treats everyone like they’re four feet tall, even Endeavor. Everything you do is cute. If you’re actually short, he’s going to carry you around all the time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Collects big chunky overpriced watches. All the better to tell you you’re late.

Half his clothes are brand fucking new. Sometimes he forgets to take off the tags. (Don’t look at the prices, do NOT) He never seems to wear the same thing twice. He also never seems to go shopping. Brands just give him stuff, and he shrugs and goes “yeah okay.”

The other half of his clothes are old, faded, and patched up. Every item he acquires for himself has deep sentimental value. If you tell him to throw away that nasty ten-year-old pair of frayed cargo pants, be prepared to find out how wrong and evil you are for even suggesting it.

He doesn’t snore; he coos. Loudly. Like a fucking pigeon trapped in a megaphone.

- - - - -

Dating

Gift-giving is his love language. Bringing your favorite snacks. Leaving novelty magnets on your fridge. He found a copy of that book/game/movie you mentioned like a month ago, don’t you remember? If he has to go out of town on a job, he’ll bring back the ugliest possible souvenir, just to annoy you.

He likes gifting jewelry especially. Covering you in shiny baubles, little golden things. Not expensive, but unusual. Antiques or handmade, even bizarre vending machine crap. Gets really handsy if you wear or show off his gifts.

Since you’re the first person who has given him The Feels, if you are resistant to his advances (like, say, because he’s way too famous and you’re terrified he’s gonna break your heart) he’s going to go fucking nuts trying to woo you. Doesn’t have a single patient bone in his body but will wait as long as it takes for you to come around. He’ll act like he’s cool with just being friends at first, just hanging out, haha. Oh you’re busy today? That’s cool. Inside he’s shrieking like a tea kettle. Go ahead, make him wait.

Don’t bother giving him a key to your place. He’s coming in through the bedroom window or patio door. Just put out a damn welcome mat on your balcony... or a bird feeder.

A bit of a voyeur. He likes to watch you do your normal routine without interruption. He can see from miles away so if you’ve got your lights on at night, he’ll creep for a while before he comes in. It comforts him immensely, seeing a little slice of the world that isn’t constantly in need of saving.

Is super talkative and funny but a terrible communicator. Makes more jokes the worse he feels. Will almost never tell you what he needs. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know. You will learn to read between the lines and gradually notice his tiny unconscious cries for help. Back rubs make him emotional.

He shows up at your place at the weirdest times. All hours. You’re never ready. At first it was infuriating, because you wanted to look your best and have time to prepare, but you figure out pretty quickly that seeing you in your natural state is his favorite thing. He never gets to be around normal people, doing normal things. A boring, lazy afternoon is his idea of paradise.

He’ll pick through your things and ask a world of invasive questions. A medicine cabinet raider. He wants to know every fucking tiny thing about you, live vicariously through you.

He actually lives in a top floor penthouse. Because I mean, where else? Never spends any time there; mostly he seems to roost on the balcony. He has used the front door maybe once. He much prefers your place, and will only take you back to his after months of dating. It’ll take like, an entire emergency. You’ll end up in his bed by mistake.

Because when you finally come over, he’s embarrassed. Its sparse. White. Things in boxes. A new furniture smell. Like he’s not done moving in, though he’s lived there for years. He wants you to move in So Bad but doesn’t want to be pushy. If you don’t start leaving your stuff there, he’ll steal things from your apartment. Where the hell is your favorite t-shirt? Or that pillowcase you like? Dammit Keigo.

He’s a decent cook, a habit he made himself pick up because he thought it might make him feel more normal. It... didn’t. He never actually cooks until you give him an excuse. He’ll bring you breakfast in bed and watch you eat every bite with big hungry eyes.

He’s got a separate wardrobe for his hero costume and all his feathers. Yeah. His feathers. Because he can detach and control his feathers at will, when he’s alone at home he kind of just... shucks off his wings. The first time you see him do it, your eyes fall out of your head. He walks around in a tee shirt and boxers with these ugly little stumps covered in brownish, blood-red down. It actually looks kind of gnarly, like he got mauled by a bear.

He’s never dated until you. No one has ever been in his apartment until you. No one has called him Keigo until you. He has some bigass intimacy issues. Because. Y’know. The trauma. But god, he wants you in his life so bad, even if he has no idea how to make time for your relationship.

He’ll want to keep you to himself for a while. Once you go public he’s going to have an arm around your shoulders at all times. Publicly Displays his Affection way more than is socially acceptable in Japan, and gives precisely -100,000 fucks.

His fans either love you or hate you. There is no in between. He will immediately take your phone and threaten to drop it from a great height if he catches you reading shitty gossip about the two of you. Does NOT care about his public image anymore, doesn’t want YOU to care about it either. He’s gonna retire soon anyway, remember? That’s a lie.

Being a charming motherfucker is the core of his public persona, so you will get jealous. A lot. He will flirt shamelessly without realizing it. He will get photographed in compromising positions with gorgeous people.

Once you accept that he’s basically an actor 80% of the time and that Hawks and Keigo are separate identities, you’ll both feel better. When he comes home (to YOU) and falls over exhausted and stops being Hawks(tm), when he scratches his ass or burps in front of you, when he yells to you from the bathroom, when he groans childishly about his shitty day while laying face-down in your lap, you’ll know you have nothing to worry about. Keigo is all yours.

Boundaries? Never heard of ‘em. He’s either a million lightyears away or he’s glued to your hip. The whiplash is astounding.

Absolutely says “I love you” wayyyyyy to soon. It thrills you but scares you off at the same time, because there’s no way Hawks - The Hawks - can actually mean it, right? (He does)

Rings? Nah. When things get serious, he will make a necklace out of a feather for you, and if you ever take it off, you better be asleep or in the shower. Even then you’re on thin fuckin ice. If you’re not wearing it he knows. He’s never mean about making you put it back on, it just makes him nervous if he can’t feel your heartbeat.

- - - - -

SPICY CHICKEN NUGGETS

High sex drive. Horny like 25/7. Probably a symptom of having way too much pent up stress.

Often takes care of it himself when he doesn’t have the emotional resources for anyone else, even his S.O. Figures you don’t want him coming on to you as often as he would like to, but he’s too stupid to talk to you about it first. Morning masturbator.

Yes he’s fucked around a lot but he’s not exactly a playboy either. People have always thrown themselves at him, and before he met you he let them do it. Especially when out of town and staying in a hotel. Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

He’d never be unfaithful to you though; his loyalty and dedication are frankly a little unsettling. Sometimes you feel like the only thing in his life other than hero work. Teach this man to knit. Make him join a book club. Christ. Anything.

Does in fact have seasonal mating patterns and it’s super embarrassing.

An underwear-sniffing perv. He’ll definitely hump your pillow.

Gets a sick thrill out of breaking in and startling you. Coming up behind you in the dark, sneaking into your bed. It’s probably his worst habit, and even he hates that he does it. If you get better at detecting him he’ll be so proud. Land a slap on him and he’ll be a horny mess.

Dog-whistles at you. Often from rooftops, and you have no idea where he is but you know he’s leering.

He will call you a lot of really stupid pet names. He likes the way you blush when he finds a newer, stupider one. Calls you angel when he’s really far gone.

Likes to scratch you with his stubble until your skin turns raw and sensitive. If it annoys you or hurts a little? Even better. Making you squirm is his new favorite thing. Especially when going down on you. Your inner thighs are always exfoliated.

His cock is average in every respect. This is not a bad thing. He knows how to please you with every totally normal inch of that cock. He has some kind of homing beacon installed on your sensitive spots.

Goes absolutely insane for blowjobs. Any time, any place.

Likes to bend you around in all kinds of positions with an assist from his feathers to hold up an ankle here, an arm there. Get used to floating mid-coitus. It just seems to happen.

Spanky.

His number one priority is making you feel adored and at home in his bed. Ohhhhh he likes to make you smile. But if you encourage him to get pushy and dominant with you, you will have a good, good time.

He’s switchy, and will lose his shit if you initiate or take control. Again, he’s always horny for you, because he can finally let go. Breathe in his direction and he’s hard.

Doesn’t moan much, but Babe, he’s a dirty talker. He’s not smooth or deliberate about it, it’s more like he can’t fucking believe you let him do whatever he wants to you. You like that huh? Like he’s in stages of shock. He’s singing your praises to high Heaven and muttering oh shit oh shit oh shittttttt and laugh-crying as he cums. He never talks about his feelings; he fucks about them.

After. Care. King. He loves pampering and clucking over you anyway, this is simply another excuse to do it. He knows exactly how much water you drink in a day. Can’t take care of himself for shit, but you? You’ll never have a need he won’t try to fill. What’s all that hero work for if not this? Yeah, soak it up. You deserve it.

#hawks #takami keigo #hawks headcanons #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #gender neutral #smut #bnha #mha #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #mha x reader #fred writes #no idea why I’m writing these #guess I’m just in a Mood

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

///////////////////

It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie.

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried.

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake.

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?”

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered.

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling. “Is everything okay with you?”

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.”

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement.

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke.

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing.

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him.

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together.

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of.

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head.

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats.

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in .

For what would, no doubt, be a long day.

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes.

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style.

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore.

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started.

“Guys! It’s been a while.”

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question.

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit.

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you.

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to.

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back.

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you.

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously.

“Y/n you need to go home.”

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed.

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?”

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”

“And then lunch?”

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy.

“How fars the drive?”

“At this time probably an hour and a half.”

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down.

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you.

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’.

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers.

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point.

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible.

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms.

“Wheres your team?”

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway.

“You sure?”

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas.

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you.

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram.

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly.

“How you doing?” Tom asked.

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation.

“shit.”

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you.

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever.

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic.

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.”

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging.

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-”

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again.

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake.

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great.

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin.

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep.

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears.

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.”

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom Holland angst #tom Holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #harry holland #tom holland request

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varividchicken · 3 years

Note

No, you forgot the best part of maid Hbomb, the UWU part 😣

Prologue of Maid a Mistake because I forgot the UwU:

It is morning of the day of the dare. Grim is still sleeping soundly dreaming of how funny that Yuu is gonna act more of a servant. He giggles from his imagines and wish to not wake up until...

"Morning Master Grim UwU. OwO, still sleeping? You wouldn't want to be late for your classes to become the Greatest Wizard!?" Someone yelled slamming the door open and opening the curtains for the sunshine come in.

"No, give me 5 minutes!" Grim said with shut eyes as he put the blanket over him. Then it was pulled which Grim had to wake up out of spite, he opens his eyes and is shock. It's Yuu but in the maid get up for the dare but they look so eager for it. The outfit was not like what he imagined and are those cat ears and tails real? As he sees them moving on it's own.

Maid YuuBomb : Master? Is there something wrong nya~?

Grim : No, you got everything right but too right

Maid YuuBomb : The dare has commenced, you may order me anything as you want and like UwU!

Grim rubbing his paws against each other : Anything?

Maid YuuBomb : Yes, like a snack nya!

Grim : A what?

Maid YuuBomb : OwO anyways we must meet with Master Ace and Master Deuce! Thank goodness I woke you early so we can wake them early as well!

Grim : Well I'm still tired anyways I first order you to carry me to them!

Maid YuuBomb : Got it nya!

And off they went to wake and meet those two idiots

---Sometime which happened before ADeuce and Grim were being chased by Maid YuuBomb---

At the Courtyard, Ortho is there talking to Idia through the tablet

Ortho : Nii-san try coming out more, there's not much people at this time!

Idia : Sorry Ortho but this game has a special quick event today so maybe some other time. I'll just talk to you while playing it

Ortho : Okay, maybe tomorrow?

Idia : I guess, I'll try

Ortho and Idia just roaming around until Ortho notice something over there. He took a peek at what it is then Idia on the tablet followed as well.

Ortho : Who's that over there?

Idia : Let me check as well

Deuce : Damn it! I dropped my stuff

Deuce and Yuu went somewhere to get his stuff he left for class

Maid YuuBomb : It's alright Master! I'll bend over for you!

Deuce : Don't say it like that!

Maid YuuBomb : Why not?! Isn't that how it works?

Deuce : No?!

Ortho from a far : This is a bizarre thing, don't you think Nii-san? Nii-San?

Idia : I've seen enough, I'm satisfied

Ortho : Nii-San?

Maid YuuBomb : OwO, What's that?

Idia : I think we've been spotted, run!

Ortho : O-okay!

The Shrouds skedaddled away in a whoosh

Deuce : Did you see something?

Maid YuuBomb : Nah, probably the wind. I thought I saw someone, anyways I must bend over to get your stuff!

Deuce : Nah, nah, I already got them

Maid YuuBomb : Am I perhaps not doing a good job OnO?

Deuce : No, no, you did well. I guess? maybe another time

Maid YuuBomb : Don't say that, I know I was not doing right therefore I'll do better! I must serve your every need!

Deuce : Then go for it! Let's go, we're gonna be late!

Maid YuuBomb : On it nya!

Yuu carried Deuce while he hold his stuff for class which surprised him without warning causing him to feel flustered. As they pass by corridors and got more stares from students, Deuce got more embarrassed and while Yuu was just confidant like > : 3

#dsmpcharacter!yuu #twst yuu if they're like hbomb #but maid

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

First Date with Chrollo (Human Diary)

Hello everyone! I am back with another “First Date” post featuring the Prince of Darkness. This was an anon post but I can't find the ask anywhere! I have been watching JoJo’s Bizarre Adventures lately and it is a very interesting show. Dio turned into a zombie and he’s so mean to Joseph. Anyway, let’s get into the post. The end is a bit angst-y but I did that to take a slight turn from all Fluff. I hope you enjoy! Part 2 coming sometime this week.m

It is common knowledge that Chrollo loves to read many books. When he was a child, he had time to read and that provided a great source of comfort. Although he seems to be ruthless, every human has the ability to seek compatibility and compassion. Both Hisoka and Chrollo enjoy the romance genre except Hisoka prefers to watch movies while Chrollo loves to read stories. You've known Chrollo since elementary school. You were fortunate enough to be able to move out of Meteor City and attend a better elementary school. As a child, you were an outcast and made few friends but on occasion, Chrollo would see you at a local arcade. Of course, your mother paid for the both of you to have fun but once it was over, it broke your heart because you knew about the conditions he’d return to once he left.

As time went on, you entered college and decided to invite Chrollo on campus so he could be something like a driving force for future success. You’ve been accepted into Yorknew University planning on majoring in Computer Science with a minor in Digital Art. Reaching Chrollo posed a challenge. He never responded to a few messages but on the third try, he answered with an excited response.

“Please forgive me y/n for not responding soon enough. I am more than happy to visit you. I am proud of you and your accomplishments. I do not see myself as a college man but, hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it right? I’ll be in touch.”

-Chrollo

At exactly 7 PM on a calm Fall night, standing outside of the campus’ most prominent book store, you began to sweat and your makeup began to drip. Just as you were about to wipe it off, you heard a voice call your name.

“Y/n? Is that you?” He chuckled as he questioned your appearance.

Turning around, you jumped a little at the sight before you. This wasn’t the same Chrollo you remember, of course. He had grown several feet, his face was much sharper, his arms were much bigger, had a bandana tied on his forehead, and he had a few rings on. He was dressed in a white polo shirt, black pressed slacks and black dress shoes. It’s weird. It felt like an arrow was shot through your heart.

“Are you ok? You act as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine! I’m just---You--look…”

“Ah, I see. There’s no need to be flustered. I am the same as when we were kids.”

The Yorknew Sailor Store was designed something exactly like a Barnes and Noble except the walls were painted to match the school’s colors.

The bookstore had a perfectly designed Starbucks, with a wooden finish, black and brown metal tables, beige tile floor, and glass doors.

Chrollo immediately noticed the change in behavior, one he wasn’t used to.

The students were snooty according to him and reminded him of how the city council would act towards him, his family, and those who were like him.

First, you offered to buy him a drink. The good thing about Chrollo is that if you or anyone else offers to buy something, He will not reject it. There is no such thing as having too much pride regarding him.

“Do you drink coffee?”

“Of course I do,” he replied. “But I don’t think I’ve had any of these drinks. A Caramel Macchiato? That sounds good.”

“Order it then! That will give you just the right amount of energy for today’s reading!”

To you, this was just two friends reuniting with each other but something else told you that Chrollo thought it was something more. He only dressed up like this if he was going out with someone special and even then it wasn’t an expensive Polo Short, It was his best t-shirt and jeans.

It boggles your mind how Chrollo acquired his expensive clothing but maybe he obtained a great job and is able to make a living for himself.

“I’d like to order a Caramel Macchiato.”

“What’s the name for this drink?”

“Chrollo,” you responded.

“And for you?”

“I would like a caramel Frappuccino with soy milk and no whip cream.”

“Alright. That’ll be $15.00.”

Chrollo glanced at you wide-eyed.

“It’s ok. I got it.”

You take out your card to pay and as you move out of line you bend over to whisper in his ear. “Maybe you can pay for dinner though.”

He laughed and smiled. “Of course, y/n.”

The bookstore was full of comfortable furniture ranging from light blue, dark blue, white in the lounge area. Both of you decided to sit across from each other on the blue chairs that swallowed you both as you sat.

As he read, he’d point out any interesting points in the book. He got tired of yelling across the table, so he decided to share a chair with you. He could feel the heat radiating from your body.

It was almost obvious that you all were involuntarily flirting with each other. The school was full of couples but occasionally seeing the goofy couple was the highlight of everyone’s day.

“This man was so devoted to a woman that does not know that he exists.”

“Sounds pointless,” you say, still trying to read your book.

“Well, she knows he exists but she is ignoring him and making him look like a fool in front of everyone. He says that there is something about her that he has never seen in any woman.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s her eyes, smile, intelligence, the shape of her lips, and her perfume powder aroma. Those are things that drive men wild.”

You smiled and laughed but came to a quick halt when you felt something along the ridge of your neck made you still. The hair on your neck stood up still as the invading force came in contact with your skin. It was Chrollo grazing his nose against your skin, slightly sniffing in your aroma; slowly breathing in and out.

Closing your eyes couldn’t make your sudden arousal fade. At this point, nearly everybody was looking at you both and looked away. This behavior was innocent for college culture, but it was taken as a cute gesture rather than naughty.

You blush. It was quite surprising that your childhood friend viewed you as something of the sort. It was both flattering and scary.

There’s no denying that Chrollo is handsome but if you dated him and the relationship didn't last, it could ruin your friendship.

At this point, Chrollo had his right arm resting lazily behind your back as his head and next aimed in a position that would allow his nose to lay carelessly on your neck.

“You smell delightful. I didn’t know you wore such expensive perfume. Is it….,” He sniffs again, “Flower Rose?”

“Yes! How did you know? Does your mother wear it?”

“She does now. I bought it for her a week ago and now the guys in the city can’t stay off her.”

Wow. The City. Even though it was a hell hole, it was your hell hole. How is everything? How is your mother? How did you manage to have such an expensive taste in clothing and fragrance?

Chrollo enjoys making others flustered. It's amusing to see them stutter when they’re either aroused or nervous.

On the flip side, seeing Chrollo flustered was the highlight of the century! The bad guys are used to being “bad” but expressing softer emotions makes it amazing and a reminder that they can experience them too.

Grabbing Chrollo’s left hand, you gently kiss it a few times and wink at him. He smiled, hiding his dumbfounded expression, and blushed slightly.

“I see you catch on quick.”

“I was raised in Meteor City. Just because I’m here doesn't mean I have forgotten where I come from. But I didn’t know you liked me.”

“You were the only one that trusted me and played with me when no one would.”

It felt like two magnets were pulling you closer. If he kissed you right here right now, you could just melt into a puddle but before anything happened, Chrollo’s phone rang loud and echoed throughout the bookstore.

Glancing at his phone, you saw an unknown number call, and judging from his actions he stood quickly to his feet.

“I’ll only be gone for a second.”

Hmm. That was odd. During this short intermission, you continue to read your book. Ironic enough, you weren’t into romance novels per se, you enjoyed action and comedy books!

Once Chrollo returned, his face was flushed and his soft demeanor had suddenly disappeared. He looked as if he was going to punch a wall.

“What’s wrong, Chrollo?”

He glanced at you with a somber smile, hoping to convince you that he was alright. “I am fine, y/n.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, if you count my mother being seriously injured, then yes.”

“Oh no! We can leave now, it’s fine.”

“No, it's ok. She wouldn’t want me to leave you all by yourself at this time of day.” He pointed to the night sky.

Wow! That was quick!

“What do you mean?”

“My mother predicted that I could end up with you...she also predicted that someone would be hurt or in danger if that prophecy was fulfilled. It’s sort of like give or take. In order to make someone happy, someone has to surrender their happiness and I guess it was her.”

A single tear dropped down his cheek and nothing more. He didn’t care if other men singled out his “weakness” because he’d destroy them all and he didn’t want y/n to know about his abilities until later.

The comfort of your warmth against his head provided more than comfort. He felt safe, welcomed, not judged, and vulnerable. He knew that you wouldn’t make him out to be a bad person but instead welcome him home with open arms. You were his human diary.

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