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Best laid plans
notes: this prompt, a bojere kiss under the mistletoe, was originally sent to @frikatilhi who set it free and tipped me off. tilhi's idea of where to go with the prompt was so delicious i kind of stole that too, so all hail tilhi for the original idea! this got quite long so under the cut it goes.
As soon as Bojan saunters off into the backroom of their rehearsal studio with Jere, Jure jumps into action. Jere has been in Slovenia for nearly a week now, Bojan has made zero progress in confessing his love for the man, and Jure is getting tired of the situation. Something needs to change and he has the power to kick start that change.
"Psst! Guys, guys. Look what I got", he whispers dramatically and whips out the secret treasure.
Jan, Kris and Nace gather around, looking at him and his offering curiously.
They stare at it in silence for a good while.
"A.. twig of some sort?" Nace declares.
Jan sighs and shakes his head.
"Jure you really can't resent us for calling you a cat if you keep dragging random twigs and leaves in from your nature adventures and expect us to find them exciting", he tuts, Kris nodding along.
Jure feels like slapping them but he controls himself.
"No, you absolute waffles, it's a mistletoe", he snaps, waving the precious find in front of his bandmates.
"Ohhhh, right."
"Right, a mistletoe."
"Of course."
"But.. why?" Kris dares to ask, Jan and Nace gesturing wildly to indicate they had the same question.
Jure cannot believe how slow and, frankly, idiotic people he has chosen to spend all his time with.
"The Christmas thing? Kissing under a mistletoe?" he says, holding the twig in question above his head and makes a kissy face.
"Right, like in the movies", Nace knows.
Now they're getting it, Jure is sure.
"Exactly", Jure confirms.
"And..?" Jan asks.
So, they are not getting it.
"Isn't it obvious? We get Jere and Bojan under it and BAM they have to face their feelings for each other", Jure whisper shouts, only just managing to keep his excitement from bubbling over.
As if on cue, Bojan and Jere burst into a giggle fit in the other room.
Realisation lights three faces in front of Jure.
"Now you're talking! I like this idea", Nace whoops.
"Could work! And they need the help", Kris agrees.
"Bojan is unbearable", Jan shakes his head.
"And having Jere here, around the holidays.. it's been extra unbearable," Kris continues, clearly haunted by the past week. Bojan and Jere have been practically glued together since Jere landed, and they never stop laughing. Neither one of them is that funny, of that they can all be sure, but the boys in the band have long realised that the constant giggle fits are just an excuse for the two to touch each other - how they figured that platonic friendly laughter comes with caressing each others faces and bodies is beyond any other Joker Out member, but they've had to accept the fact that Bojan and Jere are two members of the same species that have found each other against all odds and this is simply part of their mating rituals.
Mating rituals that are starting to turn into a never ending nightmare for everyone else that needs to stop. Now, if it's up to Jure. And it is, he decides.
"Is the mistletoe a thing in Finland?" Nace asks.
Jure stops.
"I don't know? But surely they'll get it, right?"
They must get it. Everyone knows the mistletoe, right? Except Kris, Jan and Nace who did not recognise it, but that's because they are stupid idiots, unlike Jure. And hopefully Bojan and Jere. Which might be a lot to ask.
"Bojan has definitely seen enough romantic movies to get it", Kris says, with the voice of a man who has been in the trenches. Jan pats him on the back as the band holds a moment of silence for the sacrifices Kris has made as the roommate of a man desperately in love with his best friend.
"So we're doing this?" Jure asks after an appropriate time of respecting Kris' struggle.
"We're doing this."
🩵
Snow dances in the air as Bojan and Jere make their way towards the Joker Out studio only a couple of nights before Christmas.
"You guys have so many Christmas parties", Jere chuckles, looking at Bojan with his big bright eyes that make him want to drop down on one knee (or two) right there and then.
Bojan has to look away. The whole week with Jere has been simultaneously the best and the worst week of his life. Having Jere near him makes it easier to breathe. Jere makes colours brighter, sounds clearer and flavours tastier.
Jere also makes Bojan incredibly horny, and nights lying next to Jere (who is as shirtless asleep as he is awake) trying to hide his rock hard boner count towards the list of things that have made the week almost unbearable.
"Yeah I didn't know about this one either!" Bojan laughs, and it's true. They guys had very mysteriously invited him and Jere for "A Special Celebration" only the night before.
"Seems like the guys wanted to throw you a special Christmas party and decided to leave me out of the loop, too."
Jere giggles, which to Bojan sounds like a choir of angels and the gates of heaven opening.
"They know you. They know if Bojan know, Jere find out", Jere says, and quickly brushes his hand against Bojan's arm.
Bojan pretends to be offended by the words and unaffected by the touch that actually sends his mind into overdrive. He clutches his chest dramatically, which sells the offense and calms his racing heart.
"Heey, that's not- nah, who am I kidding, it's true", he laughs, as Jere practically keels over in laughter. Bojan knows he's nowhere near as funny as Jere likes to act, but he cannot help but fall just a little bit deeper for the man every time he laughs at whatever it is Bojan has said. Jere is sweet like that, always hyping up his friends.
The laughter fades but the bright smile stays, as once again Jere turns those sparkly eyes to Bojan.
"But Bojan, I have to say. I'm so happy. Best decision coming to Slovenia this Christmas. Joker boys and you are so nice to me."
Jere stops and grabs Bojan's hand. For a fleeting moment they both just look at their joint hands, until Jere makes a show of hugging Bojan's arm to his chest like a cuddly toy, giggling happily as he does. Bojan wonders if Jere can feel his racing pulse.
"Jere, we've loved having you here. I- I've really loved having you here", he whispers, out of breath for reasons he cannot understand, but might have to do with his heart trying to leave his body.
Jere drops Bojan's arm but does not let go of his hand. The giggle has once again died down and been replaced with the softest, most sincere smile Bojan has ever had the pleasure of witnessing.
"I love being here. With you", Jere says quietly and looks at Bojan, almost expectantly.
Bojan's mouth feels dry. Sweet innocent Jere doesn't realise what his eyes can do to a man.
Bojan has no idea what Jere expects him to say, but has to say something.
"You, uh. You have snow on your eyelashes", he manages to breathe out.
"I look pretty?" Jere asks, batting his eyes at Bojan with yet another soft giggle that makes Bojan's knees buckle. He needs to get a grip.
"Hah, uh. Yeah! So pretty, pretty like a princess," he laughs, desperately.
Jere smiles, once again so damn sincere.
"Thank you Bojan. We go inside and see if princess find prince at party?" Jere tugs at Bojan's hand.
Bojan chuckles.
"I'm afraid this party is all toads, Jere. Five toads and a princess."
🩵
"Bojan?" Jere whispers as they are throwing their coats on the pile of four other coats in the corner. The studio has been quite haphazardly decorated with Christmas ornaments, and there is faint jazzy Christmas music playing to set the mood.
"Yes? Why are we whispering?" Bojan replies but takes the whispering as an excellent excuse to lean closer, until he can feel Jere's breath on his neck. It gives him goosebumps.
"I have.. sensitive question. I don't want sound rude", Jere says, looking worried.
"O-okay?" Bojan whispers, confused, and grabs Jere's hand. To ease his worries, of course.
Jere lowers his voice even more.
"Why is there some twig taped to door to back room?"
Bojan is one thousand percent sure he did not hear that right.
"Huh?" is all he gets out.
"There, look. Up, on top of door", Jere whispers, nervously, as he points above the backroom door.
And sure enough, there is something green taped to the wall near the ceiling.
It takes Bojan, a connoisseur of romantic comedies, approximately 0.76 seconds to realise that, number one, it's a mistletoe, and number two, the boys are up to something. Probably something to do with him and Jere. He knows they know. He knows he's obvious. He cannot help it.
"Oh. Oh. That's - that's the guys being.. them again, don't worry about it", he stammers, his only relief being that Jere is clearly not as well versed in American romantic customs as he is.
Jere lets out a breath, looking relieved, squeezing Bojan's hand.
"Okei. I think maybe its Slovenia thing and I'm rude if I don't know", he laughs.
Bojan shakes his head.
"It's definitely not a Slovenian thing. This is a Jure, Jan, Kris and Nace thing", he reassures.
"Okei, good", Jere giggles, pulling Bojan with him to yet another fit of hysterics over nothing at all.
There's a clang in the backroom and three voices shushing.
"Bojan, Jere? Is that you guys?" Jan's voice calls.
"We can hear you!" Kris adds.
"Why don't you guys.. Why don't you come in?" Jure says in a voice that Bojan immediately recognises as trouble.
"Yeah, Bojan why don't you show Jere in, show him our back room," Nace adds, failing miserably at sounding casual, not least because Jere has been in the back room multiple times by now.
Bojan is not going to let them ambush Jere into an embarrassing moment, no. He will protect Jere from the antics of his horrible bandmates and their childish sense of humour.
And also maybe protect his own heart in the process, because he's not sure he could survive a kiss that leads nowhere. Getting a taste of his dream, only to go back to being brrraders? He is sure he could actually die and become the talk of the medical world. "Man dies of brozoning", now there's a headline.
But mostly, of course, it's about protecting Jere from his awful, terrible, horrible bandmates.
"Jere, go on in. I need the bathroom, I'll be right there," he pats Jere on the back and heads in the opposite direction.
"Okei!"
Jere steps into the room only to be met with four excited grins that fall as soon as he stops.
"Hi guys!" Jere greets, trying to ignore the suddenly confused faces.
"Where's Bojan?" Jure asks, alarmed.
"Toilet", Jere explains.
All four guys deflate, disappointed.
"Damn", Jan sighs.
Jere is starting to feel a bit offended.
"Why..?" he starts, knowing he sounds a bit hurt.
The guys seem to realise this too, as they hurry to school their faces back into friendly expressions.
"No reason! What would you like to drink?" Jure asks as he pulls Jere in by the shoulders.
Jere starts to relax.
"I think you maybe don't have glögi", he laughs.
The guys look at each other, clearly pleased with themselves.
"Funny you should mention!" Jure can't hide the grin that takes over his face.
"We knew it's your favourite -" Nace starts.
"Because Bojan keeps telling us", Kris interrupts, rolling his eyes.
"So we looked it up -" Jan continues.
"And thought we could probably make something like that!" Nace concludes.
"Sooooo, come taste the brand new Joker Out Glu- glonki?" Jure declares, holding bottles of red liquid in both hands.
"Glönki," Nace tries.
"Glöggi," Jan corrects.
"It's glögi. And thank you guys, you are.. really, my brothers", Jere says, hand over his heart, getting a choir of awws in return.
"Anything for you, Jere. Come taste!" Jure beckons and they all gather around the table covered in glasses and bottles.
"A generous pour for the man of the hour, there we go", Jan declares as he pours Jere a big glass of their red concoction.
Jere accepts it happily.
"Thank you! This look good, look like real glögi! I taste now, okei."
Jere takes a big gulp of the drink and regrets it immediately, as what must be pure alcohol threatens to burn his throat from the inside.
"Soo, what do you think?" Jure asks, as the guys look at him expectantly.
Jere tries his best not to cough and forces a smile on his face.
"It's - ugh, sori - it's very strong, whoo. What you put in here?" he laughs.
The guys look mischievous.
"Some juice, some spice -" Nace starts.
"Some vodka, you know, the basics of glöggi", Kris concludes.
"Glögi", Jere corrects.
"Glöngi", Jure tries.
"Glögi", Jere demonstrates.
"Glöögi", Jan offers, just as Bojan finally walks in.
"Hey Jerč, trying to teach the guys Finnish?" he says.
Jere spins around, delighted. It's not that he doesn't like the other boys, no. They are his brothers, of course. It's just that, well, he is in love with Bojan, and while he is still trying to figure out if confessing that would lead to happy ever after or losing touch completely, he'll take any moment he gets with Bojan in the meantime.
"Bojan! Joker boys make own glögi for me", he says, showing Bojan his glass.
"Oh did they. How nice of them", Bojan smiles and comes to stand next to Jere, immediately throwing his arm over Jere's shoulders.
Jere is once again hit with the realisation that Bojan is quite possibly the most beautiful human on the planet. It's a realisation that hits him seventeen times a day, on average. Bojan has such a beautiful smile - the way his eyes turn into small crescents makes Jere lightheaded. It's like his eyes are celestial bodies and Bojan himself the universe, and Jere just a small and tiny space traveler, trying to discover the wonders of this universe of his.
"Isn't it, Bojan", Jan's voice shakes Jere out of his thoughts and back into present.
"You're not the only one around here who cares about Jere", Kris says, snarkily. Jere knows they all care about him but there is no reason to be mean to Bojan about it. Bojan is, after all, probably only responding to the attention he gets from Jere. It's Jere who should be more equal. Not that he will.
"We wanted to make him feel at home", Jure explains and that does make Jere feel very grateful.
"So thoughtful! How's the glögi, Jerč?" Bojan asks, pronouncing the word with ease that makes Jere giggle delightedly.
"Bojan language genius, you say glögi perfect! It's.. good. Strong," he says, carefully, taking a tiny sip of his drink.
Bojan's eye roll is epic.
"Right. Of course it is. These toads have a generous pour," he jabs and Jere bursts into hysterics.
"What did you just call us?" Kris asks, appalled.
Bojan waves his hand dismissively.
"An inside joke, you wouldn't get it."
The guys all sigh in unison.
"Oh great, another Bojan and Jere exclusive," Kris says drily.
"Can't wait to hear this one repeated over and over again!" Jan mumbles.
"Well, maybe you deserve it," Bojan smiles and lets go of Jere, much to Jere's dismay.
"Rude," Nace notes, as Bojan saunters past them on to the tiny sofa at the back of the room.
He pats the space next to him and looks at Jere.
"Come Jerč, come sit over here. Let's get cozy."
Jere practically runs to the sofa, parks himself next to Bojan and glues their sides together. Bojan throws his arm around Jere and pulls him close.
For reasons Jere can't quite comprehend, the rest of the guys look extremely put out. They wanted him to feel at home and well, he might not have said it out loud but home is where the heart is, and his heart is with Bojan.
"Janči, pour us a round of that glööni," Kris says, and Jere suspects he said it wrong on purpose.
"You know, it's actually surprisingly tasty," Jure comments sipping the drink with a straw.
🩵
"Guys, emergency meeting!" Jure hisses at the other three guys, pulling them all into a corner of the back room.
"Really Jure, emergency?" Kris asks unimpressed.
Jure gestures at Bojan and Jere, still sitting on the sofa pressed close together, chattering away using voices so low only they can hear, and words only they can understand.
"They've parked their butts on the sofa and haven't moved in damn near an hour. If we want to get them under the mistletoe, we have to do something. Also Janči, do we have more gölni?" Jure whispers.
Jan nods and lifts up a new bottle.
"Yes, give me your glasses. You know, in hindsight placing the mistletoe over the door that leads to the main hangout space really wasn't that smart. What reason would they have to be going in and out?" Jan questions as he fills their glasses.
"I don't know, to get to the bathroom?" Jure shrugs. He doesn't appriciate his methods being questioned.
"Together?" Kris asks.
"I would not be surprised at this point to be honest, if they wanted to hold hands while one of them pees", Nace mumbles.
"You have a point", Kris admits.
"So what do we do?" Jan asks, as they sip away at the glögi.
"We could ask them to go get something? From outside?" Jure suggests, forever the one who has to keep things going.
"Like what?" Kris questions, because that's all he can do, apparently, and Jure is not happy about it.
"Ummm... pinecones?" Jure says.
"Jure. What. Pinecones?" Kris, the question asker asks.
"I don't know, I'm riffing here guys!" Jure whisper shouts frustrated, nearly spilling his precious glögi all over the floor.
Nace sighs and puts his glass down on the table behind him.
"Guys, there is no need to go all the way outside. Let's just get them to the actual studio space. We'll play Christmas songs or something. You know, live music for the party. We are a band, after all," he points out.
The other three stare at Nace. Jure has to hand to him, for once one of the others has a good idea.
"Oh, right. We have instruments", Jan says.
"Yeah, that's.. actually a really good idea, Nace", Kris pats Nace on the back.
Jure takes charge, as he must.
"Right! So now all we have to do is make sure they walk through the doorway together. And preferrably slowly enough to point out the mistletoe", he says, rubbing his hands together.
"That shouldn't be too difficult! Let's go."
🩵
Bojan wonders how long he can keep his hand in Jere's hair before it becomes weird. Jere doesn't seem to mind. Those bright eyes haven't eased up for a minute, and Bojan feels hot. He wonders if Jere can feel it, if his fingers are heating up Jere's scalp.
He still doesn't want to move his hand.
But he needs a distraction.
"So you've enjoyed your time here?" he asks.
"Yes, so much! Slovenia is very beautiful place", Jere smiles.
If Bojan wasn't already completely gone on the man, this moment would surely seal the deal. Something about the way Jere speaks about his home country makes Bojan melt.
"Isn't it? I'm so glad you got to see it", he says quietly.
"Very fitting", Jere muses, still smiling. Bojan is confused.
"What is?"
"Beautiful country, beautiful Bojan. Make sense", Jere says, and turns to look Bojan straight in the eyes.
Bojan's heart skips a beat, or two. Or three. He might be having a heart attack. He takes a sip of his wine. Or maybe a gulp, just to calm himself down.
Sometimes he does have to wonder, if maybe there is a chance Jere likes him back. It's moments like these, when Jere calls him beautiful, or things like my love, my man, fire and water, and other such things Bojan has not heard much in a platonic context before, that make him think that perhaps he has hope.
But then that could just be Jere being Jere. The man who charmed Europe. He is a charmer, after all. So Bojan tells him as much.
"Oh you, you're such a charmer", he says and chuckles, waiting to see how Jere reacts.
Jere giggles, as usual.
"So.. Princess Charming? Princess Charming and five toads?" he laughs, almost spilling his glögi all over the two of them.
"Now that's a movie!" Bojan joins the laughter, relieved for the chance to close his eyes and stop drowning in the blue ocean of Jere's eyes for a second.
"But they are not really toads", Jere sobers up, and puts his hand on Bojan's chest.
Bojan's brain short circuits. As he forces it to reboot and update its firewalls, he manages to respond to Jere in a completely and totally normal, not at all breathy voice.
"No?" he says.
Jere starts patting his chest, timed to his words.
"Not how story go! They are five pretty guys. Maybe one is even prince.." he finishes and drags his hand down Bojan's chest.
Bojan is about to spontaneously combust.
"Oh- " he opens his mouth, but does not get a word out before Jure claps his hand together resulting in a clap that should not be humanly possible.
"OKAY THEN, listen up you couch potatoes!! Next up at the Joker Out Christmas Party... Christmas jamming!" Jure announces excitedly.
"So why don't you make your way through to the studio space -" Nace gestures at the door, as all four guys smile widely at the two men on the sofa.
Bojan knows exactly what's going on. There is no way they are going to trick him and Jere into walking under the mistletoe, no sir! Bojan will protect Jere from these fiends if it's the last thing he does.
"Find a comfy place on the sofa.." Jan is joining Nace in gesturing at the door.
"And enjoy some tunes!" Kris concludes and looks at Bojan, expecting him to get up.
Bojan puts on his best unimpressed face.
"What, we don't get to play?" he asks.
The guys clearly hadn't thought of that.
"Well, Bojan- " Nace starts, but Bojan won't let him finish.
"I wanna see Jere play the drums. Will you play, Jerč?" he turns to Jere, who nods excitedly.
"Sound like fun! Yeah let's play!"
Bojan very smoothly and not at all clumsily starts to detach himself from Jere.
"Great! Jure actually got gifted some pretty cool sticks recently, I'll go find them", he says as he gets up, and quickly makes his way to the door before Jere is even standing up.
Kris tries to step in his way as Nace jumps in to grab his arm.
"No, Bojan, you stay there- no, don't go in there! Ahh, fuck."
Bojan stops right after passing through the doorway and looks at Nace with his best confused face. He is a great actor, after all.
"Huh? What's wrong with you? I'm just gonna go find the sticks, I saw them just the other day, I know where they are", he says and disappears into the studio.
"Right. Of course you do. Well, come on Jere. Let's get to jamming", Kris says as he pulls Jere with him.
🩵
Jure drags his bandmates by their hands back into the backroom.
"Guys!! Emergency meeting two!!!" he hisses and this time slams the door to the studio shut.
"We know, Jure," Kris somehow manages to make his eyeroll audible.
"Good plan, shit execution! All we got was Bojan in Jere's lap on the damn drum kit and 45 minutes of them whispering and giggling, but still no lips on lips action! I have to suggest we go back to pinecones," Jure says sternly, as the guys are clearly not grasping the seriousness of the situation.
"Pinecones was never a plan!! And Jan, drinks," Kris hisses, snapping his fingers at Jan. He misses Jan's murderous glare at the finger snapping.
Jan pours Kris a lot less than everyone else.
"But we have to do something. Look at them. Bojan is mere moments away from officially changing his place of residence to Jere's lap, but all they seem to be able to do is stare at each other, whisper and blush," Jure complains, annoyed at his band mates inability to be as clever and proactive as him.
"What if.. what if we just.. let them be? Get there on their own? I mean you said it yourself, they're practically glued to each other. Maybe tonight is the night they get their shit together," Nace suggests.
Jure doesn't like that and is disappointed in Nace deciding to become lazy. No, Bojan's feelings are too big and too important to the very existence of the band, for Jure to let Bojan be in charge of them.
"Maybe it is, but more importantly, maybe it isn't. And then what?! We let them imprint on each other like ducklings in love when neither of them has the guts to do anything about it, and then Jere fucks off back to the Arctic fucking circle and we're left here with a wounded duckling whose whole world just left on a plane?" Jure rants, disappointed that he has to explain such obvious things to these fools.
"That's actually a surprisingly accurate metaphor-" Jan starts.
"Though I do have to point out that I don't think Vantaa is quite within the Arctic circle," Kris quips.
Jure doesn't have time for either of them.
"Not the point! It's fucking far away! And we can't let him leave without Bojan getting that life saving kiss first," he explains.
"So what do we do?" Nace asks.
Jure has just the plan.
"Well first of all, Jan, pour some more drinks. Second of all.. I think it's time to move that mistletoe."
🩵
Bojan has to say something. He is practically in Jere's lap, their legs entwined, he cannot just keep staring at the mans mouth. Jere must have noticed, and it's probably getting weird now.
"Jere, you, uhh.. you've got some chocolate on your face", Bojan says, gesturing towards Jere's mouth.
Jere raises his fingers to his lips, which definitely does something to Bojan's heart. And dick.
"Where? Always so clumsy",Jere mumbles as he feels around his mouth.
Bojan would very much like to close the gap between them and lick the chocolate away. And then keep going from there. Maybe lick the inside of Jere's mouth.. his neck.. his chest.. down his stomach.. towards -
No! Not the time, not the place. He will pick up from here in the shower tonight, but for now, he needs to get a grip.
"Right, uh, there." Bojan reaches as close to Jere's face as he dares.
Jere's eyes snap up to look at him.
"Can you get it?" he asks, softly.
Bojan makes a mental note of getting his heart checked out because it's starting to feel out of control. He also sternly tells his dick to stand down.
"I don't really have anything to get it with.." he whispers.
Jere holds up one finger and Bojan fights the urge to lick that too.
"Can you take my finger there?" Jere smiles questioningly.
"Yeah, sure, it's uhh.." Bojan grabs Jere's finger and starts guiding it to the elusive smear of chocolate.
"Here", he breathes and places Jere's finger on the spot.
Jere wipes at it and looks at Bojan.
"I get it?"
Bojan shakes his head amused.
"Not quite, you kind of smudged it-" he starts but Jere interrupts.
"Help me?"
Bojan didn't know it was possible to actually do the pleading eyes emoji in real life. He realises that he would do anything Jere asked him to. Anything.
"Yeah, let me just-" Bojan starts, when a loud yelp and a soft thud startle him enough to jump.
Jere is equally startled and looking around.
Their eyes land on the scene at the same time.
Nace, on the floor on all fours, Kris half on top of him, half on the floor like a ragdoll, with Jure and Jan standing on each side of Nace, frozen with their hands still up in the air, as if they were supporting an invisible weight up.
"Watafak."
"Kris?! Guys what the hell?!!" Bojan jumps up.
Nace is the first one to snap out of it.
"Kris get off me and help me up."
Kris starts to move, whining as he does.
"Guys what is going on?" Bojan demands.
Jure hurries to help Kris up and turns to Bojan.
"Nothing Bojan, nothing is going on, you- you keep Jere company we just have to.. yeah, don't worry about it", he says as he starts ushering the guys into the backroom.
"Why was Kris standing on your back, Nace?" Bojan calls after them, but Jure waves at him dismissively.
"No reason, and he's fine, he didn't fall too badly."
"My ankle..." Kris whines as he limps to sit down.
"You're fine, Krisko. Anyway! Nothing to see here, we'll be right back", Jure says as he disappears in the back and pulls the door closed.
Kris is not happy.
"And whose fucking bright idea was it to try and stick the mistletoe to the ceiling?! And Jan, drinks!" he snaps, and Jan must take pity on his ordeal as he only sticks his tongue out at Kris behind his back.
"It could have worked, I know it. Mistletoe on the ceiling, get them to dance, and BAM..it was going to work", Jure defends his plan.
"Well it didn't", Nace says dryly and Jure thinks that maybe Nace should be coming up with the plans then, since he is such an expert on what will work.
"And I twisted my ankle, guys", Kris notes.
Jure is getting tired of this no-can-do attitude.
"Krisko, your ankle is the least of our worries", he snaps and downs half his drink.
"What if I can't walk?" Kris hisses, but Jure places his hand over Kris' mouth.
"Shhh, not important!" he hisses back.
"What do we do now?" Jan asks, also not a forward thinking problem solver Jure needs on his team.
"Where is the mistletoe now?" Jure demands to know.
"Right here. Didn't stick to the ceiling but I grabbed it off the floor", Kris throws the slightly damaged mistletoe to the table.
Jure grabs it and tries to straighten it.
"Good. We're going to have to freestyle this."
"As opposed to... the preplanned stylings thus far, huh?" Jan comments, but Jure doesn't have time for him and his commentary either.
"Shut up, I'm thinking. This gölgi is honestly surprisingly great, guys, I have to say."
🩵
Bojan is deep in thought planning the most platonic and brotherly way to react to Jere practically pulling him in his lap when they sat back down, when Jere starts to speak.
"What was best part of this year for you Bojan?"
Jere swipes strands of hair away from Bojan's face, and Bojan decides (after having a small stroke) that since Jere seems to have no problem redefining platonic, he also doesn't need to worry about it, so he grabs the drawstrings of Jere's hoodie and starts fiddling with them.
"Is it lame if I say this, right now? You coming to Slovenia? Like, of course we've had an incredible year as a band, amazing shows and just unbelievable experiences, but this.. this is something super special. You're special", he says, pulling at the strings.
Jere grabs his hand and squeezes it.
"Wow, that's.. thank you. You are special too, Bojan. So special", Jere whispers quietly, and again Bojan has to wonder if maybe... but maybe not. Brothers, right?
"What about you? Highlight of your year?" he whispers in an equally quiet tone, so as to not burst the bubble they're in.
Jere smiles that heart melting smile of his.
"I have to say same.. Work is great and I am so grateful and happy. But this is new experience, with special person."
Bojan feels dizzy, and he has made sure to stay away from the homemade glögi. He has only had two glasses of wine. It was two, right..?
"Yeah?" he breathes out.
"Yes," Jere whispers directly into his ear, and that must be just because Jere has actually been sipping away at that paint thinner the boys call glögi, not because of Bojan.
Bojan shivers none the less.
"Are you going to be making any new years resolutions?" he asks, instead of asking Jere for his hand in marriage.
Jere nods. He takes a moment looking away, and then at the ceiling.
"I think maybe.. next year I try be more brave", he says, decisive with a nod.
Bojan's eyebrows shoot up.
"I think you're already super brave", he says, surprised.
Jere shakes his head and still doesn't look at Bojan.
"I want.. not be scared to say what I want say", he says, determined.
"Yeah? What do you want to say?" Bojan is intrigued.
Jere suddenly looks a bit sheepish. In fact, Bojan could swear he sees a faint blush creeping up Jere's face.
"I want.. confess something to someone", Jere whispers very quietly.
Well now Bojan has to know. Because.. A man can dream, right? And if it's not him... he still wants to know.
"Who?" he asks, barely audible.
Jere looks at him, slowly.
"... You, Bojan", Jere breathes out.
Bojan's heart is actively trying to vacate the premises through his trachea. A shiver runs through his entire body and he's sure Jere notices. Right now, he doesn't care.
Because right now, he feels, more than ever, like yes, there is a chance after all. A chance that his wildest dreams could indeed become reality.
There is a spark of hope, suddenly. The air feels electric. Maybe after all this time Jere actually really isn't the most physically affectionate Finnish man who ever lived, who chooses to channel his affections towards one platonic brother over everyone else. Maybe after all this time it is possible, that the pull Bojan feels towards Jere works both ways.
Maybe after all this time, he will hear the words he has only heard in his dreams.
Or maybe his heart is about to shatter into a million little pieces he can never ever put back together.
Either way.. he has to know.
"Me? Confess what to me?" he squeals, very attractively.
"I - " Jere hesitates and looks away.
Bojan can't take it. It's now or never.
"Yes? What do you want to confess, Jerč?" he pleads.
Jere looks at him again, emoji eyes making a comeback.
"I think... I think I like you Bojan. I think maybe.. I know I... I love you", Jere whispers.
Inside, Bojan's soul exits his body, turns into a million fireworks, puts itself back together again and returns to his body now charged with some sort of energy he has never felt before.
Outside, he stares at Jere like he is all seven wonders of the world rolled into one and turned into a man.
"Jere-" he manages to choke out.
"Is that.. okei?"
The vulnerable insecurity in Jere's voice snaps Bojan out of his transcendental out of body experiences and he rushes to grab Jere's face between his hands.
He looks deep into those mesmerising eyes and speaks from the heart.
"Yeah, yes. Yes, yes, yes, it's more than okay."
A smile that could blind Bojan spreads across Jere's face.
"Yes?" Jere asks, shy.
Bojan wants to explode.
"Yes, because I-" he starts but has to stop to close his eyes and breathe.
"Bojan?" Jere pats his hand with his own.
Bojan opens his eyes.
"I love you too", he says, determined to make Jere feel just how much he means it.
Jere's breath hitches.
"You do?" he asks, searching Bojan's eyes.
"Yes. A thousand times yes", Bojan says with confidence that can only be achieved by having your soul turn into a million fireworks because the man of your dreams said he loves you.
A tear rolls down Jere's face and Bojan hurries to wipe it away.
"Oh. Look like I find prince at this party after all", Jere whispers with a soft giggle.
Bojan's newfound confidence has indeed turned him into a storybook prince and he plays the part.
"Can I.. can I kiss you?" he asks.
Jere nods eagerly.
"Yes, please."
Bojan closes the distance between them.
On the other side of the wall, Jure is finishing his session of coaching the guys into real and true mistletoe freestylers. He's not sure they get it, but this is the team he has and this is the team he will lead.
"So, we're gonna have to be smooooth with it guys, real smooth - any more gölni left? So like.. always have eyes on the other guys and be ready to attack, okay?" Jure explains and wonders if the other guys are possibly a little bit drunk. Not him, but them.
"Yeah, be ready to take the mistletoe, be ready to pass the mistletoe, just - be ready", Kris agrees, nodding. Nace and Jan nod along.
"Okay, now. Those two have been on their own in the studio for a good half an hour now, probably whispering half flirtatious things to each other and trying to merge their souls into one or whatever it is they do. It is high time we break that tension with some mistletoe magic", Jure rallies his troops, getting whoops and cheers in return. Maybe they do get it now.
"So, we trap them, from both sides. Where ever they are, we are too, ready to hold the mistletoe over their heads," Nace concludes, and Jure has to clap. Finally, they demonstrate fighting spirit.
"They can't get away. Let's do this. Let's get our singer some tongue down his throat!" Jan shouts, joining in.
"Yes, come onn!" Jure yells.
They all jump up and immediately grab on to the table for support.
"Whoop, ha, I think I might be a bit tipsy", Jan laughs.
"Heh, yeah getting up is - oops, a bit wobbly", Kris giggles.
"We can't let that stand in our way, guys. Game faces on!" Jure declares as they keep going.
Nace is the first at the door.
"Ah, guys...?" he calls.
The others hurry behind him to look through to the studio.
"What? Oh", Jure stops.
"Huh!" Jan quips.
"What - what am I looking at here? Am I seeing this correctly or did we make gölgi strong enough to make me hallucinate?" Kris squints at the sight before them.
"They're.. making out", Nace says.
"They actually are", Jan nods.
"Wow", Kris whispers.
"Who would have guessed", Jan continues.
"Whoooho, nice!!" Jure yelps because he can't help himself.
Bojan and Jere both jump and snap their heads towards the door.
"Shhh, you interrupted them!" Nace complains.
"Oh hello guys", Bojan says with a satisfied smile, and rather than getting up from where he is sitting on Jere's lap, thighs splayed on either side of him, Bojan wraps his arms around Jere's neck and hugs him closer. He stares at his bandmates.
His bandmates stare at him.
"Don't mind us, we can just -" Nace starts to turn.
"Yeah, we don't need to be here", Jan accompanies him.
"Congrats on the.. kissing", Kris shows them both thumbs up.
"Yeah, well done!" Jure congratulates, even if he is a bit disappointed that the fight is over.
Bojan giggles and pets Jere's hair.
"Thanks! Yeah, I guess we.. got our shit together, as you put it," he smiles.
The four other guys stop dead in their tracks.
"You.. knew?" Jure asks slowly.
Bojan shoots them one of his best unimpressed looks.
"Are you asking me if I saw the mistletoe taped to the doorway and immediately knew what you were up to? Or are you asking me if I could hear the four of you getting increasingly louder with your "emergency meetings" as you drank more and more of your incredibly strong fake glögi, which I can only assume you made to get us tipsy? You know, he might not understand Slovene, but I do. And you were loud", he explains.
Four pairs of eyes stare at him, blankly.
"I'm taking that as yes he knew, guys", Jure whispers.
"We just wanted to help, Boki", Kris whines.
"Both you and us", Jan helps.
"Help us and..yourselves..?" Bojan asks, confused.
"You are annoying, Boki. So annoying", Kris explains helpfully.
"Yeah, and gross", Jan adds, as Nace, Jure and Kris nod along.
Jere starts to giggle hysterically.
"Bojan, I think Joker boys are drunk", he manages between giggles.
Bojan laughs too, shaking his head.
"They are, but they do actually mean it too. Well, lucky for you guys, we did get our shit together, and confessed our feelings for each other, so really I should be congratulating you!" he says happily.
The blank stares return.
"Th- thank you..?" Jure tries.
Bojan nods enthusiastically.
"Yeah, you got what you wanted! First row seats to us openly and happily in love. Right, Jerč?" he says and turns to Jere, who immediately knows to play along.
"We are so in love! We have to kiss all the time", Jere explains and looks at Bojan lovingly.
Bojan starts petting his hair.
"Aaaalll the time, like right now, mmh kiss me Jere, kiss me like you mean it", he sighs, and Jere surges to devour his mouth, as Bojan moans loudly.
"Okay, we get it!" Kris yells and covers his eyes.
"You can stop now", Jan pleads, but doesn't actually look away.
Bojan breaks the kiss and looks at his bandmates apologetically and very convincingly, as good actors do.
"Oh but we can't!" he pouts.
Jere shakes his head too.
"No, we maybe die!" he all but shouts.
"Or I might turn into a toad if Princess Charming here doesn't kiss me regularly and rigorously!" Bojan worries, hugging Jere's whole head to his chest.
Jere looks up pleadingly.
"Kiss me, prince! I don't want kiss a toad!" he stage whispers.
Bojan dives right in.
"Ha, ha, ha, we get it!" Jure says, unimpressed.
"There's no point guys, we're done here", Nace says and starts herding the guys in the backroom.
"Yeah, leave them to it", Jan agrees but takes one last look.
"Can we order pizza? I don't feel too good..." Kris asks.
"It's that damn glönni", Jure curses.
"GLÖGI!" comes the immediate stereo response from the couch.
"Shut up, lovebirds."
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Sorry do you think that condemning all people who ever held fascist or right-wing beliefs IN THE PAST as a PHASE perhaps while they were impressionable teenagers, while valuing only those who have always stayed on the virtuous path of "normalcy" is NOT purity culture?????
You're an adult, it's about time you learn how to read.
white lgbt westerners will make endless excuses for their ignorance, for their racist and sexist and homophobic behaviour because they were never taught anything in school, they’ve never seen a world map until they were 23 years old despite having access to the internet their entire lives, because they grew up in a conservative family and everyone has a nazi phase as a teenager so really what’s the big deal? but if someone living in the largest concentration camp ever built has a homophobic thought in their head that’s grounds for them and their entire people to be genocided. you people treat yourselves like adult infants who should be given endless amounts of second chances while baying for the blood of Palestinians. genuinely you make me sick. I want no part of your homonationalism, you are a fascist and your quirky little queer identity does not in any way take away from that
#discourse#also I have never had a nazi phase but I am sympathetic to people who grow up in environments where they are prone to taking up fascist#or right wing beliefs#and if you cannot recognise that people who used to#and i cannot stress this enough#in the past#held these beliefs#can grow as a person and be your political ally#in the present#just because of their past beliefs#then that is purity culture
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the kneejerk response, the idea or belief that when Israel as a state ceases to exist, that its settlers will become second-class citizens or outright killed is not only repetition of the same hysterical argument that has existed—yet never coming to pass—in other apartheid states but it is also indicative that the speaker has not been listening to what has been said over and over and over again by Palestinians, or perhaps that he refuses to listen entirely.
liberal or proclaimed leftists showing that they do not understand or support anticolonialism as much as they purport to be should not be unexpected, it is much easier for a person to lie back and say "oh yes i am of course an anticolonialist" without ever bothering to learn of what it is, because they believe it is simply a matter of common human decency and not an extensive history that must be learned from to be understood. the liberal believes many things for the sake of being courteous, rather than having any real interest in the matter. it is why they are shocked or appalled by its violence, and it is then that they will appeal to "both sides". the solution in such a mind as theirs is voting, or patience. anything else to them is barbarism. they are eager to buy lies about what is to them the wrong way of "going about things", so that they do not lose sleep at night.
#i hope this reads sensically. it unfortunately takes me a long time to read and write anymore.#other people have said this better than me.#i read a lot—i am attentive regardless of dissociative fugue—but i am not a very good talker.#i can tolerate a lot of misery. 7000 people murdered and yet people will refuse to see it or regard it in their minds.#it is a footnote they can pay no heed to.#i say i can tolerate a lot of misery because i come across people on here who proclaim they must blacklist for their own sake of mind.#if i can be a walking corpse of suicidal BPD mania for a week straight yet still bear close witness then so can you.#in likely less of an abysmal state than i.#i come here to say this at all because my mother cannot take much more of what i tell her.#the depravity haunts her and she tells me it is too much now.#we kept having conversations i didn't remember starting or finishing. my mind is pulled in a few different directions recently.#but regardless. i know she will talk about what i have told her. to her friends her clients et cetera.#and that is as much influence or usefulness i can hope to exert in my physical offline state.#i am vastly more talkative about matters offline because i have far more influence there by virtue of my mother who is#a rather well-liked woman. her talking will reach more people.#but i recognise by comparison this can make me seem grossly inattentive in my sort of silence.#and i am very sorry for that.#i want to correct something i said here but i don't know how.#''i can tolerate a lot of misery'' is not how i would like it to be read.#rather i do not compromise continued knowledge/awareness because i do not personally feel well.#i cannot look away from any of it and i cannot imagine attempting to justify doing so.
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I think we need to sit down and talk about malgendering.
Not misgendering, malgendering.
We all know what misgendering means. Misgendering is when a trans person (or to be honest, even a cis person) has their gender denied to them in some fashion by implying, suggesting or outright stating that their gender is actually Something Else and not the one they identify as.
e.g. A trans woman being told she cannot attend a certain class because it's 'just for women'.
Malgendering is when the trans persons gender is not questioned or denied and may even be affirmed - but only in a context in which it can be used against them in some fashion (to make judgements on them as a person, to exclude them from something, to incite bigotry towards them etc).
e.g. That same trans woman taking her shirt off on a hot day and being arrested for indecent exposure.
This is misgendering;- "You're not a woman, you're a man." This is malgendering;- "Trans women are women, so obviously they exist to serve men."* *obvs it is also transmisogyny and all malgendering is transphobia.
But what you don't want to hear is that malgendering is a form of transphobia mainly used against trans masculine people and nonbinary people.
Most people recognise malgendering when it's;
Using the term 'theyfab' to ridicule an agender person or making jokes about how an agender they/them user looks (to you) to be a completely cis woman.
But you need to look out for how;
Malgendering is treating trans men like their transition has turned them into women-hating predators because of your own predjudices towards men/trans man were always inherently women-hating predators because maleness is what makes you those things not your actual thoughts, words and actions.
Malgendering is not listening to how trans masc people are marginalised 'because men aren't oppressed though' as if that's not ignoring a huge part of their identity (the being trans part) and how that works.
Malgendering is telling trans men 'this is just what it's like to be a man, people treat you like shit and you have to take it or not transition'.
Malgendering is insisting that any trans man who calls any attention to the fact that he is indeed, trans, and has/had female anatomy and faces misogyny due to being raised and still perceived (by transphobes) as a woman is misgendering himself, all other trans men and 'weaponising his AFABness'
All of this is transphobia. All of this is bigotry. This kind of predjudice and bullying doesn't magically become 'OK' once you find the 'right' group to do it to. You either want to end bigotry and transphobia and identity-specific targetted hate or you want to perpetuate it. But you can't call yourself a trans ally, or escape the bigotry allegations whilst malgendering people. And no you're not being sneaky by slipping in your hateful predjudice comments and actions whilst validating their gender.
Malgendering is transphobia.
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"Kamala Harris has earned an eleventh-hour show of support from Palestinian, Arab and Muslim community leaders."
On October 24th, a collective statement titled "Arizona Palestinian, Arab, Muslim, and Progressive Democrats and Community Leaders Statement on Presidential Election" was published.
The 100+ signees include current or former leaders of Palestinian, Arab and Muslim organisations, the leader of Phoenix, AZ's largest mosque, Jewish activists and other elected officials. All of them have been listed at the bottom of this post.
You can read the whole statement here but I've also copy-pasted it's entire contents below.
Read. The Whole. Thing.
It is concise and will only take you a few minutes. While you read, recognise that these words are not representative of every single person belonging to these demographics. Palestinians, Arabs and Muslims are not a monolith, and have a right to feel any way they do about this election. To those who do not belong to these groups - refrain from adding your personal commentary in the tags, and understand how excruciating of a place this statement must have come from for both the authors, signees and the communities they represent.
---
Arizona Palestinian, Arab, Muslim, and Progressive Democrats and Community Leaders Statement on Presidential Election
As Democrats and leaders in the Palestinian, Arab, Muslim and Progressive communities in Arizona, we the undersigned make the following statement, published on 10/24/2024:
This past year has been very difficult for all of us. With over 42,000 Palestinians killed by Israel using American-supplied weapons and no end in sight despite all our struggle for a ceasefire, we approach the presidential election heartbroken and outraged.
We know that many in our communities are resistant to vote for Kamala Harris because of the Biden administration’s complicity in the genocide. We understand this sentiment. Many of us have felt that way ourselves, even until very recently. Some of us have lost many family members in Gaza and Lebanon. We respect those who feel they simply can’t vote for a member of the administration that sent the bombs that may have killed their loved ones.
As we consider the full situation carefully, however, we conclude that voting for Kamala Harris is the best option for the Palestinian cause and all of our communities. We know that some will strongly disagree. We only ask that you consider our case with an open mind and heart, respecting that we are doing what we believe is right in an awful situation where only flawed choices are available.
In our view, it is crystal clear that allowing the fascist Donald Trump to become President again would be the worst possible outcome for the Palestinian people. A Trump win would be an extreme danger to Muslims in our country, all immigrants, and the American pro-Palestine movement. It would be an existential threat to our democracy and our whole planet.
When we think of Trump in power again, we recall that even a genocide can get much worse. Trump just said that Netanhahu must “go further” in Gaza while criticizing Biden for “trying to hold him back.” His biggest donor, Miriam Adelson, who demanded in 2016 that Trump move the US embassy to Jerusalem if elected –– which he then did –– is now telling Trump to allow Israel to annex the entire West Bank. Netanyahu, Ben Gvir, Smotrich, and the entire far right in Israel want Trump to win and grant Israel total free reign. We cannot give them what they want.
Trump must be defeated. The only way to defeat him is to elect Kamala Harris.
Voting for Harris is not a personal endorsement of her or of the policy decisions of the administration in which she served. It’s an assessment of the best possible option to continue fighting for an end to the genocide, a free Palestine, and all else that we hold dear.
We are deeply frustrated that Harris has not yet met our movement’s demand that she break with Biden, defy the powerful extremists enforcing the status quo, stand with the majority of Americans, and pledge to uphold US law and international law and condition aid to Israel. Still we believe there are clear reasons to hope that we can win positive policy change with a Harris administration and a Democratic Congress.
Multiple media reports state that Harris’s national security advisors are open to re-evaluating policy and conditioning aid to Israel. On October 13th, the same day the administration threatened to re-evaluate military support if Israel did not improve humanitarian conditions in Gaza and reduce civilian casualties in the next 30 days, Harris tweeted: “Israel must urgently do more to facilitate the flow of aid to those in need. Civilians must be protected and have access to food, water, and medicine. International humanitarian law must be respected.” In Michigan the other day, Harris expressed clear empathy for the suffering of the people of Palestine and Lebanon and the impact of this devastation on Arab Americans. She pledged to do “everything in her power” as President to end the war in Gaza, end the suffering of Palestinians there, and achieve “a future of security and dignity for all people in the region.”
Beyond Harris’s statements, we know that her decisions as President will be shaped by the larger Democratic Party coalition that includes a growing force pushing for Palestinian human rights. Our Arizona Democratic Party passed a resolution calling for a ceasefire in January. Every single member of Congress who has publicly called for a ceasefire in Gaza or for an arms embargo is a Democrat. The major national unions, civil rights groups, and progressive organizations that have called for a halt to military aid to Israel are all working to elect Harris.
On the other hand, the Republican Party coalition offers zero opposition to unconditional support for Israel and zero support for Palestinian human rights. Instead Republicans urge the US to join Israel in bombing Iran, call to “bounce the rubble in Gaza” and “kill ‘em all,” and would likely support the Israeli far right’s drive to annex Gaza and the West Bank.
What about a third party? Many in our communities believe this is our best option. Unfortunately, there is not a single third party member of Congress or even state legislator in America. In our electoral system, no third party candidate can win this election. But voting for them could make Trump president.
The polls show the presidential election is extremely close and that it will be decided by 7 swing states, including Arizona. While voting 3rd party may be strategic in non-swing states as a protest of the current US Israel/Palestine policy or as a step to qualifying the Green Party for public funding in future elections by winning at least 5% of the national vote, doing it in Arizona or other swing states in such a close election could bring disaster.
Some argue that if Palestinian, Arab, and Muslim voters and our allies vote for a 3rd party candidate and intentionally throw the election to Trump, taking credit for defeating Harris, it will prove our power to decide a close election and “punish Democrats” for complicity in genocide. Unfortunately, this is not how power, politics, or change works in our country. When Ralph Nader helped throw the election to Bush in 2000, he was rejected by millions for whom he was once a hero, banished ever since to the political margins. When Jill Stein helped throw the election to Trump in 2016, she remained relegated to the political fringe, becoming less powerful not more. If our communities ally with the Green Party to defeat Harris, we risk marginalizing ourselves as they did by alienating the tens of millions of voters who support the cause of Palestinian freedom and are fighting to defeat Trump by electing her.
Instead, by helping to elect Kamala Harris, we can say, “Despite it all, we gave you another chance and helped put you in office to defend democracy and uphold our highest American values. Now uphold them: end the genocide and secure Palestinian self-determination. We will fight every day to hold you to it.” If Harris and Democrats win, we will wage that fight with more allies among the American people, Congress, and the White House than ever before. If they don’t deliver, we will have a mandate and mass support to hold them accountable through every nonviolent tool of democracy, including protests, resignations, civil disobedience, primary election challenges, and even potential mass noncooperation. It’s a difficult path, but the one that offers the most hope.
The first step –– and our best choice in this horrible situation –– is defeating Trump by electing Harris. We urge you to join us.
Signers (affiliations listed for identification purposes only):
Maher Arekat, Founder, Palestine Community Center of Arizona
Usama Shami, President, Islamic Community Center of Phoenix
Fadi Zanayed, Vice President, American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine - Arizona
Shams AbdusSamad, Secretary, Maricopa County Dem Party; ADP Exec Cmte Mmbr - At Large & SCM
Samir Mufarreh, Palestinian American Christian Community Leader
Jordan Harb, Lebanese American Youth Leader
Stephen Mufarreh, Attorney, Palestinian American Christian Community Leader
Misaal Irfan, Pakistani American Community Leader
Samara Hamideh, Palestinian Youth Organizer
Mohamed El-Sharkawy, Palestinian American and a Muslim leader
Ala Rumah, Syrian American Activist
Dina Hamideh, Coordinator, Arizona Palestine Film Festival
Salauddin Choudhury, Bangladeshi Community Leader; DNC Delegate CD 5; LD 14 SCM
Hani Hani, President, American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine - Arizona
Dr. Navid Khan, Pakistani American Community Leader
Deena Mufarreh, Chair, American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine - Arizona
Syed Nasir Raza, Progressive Pakistani-American Community Leader; AZ Progressives
Ashraf Elgamal, President, Arab American Organization
Salina Imam, Charity Program Leader
Sawsan Tannous, Chair, American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine - Arizona
Saher Afzal, Pakistani American, Arizona Education Association member, and Exec board AEA local
Nathan Mufara, Chair, American Federation of Ramallah, Palestine - Arizona
Dr. Jaffrey Khazi, Community Leader
Hashim Hamid , Palestinian American Community Elder and Retired Businessman
Ameena Arekat, Palestinian American Health Care Worker
Mo Al Hwan Bahu, Palestinian American Christian
Deanna Dabbah, Former President, Arab American Anti-Discrimination Cmte, Fountain Hills, AZ
Dr. Hazem Jabr, Palestinian American Dentist
Jack Saba, Syrian American Entertainer & Democratic Voter
Ramzi Arikat, Palestinian American Business Owner in Phoenix
Shaikh F Shams, LD13 PC & State Cmte Member, Bangladeshi American Community Leader
Hussein Jabr, Palestinian American Doctor
Md Ibrahim Faisal, Bangladeshi American Progressive Democrats
Dean Dabbah, Community Activist, Fountain Hills, AZ
Mazen Arekat, Palestinian American Business Owner
Sujat Jamil, Bangladeshi American Progressive Democrats
Rocky Francis, Iraqi American Businessman
Hazem Arekat, Palestinian American Businessman
Arif Mahmud, Volunteer
Qumrul Ahsan, Precinct committee member LD13
Shahriar Anwar, LD13
Menassa Abinader, Lebanese American; Owner, Mejana Restaurant
Charlotte Hosseini, Sedona Resident ; Concerned citizen and voter
Tan Jakwani, Muslim Community Leader
William Havel, Iraqi Refugee
Jennifer Loewenstein, Jewish Voice for Peace - Tucson ; Arizona Palestine Network (AZ PAL)
Jessica Burke, Jewish Community Member & Progressive Activist
Bob Lord, Former Arizona Congressional Candidate, Jewish Community Member
Rachel Port, Jewish Voice for Peace - Tucson
Laurie Melrood, Jewish Voice for Peace - Tucson; LD 20
Rep. Mariana Sandoval, LD 23
Rep. Quantá Crews, LD 26 ; State and Precinct Committee Person
Martín J. Quezada, Former State Senator
School Board Member Patti Serrano, PC and State Committee Member LD 13, 2020 Delegate
Kai Newkirk, Co-Chair, Arizona Democratic Party Progressive Council
Erika Andiola, Immigrant Rights Leader & Bernie 2016 Latino Outreach Press Secretary
Mikkel Jordahl, Attorney
Belén Sisa, Former Latino Press Secretary for Bernie 2020 and DACA Recipient
Salil Deshpande, LD18 State Committee Member; DNC Standing Committee Member
Dan O’Neal, Progressive Democrats of America - Arizona State Coordinator
Armonee D. Jackson, President, Young Democrats of Arizona
Eva Putzova, Former City of Flagstaff Councilmember
Emily Kirkland, PC LD 8; Former Executive Director, Progress Arizona
Melissa Galarza, Chair, LD12 Democrats
Cameron Bautista, Youth Organizer & School Board Coordinator, KeepAZBlue Student Coalition
Nick Collins, LD 12 State Cmte Member, Progressive Council Interim Steering Committee
Ken Kenegos, LD 18 PC, member Progressive Democrats of America
Michael Bradley, Arizona Palestine Network, LD 4 PC
David Higgins, Co-Founder, Arizona Palestine Network (AZ PAL)
Natacha Chavez, Precinct committee person LD 22
Sarah León, Community organizer
Elizabeth Hourican, CODEPINK Phoenix
Emily Verdugo, Community Leader
Kyle Nitschke, LD 6 State Committee Member
Barbara J. Taft, Leadership Team, WILPF US Middle East Peace and Justice Action Committee
Nicole Gutiérrez Miller, State and Precinct Committee Person, LD 12
Dianne Post, International Human Rights Attorney
Lindsay Love, Owner & therapist at TherapyLuv, PLLC ; former CUSD school board member
Joan Etude Arrow, Founder, Arizona Progressive Action Community (AZPAC)
Elizabeth Ogren, LD5 PC and State Committee Member
Jenise Porter, PC and State Committeeperson AZ LD18
Dave Wells, United Campus Workers of AZ, PC LD9
Andreas Clayton La Grow, Community Organizer
Robert Flamida, Palestine Community Center of Arizona, Member
Dr. Marannagan, Autistics for Peace
Bonnie L Lynn, State Committee Member
Frederic Artus, LD 5
Isabel O’Neal, State Committee, PC LD 14, CD 5 Immigration Advocate
Deborah Arekat, Democratic Voter
Asfandyar Khalid, Na
Kathy F. Yontz, PC LD12
Pardis Baradar, LD 12 PC
Grace Wagner Democrat LD8
Laiken Jordahl, Community organizer/advocate
Kathryn Soderquist, Constituent, AZ LD 9
Jana Rose Ochs, Progressive Democrats of America, Progressive Activist
Victoria Eloisa Ramos, Community Leader
Aaron J Essif, LD17 PC & SCM, PDA, Indivisibles
Judith Hilton Coburn, Member, CodePink Phoenix, PDA, Phoenix Anti War Coalition
Dev Gautam Dogra, Progressive social democratic student from The University of Arizona
Peggy Thomas, Progressive Democrats of America activist
Anne Khoury, Concerned citizen and voter
Emily Williams, Democrat LD 12
Molly Donnelly, PC LD 12
#once again - if you do not belong to the communities mentioned in this post. you dont need to add your hot take to this#the only reason im posting this myself is bc existing shares dont have much reach/have comments attached to it that dont feel appropriate#im just the messenger#disclaimer: im also not from arizona so i dont have any firsthand opinions of the signees#but a lot of them are palestinian. and that makes them the most qualified to weigh in on this topic#palestine#free palestine#free gaza#free west bank#us pol#us politics#us election#god i said id stay out of it this year...
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Self-knowledge as a theme in STP messes me up so bad, bros.
This all starts with how little the Princess can tell you if you ask her about herself. How little you can say about yourself, more often than not. Most of the time Quiet doesn't even know what they look like!
The Narrator makes it a point to make the Princess' cluelessness, her lack of self-knowledge, into deception, but really, both the protagonists don't know themselves. How could they?
The concepts of bounds, of something that isn't you, the distinction of "self" and "other", "you" and "I", the concept of something being not like yourself... this is the first time this deity which is now two has ever experienced it.
The Shifting Mound and the Long Quiet did not exist until the Narrator tore a whole into parts.
Now, this deity in twain has to reorient. It has only begun existing, it's not yet known itself. A toddler has to develop a self-concept, and the concepts of others.
Now imagine, for the first time in your solitary existence, that there is something that you are not. Unknowable, foreign.
What are they like, you think? Are they a friend? Should I get to know them? Are they a foe? I do not know them, I cannot trust them... Or can I?
This brings to mind, of all things, Contrapoints' video on Twilight, where she speaks about the concepts of Union and Division in relation to love. And while she speaks of it in terms of eros, it can apply here just as easily, romantically and platonically.
Love is the union of two beings. We love because something outside of us allows us to be more than ourself. In others, many seek that which they lack. We seek out people so that we may develop through our similarities and contrasts with them, to change an be changed.
We seek out people because there can be no I without a You. To exist in a void is not a fulfilling experience.
We cannot discover ourself if he have nothing that allows us to compare ourself. The mirrors elude us throughout the game, always leading to the princess - she is the only way we may know ourselves, the mirrors tease as they disappear. And at the end of the route, only then, can you see yourself, now that you have a complete knowledge of yourself in a given scenario, with a given persona.
Was the princess someone you decided to trust? Or to betray? Was she a foe? A friend? A nightmare? A victim?
You both try to find out who you are through your relationship.
The princess assumes many faces and attitudes in response to you, you assume voices and attitudes in response to her. You're two batches of clay shaping each other at the same time. It's almost like knowing someone your entire life, seeing them go through different phases as they try to find out their identity in the world, their place. The 5 routes, whatever they be, are your "adolescence".
And growing means you will hurt each other, intentionally or not. There will be fights, disagreements, there will be heartache, and comfort and love.
And everything will pass.
Shifty, before she's complete, before she discovers her godhood, makes this point so clear.
How could she not be kind to you? You are the only thing in this place that is not her. What reason could she have to hate you? To make the only friend she could have into an enemy?
That's why, at the end of every route, all hurts are forgiven. All the heartache is acknowledged, understood, and then she moves on. So that you may continue being together, so that she may see what else you do.
Even godhood can become a phase. The Shifting Mound recognises what you both were, but it need not be you unless you accept it. Because self-knowledge is unending. You are always changing, and you can always change.
You can accept being a god, and that becomes you.
You can reject being a god, and that becomes you.
You are by that point an "adult". The figure trying to dictate who both of you are is gone, and you can decide for yourself.
I think this is partially why I love the Leave with Stranger ending the best of all the endings. You begin it by avoiding knowledge of yourself and of another. The self can only exist as far as it is not like the others.
And you meet the Stranger, this being who knows so little about herself, because she too has been deprived of another. The route is quick. It really cannot amount to much, because if you don't know yourself, it's so hard to build a relationship.
But at the end, they've matured. You gave each other time to become fuller beings. You met this person again and they seem so much happier with themself than they were in youth.
I love how they say "We're just a stranger.", and the voices point out how it needn't be sad that you don't know her, unless you make it out to be. You can get to know them, the real them, and they can do that with you.
The way the Stranger speaks if the position of a God only underlines how much the heart of the Shifting Mound can understand self-knowledge.
They speak of how they feel themself be pulled towards taking the position of godhood, of being everything, yet find it confining. Restricting.
"We want more. We want whatever might be on the other side of this door. Something new, that we'll experience together. With someone who exists outside of us. Someone who can see us in a way we can never see ourself."
Self-knowledge through relationships and reflection on how you impact other people.
#stp#stp spoilers#slay the princess#stp stranger#i have so many emotions about that route...#Stranger is the best one imo#sorry if this isn't wholly coherent i am no essayist
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exposition
[ID: Four panel comic with crudely drawn stick people.
Panel 1: A blue person with sunglasses and dog ears is talking to an orange person with dog ears.
Blue: "Ah, young Orange."
Orange: "I, uh, aren't you younger than-"
Blue: "I understand that you have approached me to discuss an issue. As is the doctrine of our anarcho-caninist commune, we shall conduct this meeting in expository form, speaking as if intent on being observed by an unknown third party in need of being spoonfed everything we, as individuals, are already aware of."
Orange: "Wait-"
Blue: "Let us begin by stating our medical histories: I am on gel that makes you blue and have had dog ear implants."
Orange: "I uh. I know. You told me yesterday."
Blue: "It is your turn. State it!"
Orange: "…You can look at me and tell that I'm-"
Blue: "You cannot rely on the third party knowing how you became orange!"
Orange: "…Gel. It's gel."
Panel 2: An extremely tall, hot pink person with fluffy bits around their chest and extremities, as well as floppy dog ears and a bandana worn as a mask, interjects into the conversation between the two.
Hot Pink: "I sense that this discussion is at risk of becoming an argument. Let us recite the Acknowledgment of Legitimacy, as per the doctrine."
Blue and Hot Pink: "We recognise that opinions are held by individuals and do not represent everyone of their chromatic alignment. We understand that if any individual is found to be in the wrong, it does not delegitimize their identity, only their viewpoint."
Orange: "I uh. Does anyone not believe this? Who are we disagreeing with here?"
Hot Pink: "I am on injections that make you hot pink and have taken topical fluffy fur gel. Now we may proceed."
Panel 3: Zoom in on Hot Pink and Blue as they continue spoonfeeding unnecessary exposition to you, the reader.
Blue: "Before proceeding we must also clarify that the doctrine is an idiosyncracy of our commune, and not reflective of wider anarchist nor caninist movements."
Hot Pink: "Indeed. Furthermore, I would like to establish that we exist in the context of the past affecting the present, as individuals with personal histories that affect our present state, and have established this doctrine in response to said history."
Orange: "I- how- what history- are you explaining that the past exists??
Who is this for?
How did you decide to talk like this?"
Panel 4: A green person with a tail and long, pointy dog ears appears opposite of Orange to make it all make sense.
Green: "You bring up an excellent question. I am on a combination of pills that make you green and pills that block my naturally occurring red, which I do not personally consider a medical condition but which is often pathologized as such. Before proceeding and getting to the point we must go over the historical context in which this conversation is taking place."
Orange: "Wait, no, I know history, please-"
Green: "Caninism, as formulated by Barx in the 1800s…"
End ID.]
Bonus panel:
[ID 2: Presumably sometime later, the green dogperson is still talking.
Green: "You see, the Expository Doctrine is primarily a performance art critique of the tendency to demand that media explains everything to the viewer, and how pandering to this demand causes dialogue to be unnatural, stilted and unnecessarily verbose."
Orange: "I know. You say this every day."
Green: "Indeed, part of the performance serves to emphasize how in a serial but episodic medium, such mandatory exposition quickly becomes frustrating and repetitive!"
End ID 2.]
Start - Previous - Next
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think fast / childhood bsf!tsukshima kei x reader
genre(s): childhood best friends x soulmates???? past lives and normal people by sally rooney coded im a sally rooney MEATRIDER!! angsty, gut-wrenching longing, bittersweet / hopeful ending so it's not all bad!! nostalgia is going to carry this fic so hard it's going to be a fun, fun time...
warning(s): eventual smut!! all characters are aged up to 21!!MDNI (at least up until the observatory)!! unprotected sex here remember to wrap it before you tap it!! (sorry kids), female leaning anatomy because smut but pronouns are gn all throughout and honestly you could read it as gn anyways:)) dead dad warning (my dad is NOT dead this was just convenient to kick off the thing), i fw the timeline of the world??? pretend flip phones were still in use in like 2012 or something idk
wc: ~6.3k
tldr; time has a way of reminding Kei of its presence, and its escape. you are the reminder it has been sending to him for six years.
Fate: A power believed to cause and control all events, so that one cannot change or determine the way things will happen.
It is a sunny afternoon when you step foot into Sendai, Miyagi. A beautiful day of golden warmth beaming onto petals of pink, red, and white, wrapped in coffee-stained newspapers and tied together with a spool of twine. The bouquet lies on browning grass, a contemptible reminder of the time that has passed since your last appearance here, six years ago, and you crouch down to the ground. Now face to face with the engraving of a full name on a slab of polished granite, you hesitate. Your father lived in a language that you can no longer speak, died in a country you no longer call your home. When you whisper blessings and apologies at the gravestone in broken Japanese and slurred syllables, you sound like a stranger. A stranger who sits in a graveyard at noon, with nothing but a bouquet from the nearby florist in hand, and a promise, stuttered out in half-decent Japanese, to return again the next year.
When a second bouquet falls to the ground behind you, and you turn around, Tsukishima Kei thinks this is what English speakers like you would call fate. He’s a little taller now, and bulkier too, and you have to crane your head higher than you remember just to meet his eyes. You don’t recognise the glasses he dons anymore, the black rectangles from his teenage years swapped out for rounded squares and silver frames. But he has a towel in his hand, a towel that has his initials poorly stitched into the corner with red string. You wonder if the matching one he made you, eleven years ago, is collecting dust somewhere in your dormitory, halfway across the world.
“You’re back.”
“It’s been a while, Kei.”
You can no longer differentiate Japanese syllables clearly, and your statement jumbles into nonsense in your head. Kei hears the English woven into your accent in the way you roll your tongue like foreigners do, and in the odd intonations that don’t exist in your mother tongue. You don’t even remember your father’s dislike for white flowers. London has truly done a number on you.
“Why? Why now?”
You bite your nail, a persistent habit that Kei frowns at. He picks up his flowers, and steps towards the gravestone, just close enough for your knee to brush against him for a moment. The bouquet in his hand is wrapped in plastic and filled with red and pink, the white from your own sticking out like a sore thumb when he places his flowers gently on the grass beside yours. He tosses the towel in his hand, opening it up against his palm, and you take it from him. If you cannot get the language right, or the flowers, this is the least you can do. Cobwebs stick to the fabric as you sweep at the granite slab, watching soot and dust fall to the grass. The curves and dips of the gravestone are familiar once again, and you dig the towel into every nook and cranny. You feel Kei’s body shift, before his knee is touching yours and his face is finally level with your peripheral vision. He glances at you, waiting. His knees bounce in anticipation.
“Never had the chance, college has been a lot.”
Your phone rings as you finish cleaning. The ringtone is familiar, unchanged from when you used to have a flip phone, in fact. Kei hums along to the jingle for the four seconds that the call is left unanswered, before it cuts off into a flurry of English. He catches something about research, and a thesis, his shabby English unable to fill in any more than that. He’s never known you were interested in research, let alone what it is that you’re researching. All he’s known is your aspiration of becoming a librarian when you were six, and his promise to borrow books from you for the museum that he swore he would one day work at. Now, he works at the museum, sorts antique scripts and yellowed books into cabinets and display shelves. He does not borrow books from you. Now, you talk, but nothing makes sense to him.
You end the call, mumbling foreign curses as you shove your phone back into your pocket. Clicking your tongue, you turn to Kei, who stares at the flowers on the ground. He pushes his glasses up when they slide down his nose, and you resist the familiar urge to nag him about buying the right frames for his face.
“Yeah, college has been mostly phone calls like that.”
He nods, a half-hearted chuckle huffing from his nose. He’s forgotten what it’s like to sit at a graveyard with somebody else, the annual reminder of a lonely death replaced by another this year as you dust off his towel, and drop it onto his thigh. He swipes it from his leg, folding it into quarters and sliding it into his pocket.
“So you choose to come now, without a word? Not even a heads up? Six years after leaving?” Kei’s voice rises at each question, the same way it did six years ago when you broke the news of leaving Japan to him. This hurts him to ask, that much you can still recognise.
“I would have come sooner if I had the chance. I’ve missed everyone so much.”
You pluck a petal from a white flower in your bouquet, then another, until all that remains is the naked bulb, and scatter them onto the ground beside you. Perhaps the next person that’s been buried under six feet of dirt used to have a liking for them. Kei remains unmoving, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. His knee stops bouncing.
“How long will you stay for?”
“Today, then Friday and Saturday too. Flight back is Sunday night.”
Six years of waiting, and this is what it amounts to. A weekend and a bit. Despite that, Kei still thinks this must be fate, in all the languages that it exists in. Six years of life, and love, and hurt, all to be condensed into four measly days. Yet as Kei pushes himself off the ground, dusting his trousers off, he still thinks that this unlikely, yet conveniently timed visit must be the answer to his pleas for your return. That this must be some heavenly reward, good karma for visiting your father’s grave annually on your behalf. You watch him turn to leave, and he calls out to you as he walks away from your father’s grave.
“Everyone’s at Hinata’s old place tomorrow. You should come by if you can.”
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Change: to replace (something) with something else, especially something of the same kind that is newer or better; substitute one thing for (another).
All it takes is one coincidental exchange of panicked glances at the first throw up of the night for you and Kei to leave together. Hinata slurs a drunken farewell, tries to embrace you as you slip your sneakers on at the door, and you make a note to yourself that you really do not miss most of the people here, spare for the volleyball team. Kei waits at the door, holding it open for when you finally shake Hinata off of your back, and step through. The night is chilly, the warmth in your skin from the indoor heating system emanating into the midnight air. You kick rocks along the pavement as you walk, scattering pigeons that remain awake and active at this time, and Kei smiles at your antics. You still hate birds, and you still remember the trick he taught you when you were nine for chasing away pigeons that flocked around you for food.
“Who are you staying with?”
“My mom’s.”
The road leads the two of you to a high school. Kei has not come back to Karasuno since graduation. You squint in the dark, scanning the school, and you don’t recognise the new building that stands in place of the old auditorium. He watches you crouch at the plaque next to the front gate, tracing the letters engraved on it with the pad of your thumb. Some part of him blames Karasuno for being a bad place to you, the other parts blame himself for not being good enough to outweigh it.
“It’s changed.”
“Everything has.”
You rattle the locked entrance, the chain and padlock hitting against cold metal. It won’t open, so you look up through the gap of the gate. Six years ago, on that rooftop, was where you stood over a cold lunch box and emptied convenience store drinks, back against the wire fence, saying to Kei, I’m leaving tomorrow. On that day, you had packed yakisoba for his lunch, and nothing for yourself. He could barely respond to your announcement, only dropping his chopsticks and asking you, why? You told him something along the lines of being an expat, and a better school for what you wanted, all in the fluent Japanese you once spoke. Nothing made sense to him anyways.
When you turn back to him, his hands are in the pockets of his jacket, and his nose is red from the cold air. You stand beside him, staring aimlessly at Karasuno from outside its barriers.
“Do you still play volleyball?”
“Yeah, Sendai Frogs.”
You hum, and then wonder why you only asked tonight, and why you’re surprised. He shrugs, clouds of white puffing from his mouth when he breathes out. He tries to blow a wisp of hair away from his face, and you suddenly realise that his hair has grown too, along with his height. It fails, and he tries again. You reach up to swipe at his bangs, before running your fingers backwards through his hair. It parts itself as you lift your hands from his head, and falls into place neatly. A cold breeze whizzes by, and undoes your work, sending strands of gold into his face once again. You snicker a little.
“You know, you could ask my mom to trim it for you like she used to.”
“Nah, I prefer this.”
It isn’t until you turn to look at him properly that you see how much time has passed. He likes his hair longer these days, the choppy hairdo of his teenage years now nothing but an old preference, and you wonder if he is still a loyal customer of your mother’s salon. When he pulls his hands from his pockets and blows hot air into them, calluses line the bases of his fingers, the blisters of his high school years hardened by trials of time and effort. There are bags under his eyes, eyes that are now a little rounder, and softer too. When he speaks, monotone and tired, you realise his snarkiness has dissipated into general frustration. You stare until his eyes dart to you, and turn away quickly, ashamed. Leaving Karasuno has taken your hand and led you to a purpose that you never knew you were capable of. You wonder what the hell it has done to Tsukishima Kei.
“It looks good.”
He breathes in sharply, then exhales with a huff, shoulders relaxing as he stuffs his hands back into his pockets. You suddenly realise that your fingers have gone numb from the cold of the night, fingertips tingling like a million frost-bitten needles poking into your skin. You also stuff your hands into your pockets, rubbing your fingers against each other to generate some heat. Then, Kei’s looping his arm around yours, and pulling you away from Karasuno High School. He keeps on his straight path, and you stumble along behind his leaping steps. When you round a corner, the night breeze grows into something less imperturbable, and more vicious, pushing the two of you forward from behind in slashes of cold. The sea is near.
“Is this the beach we used to go to?”
“You still remember it.”
He drags you down a flight of stairs to Fukanuma Beach, and the misty sea air rushes to your head. When he leads you to the shoreline, you hesitate. The sea has been off limits since the two of you were five, a regulation put in place in remembrance of the Great Sendai Earthquake. An earthquake that saw Kei and yourself hunched beneath the same table in the middle of class, huddled next to each other as you cried for your parents. Now, in your final years of college, as the water slips beneath the soles of his shoes, pushing and receding in layers of aqua and bubbles of white, it seems that time has slipped by just as easily too. Time, that saw the fading of the earthquake’s devastation, despite the loss of thousands, including your father. Time, that frayed the string connecting yourself to Kei as you moved through life halfway across the world from Japan. Time, that passes through you like sand spilling between your fingers on a beach you once thought you knew, but has changed like the unprohibited water that seems to push further up into the shore at each tidal wave.
“They lifted the ban?”
“A few months ago, yeah.”
You step into the next wave that fizzles into foam, and the water crashes into the toe of your shoes. Crouching, you push mounds of wet sand into a cylinder, flattening the top and pushing divots in equal intervals. Kei joins, moulding shorter ones beside your own and drawing windows into the side. You finish, and he stands, smiling at the creation. You cover the top, afraid he will stomp on it, a trademark of Kei’s whenever you built sandcastles with him in childhood. Instead, he laughs, and walks further into the water. When you get up to join him, the hems of his trousers are soaked, shoes also covered in a sheen of wetness. You hop over the castle, and the next wave that comes sends its foundations crumbling back into the sea.
“We used to do that. You’d destroy it every time.”
Kei chuckles, and looks back to see the half destroyed castle. Clicking his tongue, he returns to the rubble, and you watch his hands push mounds of sand towards what is left standing.
“I’d always build a better one for you afterwards though.”
He dusts his hands off when he finishes, and the waves fizzle out just before they hit the two-tiered sandcastle. You sniff, holding your arms close to your chest. When Kei looks up, he feels like the summer of being seven years old again, smiling at you with his missing front tooth when you sniffle and laugh at the improved castle he’s put together for you. Now, it is winter. He only grins with the corners of his lips. You only sniff because it’s cold.
“Kei.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s really been a while. How have you been?”
He steps over the castle towards you, careful not to break it. Your hair blows in your face from the beach breeze and your eyes squint from the sand that flies into the air, and Kei takes it all in when you’re face to face with him. When he opens his mouth, some selfish part of him thinks about casting his words into shackles of regret, so heavy that they weigh you down and keep you in Japan, in Sendai, on this beach, somewhere close to him.
“Do you want to stay the night? Like you used to?”
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Nostalgia: A sentimental longing, or wistful yearning for a return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition.
Kei does not take you to his family house. He leads you up stairs that make no sense, and hallways that stretch on forever, until you finally reach his flat. He wipes his shoes on the doormat, throws his keys into a glass bowl upon entry, and hangs his jacket on a hook mounted to his front door instead of the coathanger that used to stand beside it. You look around, searching for the shells you once collected in a jar for his tenth birthday. When your eyes land on a jar filled with conches and cowries, you let go of a breath you were unaware of holding. They sit on the top of his bookshelf, above textbooks and file organisers. A knot forms in your throat at the realisation that the jar sits alone in its compartment, with nothing beside it. You’ve done the same to the jazz vinyl Kei gifted you at the airport before your departure. You don’t realise that he’s disappeared somewhere as you stare at the shells, until a shirt and a pair of shorts are thrown into your chest. He stands at the entrance to a hallway, donning sweatpants and an old hoodie, one that’s clearly a size too small. The pocket is lousily sewn on, a result of a mishap that occurred when you had borrowed it once. He doesn’t know that you spent the night learning to sew fabric just to fix it.
“Change. It’ll be more comfortable.”
You scurry through the hallway to his bathroom, pulling the shirt and shorts on hastily, before balling up your clothes and returning to the living room. Kei sits at his couch, now bound in leather instead of fabric, and clicks at the television. You join beside him, legs splaying across his own subconsciously. He doesn’t move. He stops at a movie, one you’ve seen hundreds of times before at his old house. It drones on in the background as he watches in silence, his arms now draped over your knees. The first time he watched this movie, it was in his old home, cross-legged on the carpeted ground with you on the couch behind him. Your hands used to press into his shoulders from above, shake them whenever your favourite scenes came on, squeeze them when you laughed until tears rolled from your eyes. Now that his new flat lacks a rug, he’s willing to settle with your legs on his own. Flashing lights illuminate the dark room in sequences that you can still recall perfectly from memory. He watches the movie. You watch him.
“Have you been doing good, Kei?”
Turning to you, he pushes his glasses up into his hair, leaning further back. You shuffle closer, legs bending as your shoulder digs into the leather couch. A strand of blond falls into his face, and you lift his glasses to tuck it back, before smoothing your hands over his mess of hair, combing and pushing with your fingertips.The words from the television melt into gibberish when he hums in satisfaction, what is unspoken between you two is more glaring than ever.
“I’ve been okay.” He cuts off, then finds himself thinking of what to tell you first, amongst the recollections of life that rush through his head. “Started working at the museum a couple years ago.” He wishes that you still remember the building, where the marble floors squeaked beneath your slippers, and glass panels lined the walls, hiding away treasures and artefacts that have withstood centuries, maybe even eons of erosion and weathering.
You nod, mind filling with the many museum visits you had with him there. He’s always liked the dinosaurs more than the shells. When you breathe out a chuckle, he knows you’re recalling the time he almost pissed himself at a life-sized, moving tyrannosaurus rex model.
“What about you?”
“Research. I’ve been doing research about…” you sign in the air, searching for the Japanese words that have slipped from your mind. Surrendering, you whip your phone out, searching for a translation.
“Archaeology?”
“Yeah, that. No more librarian dreams for me. More dinosaurs, though.”
A smile finds its way onto Kei’s face, one that softens his cheeks and flattens his eyes into crescents. He wonders if amongst the silver plaques and digital displays, your work is engraved in there somewhere. If each time he explains something to some bright-eyed child, who scuttles around the museum as you and him once did, he is unknowingly speaking in your language, translated until he can decipher the thoughts that run through your mind in your research, your memories, your dreams too.
“Maybe it’s in the museum somewhere. I’m willing to bet.”
“I hope it is.”
Your conversation fizzles back into silence, and the characters on the television do too. The two on the screen sit in a field, mere inches apart. The two of you look at each other, your knees now leaned into Kei’s chest and one of his arms draped along the back of the couch. When he pulls his glasses back to his eyes, and studies you all over again, it hits him that you really haven’t changed all that much, even after your six year separation. Six years older, with the exhaustion of a functioning adult, but you still gnaw on your cheeks, and tilt your head as you ask questions. Six years apart, and you are still you, who taught him to build sandcastles, and introduced him to his favourite movie, and fixed his hair whenever it stuck up in stubborn peaks of gold. When you let your eyes close, and drop your head onto his shoulder, you wait for lost time to tick backwards, until you’re on the rooftop with him once again. In this version of time, you blush when you tell him that you’ve chosen to stay in Japan instead. Pushing your head further into the crook of his neck, Kei’s chin reaches over to rest on the top of your crown. The credits of the movie roll in the background, and you mumble into the skin of his pulse.
“Can you take me there? I’ve missed it.” Your words send vibrations down his spine, sending his head into a frenzy as he pushes his hands against the couch harder.
“The museum?” It will be closed for the weekend, but Kei nods anyway. He’s sure he can find his way in through the back. Maybe he’ll take you to the fossils again, let you run your fingers along smooth amber and stone engravings. Perhaps he could show you the new exhibitions, ones that you won’t miss this time, as you have for the past six years. For now, he thinks he will let you sleep on his shoulder, listen to your soft snores, tremble at every hot breath that fans onto his neck.
The credits roll to the end, and come to a stop. Kei removes his arm from the couch to grab the remote from his coffee table. He rewinds the movie to the start.
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思慕 [しぼ, shibo]: yearning; deep longing, especially when accompanied by tenderness or sadness.
On the final night of your stay, you learn that Kei still giggles when he breaks rules, as he drags you through the back entrance of the closed museum. He maneuvers through hallways of antique paintings and repurposed junk, slips into dark stairwells illuminated by the flashlight of his phone, traps your wrist between his fingers and chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he takes you higher, and higher, and higher. You’ve lost count of how many flights of stairs have gone by when he taps his keycard against a sensor by a backdoor, and pushes it open. The museum observatory, once a mess of bamboo scaffolding and green covers, now allows silver moonlight through its glass dome, boasting billions of iridescent stars nestled in a blanket of hazy midnight. A decade of your anticipation has resulted in a circular space, hundreds of plush recliners lining the circumference of the room, and you wonder how many eyes have watched the stars from those seats before you ever had the chance to. When Kei leads you further into the observatory, you step foot onto the north star plastered on the ground in the centre of the room, where nothing but a telescope remains in a ten-foot radius. He takes a spot on the ground, back pressed against the cushioned edge of a seat.
“I figured this is the best spot. Better than any of the seats, actually.” He plants his feet on the ground, bending his knees and spreading them just wide enough for you to sit in between. You cross your legs, wagging them up and down as your hands hold your shins, and he lowers his legs, stretching them out in front of him. Leaning back, your spine hits a spot between his ribs, the same way it did when you were thirteen, and fourteen, and fifteen, staring at stars from the grass of his backyard. You pity the visitors that have yet to discover the simplicity of stargazing from the ground, hands pushed into the ground for stability, dirt and moisture seeping into the fabric of clothing. Pushing further into him, his breathing is heavy against your back, chest rising in rhythmic ups and downs. For what feels like hours, you sit in silence, eyes trained on your fingers that pick and fiddle. At the realisation that you haven’t looked at the stars in years, something bubbles in your stomach, pervasive, relentless. When you finally loll your head backwards to fall on his shoulder, and the tip of Kei’s nose grazes your cheekbone, you wonder how long he has not looked at the stars for as well.
“Why’d you stop calling?” His sudden question sends a haze rushing into your head.
You swallow thickly. If the passage of time were a sin, you’d burden it with all your explanations. Telling him that now would seem like some lousy excuse.
“It stopped going to your line a year after I left.” You pause, searching for the right words to use amidst the sea of Japanese and English that you must now sort out. “I only stopped trying after another month, the voicemail just said your number was no longer in use.”
Kei wishes he could dig his fingers into his chest and rip his heart out. If only he hadn’t stupidly broken his phone that night, five years ago during volleyball practice. If only he had checked his pockets before entering the court, just as he has done hundreds of times before. If only he had this, if only he had that, he might just torment himself for the rest of his life. His breath hitches, shoulder freezing rigid. Time does not differentiate between the knowing and oblivious. It slips and leaks beneath the noses of all that it encompasses, and it is but the cautious few that know to grab it, and join in on its journey. He knows now that he is not one of them, not after he’s cursed at the passage of time over and over and over for his own blunder.
“I broke my phone in a game. Got a new one so the number changed as well, fuck me.”
You laugh dryly into the empty observatory. The occasional twinkling of the stars above do nothing to make his explanation any easier. You think you’ll blame it all on doomed fate that you’ve spent five years trying to find somebody that felt the same as Kei did, to no avail. Blame it on cursed luck that you’ve clawed and grabbed at anything familiar enough, archaeology, jazz vinyls, old DVDs of the movie shared between two, all to remind yourself that he too, was once within grasp. You say nothing, because you don’t see a reason to. Instead, you push your head into his neck, drown in the scent of his cologne, ease yourself into his now grown body. You don’t see him wipe a hand across his mouth, then rub his eyes with pinched fingers.
When Kei decides to speak again, it is what feels like another hour later. He’s readjusted his posture about fifty times by now, arms removed from the ground and draped over your shoulders. The sensation of your hair against his skin is suddenly more prominent than ever when your hands find his own, holding them closer to yourself.
“If I didn’t find you at the grave, would you have looked for me?” His question is heavy, weighing his chest down as the words leave his throat in a hesitant cluster. You turn to look at him, and your eyes linger on his own when you squeeze his hands once, twice, then a third time.
“I’ve been looking for five years. Nobody else could take me home.” Your heart rushes to your mouth at your confession, and the bob of Kei’s throat does not go unnoticed. One of his hands comes up to hold your shoulder, pushing it towards himself until your body twists, rubbing against his. You let go of him, pressing your fingers into the ground between his legs instead, and he breathes out shakily, his windpipe suddenly cleared of its uncertainty.
“You’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Yes, I am.”
His fingers slide down to grab your wrist, before going numb completely. His unoccupied hand peels itself from the floor and settles on the side of your waist. Your mouth goes dry when Kei breathes, hot and heavy, his eyes travelling to every inch of you. A bout of heat rushes from his chest to his head, and his legs, and his arms too. The air between the two of you is thick, and it sends your head into a feverish blur. The ground collapses beneath your knees as they shift to press into the floor, and you come face to face with Tsukishima Kei, who prefers his hair parted in bangs on the sides of his face, and wears silver frames instead of black ones. Tsukishima Kei, who has been visiting your father’s grave on your behalf for six years, and still plays volleyball even in his adulthood. Tsukishima Kei, whose eyes are finally finished with their ventures across your figure, that is pushed up against him on the ground of an observatory, and is learning whatever he can about you when his fingers tighten around your wrists and he kisses you without a warning.
Once, at the young, innocent age of seven, Tsukishima Kei kissed you in this museum. You had run a little too fast, stepped on your loose laces and fallen onto the ground face first. You sulked at a bench facing some random painting of melting clocks, red dots scattered across a purple patch right beneath your eye. When he kneeled in front of you to grab your face, and pressed his lips onto the bruise for a fraction of a second, he must have kissed the pain away, mending the leaking capillaries beneath your skin as he separated from your cheeks with a pop. Now, he pulls against your wrists to push himself closer, traps you in the embrace of his legs around the back of your thighs, wheezes and stutters against your lips at the lack of oxygen in his lungs. His head is running in circles instead of straight paths, and everything is spinning. When your hands reach to grab at his shirt, and palm at his chest, he pulls away only to rip his glasses off and toss them to the ground. Beneath the glow of the moon from above, everything but your flushed cheeks and swollen lips is a blur. You take half a breath in, before it is interrupted by Kei’s palms pulling you in by the sides of your neck, and his mouth on yours again. At seven years old, he ripped bruising pain away from your face with a kiss. At twenty-one, he forces his pain, and grief, and regret rushing into your heart by pushing himself against you, fingers tangling themselves into your hair as he kisses you, desperate, almost distressed. Every tug at your lips is a confession left unspoken, every time Kei opens his mouth apologies spill out into you in choked groans and sighs. At the sensation of his hand leaving your neck, your arm searches for him aimlessly, before he’s palming at you through your pants. He swallows your sudden gasp, and your fingers grip his wrist until your knuckles go white.
“Did you ever like me?” You can do nothing but choke out a question against his lips, one you’ve pondered about, day in and day out, since your departure from Japan.
By the way that Kei nods frantically, you’re certain that this is what six years of separation has amounted to.
Sparing no time, your fingers tug at the hem of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to release himself from the fabric constraints. He does the same, hands roaming until they find the waistband of your pants to push them down, fingers tugging your underwear to the side with a flick. He grabs you by the waist beneath your shirt, yanks your body towards him until something feels right and he can’t help but let out a trembling sigh into your shoulder. And when you finally begin to sink yourself onto him, agonisingly slow, you wish that you had never left Japan in the first place. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you wish that you could spend the rest of your life in this observatory with Kei, your hands wrapped around the back of his sweat-slicked neck.
When he pulls you down to push further, more pervasively, you fall into him, head hanging over his shoulder and arms squeezing around his neck. His inexperienced hands rock you back and forth against his hips, pulling a flurry of gasps and moans from your throat. He lets himself learn how you taste when his teeth tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it down to expose your bare shoulder. His lips latch onto your collarbone, biting and sucking a trail of red marks up to the side of your neck. You shudder at his advances, and he studies the way your walls flutter around him, the erratic pulses that draw stars around his head, how your nails dig into his shoulders, and send his mind into a senseless orbit.
When he pushes and pulls at you a little harder, you whimper his name into his ear, reduced to nothing but a babbling mess that nibbles at his neck and kisses up his jaw feverishly. First friend, first kiss, first love. The notion that this is another first that Tsukishima Kei has brought upon you sends your mind spiralling. He should have been your first prom date, first roommate, first dance too. If only you hadn’t left him first. You push your head off his shoulder, hands moving to hold his face instead. A wave of pleasure washes over you when his palm presses against your stomach, and you hang your head low again, a shaky sigh released from your chest.
When you look up, there are tears in Kei’s eyes. He rolls his head back onto the plush seat behind him, hands lifting you off himself fully, just to push you back onto him again. You collapse into his body, palms pressing against his heaving chest.
“I- fuck! I fucking loved you! I still do!” He speaks it into the glass ceiling as one hand reaches for his face. He wipes his palm across his eyes, only for more tears to form. They are uncontrollable, relentless as he turns his head away from you. He isn’t sure how he will live again tomorrow, not when he’s finally come to a reckoning with the pang in his chest at every thought of you. He thinks he could die the second you step onto that flight back to London, ripped away from him once again. The reality that he cannot stay buried inside you for any longer than the next couple of minutes haunts him to no end, the idea of being separated from you a second time unbearable to even imagine. When he turns back to see you, head on his chest and fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, he decides that reality can wait until he’s finished with you.
“I love you too- shit, Kei! I never stopped!”
You rut against his hips senselessly now, chasing some unfamiliar high as your vision fades to black and you scream his name until your throat goes hoarse. Kei barely gives you time to breathe, before he’s coming undone from right beneath you, shuddering and groaning as you relax against his body and go limp. He holds you against him, one hand pushing your head against his chest and the other wrapped around your back. He tucks your damp hair behind your ears, places kisses along your temple so he can hear the hums of satisfaction that sound from your curled lips.
“Can you stay forever?” He mumbles into your hair, and you turn to press your ear against his chest. His heart pounds as he pushes his cheek into the crown of your head, and your hands crawl up his chest to wrap around his neck. When he looks up through the glass ceiling, the stars have not moved one bit.
“I’ll find you again, wherever you are.”
Time may slip away from Tsukishima Kei like petals that fall off the buds of flowers, water that seeps beneath the soles of his sneakers, stardust that hovers above the atmosphere. Yet he has learned that it has a way of always coming back to remind him of its presence, and its escape. You are the reminder that it has been sending to him for six years.
author's note:
ERM! never writing nsfw again that's for sure but this piece defs had some stuff that i was very, VERY proud of coming up with!! sorry to my minor moots who probably won't read this in its entirety bc of the big MDNI warning... but I honestly don't know how to feel about this piece as a whole... i was super excited to write it but i think i got a little impatient towards the end esp since im always writing at like 3am LOL but i hope you guys liked it anyways!!! i tried really hard to make the dynamic work and i hope it did!!!!!
also ps they exchange numbers again js a little extra bonus that i didn’t get to put into the actual thing
anyways tags!!
@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @laughingfcx @writingsofanomnivore @t0rchknight @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @hiraethwa @fiannee @catsoupki @anonymity-222 @wishi-selfships @kuroppiii
ok love u guys thank u for being patient
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#haikyuu smut#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima kei#tsukishima smut#tsukishima angst#haikyuu fluff#tsukishima fluff#haikyuu timeskip#hq timeskip#hq tsukki#tsukishima#haikyuu tsukishima#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#hq smut#tsukishima kei smut#haikyuu#haikyuu au#haikyuu!!#tsukishima imagines#tsukishima scenario
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We're All We Need Today
Hey, long time no story! I'm back with this, something I had the idea for a long time ago but it was low on my list of favourites. Then I re-jigged it and re-worked it and now it's done! Everybody's favourite trope, or mine at least, angst to fluff!
It should have been just a normal Tuesday. A normal evening on a random day mid-week in May. Training for you both that ended just after lunchtime, before meeting up at Alexia's apartment early evening after the pair of you attended meetings or completed other pieces of work. That all went smoothly, it was perfectly fine.
Alexia shouldn't have looked at your phone without your permission though. She shouldn't have looked at your messages in the first place, nevermind doing it behind your back.
"I cannot believe you told your friends and did not tell me first!" Alexia shouted at you as soon as you walked out of the bathroom, your phone opened onto your friend groupchat in her hand.
"What? Alexia, what are you doing? Are you looking through my phone?" You cried out, marching over to snatch it back, but she holds it in the air out of your reach like a high school bully. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"
"You told your friends without conferring with me first. You went behind my back and you know I didn't want anyone knowing!"
"You've gone behind my back too, looking through my phone! Why did you do that?" You jumped and grabbed your phone, confirming exactly what you thought.
She had gone through your phone whilst you were out the room, had clicked onto a chat with your closest friends who you trusted more than almost everyone in your life, and she had read just one message that said 'What does your weekend look like in sunny Barcelona? Any plans with A?'
"No, no. You aren't flipping this around. You swore to me-" She jabbed her finger harshly against your chest as she spoke. "-that you would not tell anyone until I said you could."
Is she for real right now? Who are you even talking to?
This is not the woman you fell in love with almost seven months ago. This is not the woman who used her captaincy as an excuse to get your number. This is not the woman who asked to be your girlfriend in such a shy and awkward manner as she stumbled over her words whilst eating dinner with you on her sofa. This definitely isn't the woman who cares for you how no one else has, nor is this the woman who loves you infinitely and shows it in ways you never could have thought possible.
This is a selfish, egotistical, self-centred, and downright cold-hearted person you do not recognise. The version of Alexia in front of you here is one you thought you'd never, ever encounter. Yet, look at the situation now.
"So, what, I have to run everything by you? I can't tell my closest friends possibly the biggest detail in my life? I can't tell them I'm in love and happier than ever?"
"No. Not now. We promised we wouldn't tell anyone, and you have betrayed me." Alexia huffed angrily, her hands on her hips as she turned away from you.
"I wanted to share this part of my li- you, with them! And, Ale, you've told Alba and Eli, why can't I tell my friends?" You moved to stand in front of her so you're facing her again, and she fixed you a disapproving glare with a jut to her jaw.
"Friends are different to family - I've never met these people! What are their intentions? I don't know, and I don't want them knowing private facts about me. That is why I'm mad." Alexia gritted her teeth as she spoke, fury swimming through her veins as her hands gripped her own hips so tightly you were sure there'd be bruises the next time she looked.
"What are you even saying? Do you hear yourself right now?" You scoffed, your anger almost tripling when the woman in front of you chuckled.
"Trust me, I hear myself. I also hear you denying everything, denying the fact you've outed our relationship, denying the fact you've broke my trust. Betrayed the one thing I asked you to promise not to do. Maybe you're the one who needs their ears checking, remember when I said 'let's wait some time to tell people.' Maybe you misheard me and thought I said 'how about we tell every fucking person in the city?' So yes, I hear myself. Very clearly, you don't have to worry about that."
You stared, glared, at her for a few moments, gobsmacked at the turn of events whilst also trying not to burst into tears. This is a situation you never thought would occur between you both, and the vile way she spoke to you paired with her foul accusations had you slipping on your shoes and leaving her apartment. And, possibly the worst part of it all? She didn't even try to stop you.
Why was it always about her, about what she wants, always on her terms?
What about your opinion? She didn't care to hear you out, and it sounds like she doesn't give two flying fucks what you've got to say. Alexia Putellas and her dense head coming into play again, only caring about herself and her legacy and what people say about her. You'd think that as someone who, to the public, seems so very secure and content in her position as the best women's player still in the game, that she wouldn't be so worrisome and out-right vile if there was a chance something wasn't going her way.
No, she wasn't like that with you at least, not at all. You hadn't been together long, but the secrecy and, what you inferred now as shame, seeped into your mind and with each step as you walked home that day, you grew more and more, not only utterly infuriated, but overwhelmingly perturbed at the prospect of just... everything.
Perhaps your whole relationship had merely been a fluke. Something Alexia didn't take serious in the slightest, and nowhere near serious enough for you to tell people about it. Maybe, at the end of the day, you were too much for her to deal with, and the only way the Catalan could cope was by keeping you behind closed doors. The theories your mind was coming up made you sick to the pit of your stomach, and it was a miracle that you made it to the bathroom of your apartment by the time you were emptying the contents of your body.
There was some kind of higher power watching over you, because this whole fiasco had occurred when there were two days off afterwards. It was coming up to the tail end of the season, and as the latter half of the month was jam-packed with tense games, you had planned to make the most of the time off. With a few social events scattered across the two days, you had been greatly looking forward to spending time with your teammates outside of the pitch, your friends, and at the time most importantly, Alexia. That all didn't seem enticing anymore, nor did it even seem possible.
For the time being though, as you stumbled your way out of the bathroom and fell into bed, the breakfast catch-ups and evening dinners were the last things on your mind. The only way you wanted to spend your time off, was wallowing in a trench of self-pity.
And that's how you found yourself in the gym of your apartment complex some fourty hours later.
Jab, jab, hook. Jab, jab, hook. Right hook, then a left uppercut, and another right hook to follow.
Punch after punch after punch after punch. There was no stopping you in this mindset. Not with the things your head was chanting, Alexia's words circling endlessly around your mind. They were what fuelled you right now, allowing you to lay into the punching bag before you with no second thought to the consequences.
And those consequences were sure to bring you a lot of pain later, in your hands that weren't wrapped up like they should, nevermind wearing gloves.
There was music playing through the earphones you had in, but for the life of you, you couldn't even register it right now. Your vision was blurred by pure rage, failing to recognise the cuts forming with every unrestrained punch and the bruises beginning to form along the bumps of each knuckle. You had tunnel vision on one thing and one thing only, and that was trying to dispel yourself of the all-consuming anger that had plagued you for almost two days now.
"Amiga! Basta, basta, hey." A soft voice broke through your trance as your earphones were delicately tugged from your ears. "Hey, you hear me?"
As your hands were gently taken ahold of by the figure to your right, you took a deep breath and leaned forward to rest your forehead against the bag. It was now that the woman beside you realised just how poor your breathing was, and she brought one of her hands to rub caringly up and down your back.
"Más despacio, relájate. Tómatelo con calma, vale? Relájate." Her voice soothed you a little, giving you the peace of mind you needed to set your breathing back to normal. "Are you with me?"
At that, you nod and take some more breaths before leaning up and taking in the person beside you. It was Mariona, who you shared the same apartment complex with, a fact you had forgotten about. In this moment, you weren't sure if you were thankful for that fact or if you resented it.
"Yes, with you." You wiped your face on the sleeve of your shirt before properly looking at her.
"Are you okay?" Mariona knew it probably wasn't the wisest thing to say, but for the moment as she collected her thoughts and did an internal assessment of the situation, it was more of a buffer than anything.
"Um, I guess there's no point lying, is there." You state flatly, the Spaniard smiling sadly at you and shaking her head. "Things aren't great... right now, so."
"Okay. That's okay." Mariona's smile was perhaps the brightest thing you'd seen, and with her looking at you the way she was, with so much care and a major lack of judgement, it was hard to reject the help she was soon to offer.
"Will you let me take care of you? I have a first aid kit in my apartment that I can use for these." She gestured down to your bruised and battered hands that were growing more painful by the second. "We can talk if you want, or you can at least let me patch you up and I can call somebody else. It's up to you."
You thought you knew what you wanted, and it wasn't this, but now that the offer is glaringly right in your face, your inner monologue urged you to fall to your knees and beg for assistance, for someone to scoop up all the negativity in your mind and lift the weight of it from your shoulders.
Isolating yourself from everyone, as you had done in the last days, wasn't healthy in the slightest, and rationally you knew the excuses you gave for doing so were completely unwarranted. Yes, you were the newest signing, and yes, Alexia was the captain and the glue of the team. However, that did not lessen your worth, you still deserved your spot on the team and you deserved to be treated with humanity. As Mariona had shown in the span of a few moments, your teammates wouldn't pick sides depending on how long you had and hadn't known people, and they certainly wouldn't treat you any less just because you had fallen out with - foregoing her team title - your girlfriend.
You were only human after all.
"I would appreciate that, thank you, Mariona."
Once more, the forward smiled politely at you and nodded, moving to wait at the door to the gym to wait for you as you collected up your things. Each movement of your hands had you grimacing in discomfort, a fact not lost on Mariona as she took the items, like your water bottle and your jumper, from you just to take the edge off a little.
You weren't too close with Mariona, you had gravitated towards the likes of Ingrid and Fridolina and Aitana when you joined (and Alexia, of course), but at the end of the day she was still your teammate and you often found yourself in a group with her in training since you were also a forward. The 28 year old was a hard-worker, yet she was also one of the most laid-back people you'd ever met, so in her presence it was hard not to allow yourself to relax even just a tiny bit. The aura that radiated off of her was oddly settling, and as you both made your way up to her apartment in relative silence, you were offered your first slice of serenity since that day not too long ago.
"Would you like a shower first? You look like you worked yourself hard in there." Mariona offered as she closed the door of her apartment behind you.
"No, it's okay, thanks." You gave her an awkward, tight-lipped smile, feeling somewhat embarrassed at having been caught in such a vulnerable moment - a moment when you were filled with such rage and negativity, that all you could do was lay into a harmless object like a woman possessed.
"Alright. Sit down at the counter, I will get all I need and be with you in a second."
With a sheepish nod, you complied and sat at the island counter in the kitchen, taking a moment to compose yourself before you knew an emotionally charged conversation was about to take place. You were tempted to take Mariona up on her offer to call somebody else, but honestly you were already exhausted and just wanted to get this whole situation off of your chest.
You'd been lugging it around for days now, encumbered by the weight of anger that, as time went on, was bleeding into exasperation and disconcertion because, in all honesty, you just wanted your girlfriend back. That was a little difficult though, because the woman in question was still being as cold as ever and for the life of you, you couldn't get a good read on her to figure out what her stand was on it all now. Whether she'd confided in Mapi or Irene or her sister or even Mariona, you had no idea, you just hoped there was still an ounce of her that cared for you in just a sliver of the way you did for her.
Though you hadn't seen or heard from her since that evening, her actions and her words were still fresh on your mind, and no matter how much time you spent mentally going through each doing of hers, it all made zero sense. In no way shape or form had Alexia portrayed such viciousness towards you, nor had she ever been so horrible and completely unfair in the time you had known her. Maybe it was a case of only knowing her for a short-ish amount of time, but her behaviour seemed so out of character that it set a feeling of uneasiness in your chest.
Hopefully, bumping into Mariona, someone who had been good friends with Alexia for a long time, would give you some insight into why the Barcelona captain had acted in such ways.
"Here we go. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but it is unfortunately a necessary evil in this case." Mariona purses her lips forgivingly as she pulls out two alcohol wipes that already have you wincing at the thought. "Are you ready?"
"Yep, just get it done with. Please."
You hold your breath as she rips open one of the packets, then you watch on as she takes hold of your left hand first and lightly runs it over and in between each knuckle. It hurts a hell of a lot, sure it does, but with the tenderness that the Spaniard treats you with, all you can focus on is trying not to burst into tears at the kindness you're faced with. Your mind has been anything but towards you, and the last proper human interaction you had that had been longer than a few brief minutes was your intense argument with Alexia. So this moment here was overwhelming, in many more ways than one.
"That's one done, your right hand looks a bit worse. Am I okay to carry on?"
Honestly, why couldn't you have fallen for someone like Mariona, instead of the ignorant, hot-headed woman you were in love with?
"Yeah, it's fine."
The silence between you both is weirdly not unsettling or awkward at all, instead it's relatively comforting and for the first time in days, your skin isn't crawling at the fact you're left alone with nothing but the sound of your endless cycle of thoughts.
The Spaniard standing beside you was correct, your right hand was indeed slightly worse off than your left, and that was only made more clear with each brush of the wipe, clearing away the blood only to show cuts in the divots of your knuckles and bruises covering the entirety of the right end of your hand.
"You have a good punch on you, ever thought about boxing instead of football?" Mariona joked, trying to uplift the heavy atmosphere in the room.
"No, wouldn't want to mess up this face." You replied, the forward laughing quietly and nodding.
"You are right, and football is much more easy to watch."
You supplied her with an agreeing smile, trying to hide your discomfort as she moved your hands around to assess the damage and make a plan of action.
"Okay, I think I will apply some antiseptic cream for your cuts and wrap them up with bandages. Then I will give you an ice pack for each hand, does that sound alright?"
"That's perfect, Mariona, thank you." You smile gratefully at her, and thought it's not a genuine smile, you hope she understands the appreciation you hold for her.
"It is not a problem. We look after each other at Barça, sabes? Anything you need, please do not be afraid of reaching out. To any of us."
And there is her segue into striking up the conversation you'd both danced around since she saw you.
You had to give it to her, she let a few moments pass by so it could come across as a bit less obvious, but nevertheless it happened just as you had expected.
"Are you comfortable talking to me about what happened in the gym?" She took note of the hesitation you greeted that question with, so she put the tube of cream down and faced you fully. "That was a bit concerning to walk in on, and I wouldn't be at peace with myself if I let you out of here without checking in on you."
"I... I guess, yeah." You sighed.
"Thank you. How would you like to start?" Mariona wondered with her ever-present smile, pairing it with a nonchalant shrug, further evidence of her care-free nature that continued to draw you in. "You can start talking about what is on your mind, or I can ask some leading questions to help. I am fine with anything, I just want you to leave here feeling a bit better."
Mariona had asked you a few moments ago if you had ever thought about boxing. Now, you wanted to ask her if she'd ever considered being a psychologist.
"I think it would help if you asked some questions, maybe." You decided, and she nodded instantly. She grabbed the tube of cream again and started applying it at the same time she uttered her first query.
"Do you normally practice on the bag without gloves on?" It was a very light one to start off with, perhaps something to be grateful for, but despite feeling a little calmer now, your mind was still in turmoil and wasn't fully recovered yet.
"No, I always wrap them up. I didn't even plan on using the bag today, it just... I was on the treadmill and then I saw it and wanted to use it. I wasn't really thinking straight, so. Yeah. This is the result of that." You took a sharp breath as the forward smoothed over a particularly bad cut with the antiseptic.
"Mhm. And, forgive me for this one, was it your intention to hurt yourself?"
That one took your breath a little.
"No, no, not at all. It wasn't even a thought in my head, I swear, I only wanted to get my anger out." You responded hastily, trying to convince her that you were relatively okay and that this was just a blip, and you didn't need some kind of intervention.
"Okay, thank you for being honest. I'm very glad to hear that, and I'll take your word for it." After finishing with your current hand, she squeezes it comfortingly and moves onto your other one. "Are you willing to tell me what's wrong? Why you needed to get some anger out?"
"Yeah... yeah, I am. I have to give you some context though, and I'd be really grateful if you kept it between us."
Mariona wasn't a gossip by any sorts, but as a result of the months of Alexia's words drilling into you of how nobody can know about you both, it was still an anxiety you had. Yet, the woman looking after you in such a heart-warming way was quite possibly the good samaritan you needed right now, her acts of kindness a reminder to not lose all hope with the world around you. You were well within your right to freak out in the way you had - not only were you in an entirely new city, learning a language you hadn't paid any mind to since school, but rather naively you had probably depended on Alexia more than you should have.
It was a lesson to be learnt, a mistake you wouldn't make again, though in the future even if you didn't recognise it yet, you'd look back on your time so far and wouldn't even regret it that much. After all, every moment of the past ten months had led you to the love of your life, and nothing was ever completely perfect. You would take a few bumps in the road if it meant you could end the season with a few medals around your neck and the greatest woman you'd ever met on your arm. Sure, you might not think the greatest of her right now, but you would mend it. You were sure you would. Hopefully.
"Of course, I won't tell a soul. You can tell me anything and no one will ever hear a word of it." Mariona reasurred you and though you hadn't really doubted her in the first place, you were still beyond grateful to hear that.
"So, um... Alexia and I have been in a relationship for a few months."
Yet again, Mariona continued to surprise you with how marvelous she was. Or maybe it was just an after effect of how much Alexia's words had got to you, because when the islander simply raised her eyebrows for a millisecond before nodding as you revealed your news, you're shocked at how much of a low-key reaction she gave. Whether she had an incredible poker-face or she just didn't care half as much as Alexia thought people would, your body sagged in relief at that minute response. As far as human beings go, this one right here wasn't too bad at all.
"And, for reasons I still don't understand, she was adamant that we keep it a secret. Like it was some kind of war tactic we had to keep safe. She made it out to be a make or break situation for us. But she told Eli and Alba less than a week after we made it all official, which I didn't think much of. I talked to her about it back then, wondering if it was just something she wanted to keep quiet while we were only in the dating stage, but she told me I still couldn't tell anyone. I guess because I was still relatively new here, with not many close friends and still with the mindset of trying to earn my place in the team, I agreed. Then as time went on I got a bit... annoyed with what Alexia wanted, but whenever I brought it up with her she would immediately shut the conversation down. I figured I could do it slyly, without telling her and without telling anyone any kind of intricate details of our relationship. So I took matters into my own hands."
You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose at this point, knowing it was here in the story where things got quite rocky. Mariona had finished applying the antiseptic at this point and was now getting the bandages ready, prepped with the medi-tape beside her to secure her wrapping. With each new fact you unveiled, she nodded along in understanding, completely on the same page with you. She didn't understand the actions of her friend as of yet, wondering why on earth she'd be so intensely secretive about her relationship to the point of not telling a single soul, but those were thoughts she wouldn't voice yet.
Mariona herself was in a private relationship, and she was happier than ever in it. However, it wasn't a secret. Sure, she wasn't posting photos of herself and Lia all over her social media, but if you looked close enough the facts were clearly there. Plus, pretty much everyone in her personal life and Lia's knew about the pair of them, and nobody was fussed. So why Alexia was acting in this way, she didn't have a single idea.
"I told my closest, most trusted friends that I was in a relationship, and that the name of the person I was with began with 'A'. That was genuinely all I gave. I warned them not to nag me with guesses of who it was as that would break my own personal rules, because after all I didn't want to go behind Alexia's back more than I already had. Then... Alexia went through my phone. She saw that my friends were making plans in the group chat back home, and then they wondered if I had plans with 'A' over the weekend."
"She went through your phone?" Mariona questioned, in disbelief at the invasion of privacy you'd experienced.
"Yes, she did. The text flashed up on my lock screen while I went to the bathroom, and then she just went on my phone and looked through my messages. I don't know how in depth she went, but..." You shrugged, averting your gaze to your aching hands, ultimately defeated by now; by Alexia and her stubbornness, by your own mind, and lastly by the fact you had been so suddenly caught out by one of your teammates.
It was at this point that the numbness dispelled and gave way for shame, embarrassment, and a bit of anxiety. After all, you didn't know anyone from the team in depth, you were still just getting to know them, and the first thing you had done when you arrived was dive head first into a relationship with their captain. There was an endless possibility to the vast amount of opinions each person could hold for you and how they felt about your relationship (even though there was almost no way at all they could know about it), and as the silent seconds ticked by, it started eating away at you.
Though, somehow, in some magical, god-given miraculous way, Mariona saw right through you. And from now on, you were to make it your life mission to give back to this messiah in the form of an attacking footballer from the Balearic Islands of Spain.
"Hey." She tapped on the counter in front of you to get your attention, achieving that when you look up at her. "You don't have to... to get defensive with me. I can bet what you're thinking, and you don't have to worry about all those thoughts. I am neutral here, helping a friend. I will not go and tell Alexia or anyone about this, not if you don't want me to. And trust me, I am on your side. I have never heard of her acting like this, I am shocked and slightly outraged too."
That was undeniably relieving to hear, for a number of reasons. But for the most part, you were glad to hear that because for the past few days your mind had been trying its damn hardest to manipulate you into thinking this whole commotion was your fault, that you were the fault-line in the relationship that had caused this rickety earthquake.
No, that was no longer a worry, because here was possibly the human example of sunshine saying she shared your view and was just as displeased as you when it came to the Catalan's behaviour. Now, knowing you had at least one person on your side, this obstacle felt a little easier to climb over.
"I do have one thing I'm wondering." After a curious hum from you, she explained. "Is there anything you would like me to do in this situation? Like, bring it up with Ale? Because for both of your sakes, I want this to be solved in the easiest way possible."
Was it a good idea, judging off of Alexia's already toxic reaction to the point where she refused to hear you out? Most likely, but, not only did you think Mariona could teach her a thing or two when it came to human interactions, there was a small (actually fairly large) part of you that wanted to fight back against Alexia's unfairness by showing her you simply were not one to be trampled on.
There were two people in this relationship, and in this moment you realised that rank, longevity, and status in a football team were measly things to worry about.
"I think that would be a good way to start. Having someone knock some sense into her." You answered, quietly delighted when Mariona laughed momentarily at your words.
"I will try to do exactly that, for you. Promise." For the millionth time that evening, you found yourself completely under the influence of that goddamn smile.
"You're very good at communication. Unnervingly good." The hearty laugh you got in response forced the first genuine smile out of you all evening.
"Well, when you have a very emotionally intelligent girlfriend, you have to keep up."
"If you could give Alexia some lessons, I would appreciate that a lot."
"I will talk to her. Don't worry."
You left Mariona's apartment not too long after, both hands wrapped precariously and feeling significantly better than you did during that gym incident, finding solace in the fact there was now a fairly solid plan of action.
The only thing you could do now, was wait.
That was harder said than done, because for the rest of that day you didn't hear from Mariona at all. Nor did you hear from her before training the day after, and for the first time since you arrived, you were wracked with nerves as you walked into the building.
Not once during the whole session did Alexia glance towards you. Not once did she even acknowledge your existence. It drove you crazy, her acting as if you were invisible. As if she couldn't get anymore fucking immature. It took a lot of self control to not act like a petulant child towards her, desperate to piss her off in a quarter of the way she had to you, but you were better than that.
So when she rocked up outside your apartment later that day, with freshly dyed blonde hair that was styled in a frustratingly attractive way, a bouquet of chrysanthemums in one hand and a takeaway bag in the other, it took all of your strength to not slam the door in her stupidly hot face.
"What are you doing here?" You asked flatly, followed by a sigh that clearly indicated she was the last person on earth you wanted to see right now.
Well, with that haircut, maybe not the last person...
"I have a lot of explaining to do, I know that. And a lot of grovelling too. I was hoping you didn't hate me that badly to let me in." Alexia smiled sadly down at you, a slight shrug to her shoulders when she speaks.
Your mind goes back and forth for a few moments, briefly running through pros and cons of letting her in, before you decide fuck it, worst comes to worst you can show off your new boxing skills.
Eyebrows raised, you walk away from the door back towards your sofa, leaving her to wonder what to do for a moment. Ultimately, she decides to slowly follow after you once she'd softly closed the door. A quick glance around your apartment tells her you hadn't eaten yet, and she takes that as a small win before heading towards where you were seated.
"I brought your favourite takeout. Would you like to me dish it up?" She asks, a little disheartened when you shake your head.
"If you came here to talk, we're gonna talk." You state firmly, waiting expectantly for her to come sit with you.
She should have expected this really, knowing how royally she'd screwed it up with you and how disgusting she had acted. But hearing you speak so sternly was a bit unnerving, even if Alexia did recognise she more than deserved it.
A second later, she nods and places her items down on your dining table before making her way over to you. Rightfully so, she leaves some space between you both when she sits down, and you have to stifle a laugh as to not ruin your façade with how on edge she looks.
"Uh, so, me first, or..." Staying silent, you raised a daring eyebrow at her, thoroughly enjoying putting her through this slight torture. "Sí, okay, me first."
Anxiously, she wipes her clammy palms on her thighs. Then she cleared her throat, glancing at you periodically before taking a deep breath and starting her explanation.
"I am well, well aware of how bad I have acted towards you. I want to make that clear first. I acted like an idiot, to the worst degree. I was selfish, rude, I invaded your privacy, and I completely fucked it all up."
Hm, not too bad of a start.
"Congratulations, you took responsibility!" You responded sarcastically, fighting the urge to give her a round of applause too. Then you're fighting off a bubble of laughter at the nervous chuckle she gives before speaking again.
"I will regret my actions until the day I die. I promise you, I will never behave like that ever again. I've never been more ashamed of myself in my life, and knowing it's you who I acted like that towards makes it a hundred times worth. Because, you..." She shakes her head and waves her hands in the air like she's speechless. "You're you. You're the most selfless person I know. Your heart is something I do not deserve to have, because of how pure and kind and beautiful it is. You are so caring, and you love with every fibre of your being. Not only that, but you're so open, and I really admire that, because that is something I'm not. I'm... I'm ashamed to admit that even now I'm still anxious, and being secretive is how I've lived all my life. I want to be more open and care-free, I really do, it's just... hard for me."
With each word, each compliment, and each reason she gives, your hardened exterior towards her is slowly getting chipped away. You're not a grudge holder, it's not in your nature. And no matter how much you tried to fight it, it was inexplicably hard to not get wrapped up in her.
"Mariona... Mariona said you didn't even tell your friends it was me you were with. She said you only told them my name began with A, and that was it."
Alexia trusted Mariona of course, that was something that naturally occurred having known her for so long, but she wanted to get confirmation from you.
"I did. They don't know it's you I'm with." You told her, and if it was somehow possible, Alexia's heart shattered just that bit more.
"Well, I'm sorry, amor. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, it was really stupid and unfair of me. I really appreciate that you didn't break my trust, like I thought you had. I... that just shows how little I valued you. And I swear, that's something you'll never have to doubt again. I value you more than anyone in my life. I have a reason for why I was... more than reluctant to tell people about us. But I don't know if you want to hear it. I don't want you to think it's some flimsy excuse."
"Well, I mean, you may as well say it now." You scoffed, watching as she gulped nervously before nodding.
"My last relationship... with Jenni. That's why I'm so worried about telling people. Because even now, years after we ended our relationship that I would never ever want to go back to, people still talk about us, comment on our posts, make edits of us, and freak out about every little fucking interaction between us. It drives me crazy, even now, when I know I should not let it get under my skin, but it does and I can't stop it."
She shrugs dismissively as she talks, eyes cast down on her hands as she fidgets with the rings on her fingers. It's clearly a topic for her that's hard to discuss, and you want to reach out and take hold of one of her hands, but you don't want to distract her.
"When I was with Jenni, I was nowhere near as 'famous' as I am now. Now, I get the most vile and intrusive articles written about me, there are always cameras on me, paparazzi trying to figure out where I am at all times, and it really worries me because I don't want to involve you in that. If the media started writing things about you that were even just half as nasty as the things they've said about me, I would never be able to live with myself. It would eat me up, amor, I don't want you to go through that."
Okay, out of all the overthinking you've done in the last three days, your mind had not mustered up this point of view. This was undeniably sweet, a stark contrast to the way she'd treated you during the argument. You'd been with Alexia long enough to be more than familiar with how she acted on her anxieties in rather unhealthy ways for herself with harmful consequences for those around her as a result. Most likely, you realised, her recent behaviour was a demonstration of that very fact.
"And though those reasons shouldn't excuse my behaviour, because I should never have acted like that, I hope it gives you a tiny bit of insight into my head and allows you to recognise my actions came from a place of love, not malice. I showed it in completely the wrong way, but I swear to you from this moment on I will treat you better than I ever have, if you let me live up to that promise."
A shaky breath leaves the woman beside you, signifying the end of her ramble. And, to be honest, you'd forgiven her long before she finished speaking.
"Thank you for opening up to me. I forgive you, I do, but I won't forget how you treated me. If you ever show even a hint of that behaviour ever again, I'm out, Alexia, you must know that." You give her a clear warning, despite the fact your heart is crying out for you to just jump right back into her arms.
"I do know, I absolutely do know that." She seems to make the leap for you, as she shuffles along the sofa and gently takes ahold of both your hands. Your wounded hands. "Amor, what... what happened?"
Her voice is filled with concern, immediately overcome with nausea as a result of the worry she feels at the sight. However, that's nothing compared to the guilt she feels when you tell her what happened.
"Oh, um... an unfortunate run in with a punching bag not too long after our argument." You reveal sheepishly.
Alexia's heart drops. It drops from her chest, to the ground, through the core of the earth, and all the way down to China.
"This... this is because of me?" She whispers the question like she's terrified to utter the words. She's even more terrified of the answer.
"I guess. Yeah. I had to get my anger out some way, and I'm sure you're glad it wasn't your face." You try to joke, but it lands flatter than a pancake.
"Amor, I..." She can't find the right words within her to even attempt to apologise.
The great thing about mental health, was that 99% of the time you couldn't see it. That meant Alexia couldn't see the psychological damage she had caused you with her words.
But this, this was concrete evidence of just how much her treatment had affected you. She had done so much damage to your self-esteem, that you had no choice but to lash out to the point of injury. That, she feared, she would never get over.
"I guess Mariona failed to mention this part to you." Another pitiful attempt to lift the mood.
"She took care of you?" Alexia asked tentatively, the tiniest bit relieved when you nod.
In a split second, her arms were wound tightly around you as she tugged you into her lap. A rush of Catalan spilled from her, of which you gathered were words of apologies and sweet nothings to convey her intense regret. You didn't catch a word, not too familiar with the language despite playing for the pride of Catalunya, but you got the gist quite quickly and it didn't take you a moment longer before your arms were wrapped around her neck.
You were flooded with relief now that you were back in her hold, the embrace finally silencing the relentless voice in your head that had been going non-stop for days now. There were tears dripping onto your neck though, something that has you furrowing your brow and urging her to lift her head up.
"Ale, what's this for?" You asked, delicately wiping some of the tears that were overflowing.
"I just... I fucked it up so bad. So bad. Dios mío, you've ended up hurting yourself because of it. I'm just so sorry. I'm so so sorry."
Alexia falls apart then, breaking out into sobs that, though it's a rather a harsh thing to admit (not that you ever would, verbally) really exemplify her guilt and regret, and tie off her apology. You hate seeing her cry, hate seeing her so ruined, but all you can do now is hug her just as tight back and hope your words provide her some comfort.
"I forgive you, Ale, I do. My hands aren't your fault, it's a result of me not being sensible when letting my anger out. It's not your fault, mi corazón, not your fault at all."
You carry on spewing words of comfort for her until her cries finally subside a few minutes later. How she rubs at her eyes is something you find adorable, the way she does so reminding you of a young child. Your own hands follow her calloused ones, treating her with the same care she had complimented you on not so long ago. It warms her heart to no end, and it offers her a little reassurance of the fact you don't hate her guts.
"It's my fault a little bit." She mumbles, and there's a speckle of humour in it that you're not hesitant to jump on.
"Maybe a tiny bit." You whisper scandalously, smiling at the tearful laugh she lets out. "But I don't resent you for it. If I did, we wouldn't be in this position right now, okay?"
"Whatever you say, amor." Alexia nods, a semi-genuine smile on her face as she leans forward to rest her forehead on your shoulder.
"There's one thing I need from you for us to move past this." You state seriously a few quiet moments after.
She lifts her head up and nods vigorously, prepared to do just about anything you asked for if it meant she could love you for the rest of her life.
"I want to be able to tell people that are important to us. My family, my friends. Your family and friends. Our teammates. I'm not asking for us to go public on social media, I'm not asking for anything like that. I just want us to be more open. I want to be able to walk around Barcelona with you, like we did together when we started out dating. Because those moments with you, where you showed me your favourite restaurants and cafes and places special to you, they're some of my favourite memories with you. I just long for us to have a normal relationship, not one kept in the safety of our apartments behind closed doors. Because it's embarrassing and... and soul destroying being treated like I'm invisible. Just... treat me like a human fucking being in training, please? In public?"
It felt rather humiliating to be begging for such normal things, but that was the exact word you would use to describe this whole thing for you. Humiliating. To be treated like you had by, arguably, the sole person who shouldn't treat you like that, was something you never wished to experience again. Because, if you did? Well, there was simply no coming back.
But, you supposed, being in love was all about taking chances on people and relationships couldn't be built without a steady foundation of trust. That's all you could do now; trust in Alexia to nurture your heart like a delicate blossom where she cherishes every petal with gentle devotion.
"I will. Mi amor, I will do that and more. I will do anything you want me to, I promise that I will change my bad habits so that you never have to suffer at my hands again. I will love you like it's the last thing I'll do. You could never be invisible to me, you never were. From the first time I saw you, in your two-sizes-too-big Barça jumper on your first day, you've been everything but invisible to me."
Finally, the nail in the coffin to this whole ridiculous thing. And man, were you glad to see the back of it.
"As long as you don't embarrass me by one-upping me with your flawless free-kicks."
Despite the push to the shoulder you give her, you giggle and pull her back in for another hug. You'd been deprived of her embrace for far too long, and you planned to make up for it.
"I can't make any promises, unfortunately." You teased, grinning into the skin of her neck as her hands splayed out over your back, rubbing up and down comfortingly.
"I think I will take that." Alexia murmured, hugging you just that bit tighter before she leaned back. She moved her hands from your back to softly cradling your face, her eyes jumping from each feature to feature, trying to commit her favourite art piece in the world to her memory. Then, she met your gaze, and the sincerity and earnest present there was breathtaking. "We'll be okay?"
It was asked in such a vulnerable tone, you couldn't help but smile down at her.
"We'll be okay, Ale."
Going into training the next day, there was a spring in your step. Alexia had stayed over at yours the previous night, near enough refusing to leave. That meant she was wearing the same trousers as the day before along with one of your sweaters that, to your amusement, was evidently slightly too small for her as the cuffs ended just shy of her wrists. Call it your revenge perhaps, but as you both arrived at training together, chatting freely with content smiles on your face, it felt like a new leaf had been turned.
Alexia had made many mistakes with you, that she knew. She also knew she had no more chances, so she was going to try her absolute hardest to never act like such a fool again, even if it killed her. However, the shy smile on your face when she bounded up to you after Jona demanded the team to get into pairs for 1-on-1 practice, was enough proof for her to realise that it wouldn't be such a shame to go out of this world as a result of your love.
She almost came to regret that though when you handed her ass to her on a plate with each of your attempts to get past her. Because, quite frankly, you did embarrass her. Crossing her sides and body-checking her and out-skilling her each time was satisfying to no end, and it was exactly what you needed really. At one point, there was an ounce of worry that perhaps Alexia would be annoyed, but that dissipated immediately when she would laugh and slap her own forehead each time she was outshone.
That tiny speck of worry was completely forgotten about when, after the last attempt of the day, Alexia ran up behind you and lifted you up off the ground with her arms around your torso. Her mouth found its way to your ear as she took a few steps whilst carrying you, squeezing you tightly once.
"Never embarrass me like that again." She murmured jokingly, fighting back a grin as you laughed unabashedly in her hold. Afterwards, she put you down and moved to walk closely beside you, heading back to the main building as Jona called the end of training.
"You're the one that partnered up with me, Ale." You nudged her in the side with your elbow, gazing up at her with an adoring look that had Alexia's heart jumping in her chest.
"Maybe, but I only have one thing to say."
"What's that?" You hummed.
"Thank god for Mariona." She murmured, smiling as you giggled and nodded.
That smile was wiped off her face when an arm flung around her shoulders not a second later.
"Thank god for who?"
"I don't need your bragging right now, Mario, you're ruining a nice moment."
"I made this nice moment happen, Ale, you better thank me properly soon."
With that, the islander left just as quickly as she had arrived. When Alexia noticed the teasing grin on your face at the interaction, she shoved at your shoulder with a grumble under her breath.
"She really got through to you, then?"
"Oh, yeah, she beat my ass."
#alexia putellas x reader#woso x reader#woso community#mariona caldentey#woso one shot#alexia putellas#woso imagine#alexia putellas one shot
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method · using subliminals
today, we are talking about subliminals. believe it or not, subliminals are what actually brought me to the law of attraction and later on the law of assumption. they are already used by a large number of people, even those who don’t necessarily believe in any law.
definition
subliminal (adjective) refers to something that cannot be recognised or understood by the conscious mind but still manages to influence the subconscious. a subliminal message, for example, can only be perceived by you without you having notice or being aware of it.
in a spiritual context, subliminals (noun) signify sounds, often music with underlying positive affirmations.
intention
the purpose of subliminals is to sway your beliefs in a certain direction or change them entirely. a subliminal that purposely tries to persuade you subconsciously into believing something which you find hard to believe in consciously. in short, listening to subliminals helps you "reprogram" your mind.
how to listen
you can listen to a subliminal with your headphones, your earphones, on your phone, on your laptop, on your tablet,… all variants are just as influential.
when and where to listen
when and where you listen to a subliminal is entirely up to you. it depends on your beliefs. the moment you think you need to listen to them for them to help you manifest or materliase your desire, that’s when you should listen to them. there is no fixed time or place. you can listen whenever you want, wherever you want.
how often to listen
how often you listen to a subliminal is also entirely up to you. you can listen to one subliminal the entire a day, two subliminals at the same time, listen overnight, while doing your chores, make a playlist for the day, create a time frame for when to listen or listen to it only once — you decide! again, there is no fixed amount of times. you listen as many times as you wish to.
what to listen to
you can find subliminals on various platforms! mostly, they are free and on youtube. there, you can follow your favourite subliminal channels, create playlists and listen/loop them. you may also find subliminals on spotify, apple music, soundcloud, etc.
why it works
it doesn’t matter how many times you listen to a subliminal, how intense you listen to it or where you do it. the only thing that matters is your overall mental attitude. while listening to the sub, all you have to do is to accept its promised results to make it "work" for you. keyword: belief. belief creates and helps creating. your only job is to decide you have your desire and persist in that. for example, you could assume that you get your desires while listening to the sub and full results after listening to the entire playlist. or maybe you get full results by just listening to the first second of the sub? your rules apply only.
with love, ella.
#subliminals#subliminal#law of assumption#neville goddard#loassumption#loa#subliminal messages#manifesting#manifestation#manifest#the law of assumption#loablr#loa tumblr#spiritual#spirituality#manifest it#manifesting it#how to manifest#master manifestor#affirm and persist#eiypo#self concept#specific person#edward art#imagination creates reality#loa blog#reality shift#reality shifting#shifting#shiftblr
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It’s the last period of the day, and in his peripheral vision, Steve can see Eddie Munson fighting sleep, elbow repeatedly slipping off his desk.
They’re not usually in this class together; a good handful of teachers are on a ‘field trip’—which had been sold to the principal as an educational experience, but was really an excuse for both students and staff to while away the last remaining days of the semester.
So most classes have become an assortment of students who haven’t gone on the trip, odds and ends who usually wouldn’t cross paths.
When Steve had entered, he saw that the room was sparse, people dotted about the place with no regard to a seating plan—he’d headed straight for a desk by the window, hadn’t even noticed that Eddie Munson was in the seat right beside him until he’d already sat down.
And then it turned out he couldn’t even reap the benefits of choosing a seat near said window. The room was stuffy, unbearably so, and Eddie had beaten Steve to it, actually raising his hand and asking, perfectly politely, if he could open the window.
But the substitute teacher had just sneered and replied haughtily, “No, Munson, you cannot.”
Condescending ass, Steve had thought, and he was almost looking forward to one of Eddie Munson’s infamous diatribes.
But Eddie just wilted in his seat and didn’t say another word.
That’s when Steve noticed that he kept looking down at his desk. There was a piece of paper on there, an end of year test—Steve recognised Mrs O’Donnell’s handwriting making comments in the margins. The top right hand corner was folded over in such a way that just made the hiding of the grade all the more obvious: it was clearly an abject fail.
As Eddie stared at the paper, he started to blink rapidly, and for a horrible moment it seemed like he was going to cry, so Steve quickly looked away.
By the time he dared to look back, it was a quarter of the way through the period, and the heat of the room must’ve been getting to Eddie, his eyelids fluttering as he tried not to doze.
And now Steve’s stuck with a teacher who’s clearly immune to every pointed look he shoots his way. He gets to the point where he’s glaring daggers at the dude—seriously, where does he get off, keeping the window closed just to prove some bullshit point about authority?
Every so often, Steve finds himself catching a paper airplane—what are they, five?—that had been heading for Eddie’s face, made by some meathead junior. Steve either swats them away or, if he’s feeling particularly pissy, crumples them up with one hand, throws them back at the junior’s head.
Eddie’s repositioned his elbow so it’s no longer in danger of slipping off the desk—eyes totally closed now, like he’s accepted defeat.
Steve is too late to catch the next paper airplane as it hits the side of Eddie’s head, and when Eddie stirs, blinking blearily at him, he says, defensively, “It wasn’t me.”
“Relax, Harrington,” Eddie says, yawning, “I know.” He unfolds the paper airplane with a tut. “No structural integrity to this thing at all. You’d give me quality.”
Steve doesn’t think of a barbed comment to reply with, because Eddie starts refolding the paper and uses it as a fan—and it’s not even for a bit or anything; Steve can tell that he’s just genuinely suffering.
Movement draws his eyes to the front of the room; he watches as the teacher makes his way to the door and leaves.
“Thank God he’s gone,” Steve mutters. He stands and lifts up the window as far as it will go, hears Eddie’s quiet sigh of relief as the fresh air comes in.
Steve glances over at the door; the paper airplane-throwing junior has gathered a little group, and it looks like they’ve locked the teacher out. There’s no footsteps or furious knocking yet, so Steve figures he’s got a bit of time.
He jumps up onto the window sill to better enjoy the breeze, stretching his legs and idly looking outside.
He just catches Eddie scoffing, the little aside he makes: “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Steve turns his head to him. “What?”
Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Just… you,” he says.
And it’s said with a kind of reluctant fondness, almost like they’re friends—which is bizarre, Steve thinks, since this is definitely the longest conversation they’ve ever had.
But maybe the approaching summer break has Eddie all sentimental.
“What about me, Munson?”
Eddie gestures at him, as if to say uh, everything, but it somehow doesn’t come across as an insult.
“Just… the way you do things sometimes. Like you’re in a goddamn movie.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just sitting. Anyone could do this.”
“Nah, Harrington. It’s all in the execution, y’know?”
Steve snorts. “Bull.”
“And not all of us have the hair for it.”
Steve tilts his head, drawls, “Oh, I dunno.”
Eddie huffs out a laugh like he’s been taken by surprise.
Steve turns back to the window. It’s not all that great a view, really, the sun only highlighting the dried unkempt grass around the track. Still, there’s an undefinable something to it that gives Steve pause.
Maybe it’s because graduation is right around the corner. Even just walking down the school corridors feels like a series of goodbyes.
“Hey, Harrington. You heard of mise-en-scène?”
And Steve finds himself grinning at the French accent Eddie slips into.
“Bless you,” he says, just to be annoying, though he has heard of it, remembers it from when they looked at some plays in English. Then overheard it, really, while the aspiring film students fretted over their college applications in the library, and he listened with a jealousy he didn’t care to analyse. “I’m seeing some movie shot stuff here, is all.”Steve looks over again, in time to see Eddie adopt an over-the top trailer voice. “The fallen King—”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“—looks down at what remains of his Kingdom, setting his sights on pastures new.”
A wistful edge creeps into Eddie’s voice, something separate from the theatrics—confirming Steve’s suspicions that he won’t be graduating this year, after all.
“Not exactly pastures new,” Steve says. “I, um, didn’t get into anywhere so.” He shrugs vaguely. “Gotta hold down a summer job and then… I don’t know. Not thought that far ahead yet.”
Eddie seems to consider him. “Nothing wrong with that, Harrington,” he says quietly.
“I know,” Steve replies. Because it’s true; he knows he’ll be far from the first high school graduate staying in Hawkins, working a minimum wage job all summer.
His parents had said as much. But then…
He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s the tone in which they say things rather than the things themselves that sets him on edge. That sometimes just the way they shut doors around him inexplicably prompts a feeling of nausea.
But they’re out of town for the whole summer—already left this morning, thank God. So he’s hardly going to get into all of that with Eddie Munson, of all people. Barely addresses it within himself, honestly.
“It’s just… not really what I pictured,” he says instead. “You know, like…” And maybe Eddie’s theatricality has made him a little bolder, because he looks out at the view, and slips into a brief understated impression with ease: “I'm shakin’ the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world.”
When he turns back, Eddie’s lips twitch again, and this time the smile wins. “Well okay, George Bailey.”
Steve smiles back. Shrugs once more. “It’s for the best, really. Means I can keep an eye on—”
And he stops himself, realises he was about to say the kids.
Eddie’s eyes light up with interest. “Oh? So you’ve found someone worth staying for.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice when he adds, “S’awfully romantic of you, Harrington.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Not like that. But… yeah, you could say so. They’re all worth it.”
“Huh,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “What happened to you, Steve Harrington?”
Steve laughs. Shakes his head. “Life. And, uh, got a thump to the head.”
Eddie whistles lowly. “Damn. Maybe I should try that.” He glances down at his test, frowning.
“Hey, come on. Everyone loves a comeback kid.”
“Hmm. Not everyone.”
Eddie sighs and stuffs the test into his bag. As he does so, there’s a sudden pounding on the door, and Steve hears some of the students break out into whispers that are so loud they might as well be shouting: discussing their plan to pin the blame on Eddie for locking the teacher out.
Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s soon leaving high school behind that has Steve viewing all of this with a clarity he can’t remember having a few years ago. They’re just mean, he thinks, just plain mean for the sake of it. Jesus Christ, you don’t kick a guy while he’s down.
Eddie’s eyes dart over to the group. He’s clearly overheard them too, but he seems resigned to it, like he’s got no more fight left in him.
A girl unlocks the door, and the teacher storms inside, apoplectic with rage.
And before anyone can get a word in, Steve says, “It was me. I locked the door.”
He can feel Eddie staring at him. He leans more into his lounging on the window sill, pretends to check his nails.
The teacher’s eye twitches. “And may I ask, Harrington,” he seethes, “what would even possess you to—”
“Oh,” Steve says, faux brightly, “that’s easy. I don’t like you.”
Eddie’s hand subtly rises up to cover his mouth. Steve bites back a grin; he knows a hastily stifled laugh when he sees one.
“Out you go, Harrington,” the teacher says, pointing at the door.
Steve stands up, unbothered. He’ll just ditch, head home early before the dick’s had any time to step out into the corridor and scream at him. That mall’s almost done being built; he could finish filling in a job application for one of the stores there before the day’s out.
He makes sure the window’s pushed up so far that it’ll be more of a pain to try and close it compared to just letting it be.
Then he swings his bag over one shoulder, says in a little aside, “See you, Munson. You know, Class of ‘86 has a better ring to it anyway.”
“I’ll, uh, take your word for it, man,” Eddie says, and he sounds a little taken aback.
Steve glances over his shoulder just before the door shuts behind him, and he sees Eddie’s hand raised in an uncertain wave, like he can’t believe he’s even doing it.
And if you ask Steve, that’s a movie shot all of its own.
#them briefly crossing paths before Everything has my heart ❤️#pre steddie#steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson
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Thinking more about Akechi's rank 3, and about its flow into rank 4 at the jazz club—where Akechi begins to open up to Ren, by taking him somewhere special to him that he hasn't shared with anyone else.
Don't you think it seems off, on a first glance? Like it doesn't work? Because Akechi does not seem to entirely appreciate Ren's intervention. If you look at their phone call afterwards, it seems like Akechi lost control in the café, and is trying to take that back from Ren. He threatens him with what Ren "took" from him!—"I'll be dictating everything, from hair to accessories". Ren dictated the hair and accessories in rank 3, and now Akechi needs to do the same!
Make no mistake, this exchange, while cute as a button, is also Akechi struggling to regain some control that he feels he lost. He needs payback; he needs to meet Ren's challenge; he needs more.
So what's going on?
always in chains
As Akechi mentions in the engine room:
This line, of course, suffers in translation, so let's take a closer look:
Akechi 君は、今までの自分とか、人間関係とか⋯そういうものに囚われない。 kimi wa, ima made no jibun to ka, ningen kankei to ka… sou iu mono ni torawarenai You don't allow yourself to be enslaved by such things as human relations or past selves…
Did you understand this line on its first pass? Or at all? "Past selves"? What is this, Akechi, are we bringing in reincarnation now? What do you even mean by "human relations", is this a biology class?
Let's rework it a little. ima made no jibun—that's "the you until now". We might say "who you've always been". And ningen kankei—well, that is "human relations", translated very literally. But nobody would ever say that—it just means "relationships"! When you talk about your ningen kankei, you're often talking about your skills with relationships—how you get on with people. And Akechi gets on with people very well.
So what is he actually saying?
You don't allow yourself to be enslaved by such things as human relations or past selves… You're not a slave to expectations, or to how others see you.
Akechi will later tell us that these chains have bound him since his earliest days:
Those chains are the core of the resentment and envy he feels for Ren. More than anything Shido could potentially do to him, the expectations of others are what bind and torment Akechi. And this difference in how Akechi and Ren respond to outside pressure is one of the most important contrasts between them.
back to rank 3
So what does all of this tell us about rank 3, when Akechi is spotted by celebrity hunters?
In this situation, Akechi can't do anything but leave. He has to be the good boy everyone expects. He can't just sit there soaking up the adulation, and it seems clear that he isn't so inclined—look at the way he cringes away in his seat, and more to the point, look at his face:
Before he's accosted, his sprite and model match—he is probably genuinely pleased! But afterwards, though the sprite is sad, the model looks angry. Akechi can't confront his fans and ask them to leave him in peace. He can't dare to be angry with them, even though he's spitting tacks. He is chained—he can only ever do what people expect "Goro Akechi" to do.
Not just as a celebrity, but in every sphere of his life, even when he's carping to Sae or showing off for Shido, he is a slave to his public image—to the expectations others have of him. He cannot act outside that box. Society put Akechi in chains from babyhood—and his response was to own them, to build a bigger, better cell for himself. That he understands—he tells us how it works repeatedly!—and that he recognises, but can never escape.
So what is it that Akechi learns about Ren, in rank 3? It's that if you dare put Ren Amamiya in a cell, he'll tear it down.
Akechi could only dream of acting the way Ren does in this moment. Ren takes a huge risk here—on how Akechi will react, on how the crowd will react—and it pays off. Rather than submitting to the chains others place on him, Ren refuses to be bound. Ren is ungovernable.
Of course that's catnip to Akechi. Of course, even though it unnerves him, he wants more. He's drawn to Ren like a moth to flame—and this is the genesis of the bitter envy that will become so toxic by rank 8.
revision history
Click here for the latest version.
v1.1 (2024/10/06)—clarified some pronouns.
v1.0 (2024/10/06)—first posted.
#persona 5#p5 meta#shuake#goro akechi#ren amamiya#ALSO OF COURSE#this is akechi's first indication of how far ren will go *for his friends*#something else that will be so significant to him by rank 7
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Venusians: The Cult of Exclusivity
In my research, I have stumbled upon Venusians either being drawn into cults or being cult leaders. It did not surprise me particularly. All Venusian nakshatras (Bharani, Purvaphalguni, Purvashada) are ugra nakshatras known for being "violent". Venus is in itself, a harsh planet. In fact, all the benefic planets (Jupiter, Venus, Mercury & Moon- in that order) are harsh and for good reason; its natives have to be "purified" by the working of those planetary energies to earn its blessings. Venus values exclusivity and separatism. There is a reason why Venus attracts Venus. It is a kind of elitism. We talk about how rare beauty and glamour is these days and we fawn over the nonchalance and effortless cool of low key & mysterious celebrities. If someone or something is plastered everywhere, it loses its "special" feeling, Venus does not mingle with the masses, Venus sets the standard, its THE blue print but it does not involve itself with anything directly, they like to sit back and watch others ape them.
All 3 Venus nakshatras have yoni animals that point to a highly sexual nature and high libido. Bharani with its elephant yoni signals an immense sexual appetite (elephant being the largest land animal and yoni animal), Purvaphalguni and its rat yoni points to freaky deaky sexual behaviour and Purvashada and monkey yoni ,,, well,, monkeys are known for their lovemaking and how human like it is so..
Sex is a big focus of all 3 Venus nakshatras, with Bharani's themes of birth and death and its symbol literally being the yoni, Purvaphalguni representing the pleasures of the bed and being symbolised by the front legs of the cot and Purvashada with its connection to water, where life originated. Venus is more than just beauty and beauty itself is more profound than "looking good". Venus is beauty, romance, love, creativity, harmony, values etc.
I have talked about Venusian men and their tendency to be drawn to violence before. If we think of sex, it is a kind of violent act in itself, there has to be a back and forth of domination and submission. If we look at animals, male animals often kill other males to eliminate competition and establish themselves as the alpha that the females pick but even in coitus with female animals (literally watch any nature documentary) the male takes on a very aggressive, dominant approach and they often look like theyre trying to kill each other (people say things like "making love like animals" for a reason, sexual courtesy is a humane, civilised approach but animals are not wired that way). In Venusian men, this kind of aggressive erotic sexual persona is very apparent and Claire said these men embody "big dick energy".
Occult knowledge is gatekept and one literally cannot access it until one is initiated into it. Regardless of whether or not we recognise it as such, there are cults of knowledge all around us and we do not even know of their existence unless we've made it past their barrier and can access it. even explaining things defeats the purpose because only someone who's ready to understand it will be able to. Its nature's way of shielding itself from the unwise or the unworthy. you can be surrounded by this knowledge and still not be able to tap into it, if you do not have the discernment. this is a kind of Venusian exclusivity.
If you think about it beauty is pain. These days we see people literally endure pain to be beautiful via cosmetic procedures but this has always been the case, victorian women used arsenic to keep their skin pale and glowy and ammonia in their hair. footbinding was a common custom for Chinese women. but even beyond enduring pain to be beautiful, if you're beautiful you will have to endure pain, be it in the way others hurt you and ostracize you out of jealousy or in how people just assume crazy shit about you. Venusian women NEED to remain lowkey bc they're more susceptible to evil eye.
(im thinking of the song pretty hurts by purvaphalguni sun beyonce 👀)
anywaaayys (me going on a random tangent exhibit 62772). we know that Venusians value and need exclusivity, they're the most clique-y in some ways and this is what makes them drawn to cults lol. A cult is as exclusive as it gets. nothing screams "im not like the others" than being a part of a cult lol
Osho- Purvashada Stellium (moon, mercury and venus)
Osho was an Indian spiritual guru and mystic. His commune and the crazy shit that went on there was the subject of the docu-series Wild Wild Country.
Sadhguru- Purvaphalguni Sun
he is an indian guru. i think its interesting how cults have to have a physical existence by way of a commune that people gather in or live in, its not just conceptual if ykwim. i think this is another manifestation of Venusian exclusivity. entering into a cult means entering and inhabiting a different world. Osho had Rajneeshpuram, Sadhguru has his Isha Centre.
Sun Myung Moon- Bharani Moon
He was the leader of the Unification Church, a famous South Korean cult and he claimed to be the Messiah
Moon was intent on replacing worldwide forms of Christianity with his new unified vision of it, Moon being a self-declared messiah. Moon's followers regard him as a separate person from Jesus but with a mission to basically continue and complete Jesus's work in a new way, according to the Principle.
Nirmala Srivastava- Bharani Moon conjunct Mars
aka Mataji Nirmala Devi, she was the founder of the religion called Sahaja Yoga. She claimed that she was a divine incarnation, more precisely an incarnation of the Holy Spirit, or the Adi Shakti of the Hindu tradition, the great mother goddess who had come to save humanity. This is also how she is regarded by most of her devotees. she has said that she was born "self realised" and spent her life "helping" others do the same
The Venusian urge to start a new religion 😤😤😤lol
Religion is exclusive and if you do not have the discipline to endure its rules, you cannot gain access to its blessings. Religion esp eastern religion is extremely Venusian af, there are wonderful blessings for those who devote themselves to it and cruel sickening punishments for those who disobey. thats as Venusian as it gets
Anandamayi Ma- Bharani Sun, exalted Venus in Revati as her atmakaraka
She was an Indian saint, teacher, and mystic. She was revered as an incarnation of Hindu goddess Durga.
Her life was suffused in Bhakti Yoga and she was considered an epitome of "divine grace" that inspired the societal cultural milieu to lead the path of service, love and constant remembrance of the divine. Her followers experienced her spiritual attributes including precognition, faith healing and miracles. Paramahansa Yogananda translates the Sanskrit epithet Anandamayi as "Joy-permeated" in English. This name was given to her by her devotees in the 1920s to describe her perpetual state of divine joy.
she wasn't a cult leader or anything, just a guru even though she rejected even that label (spiritual gurus are a dime a dozen in india, no one who's actually worth their salt will label themselves as a guru)
i think Venus' connection to religion, cults and the occult is underexplored af. the highest form of love is devotion and religion/cults demand it of their followers making it a very Venusian experience. sex, love and religion are all closely connected, people experience trance like states when they're orgasmic or during periods of intense meditation (it can also be artificially induced via drugs etc but euphoria is naturally experienced through either prayer or sex) if you look at paintings of Hindu gods and goddesses, their eyes always seem so blissed out? same goes for truly spiritual people, you can immediately sense the tranquillity of their energy and the dreaminess of their gaze, like they're not of this world.
even the word "Ananda" which means joyous, etymologically means "without end" (Ah- meaning "without in Sanskrit and nand- meaning end) so the goal of any spiritual pursuit is self realization/actualisation and a person who achieves that seems joyous all the time. Many spiritual gurus have Ananda as part of their name as well.
Swami Vivekananda- Purvashada Rising
He was a monk, philosopher and religious teacher who is widely credited with introducing Hinduism to the West.
“All love is expansion, all selfishness is contraction. Love is therefore the only law of life. He who loves lives, he who is selfish is dying. Therefore love for love's sake, because it is the only law of life, just as you breathe to live."- Swami Vivekananda
Paramhansa Yogananda- Purvashada Sun
Paramahansa Yogananda was an Indian-American Hindu monk, yogi and guru who introduced millions to meditation and Kriya Yoga through his organization, Self-Realization Fellowship / Yogoda Satsanga Society of India.
Mother Theresa- Bharani Moon & Saturn, Mars in Purvaphalguni
Mother Theresa was an Albanian nun who came to India and helped the poor and the needy. She established charitable settlements that have come under fire for mismanagement and misappropriation of funds.
Now I'll talk about some people who've gained a cult-like following or were revered in their time and considered akin to God.
Eva Peron- Bharani Sun
Known by her nickname Evita, she was an Argentine politician, activist, actress, and philanthropist who served as First Lady of Argentina from June 1946 until her death in July 1952. She was revered by the lower economic classes and helped enact a number of reforms and policies to their benefit. She also helped bring about the passage of Argentina's women's suffrage law. even decades after her passing, the grip she has on people in Argentina is crazyyy.
fun fact: Madonna, Purvaphalguni Moon & Rising played Evita in the movie of the same name in 1996.
Tito- Bharani Sun
Josip Broz, commonly known as Tito, was a Yugoslav communist revolutionary and politician who served in various positions of national leadership from 1943 until his death in 1980
He was a popular public figure both in Yugoslavia and abroad. He remains a popular leader in the former countries of Yugoslavia. Tito was viewed as a unifying symbol, with his internal policies maintaining the peaceful coexistence of the nations of the Yugoslav federation. his legacy lives on and he was a VVV popular
Rasputin- Bharani Moon
He was a quack with no actual powers but man did he have a following
Rasputin was a Russian mystic and holy man. He is best known for having befriended the imperial family of Nicholas II, the last Emperor of Russia, through whom he gained considerable influence in the final years of the Russian Empire
Historians often suggest that Rasputin's scandalous and sinister reputation helped discredit the Tsarist government, thus precipitating the overthrow of the House of Romanov shortly after his assassination.
Taylor Swift- Purvashada Rising
Taylor's chokehold over her fandom is insane. I think it's due to her PA Rising bc wheww
There is a reason why Venusian influence is sooo common in the charts of it girls and icons. Venus is THE blue print, it makes others want to be like you and imitate you and also claim they hate you or dont know you all in the same breath.
Trisha Paytas-Bharani Sun & Jupiter, Ketu in Purvaphalguni
Trisha has a cult like following whether u want to admit it or not. Girlie has been doing this for a decade and a half and is still somehow relevant?? literally most of her contemporaries have been cancelled or left the platform and she's still standing?? despite a gazillion controversies that too lol
Now I'll mention some famous celebrities who are in/have been in cults
John Travolta- Purvaphalguni Moon
He was/is a Scientologist
Park Bogum- Bharani Moon & Venus
Bogum is part of Jesus Centred Church which is a cult and he was apparently even given his name by the founder/leader of the cult. There have been rumours that Bogum left the controversial church/cult and joined a normal church but there isnt enough info to confirm this
Nazanin Boniadi- Purvaphalguni Moon
She is a former Scientologist who was "trained" to be Tom Cruise's gf before he met Katie Holmes. read about the crazy and torturous stuff she was subjected to and you'll wonder why tf scientology hasn't been shut down by the government yet
Ruslana Korushnova- Purvaphalguni Moon
She was found dead at 20yrs old under mysterious circumstances. i do not think she committed suicide at all but she spent some time at the Rose of the World which is a culty organisation.
British TV producer and filmmaker Peter Pomerantsev has theorised that Korshunova's suicide was related to her involvement with Rose of the World, a controversial Moscow-based organisation which describes itself as "training for personality development". While researching for a documentary into Korshunova's death, Pomerantsev learned that the model spent three months attending training sessions at Rose of the World. These sessions—which encourage participants to share their worst experiences and recall repressed memories—are modelled after Lifespring, whose controversial methods were the subject of multiple lawsuits for mental damages in the US during the 1980s. Korshunova attended training sessions with a friend, Ukrainian model Anastasia Drozdova, who committed suicide under similar circumstances in 2009. Friends of the two women reported changes in behaviour after several months at the Rose. Korshunova became aggressive, while Drozdova experienced violent mood swings and grew reclusive; both lost weight. After three months of training, Korshunova returned to New York to look for work, where she wrote of feeling lost and doubting herself. Rick Alan Ross, head of the Cult Education Forum, argues that organisations such as Rose of the World "work like drugs: giving you peak experiences, their adherents always coming back for more. The serious problems start when people leave. The trainings have become their lives—they come back to emptiness. The sensitive ones break." Only months after leaving the Rose, Korshunova was found dead.
Michelle Pfeiffer- Bharani Sun, Purvaphalguni Moon, Rohini Rising
She was involved with Breatharianism, a cult that believes that you don’t need to eat food (Say what?!). She joined after moving to Los Angeles and looking for a group to feel comfortable with. They focused on diet and exercise but believed that people could live by sunlight alone at the highest level of the cult. She actually realized that she was in a cult after helping her first husband Peter Horton prepare for a movie role where he played a cult member. She said, “We were talking with an ex-Moonie, and he was describing the psychological manipulation and I just clicked.” (crazy to me that the not eating real food did not click??)
Rose McGowan- Purvaphalguni Sun & Mercury, Mars in Bharani
She spent her childhood in the Children of God cult and her family fled from its clutches after they started advocating for adult-child sexual intercourse🤮🤮🤮
Sharon Tate- Purvaphalguni Moon
Sharon wasn't a member of a cult but a victim of one :((((
Sofia Hayat- Purvaphalguni Moon
Sofia was a model, then she quit the industry to be a nun, now she calls herself a shaman and a healer and posts weirdly sexual vids on IG
Zaira Wasim- Purvaphalguni Moon
she quit acting to devote herself to religion and because she felt that being in Bollywood made her lose touch with her faith.
This is a very Venusian experience imo and one of the reasons why Venus thrives in keeping itself hidden or taking away other people's access to it is because otherwise Venusians feel contaminated almost?? other project onto them heavily and they feel clouded by it, unsure of their own identities. they feel like they're losing touch with themselves. many Venusian celebs are known for frequently changing their persona (Bella Hadid, Ariana Grande etc come to mind) the more time they spend exposing themselves to others, the more confused they become about who they are, they lack a stable self image.
Religion and faith can act as stabilisers and help these natives feel more grounded.
A reason why Venusians (idk if you noticed by most of the gurus were Purvashadas and most of the followers I mentioned were Purvaphalgunis, with an equal mix of Bharani natives in both) are drawn into cults is also because Venusians can only thrive in Venusian environments?? Otherwise they feel desolate and lost, a lot of people join cults because they don't feel understood or connected to people in their normal life. cults look for people who need help, and give it to them on predatory conditions.
Purvashadas are often spiritual leaders/gurus but seldom blindly devoted followers because being the final Venus nak, it transcends this toxic grip of Venus. Purvaphalguni is the height of Venus and these natives are constantly seeking spiritual truth and belonging but never quite ascending, as it is Venus at its most indulgent. Bharani is the first Venusian nak and I have found that the first nak of any planetary dominance is in some ways its "softest" manifestation, its the baby among the naks. The nak in the middle is the peak/height of that planetary energy and thus, the most cruel or harsh manifestation of that energy along with the concluding nak but the concluding nak also kind of transcends its influence??
high fashion/luxury etc is also very Venusian bc theyre the ones who covet having things others dont have. anywayyys this is just a stray thought lol
hope this was informative!!
#venus#bharani#purvaphalguni#purva ashadha#astrology notes#sidereal astrology#vedic astro notes#astrology observations#astrology#astroblr#nakshatras#vedic astrology#astro observations#astro notes
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hi :'D man your writing of tragedy makes me want to cry and i love it
the first one i read from your works is zhongli losing y/n his mate because he wasnt there when a god wrecked havoc, so i got an idea.
neuvi's old old, and focalors invited him to be the iudex of fontaine right? during his early days in fontaine he struggled so much with interacting with humans. what if, he meets a human (y/n) who doesnt care that their new iudex had come from nowhere, and completely aids neuvi with communicating with humans and they form such a close bond that he doesnt understand, but right as he decides to go for it and ask yn he receives news of a new case ; yn's murder :D
i swear i did not mean for this ask to be long i am so sorry 😭
Humans can be cruel ang cunning creatures. If not then crimes and wars would have never happened. They are beings who are capable of hurting each other for the sake of their own gain. They would not hesitate to use each other and kill each other.
That is the human on Neuvillette, the new iudex of Fontaine. He does not even know why he accepted such invitation. In the first place, his hesrt was distant from the people. His imagine of them was quite... bad. Maybe that was just his discrimination, but the more he get to stand on trial, then more distorted his imagine of mortals become.
And then he met you. You who was a human, but different from the humans that the knew. You were just... different. You do not look at him with fear nor do you look at him with indifference. The way you act around him, you just act like yourself.
He met you in a rainy day, a rainy day after a trial. He was walking unbothered under the rain, when a figure with umbrella started walking towards him. "Ah- Ah! Mister-!" At first, he ignore it despite the softness of the voice whom was talking to him. "Wait-!" He was avoiding people as good as he can. He saw no good in interacting with them.
"Hey!" He was getting pissed to be honest, the rain was getting heavier and once in a while a thunder could be heard. He was ready to brush the person off when suddenly, the rain stopped. There was an umbrella over his head. "Are you crazy! At this rate you're going to get sick!" What? Neuvillette was stunned, letting himself get dragged by this mortal who does not seem to recognise him or did they? "Iudex or not, what are you thinking walking under the pouring rain? Here! Take this umbrella!" After going under some shade, he watch you left him out much thought, he was holding your umbrella as you only have your hands protecting you from the rain.
You are weird. Weird in a good way that does not make sense. Maybe it was a coincidence, but after thatm he kept bumping into you. In his walk in his way into the court and when he was coming back from the court. In the path he talk, you were always there talking to him even though he does not reply. Still, it was strange how with you, he felt comfort.
"It's raining again, and here you are walking under the rain. Seriously, what's with you?" ... "Rather than that, what's with you?" "Me? What's wrong with me?" "You're different from other." "What makes me different from them?" He did not answer after that, for he too does not know what to say. How weird.
You were pretty close to him. He does not know how, but many all those walk together with you was working. In the end, he found himself completely relax and comfortable around you. "Now that I think about it. I'm your only friend, no?" ... "gasp! For real?" "Humans... I found them rather hard to communicate with." After all those trials, he does not know what to think about humans anymore. That is why he found you weird. "Why? Why is that?!" You pout. "Well..." He stopped walking and ponder for a while. "Maybe it's because I have seen mostly the dark side of humans that I cannot seem to know what to think and say to them." He replied after a little while. "Hey! That's totally unfair! If you try hard enough to know more about us there is more than the dark side there is to see!" "Hmmm. I doubt..." "No! Seriously, you jut have to open up your heart to the people and you will see the goodness in their heart." You laugh. To be honest, he does know that. After all, there was no other ways he could describe you but a good person and perhaps, maybe even more than that. But to open his heart to the people other than you... "Right... I'll think about it."
Neuvillette always find it difficult to interact with people. Most of the time he had this instinct to stay away from them. Maybe it has something to do with their origins, he was a high being after all and humans. Humans are just... humans. Nevertheless from the moment he have met you, he knew he was doomed. Doomed to understand humans. From the moment he get to know more of you, the more he mindset starts to change. Maybe... maybe humans are not as bad a he thought them to be.
"Are you okay?" The cafe was not crowded. It was almost midnight when the two of you decided to go into one. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" You asked with a smile on your face. Nevertheless Neuvillette did not fail to notice the way your eyes quickly scan the surroundings, the way you seemed to be anxiously playing with your fingers. But then, you are looking at him dead in the eyes telling him you are fine. Maybe it was nothing. "It's getting dark, shall we go?"
That night, Neuvillette decided to give it a try. Maybe just as you said, humans are not bad as he thought they would be. Maybe just like you said, all he need to do is to open his heart to the people and see things in a different perspective. Thinking about it makes his lips curl up, thinking how joyful you would be if he were to tell you that in person. But.
Humans can be cruel ang cunning creatures. If not then crimes and wars would have never happened. They are beings who are capable of hurting each other for the sake of their own gain. They would not hesitate to use each other and kill each other.
"What is this?" His hands were shaking. "Earlier a citizen named (First name) (Lastname) was found mur-?! Monsieur?! Where-" He rush out the room. He run and run and run until he was under the heavy rain. Hands still clenching the piece of goddamn paper with such gruesome, unbelievable concent. No, he would not believe it. He could not believe it. You were just walking with him earlier this day, your smile as too real for it to be unreal. He had just seen you earlier so why? Why are you there sitting in your own pool of blood soaked under the rain?
He could not even approach you, he just watch there along with the other people watching the crime scene get cleaned up like it was nothing. People were looking at you with interest like yu were some kind of entertainment after all. It was the very first case of murder in Fontaine.
Neuvillette could hear nothing under the rain, he just stood there under the same spot even after tour body was taken away. Countless thoughts running in his head. Why? Why does it have to be you? Why do humans never change? Why does t has to be you? Why? Just fucking why you? You asked Neuvillette to give humans a chance. But how could he do that now that he knew humans were the very same being that took you away from him?
Neuvillette did not cry but he just stand there, eyes bloodshot as his lips leak blood from bitting so hard, hands curl into a fist. He was mad, so mad that he wanted to end things right now. He was starting to blame everyone, the world for taking away the only good thing that ever happened to him. In his eyes were those full of hatred and is ready to explode. He would never forgive-
Neuvillette felt a weak thug on his pants, for a moment, he looked down. The first thing he noticed was the blood stained water right in front of him before the child that was holding on into him. "Ha-hydro dragon. Do-don't cry." The child sniff, tears rolling down his cheeks upon saying so.
Neuvillette does not like humans. They are a cruel and cunning being who took away the love of his life before he could even realise it was love. At the same time, these humans were the being that his love one loves very much. "Don't worry." He slowly reach out and pat the little boy's head and magically, he was suddenly dried despite the pouring rain. "The hydro dragon doesn't cry." Just like that, the rain that seemed to be drowning in sadness stopped.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°
: I think I fucked up. Na bobo ata ako sa sunod sunod na quiz at exam kanina HAHAHA IT'S SO HOT IN THE PH HUHU
: No but seriously I think I fucked up making this asked. HAHAHAHHA did I do it right? Imma delete this na lang charot.
#dark night hero#genshin impact#genshin imagines#genshin#ask#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact fanfic#genshin impact angst#neuvillette angst#neuvillete x reader#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact neuvillette#genshin angst#genshin x y/n#genshin x you
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How do people view you/your energy? Pt1
How to choose a pile?
Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.
MASTERLIST
PAID SERVICES
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT 💕
Pile 1
Alright so welcome to your reading and I hope you are having a great day. So the first message I'm getting is that people view you as someone who has grown a lot. I see that people see you as somebody who has been to a lot of transformations, a lot of deaths and rebirths. They view your energy as victorious. You may be well recognised among your peers or you may be famous for your work. They view your energy as really sacred and hard earned. I see that you do not give out your energy to people easily and people feel as if they need to be worthy of your energy. I am also getting the message that a lot of people may get obsessed with your energy or they may want to fight for your energy and want to fight for your attention because people seem to get obsessed with you easily. It may be the reason why you have High boundaries. I am also getting the message that people view you as someone who can heal them, someone who can uplift them from their darkest Times. I also see that people may want to use you for your energy, the vibe that you give off. I see that people just want to be in your presence so that they can feel the high vibrational energy you have. That may be the reason why people seem to return back to you no matter what has happened between you. But sometimes your energy can also attract a lot of competition and I'm talking about toxic competition like people want to compete with you no matter what. People may want to show you how they can do things better than you and how they are better than you but that is just because they know deep down that you are doing better than them. I also see that you may remind people of birds, how birds are not restricted to one place and how they migrate from one place to another for a suitable environment. People see you as a bird because you will move on if you feel that the environment you are offered is not suitable for you. People are also confused by your actions because they cannot seem to put you in a certain box because when they feel like they know you you show them something they don't know. they are always in a state of confusion about you. People are always asking themselves “who are they?” , “what are they hiding?”. You may have Scorpio in your big three or 8th house placements.
Pile 2
People see you as someone who has worked really hard for what they have become and what they have achieved in life. I am getting the message that people see you as someone who is really work driven, someone who is really work oriented, someone who knows what they want in life and someone who is always working hard to achieve success. You seem to have a really rich energy. I am picking up on the message that you are surrounded by the energy of abundance and prosperity. People can literally feel that you do not have a lack mindset and that you do not have a victim mindset. People find your energy really wellcoming; they can feel that you will welcome them with open arms if they prove themselves. Your energy makes people feel appreciated and understood. You may find yourself listening to people's problems, or you may find yourself in situations where people open up to you easily. I feel as if sometimes people want to protect your energy and I am also getting the message that people stand up for you, people stand up for your beliefs for what you believe in. If Somebody is talking bad about you in front of others, there will be somebody to stand up for you because they believe in you. People view you as an angel sent from above. You have a really friendly, cheerful and outgoing energy to you that attracts a lot of good people in your life. I also see that people feel as if they can be themselves around you, people do not feel judged in your presence. I see that you may have Aquarius placements or 7th and 11th house placements. But sometimes you may feel as if people are using you for money or people are using you to get things done. You need to be really protective of your energy because there are greedy people out there who do not think twice before using somebody for their own good. People see you as someone who has a lot of friends, someone who has a big social circle or people may feel as if you are connected to a lot of people and that you have really good connections. People feel really inspired in your presence. I see that you are a lot of people's muse. People see you as Somebody they can trust for true and genuine guidance. They feel as if you have a solution to every problem.
Pile 3
Alright pile 3! The first message I'm getting is that people view you as someone who has a lot of control. They see you as someone who controls the environment and people around them. This may come naturally to you but you seem to have some kind of power over others, you exclude this energy of authority and others seem to submit to it. You may have a lot of masculine energy or you may embody masculine energy so when you are around others people feel dominated by you. People can feel that you are meant for something great in life and they view your energy as a power that is constantly inspiring you to take the next step to run after your dreams to do the things that you need to do in order to become a better person. A lot of people can feel that you have been through a lot of difficult and negative situations where you felt as if you had nobody else around you so you became your own savior. People can feel that you do not need anybody in your presence to make you feel appreciated or to make you feel worthy. They know that you are fine by yourself, you are fine in your own company and they know that you have faced your darkest nights alone. However, your nonchalant energy is what makes them more interested in you, in a sense that they want to be somebody to you; they want to offer you the love and care that you deserve. Some of you may have Saturn & venus conjunction or Venus in Capricorn or Aquarius. I am getting the message that people want to serve you, people want to be somebody you can lean on, people want to be somebody you can trust because they want to make you feel loved. I see that a lot of people may see you as their soulmate or they may feel a deep soul connection with you. People see you as someone who is a bit misunderstood. I don't know why but you give off Beauty and the beast Vibes and here you are the beast. People view you as someone who has put up a wall around them so that nobody can see their real self.
If you see a typo/spelling mistake please comment. I will fix it as soon as possible.
#tarot reading#tarot cards#pick a card#free readings#free tarot#tarot#pick a pile#tarotblr#pick a picture#pick a photo#tarot readings#tarot deck#tarotcommunity#tarotwithavi#tarotwisdom#tarot witch#tarotoftumblr#tarot of tumblr#self concept#self love#spiritual community
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Patience: ~Starting today, you are a host!~
➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: you're slowly starting to get to know the host club you had just been recruited by, and more specifically the guy that you're supposed to marry, but with a new arrival you may have found a friend to navigate through this together. ➼ what to expect: “don’t you think that was a little harsh?” ➼ warnings: angst if you squint :) enjoy ➼ Prologue | Part 2
The warmth of spring was slowly starting to creep in as you sat in the window of music room three. You were still getting used to spending your free time in a high school host club, especially since host clubs as a concept was new to you.
And then there was Kyoya. Sitting quietly across from you was the guy that one day you were meant to marry, at least according to both of your families. When you transferred to Ouran two years ago you did not expect to meet your betrothed through the leader of the famed 'ouran highschool host club'
You remembered the day that you joined the host club well, a month after transferring and a couple of weeks after meeting Tamaki you did not expect to start your first day as consultant to the host club just to find that the vice-president was the kyoya ootori that you had heard about for most of your life.
Upon meeting you figured that there could be worse people to be engaged to. Kyoya was polite enough, well mannered, but he was strangely disconnected from you.
Even now, catching a glance at him from across the table, you realise that you really do not know that much about him.
"From the looks of things we are low on coffee, I can run out and get some if you'd like? Can have the guests go without" you offered, barely looking up from the book you were reading. Kyoya hummed, giving a somewhat smug smirk that you had expected from him by now. "No need, did Tamaki not tell you? we have an errand boy now"
"Errand boy?" the statement confused you, who would agree to be an errand boy for a high school host club for free? "Haruhi! Could you come over here a second?"
Approaching them was someone you recognised to be the newest scholarship transfer student, Fujioka, you think their name is. Which confused you more since you were pretty sure Haruhi Fujioka was a girl.
"This is Y/N L/N, my fiance and the host clubs consultant" you still haven't gotten used to the introduction. "It's nice to meet you" Haruhi greeted although you and her both know that you had met before. "Likewise"
"Haruhi we are low on coffee, would you mine running out to the shops to stock up" Haruhi nodded wordlessly, seemingly relieved that she may get a few moments peace while she is out buying coffee.
You shot Kyoya a questioning look as Haruhi wandered away. "Haruhi shattered that vase that we were going to put on auction, since we know he cannot pay for it we have given him a chance to work off his debt"
"That's a little harsh is it not senpai?" you knew that in hindsight the vase is not worth any significant amount for nearly any attendee of the school other than maybe Haruhi. Kyoya shrugged, taking a sip of black coffee "I don't see why, I feel that it is harsher to demand he pay knowing that he doesn't have the money"
You may not know kyoya well, but you know kyoya well enough to know that it wasn't worth the argument. "You do know..." he laughed, seemingly reading your mind of where you were going "Yes, I know that Haruhi is a girl" He leaned forward, now leaning down against the surface of the table.
"But Tamaki hasn't put that together yet" you did not know whether or not to be surprised, Tamaki seemingly always had lived in a world of his own, he often did miss out glaringly obvious details. But you couldn't help but feel a slight sense of devious smugness as you realised what Kyoya was doing. What was a little lie of omission if it is victimless?
You laugh a little, looking over to the rest of the members noticing that they were all now fawning over some instant coffee that Haruhi bought.
"Tamaki has seemed to take quite an interest in her regardless, I wonder how he will react when he finds out" Kyoya hummed out a laugh. "I'm not sure, but whatever it is it will be interesting"
You likewise hum in agreement "Indeed, although Ayanokoji does not seem to be incredibly happy at Haruhi's presence" Kyoya's gaze panned from you over to where Ayanokoji was sat seething.
"I suppose I should probably check in on our newest addition, make sure she knows the order of things" He decided, standing up "Good idea, we can't be sat together too long, people will start to talk" You joke, making kyoya laugh as much as he can given his near cold exterior. Somehow your engagement had been kept a secret over the years, which worked to Kyoya's advantage given that he is a host.
"Kyoya" You spoke one last time, causing him to turn back to you "Don't be too harsh on her" Kyoya has a tendancy to casually throw around the power of his family name often, including the secret police that answer to him , and you knew that well.
"For you, my dear, I will" You tried to disguise the blood rushing to his face, he had never called you by any endearments before, in fact he had never treated you with anything more than cordiality. Maybe you were overthinking it, he was probably just playing into the joke that you had started.
You tried to wave it off, you know that he doesn't have any romantic or even platonic interest in you. But there was hope, you just had to be patient with him.
At the end of what must have been a tiring day for Haruhi she flopped down on to a nearby sofa that you happen to be sitting on the other end of.
"They're a lot aren't they?" You try to console her as she tried to wrap her head around what on earth the past few hours had been. "I don't know how you put up with them" You laugh a little "They really aren't that bad, in time you'll come to enjoy their company"
"I did not know that you were engaged to Kyoya" you nodded, placing down your tea cup on the table. "We try to keep it to a need to know basis, I transferred here when I started high school so no one knew me and we figured that since Kyoya is a host it would be better to keep it a secret, the only people who know is the other club members and,well, yourself."
"I suppose that makes sense, if I am being honest y/n, I'm glad that there is someone reasonable around here"
"If I am being honest also Haruhi, I am glad you are here for the same reason, and don't worry, I'll keep your secret if you keep mine"
Thanks for reading <3 reply to be added to taglist!
#kyoya ootori x reader#kyoya ootori#kaoru hitachiin#ouran high school host club#ohshc x reader#ohshc kyoya#ohshc#ouran#ouran kyoya#kyoya x reader#ouran highschool host club#ouran host club#ouran hshc
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