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jennagrinsoverml · 4 years ago

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The Closest Thing to Love - Chapter 1

Summary: When Gabriel tells Adrien it’s time for him to learn about the brand internationally, Adrien knows he can’t leave Paris - or Marinette. The two concoct a plan to allow Adrien to stay and finally achieve his independence from his father. They’ll just get married.The only problem is...they’re not actually dating.But that won’t cause any issues. After all, they’re just friends, right?What could possibly go wrong?

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"Marinette, my lady, bugaboo, light of my life, will you marry me?"

Marinette looks down at Adrien where he kneels at the foot of the dress form she’s working on. She spits out the pins she was holding in her teeth and sticks them back into the pincushion at her wrist.

"That's not funny," she says flatly.

"I'm not joking," Adrien insists, trying to ignore the pang of hurt, even though he knows she has no reason to think he’s serious.

"Right." Marinette rolls her eyes and resumes pinning.

"I'm not!"

"You want to get married."

"Yes."

"To me."

"Sure," he says with affected ease because he can’t very well admit that he’s been dreaming of exactly that for years.

She sighs. “Get up,” she says, and he gets to his feet, feeling foolish. She turns away from her work, giving him her full attention and crossing her arms. "We’re fresh out of lycée, we’re not even dating, and you want to get married?? Adrien, what's going on?”

"It's my father," he tells her, swallowing uncomfortably.

Her face hardens instantly. "What did he do?"

"He doesn't want me to go to university. He wants me to continue modeling and learn the company better and...and he wants me to travel around the world to do it."

"You're leaving?" she asks in a small voice before gasping and grabbing at her hair. "But if you leave how will you be Chat Noir? This is a disaster! You'll have to give up your miraculous and then I'll have to choose a new Chat Noir and then you won't be my partner and we'll never see each other and the new Chat won't be experienced enough and I can’t even imagine being Ladybug without you and Hawkmoth will win and—"

"I'm not leaving!" he bursts in, grabbing her arms and cutting her off mid-rant. He curses inwardly. He knows better. He should've led with that. Gently, he disentangles her hands from her hair, and she allows him to lower them. “I’m not leaving,” he repeats as he gives her hands a squeeze. She squeezes back and he knows that she believes him. "I won't leave Paris—or you. Not with Hawkmoth still attacking. I told Father that I wanted to go to university and stay in Paris with my friends but..."

"He didn't care."

"He thinks I'm exhibiting poor decision-making by prioritizing staying with my friends over my future," he recites. Even though he's not sure the fashion world is his future. Modeling is fine and he's good at it, but he can't do it forever. And the business side of it doesn't appeal to him at all. But no one has ever asked what he wants and Father has never appreciated his desire to go to school.

She gives his hands one last squeeze before letting go and going to sit down on her chaise. "You could just tell him no? You're 18 now, Adrien."

"I'm still just a dumb kid to him,” he says, sitting down next to her.

Marinette's mouth twists unhappily. "But you’re an adult. He can't force you to leave if you don't want to."

"He can cut me off. How will I pay for school or food or a place to live?"

"What? Adrien, you've been modeling since you were a kid. You don't have anything saved up?"

"Some money since I turned 18 but everything from before... I can't touch it," he explains, swallowing uncomfortably. "It's in a trust and inaccessible until I turn 25. Father says it’s for my own good. To keep me from squandering it."

"That - that can't be legal."

"I don't know," he admits, "but what am I going to do? Sue my own father?"

He knows from many years of friendship that that particular expression means that she wants to do a lot more than sue Gabriel Agreste. The thought that she cares enough to be angry and protective on his behalf warms him as it always does.

"How does getting married fix this?" she asks instead of commenting. "Is he suddenly going to care about what you want because we got hitched?"

"Yeah, no." He huffs out a bitter laugh. "Actually I think he'll be really angry about it. Maybe enough to get akumatized again." Adrien pushes down the guilt that bubbles up at that thought. As much as he tries telling himself that it's not his responsibility to sacrifice himself to keep his father happy... old habits die hard. He clears his throat. "Maman's family… they're old money . Very old fashioned about it too. A husband should be able to take care of his wife, you know? When Grandmère passed, her bequests to her grandsons were set up as trusts that vest upon marriage."

"So your plan is to marry me, get your money, and tell your dad to suck it?"

"Pretty much."

"Not the worst plan you've had."

"So you'll do it?"

"Why me?" she asks, sidestepping his question.

"Because I trust you," he answers. It’s the truth, anyway, or at least most of it. And the last thing they need right now is his unrequited love complicating things. “Who else would I marry? Who else would even understand why it’s so important that I stay? And besides there’ll be advantages to you too! I’d pay for our housing and living expenses and - and I’ll give you a payout when this is done.”

She sighs. “I don’t want your money, Adrien.”

His heart drops. “You won’t do it.”

“I didn’t say that. This is a lot, okay? I’m trying to figure it out. But you know it’s you and me against the world, right?”

“Always,” he agrees.

"What other options have you looked into?"

"What do you mean?"

"Adrien! Don't tell me that getting married was the first and only idea you considered? What about taking out a loan or - or moving in with Nino or, I don't know, getting a job??"

Embarrassment burns his cheeks, but he’s not willing to admit that once it had occurred to him, he’d thought it was so perfect that he’d raced over here without considering anything else.

Besides...

"My contract with Gabriel still has another 3 years in it. It's pretty draconian with the non-compete." He draws idle circles with his finger in the fabric of her chaise.

"Were you even an adult when you signed?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! This sounds very, very illegal!"

"I don't want to end up in a legal battle with my father. I don't want to keep doing what he tells me to but I don't want to publicly fight with him either."

She sighs. "What about working in a different field? Waiting tables or something like that?"

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and she glares.

"You think he'd sue you for that?"

"Maybe."

"Kitty, that's ridiculous."

He shrugs helplessly. It's not like he doesn't know his father is over the top. Ever since Maman disappeared...and of course after Nathalie... Adrien knows his father is just afraid of losing him too and he's tried so hard to be supportive. But he can't live like this forever and now... his father is forcing his hand. No matter how much he loves him or how understanding he wants to be, he can't leave Marinette to fight on her own.

(Or leave her at all , the little part of him he keeps pushing down whispers.)

(He pushes it down again.)

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, let's get married," she says and he doesn't try to suppress the smile that breaks across his face. Marinette's just agreed to marry him! It won't be real and she doesn't feel the same way about him that he feels about her but she does love him.

"Now if we're doing this, we need a plan."

"You know I always leave the planning to you, my lady."

She rolls her eyes. "As you should. Okay..." she trails off, clearly thinking as her face scrunches up in what Adrien has always thought of as her Lucky Charm Face TM. It's one of his favourite sights in the world and he can feel himself relaxing as he looks at her. If it's one of Marinette's plans, he knows they're going to be fine.

After all, when have any of her plans not worked out?

She meets his eyes. "Anything I need to know before I plan this out?"

I'm in love with you.

"No."

Keep Reading

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfic #adrienette #adrinette #ml love square #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #gabriel agreste's a+ parenting #prpr #fake/pretend relationship #multichapter #wip #accidentally posted this to the wrong tumblr first whoops #jennawrites #closest thing

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silverynight · 4 years ago

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Welcome home

"You can stay in my house," he quickly offers before Tina can say anything; it's inevitable... He's not sure why he did that. He knows everyone in his office is looking at him now, but he doesn't tear his eyes away from Newt. "I... don't have a–what I mean is that it'd be more easy for you that way. I know auror Goldstein has a landlady who doesn't want men in her building, so..."

"You're right!" Newt finally says, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you, Mr. Graves."

Once he knows Newt is gonna stay with him, Percival relaxes, although he regrets looking at Goldstein's surprised expression and Seraphina's smirk.

Newt is his friend's brother, of course he wants to help him; Percival is not that strict as people usually thinks.

"So you come from a tropical country?" He mumbles to make conversation and distract Seraphina from whatever is in her mind.

"How do you know that?" The magizoologist looks back at him, intrigued.

"You have more freckles now than the last time I saw you," the Director observes, ignoring the way Seraphina quirks up a brow at him. Her attitude starts getting on his nerves.

Of course he'd notice! He's an auror, besides... It's more than obvious... It's not like he's the only one who has noticed that–

"Oh!" Newt looks surprised, before his expression turns into something more calm. He chuckles. "You're right, the sun must have done that."

Ridiculously happy to know he made him smile, Percival can't help but grin in return; the glimmer in his eyes stays there even after Newt gets out of the office to follow Tina and say 'hello' to her sister.

"Good luck!" Seraphina smirks again, prompting Graves to narrow his eyes at her.

"What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, she walks out of the room.

***

It's not easy at first; some of the creatures in Newt's case escape from it every now and then and destroy a few of Graves's things.

He's a little bit irritated at first, but he quickly repairs most of them and even learns how to put protective spells around his stuff. He also stops the Niffler a few times before he can steal his watch.

Newt is embarrassed; Percival notices in the way his blush spreads down his neck every single time.

Sometimes he wonders how far that blush goes and then he shakes his head to ignore those thoughts.

"I'm not mad, Newt." He says sincerely, but the magizoologist insists on doing something for him in return and the next time Graves comes back home the dinner is ready.

Without realizing what he's doing, Percival starts going back home earlier than usual. Mostly to help Newt with his creatures.

He finds out he has a couple of dangerous and highly illegal beasts inside his case, but Newt is so happy and excited about them, Graves decides not to make a comment on the situation; he even gives Newt a permit for his whole case, praying nobody else knows what's inside.

"Glad to know you don't stay here late anymore; you deserve to sleep like a normal person," the President says the next time he sees him.

Percival doesn't utter a word in return because by the way she's smiling, he feels like it's some kind of trap.

"You look happier now."

Graves narrows his eyes and walks towards the entrance, feeling a little bit impatient out of the sudden. He wants to see Newt.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

***

Even though the Director swears it's not necessary, Newt makes coffee for him. The first couple of times it's a disaster, but the magizoologist learns quickly and in a couple of days Percival becomes addicted to the coffee he makes.

Then, Newt starts making more so Percival can take it to his office too.

Sometimes Newt even goes to MACUSA to help them with a few cases and Graves takes him out to dinner at the end of the day before they go home.

***

"I need a few days off," he says and even though in other circumstances Seraphina's reaction would have amused him, he's too worried to smile.

"Days off? You?" The president chokes on her coffee, staring at him almost with shock.

"Newt's sick," he blurts out, hating those words. No, it's nothing to worry about, but he knows that man will keep working and tiring himself until he passes out if Percival doesn't do something quickly.

He wants nothing more than to be at his side.

"Oh, I'm sorry," there must be something on his face because Seraphina looks concerned too. Although when Graves mumbles that it's just a cold, she relaxes. "He'll be fine, Percival. But I understand... Of course you'd like to take care of him. Go then, you can take as many days as you want.

"Thank you."

It takes a lot of persuading, but Graves manages to convince Newt to stay in bed (mostly because the magizoologist is exhausted) while he takes care of the rest.

The creatures trust him enough at this point so it's not that difficult to feed them before returning to Newt's side and see if he needs anything.

When he notices he's asleep, Percival smiles fondly, he touches his forehead and realizes the potion he made is working after all.

Newt is back on his feet a couple of days later with a huge smile on his face that makes Percival feel weak at the knees for a second.

"Thank you, Percy," he mumbles before giving him a hug.

Graves comes back to MACUSA grinning like an idiot.

***

Just a couple of days later, the realization of what's going on with him hits him in the face.

"Welcome home, Percy!" Newt beams; sleeves rolled up, messy hair and freckles that always look like beautiful stars. "I'm making dinner!"

Percival Graves freezes on his own doorway, mesmerized, wondering if there's something wrong with his heart. Then he realizes in shock, noticing how exhausted he is, that he just wants to take Newt in his arms and give him a kiss on the lips.

He's in love with his best friend's little brother and he can't do anything about it.

So that's the reason why Seraphina looked at him with a smirk on her face every time Percival mentioned Newt. She knows.

"How was your day?" Newt asks, beautiful and somehow impossible to reach; he's like a ray of sunshine and Percival has never felt so cold or lonely in all his life.

"Busy," he groans, already regretting how stiff he sounds, Newt deserves to be treated gently. He needs to be treated like he's the most important thing in the world.

Because he's the most important thing to Percival.

The magizoologist doesn't seem to notice or just doesn't mind. He keeps grinning.

"You must be tired," he comments. "Tina told me you have a couple of difficult cases in your hands. But I know you can handle them, I haven't met an auror as determined as you are."

Percival looks up at him; it's almost painful to stare at Newt. His heart keeps acting like a crazy idiot inside his chest and he knows he wants to come home to this for the rest of his life.

The problem is that Newt is just his friend.

"I..."

"I'm here for you, if you need me."

I need you, I want you. Please stay with me. The thoughts are begging to rush out of his mouth, but Percival remains silent.

"Thank you," he says instead and they both eat in silence, although Percival is internally screaming.

Love is not as easy as it sounds. As everyone makes it sound.

***

Newt is leaving tomorrow. He needs to go to Brazil and Percival doesn't know when he'll come back.

He needs to do something. Seraphina thinks he should tell him everything, but Percival is not sure how he'll react.

He doesn't want to scare him away.

Graves sits on the couch pretending he's reading a book while Newt walks around the room, explaining everything he needs to do in Brazil to Pickett. The bowtruckle doesn't like the idea of traveling again.

Percival watches, knowing he'll miss that too and everything about Newt Scamander.

"Maybe you should stay," he blurts out while he curses internationally for saying such thing.

"But I need to trave–"

"Sorry, Newt," Percival is blushing and flustered now, looking at his own lap instead at the magizoologist. "I didn't mean it like that. I just... If you want, you can come back here as soon as you finish whatever you have to do there. You can stay here when you're not... traveling."

It's ridiculous. He feels absolutely ridiculous; babbling like a teenager in love.

Perhaps there's something else in his eyes or it's the way he turns his head up to look at him, because Newt's freckles disappear under an adorable blush.

"Do you want me to... move in with you?"

Even though there's a possiblity his answer ends up scaring the magizoologist away, Percival doesn't see the point in denying what it's obvious.

"Yes," he rises from his seat to finally meet his gaze. "I... I'm not trying to pressure you into doing something you don't want to. We could... still be friends, but I'd like to start a relationship with you..."

For a moment, Newt freezes and Percival is almost sure he just ruined everything and is more than ready to apologize when the magizoologist takes a step forward and smiles shyly at him.

"I like the idea," he mumbles, like he's afraid that his words cloud ruin the moment.

"Do you really?" It's a dream, Percival is sure of it... At least he is until Newt puts his arms around his neck and nods.

And then he kisses him on the lips. Graves can't help it, he's wanted to do that since Newt came back to New York that he can't help but kiss back desperately, with a starving passion.

"I still have one day left before I go to Brazil," Newt mumbles over Percival's lips, already pulling him towards the bedroom. Pickett quickly runs towards the case.

"You're right," Graves whispers with hunger, taking Newt's vest off.

Percival wakes up with a grin on his face and a beautiful man next to him. He leans to kiss Newt's shoulder before he finally wakes up and the Director hears him for the rest of the morning about moving in with him as soon as he comes back from Brazil.

A huge smile quirks up the corners of his lips as Percival thinks that his expression will probably confuse a few people in MACUSA that day.

But he doesn't care, he's too happy to think about that.

***

You can read more fics like this on my Patreon

#gramander #newt scamander #percival graves #fbtcog #fbawft #fantastic beasts

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magiaordinaria · 4 years ago

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In Defense of Frida Kahlo

◊please see my note on these images at the end of the post, because yes, this is a form of imitation for the sake of expressing desire to belong.

Frida Kahlo has become a difficult subject, some would argue an easy target- which to me is tragic because she was a person with a life and with struggles and today she can no longer defend herself. I personally think she doesn’t have to. I understand her as a historical figure that shaped Mexican history and the Mexican image. Lately I found myself understanding her on a different, more personal level when in October 2020 I came across an episode of the Nerdy Latinas Podcast, who were responding to a Tweet by an Indigenous Mexican woman accusing Frida of cultural appropriation. My interest was piqued.

“Frida was Mexican. How is it appropriation?” I thought.

In the episode, Chismeando About Frida Kahlo, the hosts explore Frida’s background and a bit of her social context. I listened and I recommend you do too. I gave a few comments to one of the hosts and was later invited to share my thoughts on the episode.* Below is bit of background and my response to the episode follows after that.

Prologue

When I initially listened to the episode my gut reaction was to become defensive, protective of Frida, despite not having had a single artifact of hers (my stance on purchasing her work or her image is a different story). I began to explore those feelings, and once I talked myself through this gut reaction, I realized this is actually very much worth exploring. It’s important to take into account the complexity of the social, personal, and historical context that Frida was experiencing and a part of.

One of the things the Nerdy Latinas brought up was the fact that Mexican schools during Frida’s childhood emphasized that the indigenous cultures of Mexico were the true cultures of Mexico. Frida, it is well-known, is half german and half Mexican. This conflict in identity was something that I deeply related to as a Mexican woman born in the US.

They pointed out that there were indigenous women who spoke out about Frida’s use of their clothing at the time, but were ignored. In the same episode, they talk about how indigenous women who make these clothes live off the sale of their indigenous clothing- Which makes me think, who is allowed to buy or not buy these clothes? It reassured me that there is more to cultural appropriation than simply wearing or using things “not intended for you”. Does intent matter? How are we verifying a person’s, in this case Frida Kahlo’s, intent? Short answer is, we can’t really.

Later in the episode, they ask the question, why aren’t other dark-skinned Mexican women artists spoken about? There are many indigenous artists that were overshadowed by Frida. An important example they bring up is Maria Izquierdo (ees-kee-ehr-doh). She was a contemporary of Frida’s and a student of Diego Rivera. She was doing well in her time and “showing promise” according to Diego himself. But when she spoke out against Frida’s feminist group Izquierdo lost a prestigious art commission to Diego Rivera and his male artist friends. I consider this claim of overshadowing pretty unfair, because it’s not entirely up to Frida who gets seen or not. And if we’re being perfectly honest, Diego and his friends probably jumped at the opportunity to take it for themselves.

She is still, after the paint dries, a woman in a white man’s world.

In my response, I come from a personal perspective with a lifetime of identity crises to fuel it. I focus in on the question of whether Frida can be accused of appropriation as well the concept of appropriation itself.

Is it fair to say that Frida had all the cards in her hands?

Is it productive to be upset over her perceived appropriation when there is so much today that is so blatantly grossly appropriated and mocked from my culture?

My Response:

“I definitely think it’s worth exploring Frida’s Use of clothing. I think, understandably, it brought up a lot of personal feelings because it’s something that I personally grapple with; this idea that my appearance could constitute grounds for appropriation.

...I think when Hispanic*** Americans learn about negative criticisms of Frida Kahlo they take the criticisms personally because that’s what they and myself included..., understood it looked like to be Mexican.

And if she’s wrong about her use fo clothing, it can’t easily be understood as an homage or as uplifting or as an act of rebellion against the whitewashing of the Mexican culture, which i think is something that is important when you live outside of Mexico. I think hispanic people--we just want to take care that our culture and our identity doesn’t get erased. so without the clothing that Frida wore the rest of us have only what we are calling the colonizer’s version of how to present ourselves as Mexicans.

Additionally, I didn’t really find her mixed ethnicity all that significant because since Mexico’s inception as a hispanic country most if not all non indigenous Mexicans are mixed.

our DNA is a map of people having been invaded, transcontinental travel in Europe, and slavery,

so i never really understood Frida as a white woman, even though her father was german. I’m 48% indigenous, the rest is North African, European--and on top of that I’m born in the US. That’s all to say that Mexican is a complex ethnicity but it’s Mexican all the same. I do see Frida as separate from indigenous and I’m also understanding that the way a person lives the culture is important. Personally, I feel sometimes I can’t consider myself Mexican if I’m not living the cultural practices. I find it hard to justify, for example, celebrating Day of the Dead. In contrast, I feel a responsibility to connect with those aspects of my culture in order to feel like I belong somewhere, or I know who I am, what my point of view is, and what I could do in order to impart a positive view of my culture to the Americans watching me now.

My thoughts are maybe Frida [thought so] too. In a way, maybe that was her intention. This episode brings up the idea of a crisis of identity for Frida and I think because she was born in a time when Europeanism** was being criticized heavily her schooling was perhaps in reaction to that. To give you a very popular example, the poem La Calavera Garbancera° most commonly known as La Calavera Catrina was written by Jose Guadalupe Posada around when Frida was born. That icon we have today (La Catrina) was actually a symbol of derision for Mexicans adopting European values. And I think when you’re taught certain ideals in the wider space in which you’re meant to integrate, it’s going to create a conflict between the way you’re raised and how you would like to see yourself in order to fell like you belong. So a personal example would be me growing up in the US. Saying the word Mexican was like saying a dirty word. For a very long time I was convinced that I should be ashamed of saying that. I tried more and more to become what was considered American- which was synonymous with being “correct” and for that I have been called a coconut or whitewashed by the same people who would deride me for being so Hispanic.

Today I want to undo all of that,

and i find myself [thinking] if I buy from indigenous craftswomen a handwoven dress to wear and to show to my wider audience that “this is Mexico, this is what indigenous women can do and it’s beautiful,” I fear I’ll face the same criticisms as Frida when I genuinely find [the dresses/clothing] lovely to wear and I only want to support the craftswomen of Mexico. So I don’t think appropriation happens when you buy indigenous crafts directly from indigenous men and women. As an artist myself, I would think they’d want to sell as much as they could, sharing their pride in their work. I think appropriation is buying from American corporations that are making money off of a diluted form of culture from oppressed people, stealing those complex designs expertly executed by thousands of years of knowledge and skill. To buy these goods from white companies, from huge manufacturers is to really whitewash culture. And on the flip side, I think it would be way worse for me to say,

oh no I’m not buying from indigenous people because I’m not indigenous.

But then turn around and buy something cheap from a huge manufacturer instead.

I think there’s room in this conversation to believe that Frida felt some kind of genuine desire and made a genuine attempt to connect to the Mexican identity she was taught in school.

I think she made a choice to embody what she felt was fundamentally Mexican but to what end, I honestly can’t say. Was it to bring awareness? was it to feel like she belonged? was it a statement? And that’s the thing we just can’t be sure.

All of this is not to say she didn’t offend people, and in the process took the light away from indigenous women. Or that this topic isn’t worth confronting. I was confronted with the question, though, of how much of that is or was her fault or her intention and how much of that is the time she lived in and her society’s discrimination. I’m glad you guys brought up her social milieu because

it matters a lot who were and are the voices speaking of her and approving her for public consumption.

I think Frida’s international travels and being on the cover of Paris’s vogue at the time, and the mystique she built around herself coupled with the fact that her skin color was internationally acceptable made her the icon that she is today around the world. That much is true, but can it also be true she made an honest attempt to honor Mexican heritage in defiance of those popular racist attitudes? I think there’s room for that.

I don’t think it’s entirely fair to say Frida is guilty of appropriation not really today, especially because we have much more blatant and grossly offensive forms of appropriation happening in our time. I’m sure I don’t need to go into that if you do a simple google search of “Mexican Costume” you can actually find white people dressing up as caricatured versions of Mexicans.

So I think a more productive conversation regarding appropriation in our world and in our culture today would be how to teach our diaspora across the globe to value handmade crafts. sure it can be more expensive, but you’re not buying a single object, you’re buying hundreds of years of knowledge and tradition. I would even argue that homemade is preferable to buying cheap, ready made stuff from corporations that have no regard for tradition or quality and who are actually drawing attention away from indigenous communities and diluting our cultures.”

Further Musings/Conclusion

I think that we are learning a valuable lesson in what is done is done, but what do we do now? My main concern is that there is outrage over the women that Frida Kahlo “overshadowed”,

but the simplest solution is to stop talking about these indigenous artists within the context–in the shadow– of Frida Kahlo.

They should be spoken about in their own right. If the dialogue about these women doesn’t revolve around or rely on Frida and her history, it would do these women justice. They are out there and they can exist. The problem is, how to talk about them without drawing comparisons to Frida? Should we avoid placing them in the same context? Questions for which I personally lack the answers right now.

What I do know is that I think we should avoid turning this into a situation where we tear down one woman-

who in the grand scheme of things accomplished a lot- in order to raise another. No, no mijita, as my mom would say. Eso no se hace, that’s not something we should do.

This feels too much like a situation in which someone like Frida becomes the target of appropriation because it’s easier than confronting really tough situations like white companies selling “ceremonial grade” chocolate.

Let’s tackle that sometime.

Personally, as you may have been able to tell, I understand Frida from the perspective of a person caught in the middle of two worlds. I don’t exactly feel like I belong in my American homeland nor in my familial, ancestral home of Mexico. I am part of a community that feels a sense of disconnection from our roots and therefore, lack meaning; we lack a true sense of self. But the more I interact with others like me, the more I create a community for myself, the more I understand that my place is where I want to be seen. I think it’s possible that that’s what Frida chose.

notes

◊This set of pictures is a type of homage centered around a very conscious imitation. I created these images back in September 2020 about a month before I learned of the Frida Kahlo tweet or the podcast episode. They were created in an attempt to portray a desire to belong to the culture I come from. Everything worn is a symbolic imitation in search of identity. In contrast to the last set of images where I wear the braid headband again. Here it is inspired by, rather than imitation; a carrying forward of traditions (like those seen here) into a more understandable form for myself. The evolution of the outfit is taking me one step closer to figuring out what my place is and what my voice is within the greater scope of my Mexican heritage.

*I recorded a few thoughts in audio format, sent it off to Short Latina and that was that. To what extent my comments were included, I’m not sure, I haven’t had the chance to listen to their follow up episode. Perhaps I was proven completely wrong!

**Europeanism- I know it’s not a real word, but It felt right :P

***I imagine Frida is important to a lot of Latinx, but for the purposes of this argument, I specifically mean Mexicans and Mexican-Americans because of the specific ties to cultural attire.

°It’s actually called: Remate De Calaveras Alegres y Sandungueras; Las que hoy son empolvadas Garbanceras pararan en deforme calaveras

#frida kahlo #frida #kahlo #khalo #frida khalo #appropriation #cultural appropriation #chicana #middle child #xicana #chicanx #born in the USA #whitewashed #mexican #mexican heritage #you are allowed to disagree

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straighttohellbuddy · 4 years ago

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World building is the best tbh. I’m forever world building and now I have several worlds to play in and my neurodivergent brain cannot stay still enough to focus on one lmao. SLOWBURN ROMANCES ARE MY LITERAL JAM LIKE PLS!!! I LOVE THEM!! Also!!!! Concepts!!!! Pls share!!!! I love learning about the worlds of my fave fics and I can hands down say right now that this fic will literally shoot to the top of my list of favourites which means you’ll occupy the top three spots. Sorry to hear that ur feeling rough, so am sending u the biggest hug. I’m not okay but I’m taking care of myself today so that I will be 🧡-🐈‍⬛

alsjfsldkjf i have too many worlds TBH, literally one of the best parts of my 2020 was writing for the classic rock fandom and writing one of my good friend’s ocs alongside mine, like there’s so many different worlds that our two characters have now, i’m like 26k deep into a high school au that i need to get back to at some point, and then i wrote a oneshot abt the high school au but they’re adults, and then there’s also the original timeline, and then there’s the present day in the original timeline where they have kids and i probably care too much about people who aren’t real...... hahaha

OKAY OKAY OKAY HERE WE GO I’LL GIVE KIND OF AN OVERVIEW OF THE ALBUMS AND A FEW SONGS BUT IF U WANT ME TO GO IN DEPTH ON ANY OTHER SONG JUST ASK!!!

yes i have a playlist for each, if you wanna hear how i interpret the vibes of the songs. if you interpret them differently, thats awesome!! i’d love to hear y’all’s opinions on them!!

testing one two - the first ep they release, the song titles are mostly themed (fast forward, press play, pause, rewind), but are mostly things y/n has been working on for a while but never got around to finishing, things they are rather proud of. i see you shiver with... is the first song they wrote specifically for the album, and it’s the last song on the EP because it’s a Rocky Horror reference; i see you shiver with...

a n t i c i p a t i o n - first full album!! the vibe is Hopeful But Hesitant it has all the songs from the ep, plus some new ones!! collabs with youtube musicians troye and dodie, and y/n’s label sets up a collab that turns into a genuine friendship. the breakout dance hit is what else is there to say ft. Troye Sivan, which is about not knowing what to make content about when it feels like you’ve already told the world everything. it featured the prechorus and hook

You, know, ev-ery-thing about me / gave it all for free / my life in HD / So, let’s dance, let me see your hips sway / we’re gonna be okay / what else is there to say?

So say that you love me, say that you love me, say that you love me / let’s die hand in hand. / I’ll tell you I love you, tell you I love you, tell you I love you / supply and demand.

personally, i also conceptually enjoy srs bsns which is a really upbeat song about how they don’t care if people don’t take them seriously because they know in their heart that what they’re doing is good

hyperfocus - 2nd EP, a pretty substantial departure from their usual style, but also happens to quietly be Corpse’s favourite, and is actually y/n’s most polarising, because it has both the Grammy award winning HEARTBURN and the o brother where art thou which was written partially as a joke to capture a fond moment of them and 5SOS dicking around together in a hotel. written while on tour wit 5SOS, im writing the reader as having ADHD (because I have ADHD and i can do what i want), and the backstory is that they’d changed the medication/dosage they were taking, and as it’s their first full tour, they were under a lot of stress and were in a weird place mentally and emotionally, and hyperfocus is the result of that. i’m going through some stuff has HUGE agoraphobic vibes.

HEARTBURN has the same vibes as Florence + The Machines’ Howl. It’s about being a demon without saying that or directly implying that unless you know demons real well. This is when the pressure for them to confirm their identity got real bad, and it was their way of working through those emotions.

tear in existence in the shape of a person / when i’m seeing clearly i can’t see myself / world can’t swallow what it can’t get it’s teeth into / got everything i wanted but i ain’t got my health

Got heart-burn--- / I’ll tear me apart / I’ll tear you apart / I’ll tear me apart.

SCREAM gets rereleased as a remixed single featuring Fall Out Boy the following year. It won the MTV music award for best collaboration in 2018.

In the time between hyperfocus and working on it, Y/N releases several singles, including a cover of Tell Him by The Exciters to be featured in To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. They also take time to sort out their health, do a little bit more YT stuff, and travel internationally to do festivals.

working on it - is kind of a middle ground between their original stuff, and hyperfocus, like pop-punk meets horror-pop meets whatever you’d classify halsey as. the first three songs were mostly written before the fic starts, so before they’re getting back to YT, but the last three, nightmare scenario, designed to hurt (touch me), and not scared were all written after they’d started hanging out with sykkuno and corpse.

in-universe, imposter syndrome was originally something else, along the same lines of tired that they’re hiding that they’re a demon, but after meeting corpse nd sykkuno and having people who know, and lowkey being influenced by corpse’s music, the song changes directions, and YO OKAY YO::

I literally am so fucking flattered, my darling friend @bingusmode wrote lyrics for imposter syndrome and I’ve been yELLING about them ever since i’ve read them!! (also bunnie is fantastic and lovely in general 10/10)

if you thought you saw me

i’d think about it twice

cuz while i know i’m naughty

everybody thinks i’m nice

cutest giggles get me

places that i long to be

but it’s not long before

everybody hates me

when you figure out i’m fucked up

you’ll probably think that can’t be right

but babe my image runs to save me

cuz i’m ugly day and night

nothing good about me

not the angel that i seem

cuz i’m a piece of shit

and i’ll ruin your fuckin dreams

i’m an impostor babe

you better run for your life

cuz there’s a bloodlust runnin through me

and you’re dripping off my knife

there’s no one here to save you

cuz you ate up all my lies

so beg me while you can

and draft up all your goodbyes

if any of y’all are inspired by anything i put out, feel free to take it and run!! you have my blessing!! i am so overwhelmingly flattered by people who like my stuff enough to create because of it, directly or indirectly! lyrics, art, songs, anything!! legit! I love you!!

okay so designed to hurt (touch me) has big House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco vibes, and YES it’s about Corpse. YES it sends mixed messages. YES it has greek myth imagery and YES that imagery is confusing. not sure if any of these sets of lyrics actually go after each other but also idk??

will my fall from grace be graceful / as each move i see you make? / propped up on pedestals side by side / beneath our feet they shake / i’m the only one to hear you ask / “What have they done to me?” / My boy, your wax throne is sun-drenched / you’ll fall in the name of your legacy.

eyes like yours watched rome burn / while hands like mine lit the pyre / we both heard me say we’d go down in flames / now you’re turning me into a liar / since you smile like that, like you can’t feel the sting / and we both know i can’t feel the fire

been telling myself i’m designed to hurt / but, baby, aren’t we a sight? /

check your reflection, your angles, apollo / you’re icarus in the right light /

we’re on the edge, i’m not scared to fall / we’ll take refuge in the night /

been telling yourself you’re designed to hurt / but, baby, doesn’t this feel right?

also, albumtouralbumtour is a reference to Bohemian Rhapsody.

OKAY AND FINALLY

n o s t a l g i a - the album the reader’s working on during the fic.

literally as i was writing this, bunnie sent through some FIRE lyrics for how the light gets in, (@bingusmode) i am going to be thinking about these on REPEAT for the next MONTH BRUV

little bit of darkness, treat me like a toy

i got my hopes up and got them destroyed

bitter taste of regret sitting heavy on my tongue

can’t believe i let you convince me that you were the one

sitting here in silence, fabric running thin

petals burning in my lungs and stealing oxygen

embers from a cigarette falling to the floor

god i can’t take anymore

so i stumble to the window and pull the shades

and the moon pours in like you threw a grenade

i can’t understand why

i keep trying

cuz i never seem to win

but having any hope is how the light gets in

from there, moment before impact ft. Billie Eilish is a club anthem along the lines of bad guy or COPYCAT, bass heavy with a drop that’s out of this world.

powdered pain, i’m in your veins / i’m the sting, the drip, the thing / you’re craving, but you hate to see me misbehaving / i heard my breakdown got you high / it’s true, but baby i can’t lie / i never got that rush, that burn / that makes you feel alive, i had to learn / to pick the slippery slope down which i fell / plan my pitstops on the way to hell / to pick my padding before i spiral / so if i break it’ll be in style

watch my misdirect, now freeze, / notice you can’t see the forest for the trees / you’re so desperate for my demise / but baby, i’ll make you watch me rise.

this is the moment before impact

controlled chaos, crash land / take a breath, trust the plan / i know you hope i’m not okay / you get off on my audio misery

controlled chaos, crash land / take a breath, trust the plan / i need you to know i want it this way / my breakdown won me a grammy

and this is the moment before impact

ur my favourite - interlude ft. sykkuno is probably one of my favourites, it’s just really soft, just a snippet of a conversation between the reader and sykkuno, maybe one of them told a joke and they both just sound real happy and sweet. its nice. it’s a nice moment.

means something is also for sykkuno!! it’s about how good-strange it is to be open and honest with friends, and how they usually aren’t but they’re glad they can be open and honest with him!!

meanwhile, i don’t think about u - interlude ft. CORPSE is a phonecall between corpse & the reader right after they announce they’re going to feature on acting like that, where corpse asks if they do this sort of thing to spite him, to which the reader responds ‘do i consider you when i’m making decisions about my career? no, corpse, actually i don’t think about you at all’ which then directly contrasts the song that ends the album, which is (how it feels to be) beautiful fireworks, which is essentially ‘i know how hard it is to exist like this, to be the centre of attention, to give off light and bring people joy, even when you’re in pain. i’m here for you. i love you.’

okay, i swear im done now, i’ll get back to writing the fic! (also i cannot BELIVE i managed to figure out how to embed those playlists but im so happy) edit: it didn’t actually work when i posted the ask, so anyways im sorry but y’all are abt to be spammed with playlists because i care too much abt this fic

#Anonymous #how the light gets in #corpse husband x reader #black cat anon

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927roses-and-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 4: Unwelcome Discoveries (Part 2)

Hey, guys! This fic is inspired by @ozmav’s Maribat AU. Shoutout to @mystery-5-5 for brainstorming ideas with me for this fic.

Woah, updating twice within the same week? It’s like I finally learned how to manage my time!... Not. Honestly this is my stress relief right now because I have two papers due tomorrow and those subjects are not as much fun to write about. On another note, I just finished my midterm and passed! So, yay! Anyways, hope you guys enjoy and have a little bit of luck come your way too.

Btw, after you’re reading this can you guys please tell me if I’m writing too much angst after reading through this chapter??? I am writing what I think would logically happen in this type of scenario, but I also tend to be really pessimistic.

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn

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By the time Marinette entered the classroom, her mood had lifted considerably from moments before. She sat at her usual seat and prepared her things as the rest of the class filed in. Her mood was slightly disrupted by a disgruntled Lila who roughly swept past her, but otherwise it seemed like today was finally going to be a normal day; well as normal as one could get in Paris, anyway. As the last remaining students settled in, Mme. Bustier walked into the room with a huge stack of papers. She settled them on her desk before addressing everyone.

“Good morning, everyone!”

“Good morning, Mme. Bustier,” the class parroted back in varying degrees of enthusiasm. Mme. Bustier smiled in satisfaction.

“Now before we begin our usual morning exercise, I would like to call up Marinette and Alya to help me distribute these packages for you. I will give you a few minutes to look through it before discussing it further,” she said, as she split the pile of papers in half and handed one half to each girl. Marinette’s eyes bulged. The stack of papers consisted of multiple stacks of paper about twenty pages long each. She and Alya shared a glance before obeying Mme. Bustier’s orders. She started at Chloe and Sabrina’s desk and ended with Rose and Juleka at the back. Then, she returned to her seat, analyzing the stack of papers in front of her.

“Wayne Enterprises Sponsored International Connections Program in Gotham City, USA Information Package and Permission Forms”

After that was a bunch of paragraphs that Marinette skimmed over. The first few pages detailed what the program was for, their accommodations, costs for travel along with what necessary documents were needed, and all sorts of other details that made Marinette dizzy. The next few pages after that outlined the risks specific to Gotham and resources that students and their guardians were strongly recommended to review before even stepping onto Gotham grounds. The pages after that were permission forms asking for the legal guardian’s consent, her personal info, insurance, etc.

Needless to say, the whole class was baffled. In fact, some of them were downright lost, considering they didn’t even know a Gotham City existed in the US. Or what Wayne Enterprises was supposed to be and why they were offered to join this program. Only Max and Alya seemed excited at the prospect of the field trip, judging on the excited murmurs that Marinette could hear. She picked up on the word “vigilantes” from Alya and “greatest detective” from somewhere behind her and suddenly it all made sense. She wasn’t sure if she heard correctly, but she was pretty sure she heard Lila talking in self-assured whispers to the confused people around her. She held in a scoff, before returning her attention to the papers in front of her.

Marinette frowned, closing the package and pushing it away from her. She waited for Mme. Bustier to explain the details more clearly. Unfortunately, Marinette already knew there was no way she could go, at least, not without risking Paris’ safety.

“If you have finished, please bring your attention to me. I will explain everything. Please leave all your questions till the end,” Mme. Bustier said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “As you may have noticed, this opportunity has been given to us by M. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises. He has chosen our school as a trial school for a program that he wants to implement next year to help expand student achievement nationally and internationally. As well as to encourage young students like yourselves to make connections with students from other countries. In fact, I believe it was Mayor Bourgeois who sent M. Wayne a glowing recommendation of our class from fundraising events to everyone’s extracurriculars and achievements! I am so proud of all of you.”

At the front, Chloé straightened in her seat and smiled smugly. Beside her, Sabrina was looking from Chloé to the stack of papers in front of her in disbelief. The class was in a similar state of shock, and soon whispers erupted excitedly from most people in the class before Mme. Bustier silenced them all.

Oh, that made sense, Marinette thought. Despite the sense of pride she felt for herself and the class (their hard work deserved some reward after all, especially with all the akumas recently), she knew Mayor Bourgeois was not the type of person to recommend just anyone from the goodness of his heart. He had recommended this class to M. Wayne for Chloé’s own success. Which was a bit of a shame, Marinette thought, since Chloé had more than enough resources to find opportunities for herself. However, she couldn’t help but feel grateful to whatever deity convinced Mayor Bourgeois to include the class, anyway.

“Anyways,” Mme. Bustier said when the class had calmed down. “I expect everyone here to listen to what I have to say and take it to heart.” Mme. Bustier’s voice settled lowered, her tone becoming dangerously low. “This program is a huge opportunity however, Gotham City is full of many risks and I am making it absolutely mandatory for everyone in this room, as well as their legal guardians to use the sources outlined under “Risks to be Aware of While in Gotham City” Section. While M. Wayne has assured the supervisors for the trip as well as M. Damocles that our accommodations will be in Gotham’s financial district, there is still going to be danger; more than what we’re accustomed to in Paris.”

At the end of her spiel, the atmosphere in the room weighed heavy on Marinette. She had never seen Mme. Bustier so strict before, her teal eyes piercing through everybody in the room.

“Um, Mme. Bustier?” Lila spoke and stood up. The class swivelled their attention to her. “I’ve actually been to Gotham City and have met M. Wayne before for a humanitarian project. I’m sure M. Wayne will make sure to do everything to keep us safe.”

“That may be, Lila, but I assure you, these instructions were given to me by M. Wayne himself via email. He will do his best to make sure our trip is as safe as possible, but that means we need to do our part in keeping ourselves safe.”

Blinking owlishly, Lila faltered. “Yes, of course, Mme. Bustier.” She forced a smile. “I was just saying so because it would be an absolute shame for anyone to miss out on such a great opportunity!”

Marinette rolled her eyes. Sure, she thought. That, or she just wanted everyone to know that she knew Bruce Wayne- whoever he was- and be impressed. At least she didn’t claim that she saved Bruce Wayne’s horse or something similar. Or claim to be friends with the vigilantes Alya had been fangirling about earlier.

The rest of the morning was spent going through the rest of the package from how to ensure that everyone had their visa, to what they should bring and how they should behave while they were there. Marinette frowned; there was something off about this trip. She wasn’t sure whether it was the duration of the trip ( which had a minimum of one month, with extra time being granted in case of any future interruptions), or why an American company would choose this specific French class for the trial program instead of a class in say, London, or any other country that spoke English. It seemed that Max was thinking along the same lines as her, because the moment Mme. Bustier finished, his hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Max?”

“I have a few questions concerning this program. Why is there a minimum allotted time for our stay? Would our parents need to agree to any extension of staying? And how are we supposed to communicate or even understand anything when most of us don’t speak English?”

Mme. Bustier smiled. “Those are all excellent questions. As I have said before, Gotham City is dangerous so there might be trips that are part of the program that will need to be rescheduled or we may need to take a later flight in case anything happens at the airport. Therefore, we need to be aware that our trip may last longer than the required month. Next, while we are there, you will be put in remedial English classes along with any classes you choose to take at Gotham Academy for the duration of our stay. This way, you will have the opportunity to brush up your English skills.”

Alya was quick to stand up and shoot her hand in the air. “Will we be going on any field trips outside of Gotham City? Like Metropolis?”

Mme. Bustier stared at her. “Maybe, but as for now, all details of the trip are included in the itinerary in your packages.”

Alya deflated, slumping in her seat. Marinette turned toward her and whispered, “What’s so special about Metropolis?”

She perked up and whispered excitedly. “It’s the home of Superman, Booster Gold and Blue Beetle!” Marinette had absolutely no clue -nor any real desire to know- who those were. It didn’t seem to matter as Alya rambled on. “And, and, and, it’s also the home to Pulwitzer prize-winning journalist Lois freaking Lane from the Daily Planet. I love her. I think I told Nino once that I would leave him for her (Nino gave an affirmative “uh huh”) if the opportunity ever arose and he said he wouldn’t mind as long as he could be with Superman. But that’s alright because Lois Lane is a badass and I love her; she is a genius-”

“Ahem.” Mme. Bustier coughed. Alya stopped mid-speech and laughed sheepishly. Her voice must have been louder than she realized.

“Sorry Mme. Bustier.”

“No problem, Alya. Just keep your excitement until the end of class.” She smiled softly. “And, I will see if I can mention your love for Lois Lane to M. Wayne.”

The way Alya froze in her seat, her jaw unhinged and wide eyes, Marinette wasn’t sure if she was in normal shock or if Mme. Bustier had actually managed to kill her with words. She chuckled before nudging her side to bring her back to reality. Shaken out of her stupor, Alya thanked Mme. Bustier and sat in her seat. Her smile was record-breakingly wide and she seemed to vibrate in place.

Letting out a giggle, Marinette was ecstatic for her best friend. Sure, she may not know the superheroes she mentioned, and still wasn’t too sure of who Lois Lane was, but Alya looked like she won a million euros and meeting her idol would be a great opportunity. As Alya continued to freak out however, she shared glances between Adrien and Nino in front of her and had to stifle their laughter.

Maybe if Alya did meet Lois Lane and Superman, and Gotham vigilantes, she could share her excitement with Marinette when the class returned to Paris.

The rest of the day had been pretty normal, with the addition of excitement in the air as her class discussed the trip to Gotham. Students from other classes seemed to be split between being jealous of the class for the opportunity, or relieved at the foreseeable absence of what they dubbed as “the akuma class.” Students from her own class huddled together in their small groups, already planning on what they wanted to do, what they thought Gotham would be like, and how they were excited to meet any cute Americans. Marinette couldn’t help but let their excitement affect her as well. Not only was going abroad always a cause for excitement but surely it was a relief to be able to leave Paris in the foreseeable future. It was exhausting being targeted by stupid demonic butterflies and sucking up your feelings like they didn’t exist (Unless you were Lila, then you cried and let everyone worry about your emotional state and any akumas that could come from it, that is). However, Marinette had a feeling that this trip to Gotham would stir a lot of drama within their class, when everyone had the chance to reveal any negative emotions without the consequence of an akuma around.

Well, that was that, she supposed as she went home for the lunch break, the permission forms tucked under her arm. She had been half tempted to chuck them in a bin somewhere, but knew her parents would be pissed if she didn’t tell them. Thus, she entered the bakery and once there was a lull in the orders, asked both of her parents if they could talk.

She led them upstairs in the living room and placed the bundle of papers on the dining room table. Marinette briefly explained the program and let them read through the package carefully. By the time they finished, Marinette only had an hour left of her two hour lunch break.

“So?” She prompted, trying to gauge their reactions.

Her maman and dad exchanged a glance and nodded, before turning back to her.

“You’re definitely going.” Her maman said, putting the package back on the table.

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “Wait, Maman, don’t you need some more time to think about this?” She couldn’t believe it. She should’ve chucked the package in a bin.

Her dad frowned. “Marinette, we don’t like it either, and it’s not...ideal, but we believe it’s for the best if you stay away from Paris for now.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, glancing back and forth between her maman and dad. “What do you mean?”

Her maman sighed. “Ever since we almost got akumatized on the day you were expelled, me and your father have been talking, and well, Paris isn’t safe for you anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Her dad nodded in agreement. Marinette felt befuddled. She felt like she definitely lost a few brain cells.

“Gotham City isn’t safe either, Maman, Papa. Didn’t you see the risks listed?” Marinette asked, grabbing the package and desperately scouring through the package. This was so not happening; she couldn’t afford to leave Paris.

She heard a sigh coming from her maman, before her hands settled on Marinette’s own. Marinette glanced up to stare at her maman’s cloudy grey gaze. “It’s definitely not ideal, and we wish you were somewhere safer, but I trust that M. Wayne and the school administration would never have allowed this to happen if it was too risky.”

“But-”

“And, “ her dad interjected before Marinette could continue. “If this hadn’t come up, we would’ve sent you away with your grandmère and you would’ve had to pause your schooling and travel around Europe with her until it was safe to come back home.”

“Or,” her maman added, giving Tom a small glare. “We would’ve sent you to Shanghai with your uncle Wang. At least this way, you can continue with your schooling and still be with your friends under the maximum amount of protection.”

Her breathing turned heavy at her words. Her heart was beating faster, was it just her imagination or did it feel like the room was stuffier than before. She didn’t understand. Why now? They had been planning to send her away. She pressed a hand against her chest to try to control her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It had been a calming trick Master Fu had shown her when she had been at the edge of getting an anxiety attack.

Not for the first time, Marinette wished she could just tell her parents she was Ladybug. Then again, maybe that would’ve motivated them further to get her out of Paris.

No, her maman and papa loved her. They just wanted her to be safe. They weren’t aware she’d been taking care of Paris all this time.

She felt her maman’s warm presence beside her as her papa engulfed them both. She barely registered the apologies her maman whispered as she stroked her hair. She was too busy pushing down all her anxieties.

She couldn’t risk getting akumatized.

Her lunch break had been long over by the time she had calmed down. By then, both her maman and papa had returned to the bakery with promises that they would talk about this tomorrow and that they would call the school to report her absence for the afternoon.

Marinette barely registered them as she trudged up to her bedroom. Then her bathroom. Shower. Dry hair. Change of clothes. Bed.

She didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t notice the kwamis flying towards her and snuggling with her, in her hair and the crook of her neck.

“What do I do?” She asked listlessly.

Tikki floated to her field of vision. “Marinette. It’ll be okay.”

“How?”

Tikki didn’t give an answer. She sighed and sat up. She was going to write in her diary until she read her last entry. Right. Marianne. She sighed. She’d call her and then go on an early patrol of the city.

She didn’t want the helplessness that came with being Marinette.

Taking a long, deep breath, she grabbed her tablet and called Marianne through video chat. Surprisingly, despite her age, Marianne adapted to technology pretty well. She and Master Fu were living somewhere in London, enjoying their retirement together. Marinette liked to keep up with them regularly, since she missed Master Fu, and their present now gave her hope for her own future.

She waited for the screen to load, and smiled widely when Marianne’s face entered the screen. She looked like she had just gotten home; the makeup she was wearing was starting to fade, and her hair was tied in a slightly wet updo bun.

“Marinette! Bonjour! How have you been, darling?” Marinette noticed that she had adopted a slight British accent when she talked. It hadn’t been that long since they last talked, so maybe her and Master Fu had been going out more.

“Bonjour Marianne.” She softly waved her hand. “Everything’s fine actually. How are you and Master Fu?”

Marianne smiled, re-focusing her own screen so Marinette could see her more clearly. “Everything’s been great. Wang has taken to liking massage parlors again. We just visited one yesterday.”

Marinette smiled fondly. She could feel Wayzz’s presence on her shoulder as he listened intently. If anyone had been more devastated than Marinette about Master Fu’s amnesia and departure, it would have been Wayzz. It had taken a long time for him to open up to Marinette and the other kwamis, often leaving the Oolong tea she brewed for him to run cold. Fortunately, he was getting better and opening up more. Their love for Master Fu had been what helped he and Marinette bond together as a new Guardian and kwami.

“I’m glad. It seems like you two are really happy.”

Marianne squinted her eyes; she could feel her gaze through the screen. “Why did you call, Marinette?”

“I, ah, had a question about the Miraculous actually. I was wondering if your time with Master Fu before had given you any insight to them.”

Marianne frowned slightly, rubbing her chin. “I’ve picked up on a few things, but Wang was really secretive. I’ll give it my best shot for you, dear.”

“Thank you! I was wondering if you had any clue as to why the Miracle Box turned into an egg when Master Fu renounced his Guardianship to me?”

Marianne sighed. “I wish I could tell you, but I’m as lost as you are.”

She deflated. Her hands gripped the tablet tighter. She knew there was only a miniscule chance that Marianne would’ve known anything, but a tiny part of her had hoped that luck would be on her side. Exhaling, Marinette thanked her.

On the other side of the screen, Marianne’s frown deepened. As happy as she was with Wang Fu, it was cruel for destiny to hand such a young child the enormous and numerous responsibilities that the Guardian had to bear. She glanced at Wang, who was sleeping on the couch contentedly. She was happy they could now spend the rest of their lives together in peace when most of it had been previously spent in war.

Speaking of war…

“Marinette, darling! I think I might know of someone who can help you!”

Marinette perked up. She had been about to change the subject or close the call, but maybe she had a bit of luck on her side after all.

“Who?”

“During the war, when Wang and I escaped to Paris, we were aided by someone who would become one of our closest friends. When he was recruited to battle in the war, he was very young, so Wang had lent him the Snake Miraculous for its powers of Intuition, at least until the war was over.”

Marinette felt Wayzz stiffen on her shoulder.

“She doesn’t mean…”

“Unfortunately,” Marianne continued. “When he returned home, he had an argument with Wang and almost didn’t return the Miraculous. It was only a month later that he left it on our doorstep. We haven’t heard from him since, but maybe he might know something. He was always a genius and intuitive beyond his years.”

Marinette frowned. “Do you know where he might be now?”

“His name is Alfred Pennyworth. He mentioned once that his family had a tradition of serving a family called the Waynes.”

Marinette’s frown deepened. There was the name Wayne again. Which meant Gotham. It felt like the universe really wanted her to go there. She sighed. At least she’d have an objective while she was there- if she did go in the first place. She smiled again, once she saw Marianne’s worried stare.

“Thank you so much, Marianne. I need to go now and plan what to do. I hope you and Master Fu stay well.”

Marianne smiled. “You too, Marinette. Don’t hesitate to call me for anything, dear.”

She merely nodded, and they both logged off. She set aside her tablet and turned to face Sass, who was already in front of her.

“Tell me everything you know about this Alfred Pennyworth and your time with him, Sass. I need to know if he can help before considering everything.”

The snake kwami merely nodded. “Of course, my Guardian.”

#and of course by universe i mean me #miraclesingotham #mlb x dc #maribat au #maribat #yall im really gonna add trauma to this already traumatized butler huh #i am so sorry #this arc was not supposed to be three chapters long #even i want them to go to gotham already but the set up ugh #ml x dc

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rovewritesit · 4 years ago

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Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 1) John Deacon x Reader Series

I’ve read so many fan fics in the past four months and I thought it was high time to try my hand at it. I’ve created this side blog so that I can 1) Express my love for Queen and 2) Not annoy the randos from high school and college who still follow my main. This’ll be a slow burn folks, so hold on to your hats.

Series summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader (eventually)

Chapter Warnings: Lots o’ curses

Chapter Summary: This is basically just some set up for the series. No Deacy yet, but a meet-cute to happen very soon! I got the band name with the help of some random band name generator so be kind. I’m hoping to introduce in some songs readers may not have heard - I was thinking of “Heart of the Night” by Juice Newton while writing this, hence the single name and album.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

- - - - - - -

Days of Our Lives Documentary Shoot - 2010

(Brian May and Roger Taylor Joint Interview)

“The early 80s were huge for us, for sure. I believe we were at our biggest then, internationally speaking.” Brian states, glancing over to Roger.

“Yes, Another One Bites the Dust really set things a-flame I think. The traveling and playing were constant. The crowds getting bigger by the venue. Parties, hotels, girls, more parties. We were meeting just so many people.” Roger adds.

“And one of those being a certain American female rock singer.” The interviewer adds quietly from off-camera.

Roger glances over to him with a questioning look, but Brian catches on quick, like always.

“Ah yes, that particular rock goddess. We did meet her around then, I believe, yes. Maybe a few years after.” Brian says knowingly, still playing along.

Roger stares into space with a confused look on his face until the realization hits him. “Are we talking about Y/N?” Roger mutters to Brian. “Yes” Brian chuckles, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Oh, what a spit-fire she is! Not back then though. Fred really worked some magic with that one. Almost inseparable those two were.” Roger laughs out, a wave of nostalgia washing over his face.

Brian raises his large eyebrows, “Deacy would beg to differ I think.”

Roger smirks, “Oh, well that’s a whole different story.”

- - - - - - -

1982 - MTV Studios, New York City

You run your hands up and down your thighs, trying to will your left knee to stop repeatedly bouncing up and down. The satin of your pants does nothing for the layer of sweat on your clammy hands. You fold them together in your lap and gaze around the studio instead, taking in the bustling of crew members as they ready for the pre-taped interview. The god-like VJ, Alan Hunter, sits in a chair off to the side as someone artfully pieces his blonde locks into place. He grins over at you with a small wave. You limply lift your hand in a greeting, pasting on a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

You catch your pained expression as you glimpse a monitor off-camera. A friendly woman backstage had painted your face to the point of being almost unrecognizable. Gone was the evidence under your eyes of the restless sleep you’d fought the previous night. They were wide and doed, rather than their normal crescent shape. Your lips full and vibrant, your hair bounced and fanned out around your face. And your skin seemed to be glowing, masking the spots that had popped up overnight from stress. You looked every bit the rock goddess the label hoped to paint you as, and the exact opposite of the nerves currently threatening to overtake your body.

“Y/N, I can feel you vibrating from here. Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be fine.” Rich commented from beside you. His legs were splayed out, his arms bent behind his head. Looking as relaxed as can be, as if he were on his couch at home catching a movie marathon, about to doze off.

“How can you be so calm right now?” You rush out. “Who knows how many people are going to see this interview. Do you know how many times a day I accidentally let the F word fly out of my mouth?”

Rich lets out a snort. “I happen to know exactly how much you curse, thank you. Yesterday you said fuck 3 times in one sentence. It was charming, my mom loved it.” He moves his right arm to squeeze around your shoulders. Usually, it would be a comforting display of friendship, but you shake it off.

“And look at those three. Already so at home, I see.” You nod to the three other members of the band. Steve is exuding energy like yourself, but it’s excitement that bubbles from him. His eyes flit around the room quickly as he taps out some unknown rhythm on his bent legs. A wide grin permanently fixed on his boyish features.

At the far end of the couch, Eddie and Lawrence are wrapped up in a not-so-silent game of knuckles.

“Son of a-- Will you take off those damn rings? It’s my turn and I’m still getting bruised.” Lawrence huffs. Eddie wiggles his long, skilled, silver-clad fingers in front of his face and raises his eyebrows. “It’s all about the look, baby. Gotta play the part of the guitar god.”

“Will you both knock it off.” You call over to them. “We need both those sets of hands in playing shape for tomorrow night.”

Eddie turns, probably to counter with some playful comment about how you mother them too much, but Alan approaches.

“Alright, guys. And girl.” He flashes his perfectly white teeth your way again. “We’re about 5 minutes out from going up. Anybody need anything? Water, vodka, beer…” He turns his gaze to Steve, who is still tapping lightly on his legs. “A Xanax, perhaps?”

“Waters all around would be great, thanks.” You offer. Alan nods to a twitchy PA waiting to his side and they hurry off.

“Oh wait up, a Bud Light too, if you have any!” Eddie calls after them. The other three boys echo the same as well.

“You can take the boys out of Long Island…” you mutter to yourself. Rich teasingly pokes your side. “And something stiff for the lady!” He shouts out.

“In all manner of ways” Steve giggles. You feign a shocked expression and reach over to place a gentle slap to the side of his head. He looks over with big apologetic eyes and you stifle a laugh.

In record time, the lanky PA rushes back over with a myriad of drinks, all threatening to topple over on the tray they were precariously balanced on. Another PA trails behind, handing you all water, which you’re in desperate need of. They hand the drinks out one by one and stop before you. “Your water, Miss. And I didn’t know what you liked so I have a jack and coke, a whiskey sour, and a gin and tonic.”

“The gin and tonic is great, thanks.” They hurriedly hand you the drink and go to turn away. “Love your hair by the way.” You tell them. “I’m absolute shit at styling mine. Guess I’ll have to learn now.” They smile back at you and run a hand through their short locks before disappearing amongst the rest of the crew.

“Okay, we’re ready to rock n’ roll!” Alan exclaims, getting the band’s attention as he sits down in a chair next to your side of the couch. “We’re going to start off with a few basics on the band. Your lower thirds will have your instruments labeled but feel free to explain how you guys started out, your influences, your process. I’ll prompt you in between and then we'll talk about the album and promote your upcoming tour towards the end. Should take 15 minutes tops, so keep your answers brief. But I won’t say no to any rowdy stories you want to throw in.” He finishes with a wink.

The band nods along as you gulp down a breath, your palms becoming even slicker. The stage manager’s high voice rings out around the studio. “Playback ready! Live to tape in 5.. 4...” Rich places a hand over your knee and gives a squeeze. “Light em’ up, Bun” he mutters in your ear.

“3.. 2..” She holds up a finger and then points it at Alan, a wide smile already set on his face. The camera light flicks red as the MTV open plays from speakers around the room. Alan beings as the song fades out.

“We’re here in the studio and boy, am I excited to get to know this next band. Over at MTV we’ve been watching the steady rise of their single “Heart of the Night” on the charts. And as an added surprise, they’re here to introduce their very first music video. I’m very pleased to welcome to the studio, Lo & The Limbs!”

You try to relax your face as a camera pans across the band and settles on a two-shot of you and Alan. You know your eyes are gleaming with anxiety so you glance down the couch, silently praying for one of the boys to take the lead.

“Thanks for having us Alan, it’s such a trip to be here.” Eddie says with ease, resting his forearms on his knees.

“So, I have to ask. Who is Lo? Is it you Lawerence?” Alan questions the piano player.

“Oh god, no.” Lawrence chuckles. “Our high school was affectionately called Lo High, for Long Island HighSchool of the Arts. So we sort of tacked that on while playing during those years to let people know where we were from. That and well, as you can see we’re all above 6 foot except for Y/N, so a lot of limbs going on here.”

Alan gives a short laugh. “You released your debut album, Quiet Lies, earlier this year to growing success. Why don’t you tell me how you all started out.”

“Well, the boys and I have been together for a few years. We’ve been friends since grade school and we always just used to jam about. As we got older we started playing local bars back on Long Island to mostly middle-aged crowds, trying to break in, but it wasn’t working. Then Rich had the idea to invite Y/N to join up and it’s all kind of all taken off from there.” Eddie explains.

“We needed a pretty face to balance out all these ugly mugs” Steve pipes up.

“It took a while for her to finally concede though. She was off being too studious for the likes of us.” Rich adds on with a smile and nudge to your side. Your eyes grow wide as you feel a question directed at you coming on.

“Is that true, Y/N?”

“I- I guess, I was at NYU studying documentary filmmaking.” You choke out, but continue on. “Love this lighting set up, by the way, it really hides all sins.” That gets a light chuckle out of the crew surrounding you.

“And these sins you’re hiding are…” Alan grins but quickly bounces to the next topic. “Certainly a good call, Rich. Heart of the Night is the only song off the album that Y/N is singing lead on and look how well it’s doing. How did that happen?”

“Most of our songs were already written from before when we finally got the money to record. We wanted Y/N to feel a part of it, so she went on and wrote Heart of the Night and we were all very pleasantly surprised that it’s become such a hit.” Steve explains. “She also directed the music video we’ll be debuting today. I can’t believe she let us do all the things we did in that… well, you’ll just have to see for yourselves. We can be a bit of a handful.” The boys all chuckle.

“That and she plays the weirdest collection of instruments. Rhythm guitar, any type of strings, the saxophone… She's a boss on the harmonica.” Eddie turns to you as he speaks. “You just need to get over those pesky little nerves about your singing, Bun!” He points in your direction.

You feel the heat rise behind your perfectly painted cheeks at the slip of your nickname. You cast your gaze down at your lap. Not liking how the conversation has turned directly onto you.

Alan quirks an eyebrow at you. “Bun?” He teases.

You have yet to lift your eyes when Rich answers for you. “Bunny, an affectionate nickname. It’s stuck around since grade school when she wandered into Lawrence's backyard in search of a rabbit she was chasing.”

“A rockstar called Bunny. There’s a first for everything.” Alan quips, but quickly notices your displeasure in the current topic. Sensing your growing panic, he addresses the rest of the group. “This has been quite the debut album, with more hits sure to come from it. Any bands you’ve taken inspiration from while writing and producing?”

Rich jumps at the question. “Fleetwood Mac would be a big one. The way they layer their sounds is just unmatchable. You catch something new with every listen of an album of theirs.”

“I can’t be a pianist from Long Island and not mention the granddaddy, Billy Joel.” Lawrence adds. “His songs take you on such a ride. They’re full stories, each one of them.”

“And you, Y/N?” Alan directs the next question. “Who will you be drawing inspiration from when you write your next hit single?”

You smile to yourself. “It’s gotta be Queen for me. I’ve loved every one of their albums. I mean, the way they’ve changed their sound just in the past few years alone. They’re always transcending. Never afraid to try out something new or weave a different genre into one of their songs. But you always know it’s a Queen song. I saw them 2 years ago when they played the Garden, and fu--” You catch yourself as you get more animated. “And they were all just so on. Perfectly in sync. There’s something so distinct about their sound, so practiced. I’d love to get to their level, to be able to experiment like that. To give joy in the way they’ve given it to me.” You finish. Realizing you’ve rambled for a bit, you turn your eyes downwards yet again.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk since you came into the studio!” Alan laughs. “Well, you heard it here first folks, Y/N L/N is a Queen fan, just like the rest of us. I’m sure you’re just as excited about their new album as well.” You nod quickly as Rich hides a smile. Knowing full well you’ll be first in line to purchase their new album, Hot Space when it drops.

“But before you get off to writing more hits, I believe you have a tour coming up!” Alan states, signaling that the interview is wrapping up.

“Yeah, we have a small American tour starting in February. But until then we’ll be opening up for Hall and Oates during their tour of the NorthEast next month.” Steve says excitedly, bouncing slightly in his seat.

“And with that, I think we’ll roll into the long-anticipated music video and directorial debut for the lovely Y/N L/N. Thank you all so much for coming in today and I can’t wait to see what’s next on the horizon for you. Here’s Lo & The Limbs with Heart of the Night!” Alan keeps his painted smile till the red light vanishes from above the lens on the large pedestal camera in front of him.

You breathe out the breath you’d been choking on as Rich puts an arm around your shoulders. He leans in and whispers lightly, “And only one hint of a fuck, ladies and gentlemen. She might just make it in this business after all.”

- - - - - - -

One Month Later - Veterans Memorial Coliseum - New Haven, Connecticut

The Limbs bound off the stage in full force, glistening with sweat and excitement. It was the largest crowd they’d played for by far. 10,000 people cheered from the audience as roadies and crew moved around them to set up for the main act, Hall and Oates. Rich spreads his long arms and huddles the rest of the group into a family hug, your skin sticking to one another, the smell of sweat filling your noses.

“I just want us to all remember this moment.” He speaks to the group, foreheads touching. “Even if nothing happens past this album. That was insane.”

“Absolutely bonkers, dude!” Steve says and he bounces up and down beside you. You all take a deep collective breath and squeeze.

“Alright, get off of me you fucks.” You laugh, untangling yourself from their vast expanse of limbs. “We all stink and I have to get out of all... this” You gesture to the skin-tight bodysuit your best friend, Dawn, had insisted you wear. Eddie presses a light kiss to your temple as he lets you into the dressing room first to change out of their view.

You close the door and sigh, glancing at yourself in the mirrors that line one wall of the room. Your eyes are bright, your hair is two times the size of when you went out on stage an hour before, and your makeup looks like you’d been in a fight. Grinning to yourself, you start to unlatch the halter top of the bodysuit, excited for the air to cool your skin.

Just as you are about to shimmy out of the rest of the ensemble, the door bursts open.

“Shit! Lawrence, what the hell?!” Scrambling to cover your top half.

Lawrence trains his eyes to the ceiling as he speaks. “Bunny, you gotta… just cover up and get your ass out here. You just... You gotta see, c’mon.”

Flustered, you hurry to redress your sticky body. After making sure everything is properly covered, you step out into the hallway backstage, already glaring at the boys. They’re all tight-lipped, staring at one another. “Okay, someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” You say loudly. “Shhhhh” Rich hisses as he gestures behind him with a shake of his head. You glance over his shoulder to see the backs of two men. John Hall and Daryl Oates.

“Yeah, okay... I don’t get it. We’ve hung out with them like 5 times. Why are we fangirling?”

Rich widens his eyes at you and you glance back at them again. This time they part and you can catch a glimpse of who they’ve been talking to.

The flash of a tight leather jacket, a mustache, and two front teeth shining while laughter erupts from behind them.

You gasp.

“Fucking, fuck. That’s Freddie fucking Mercury.” You say, a bit too loud.

The bold man in question locks eyes with you. Something mischievous dances behind them as he narrows his gaze. Daryl and John move to their roadies to get fixed up before heading out on stage and Freddie lets out a sharp burst of laughter as he makes his way over. Your stomach churns with embarrassment but you can’t tear your eyes from his.

“Quite the redundancy of expletives, my dear. All you had to do was say hello.” he grins at you, all teeth. You’re not one to get too clammy in front of other musicians, but your voice gets trapped in your throat. You pray to whatever gods are out there that your eyes don’t get any wider.

Eddie’s easy charm luckily saves you. “This beautiful songstress right here is Y/N L/N.” You barely lift your arms as Freddie pulls you in for a light hug and kiss on the cheek. “But you can call her Bunny.” Eddie grins. So much for easy charm you think as you stare daggers into the profile of his face.

“Ha! Bunny? Oh my, that is wonderful.” Freddie chuckles. “It sounds as if you’re a socialite... Or a stripper. I can’t tell.” He beams at you. You can’t help but beam right back.

“Come along. Let us watch the show and you can tell me which one it is.” He says with a wink. “And introduce me to these giants you call your band.” He grabs your arm and leads you off, the boys in tow. Bouncing with excitement for what’s to come.

#queen fic #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon series #deaky fic #deacy fic #deaky x reader #deacy x reader #angelofmydreams

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daisychvins · 4 years ago

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｡･ﾟﾟ･ — introduction.

introducing ... violet’s demise ! aka grayson aka her big brother she’s been wiring money to stay away in europe <33333

name: grayson swag money jeon age: 22 turning 23 (don’t ask me about his sign that’s for liza to figure out someday <3) gender: cis male; he/him hometown: baltimore, maryland sexuality: bisexual & biromantic

listen i was feeling rlly committed to completing his stats but i’m already over it so don’t ask dont tell xx anYWAYS let’s get on to the juicy stuff hehe

i tend to ramble a lot so this intro is gonna be probably a mixture of paragraphs and bullet points and everything in between but let’s start simple. also i rlly wanna emphasize a massive DRUGS TW bc his character largely revolves around his interest in and addiction to drugs

blackmails

grayson is claiming that he's been in a rehab program for the last year and is now completely sober and reformed when he really was just using the money to party and travel throughout europe.

without his parents paying to support him now, he's had to start dealing to make ends meet and keep up appearances. it’s mostly coke, but he dabbles in harder substances depending on what his connections can get him.

grayson dabbles with calligraphy and was notorious for forging excuse notes and parent signatures all throughout high school and even now sells forgeries for a quick buck. the most notable of these was xavi’s letter of recommendation that helped him get into yale.

background

grayson is violet’s older brother!!1 yes, that’s right, THE big brother who’s been out of the country getting LIT (and by lit i mean he’s been traveling europe on a series of solo trips w his parents’ money and doin lots of recreational drugs)

i haven’t fully fleshed out the dynamic he has w his parents but just know it’s ,, bad ASDHFJNK basically the jeons treated their children like accessories and expected them to be their little trophies and grayson just was not having that as a kid!!! so he acted out a lot and obviously got himself into a pretty bad scene (thank u goosie) and is basically the bane of his parents existence at this point <3 yet they still try to appease him to keep him under control but that’s for the family task to work out hehehehe

despite hating his parents, he adores both of his siblings. before the drug use started, he was always a big nurturer and would have done anything for either of them......now he wouldn’t be caught dead praising violet but he loves her in secret from afar HSJDFKG

yeah basically he met goose when he was around 15 i think????? and got introduced to drugs around 16 or 17 i wanna say and by the time he graduated high school he was just....a much different person than the soft big brother he used to be. his parents sent him off to europe pretty much as soon as he turned 18 under the guise of going to school internationally, but grayson obviously knew the truth and understood that he was being sent away so he wouldn’t be his parents problem anymore.

he basically spent the last four years galavanting europe and just....trying to enjoy it???? but it’s hard to enjoy an extended vacation when u have no family or friends on ur side anymore </3 he basically used the money to stay in hostels and worked odd jobs here and there to stay afloat and keep supplied w the...special goods....but yeah lots of drugs, alcohol, sex, and recklessness but he DID learn a couple languages??? or at least enough to get through some pretty basic conversations in most european countries so <3 guess it’s all okay then!!!!

anyways idk what else to put here that u won’t just find out in the family task so uhhhhhh idk lmk if u need anything else i guess

present/personality

so now grayson is just vibing at yale obviously ummm he actually got super into writing after high school, especially poetry. he used to carry journals full of just random prose about his addiction and his deepest thoughts, as well as probably some lighter stuff about his love escapades or maybe goose idk...basically he used poetry as an outlet and it allowed him to really ground himself and find his place in the world even if it didnt include who he thought it would SO with that being said, grayson got into yale due to a poetry competition he was a part of. he saw some big fancy competition being advertised and on a whim decided to submit some poem about his struggles with addiction and losing his family (a v raw piece that he didn’t expect to ever see the light of day) and he actually ended up winning! it caught yale’s attention and they invited him to apply and, knowing how much it would probably disturb his little sister, grayson very smugly applied and was pretty stoked to see he got in

because that poem gained such publicity, it was assumed that he was a survivor of addiction and was writing from a sober perspective. he didn’t want to correct anyone, so he just went with it and has basically crafted this story about his massive success and has become an advocate for addiction treatment and rehabilitation. of course, none of the companies that sponsor him or the events that host him as a motivational speaker know that he’s snorting lines in the bathroom beforehand or dealing to half the elites, but that’s between grayson, god, and the blackmailer !

basically grayson showed back up because of violet’s blackmail being exposed. he was off in europe, unable to defend himself, and with a massive vendetta against his family so he decided what better way to reenter society than by publicly outing himself as a martyr <3333 his plan is basically to bash the family name to fulfill whatever angsty coming of age arc he has in store for him to make up for the pain of being sent away .... really angsty yeah </3 rip grayson

anyways yeah he’s a total fake. he’s been using his status as a martyr to his advantage a lot, the best example being his recruitment into the elites. he guilted them into accepting him by discussing the PR benefits of recruiting a member that struggles with addiction and how supporting addiction treatment and second chances would be such a good look for them. like he basically threatened to publicly expose them for denying him due to his troubled past and accuse them of being exclusionary so they said boop ! ur in. now the elites are proud advocates for second chances <3333

i would describe grayson as fearless, overconfident, infamous due to his condition being exposed recently, a little gloomy, he’s kind of just got this chip on his shoulder and feels like he has something to prove....he’s gotta be better than his parents, gotta stick it to them and to violet and to everyone who doubts him. he’s a grumpy guy with a massive vendetta and a need for some kind of justice. he just doesn’t know what that is yet. despite all of the bad, however, he’s genuinely a pretty good guy. he’s really goofy and a genuine person, pretty friendly with literally everyone until they give him a reason not to be. basically, unless you are a member of the jeon family he probably likes you or is at least cordial to you (unless we plot differently ofc but u know). he’s just a big lovable dummy with some sweet drug connects and a knack for poetry. he also knows calligraphy but that’s beside the point .

idk if this is enough to describe him but yeah if u have any questions just let me know hehe

this is probably gonna make things hard but considering violet was just exposed i think that he’s pretty new to yale ???? like probably just transferred in/started this spring semester rather than being here for the entire year/a prolonged amount of time so most of our plots will likely have to be newer/center on him first showing up OR we can establish their connections from pre-europe which is also fine w me....idk i didnt rlly think this timeline through so let’s just plot and see what happens aghbfjnd anyways i included some connection ideas to help us all just in case

wanted connections

i’d say he’s the honorary dealer of the elites aghbdfjn so literally anyone who needs a plug could be a potential connection. we can obviously tweak this and customize it to each character <3

maybe someone who met grayson in europe. they could have travelled together for an extended period of time or even just a brief encounter. he was over there for four years, so the possibilities are endless.

building off the last one, this same connection could work with a romantic interest. maybe they were romantically involved for a time in europe and fell out of touch or maybe grayson/your muse just left in the middle of the night and they never saw each other again until now and maybe there’s some unresolved feelings/one-sided longing or need for closure. it could also be that they just hooked up whenever this person was in the area and that was that, no strings attached.

maybe someone who genuinely believes that grayson is actually sober and really admires his strength and idk maybe they’re struggling w their own issues and seek advice from him or maybe they just make it harder for him to actually do his thing bc they’re constantly around and it’s not like they can catch him strung out and acting up

someone in the literature department or with a background in english or writing. someone he could read poetry to, or share his favorite lines with. someone who’s taken the same professors and can tell him who to watch out for or what to expect. idk i just want him to have someone to share his passions with. maybe a little crush is forming? maybe they’re just friends who share a love of fiction? idk i’m open to literally anything

he’s sort of a motivational speaker now bc he advocates for rehabilitation resources and stuff so like maybe ur muse saw him give a presentation or participate in some kind of seminar and they called bullshit on him after the show bc they were like,,, bro i literally saw u partying w max and avery last weekend what the fuck are u on about and now they could potentially hold that blackmail over his head hehe......

exes plots are always fun we love angst in this house

fuck it let’s bring another family member BHJFNGKM no but grayson rlly is a nurturing guy and like....definitely develops unhealthy attachments to cope w his loss of family so he’d love all the sibling-like bonds he can get to kinda numb the pain of “””””losing””””” violet

if none of these interest you i’m literally so down for anything pls just let me know and i’m happy to brainstorm always <333333

thank u for reading this....smooch .

#anyways this is just under 1900 words whoops #stream of consciousness wins again #intro #literally dont even have my tags sorted yet dont talk to me .

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rosesisupposes · 5 years ago

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Other Half

hi i was haunted with the idea of subverting a soulmate trope after a chat with @potestessemagishomosexualitatis and it evolved in like a day on discord so here y’all go!

relationships: brotherly prinxiety, QPR moceit, romantic royality, implied/eventual anxceit

content tags: musician roman, techie/sound-guy Virgil, deaf Patton, QPRs, amatonormativity, soulmates & lack thereof, happy ending

word count: 2,847

read on ao3

Roman has half a soulmark, waiting to make skin contact with his Soulmate to finally be completed.

His brother, not so much.

Context: In this world, soulmates have half a symbol somewhere on their skin, each with one half. When soulmates have skin contact for the first time, both marks complete. The amatonormativity (prioritizing romantic love) is very strong, despite the fact that soulmates have frequently been platonic, not just romantic. It’s still a rather progressive idea, similar to gay marriage, and the traditions and stories are all centered around that romantic ideal. In that vein, some people have thirds or fourth of a mark would need to contact all their soulmates to have a complete mark. Marks are very much for One Person (or, occasionally, Two or Three Specific People), and so not everyone meets their mate. Not everyone has the means. They could be anywhere in the world! But unfortunately, there's still an idea that even if you're with a partner, you'd leave them if you met your soulmate, and that other relationship are just settling.

⁂

Enter two brothers.

Roman goes starry-eyed over stories of meet-cutes and surprise soulmates. He wants to know if he'll feel it, as his mark completes. Someday, when he meets his Someone™️!!!

And then his brother, Virgil.

Virgil... doesn't have a mark. He's not sure he's heard of that before. He has some freckles, but those fade with the seasons. Soulmarks don't fade.

Roman has half a circle, and it either has petals or rays around it. A flower or a sun, he thinks. It's right on his bicep, so he frequently goes sleeveless, and greets new people by taking both their hands in his every time. Just in case.

Lots of people do that- but it makes Virgil uncomfortable. Even if he knows he'll never be the one to trigger someone's mark, he hates knowing that's what everyone expects. He'd rather keep his hands to himself. He wears his big baggy hoodie to avoid the expectant stares of people looking for his mark, and avoids skin contact as much as he can.

They grow up in a family without a ton of resources, so neither can afford to take the 'Soul Year' some teens do where they travel before going into higher education. But Roman's determined that his career will help him meet hundreds, no, thousands of people, and he will find his soulmate!

Virgil really doesn't love the whole soulmate thing, the obsession with it, the constant reminder that he doesn’t have one and will never have one. But he does love his brother.

He tries, sometimes, to temper Roman's excitement just to make sure it doesn't hurt too much if he never finds The One. But mostly he just listens as Roman waxes poetic about his hypothetical love.

Roman, for several years, went silent, assuming Virgil wouldn't want to hear it. But Virgil has just kinda accepted it, you know? He's basically like everyone who never ends up meeting their mate, except he gets to skip the years of doubt and worry that their mate might suddenly appear at any time. He knows from the get-go. He’ll never have to look back with regret or sorrow, never have to worry about disrupted relationships, never need to mourn that his hypothetical mate might have died before he could meet them. It’s fine, really.

Roman becomes a singer and songwriter, and acts on the side. Virgil does his cover art and helps him with the sound-mixing. They're a great team - and they always have been.

Virgil makes friends with the roadies and techies, happy to leave Roman in the spotlight. He dates, sometimes. It's easier when they go on tour- a short international stay means no promises, no uncomfortable conversations about the future, no intrusive knowledge of a partner's Someone™️ out there.

After years of touring, Roman is internationally known and recognized. But he's also starting to lose hope.

He's lost count of all the meet-and-greets he's been to, how many hands he's grabbed from the stage into the crowd. He makes sure to at least high-five every roadie and tech, every opening act or announcer. His songs range from fantastical to domestic, from sweet and bubbly to sorrowful and yearning, and he loves creating, he does. But he knows there's someone out there for him, and he wants to meet them so, so badly.

They're in Paris for a show, and Virgil and Roman are strolling along the Seine. It's Spring, Roman's favorite time of year, and all the trees are in bloom. It looks like something out of a Hallmark movie.

Roman sighs heavily.

Virgil bumps him with an elbow. "Hey, no moping. That's my aesthetic, no stealing."

"Vee, what if I don't ever meet them?"

"Ro-"

"I know I should keep hoping, but- I've touched so many people and still haven't found them, what if I never will?"

"Then you'll be like most of us, Ro. Find love & companionship the new way: with hard work and dating apps."

Roman nods, but sighs again. "I just... really wanna, Vee." His voice is small, like a pouting kid.

"I know. I hope you do."

They keep walking, but Roman's practically shuffling. On the one hand, he is a fucking drama queen.

On the other hand, Virgil wants him to feel better.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil orders ice cream from a vendor in clumsy but serviceable French and presents Roman with his sprinkle-covered cone. Just like he knew it would, it perks him up immediately.

"Chocolate! My favorite!!"

"How are you possibly older than me. You are five."

"I just have childlike wonder, not a well of ennui!"

"Fuckin' dork."

"Edgy poser."

"Prima donna."

"Nerd."

Distracted, Roman walks straight into a man looking off at the river. He stumbles and trips and they both fall.

"Oh goodness gracious, forgive me, excusez moi, je suis desole! Pardonnez-moi!" he rattles off.

The man smiles, and his hands dance. Virgil realizes he's signing. Sorry, I didn't see you there!

Luckily, Virgil understands it - he’s taken classes in ASL, just for kicks.

Roman knows very little sign, but he learned a couple of phrases. Sorry!

Virgil adds, It was our fault, we weren't watching.

Virgil recognizes the starry-eyed look on his brother's face. It's yet another Infatuation At First Sight, where he throws his whole heart into hoping.

"Vee, Vee, ask him his name please?" he says, smiling for all he's worth at the curly-haired man in front of him.

Before Virgil gets a chance, he sees the man's eyes flick up and past them, and he breaks into a sunny smile. (Virgil might actually understand his brother's infatuation, for once)

Another person comes over, holding two ice creams. Virgil does a slight double-take. Like him, this newcomer chooses not to show very much skin. But they've covered even their hands. Ice cream somehow looks funny in a gloved hand.

Handing one to the first man, they start signing with one hand, far faster than he can follow. He catches a couple of signs he recognizes - gestures to himself & Roman, are you okay, something that either is we're late or shoo.

The first man is still smiling, though, and whatever he says must be okay, because the newcomer turns to them. They speak with a lilting accent, something not quite Parisian. "Please forgive my barging in- I can't exactly call for Patton from across the walkway. My name is Dante. And you are?"

"I'm Roman, and this is Virgil, and it is wonderful to meet you!"

Virgil signs along with his brother's words, and sees Patton's eyes crinkle happily as he greets them both.

Roman has clearly also noticed Dante's gloves, but turns to Patton. With a slight bit of hesitation, he speaks and signs at once, "May I shake your hand?"

Virgil is sure he's not imagining the minute pursing of Dante's lips, but Patton's nodding and reaching out and so is Roman.

Roman is clearly holding his breath, and Virgil is too, both braced for opposite outcomes. But Patton's small, tan hand is wrapped in Roman's larger one and both sets of eyes are huge.

Virgil's eyes flick to Roman's bicep, exposed as always, the white mark a stark contrast to his dark skin, looking like a sun or maybe a flower and-

"Holy shit-" Virgil breathes.

Roman, however, is not looking at his arm. He's staring directly into Patton's dark eyes with a smile that looks confused and elated all at once, and their hands haven't parted.

Patton's eyes are just a huge, even huger thanks to his glasses.

"It's you," Roman says, wonder in his voice. Patton seems to read his lips, because he smiles somehow even bigger than before and signs It's you! back.

And sure enough, the mark on Roman's arm is a full circle, a full sun or flower, and Virgil's head is reeling.

Virgil's not sure what to say- the two soulmates seem content to keep staring and smiling and holding hands. But Virgil's just... nervous. Soulmate or not, this ‘Patton’ is a stranger, but Roman looks like he might never move from his side. Fuck, they can't even communicate both ways, Roman knows practically no sign and he just used up the only full sentence he’s ever learned.

He looks nervously at Patton's companion. Dante is staring too, seemingly unaware of the ice cream dripping down their glove.

Dante starts to sign something, realizes Patton can't see them, reaches out to tap Patton on the shoulder, then stops before they can touch, hand falling to their side. They look down and finally notice their ice cream, and blanch, pulling out napkins to clean their glove before it stains.

Virgil digs into his knapsack and pulls out a wet wipe and offers it. "This might help more."

Dante looks up, staring at Virgil without a shred of comprehension until Virgil waves the wipe once more. They take it with a quiet, "Merci."

They turn away, wiping off their glove and tossing the rest of their ice cream into the trash. They wiggle their fingers, clearly uncomfortable with the damp fabric.

Virgil shifts awkwardly. He should say something, but what do you even say in this situation? He has no idea what their relation is to Pat- oh fuck, what if they were dating and Roman's just swooped in and ruined it?

In his tried-and-true method of awkward small talk with new roadies in new cities, he says, in French, "So, Paris, yeah? Know any good cafes near here?"

Dante shakes themself a bit and turns to look at Virgil. "Ah, yes. There's a patisserie just on the next block. Shall we relocate them and stop blocking the tourists?"

Virgil nods and looks over at his brother. He weighs his options of interruption, and decides on flicking Roman in the temple.

"Ow! Fuck! Vee!?!"

"You're blocking traffic, dumbass."

"I'm having a moment."

"Well come have a mocha. You can keep having your moment and I can have coffee. C'mon."

He sees Dante signing to Patton too, explaining the plan but much more politely. Roman and Patton continue holding hands, but follow them down the block.

They get Roman and Patton sitting at a table in a picturesque cafe, and walk to the bar to order. Virgil orders his go-to of a double shot and gets Roman his mocha. Dante orders themself a latte and a vanilla cappuccino for Patton. Sitting at the bar waiting, Virgil looks over.

"So. That lunkhead over there is my brother."

Dante nods. "And Patton is my. Well. You might not know what it means, so don't immediately freak out, okay? But it's called a queerplatonic partner."

Virgil can feel the nervousness melt away. "Oh, phew. Yeah, I know what it means. So Roman's not homewrecking by being a discovered soulmate?"

"Well. I certainly hope not. But I know not everyone really, uh. Gets it. Especially with the soulmate sh- stuff. Things."

Virgil grins. "You were about to say soulmate shit, weren't you."

"...No."

"You're a terrible liar."

Dante winks. "I might surprise you."

Virgil raises an eyebrow. "Oh that's how we're gonna play it?"

"I don't play, monsieur. I just win."

"Okay then, here's a test. Why the gloves?"

Dante automatically goes to adjust them, and looks up at Virgil. Their eyes drift down to his hoodie and back up. "I think you know exactly why."

"You don't have-?"

"Nope. I don't have one either."

"I thought I was-"

"The only one?"

"Apparently not."

Virgil looks over at Patton, sitting with Roman. They don't seem to be even attempting to talk still, just staring and holding hands.

"With the QPP- are you aromantic? Do you think that's why?" He gestures vaguely at their whole body, but he’s never been quite as elegant in his gestures as Roman is.

Dante opens their mouth to speak, but stops, and sighs. "That's what I've been saying. It was easier, to say maybe this was for a purpose. And I do love Patton with all my platonic heart and I will kill your brother if he hurts him."

"The feeling’s mutual."

"But, no. I'm not fully aro. I still have romantic attraction and all that, I've just been guaranteed that even if I want it, I'll always be someone's secondary love so. Might as well lean in, right? Make the system work somewhat in my favor?"

Virgil opens his mouth to respond, to object, when the barista calls out their drinks, and then they're carefully carrying full mugs across the cafe and finding a table next to the couple.

Patton appears to be teaching Roman how to sign his name. Roman is even managing to pay attention.

"I get that, uh, reluctance. The playing-it-safe thing," Virgil says quietly, so only Dante can hear. "We travel a lot. That's a good excuse to avoid the whole fucking system. No conversations about who'll leave who when the mark shows up, because I'll be leaving in a month, tops. And people looking for hookups barely poke you to check for the mark before just... getting on with life. No expectations, no holding their breath or unrealistic disappointment."

Dante smiles weakly. "Well, good to know for when I need to start dating. I think I'm about to have a lot more free time."

"Until Roman needs to travel on again. We're here for three full weeks, but-"

"What is it you do, that you both travel so much?"

"You know Sun Prince, the singer?"

"Yeah?"

"You're looking at him," Virgil says wryly, tipping his head in Roman's direction.

Dante's eyes go wide. "Oh, that's why he looks familiar."

"So Patton probably didn’t recognize him either?"

"Nah, he tends to like EDM and electronic things the most, for the bassline. Clubbing with a deaf partner is great - the priority is just feeling the music, and we don't have to yell to hear each other."

Virgil and Dante continue to chat quietly on casual topics, but Virgil's leg is bouncing. He wants to ask the bigger questions, but it feel like prying. It's none of his business, really, right?

But it's Roman's happiness on the line. And Virgil will do anything and everything to protect his brother. Even if it means awkwardness.

"So, uh. Did y'all have the Conversation™️ before now?"

Dante raises a questioning eyebrow in response.

"The 'what happens if he meets his soulmate' conversation. Don't tell me Pat's the only one you've ever dated?"

Dante blinks in a way that implies that were they a lesser being, they might have blushed. "Actually, he is. But yes, we've had that conversation. I'll never get in the way of Pat's romantic love and his soulmate… destiny, ou comme tu veux. I just want to still have a part in his life."

They're tugging at their gloves again, even though their face remains smooth. Virgil recognizes a nervous tic when he sees one. And god does he recognize the sentiment.

Not that any of his past partners had ever wanted to stick around in return. Why would they? He wasn't their soulmate. They hadn't decided to "settle" yet.

"I can't speak for him, but- I think Roman will be open to that," Virgil offers. "He loves performing, so we'll probably still be traveling a fair amount. But I mean. I think he'd understand that you two are a unit the same way me and him are. Like, yeah, we're brothers, but we've been each other's lifeline our whole lives, and that's not about to change. Even if he's finally found his Other Half."

Dante looks up gratefully. "I can tell you love him. And- I hope you're right."

"I should be. If Roman's a dick about it, I'll smack him upside the head."

That surprises a laugh out of Dante. They finally pull off their glove entirely, shaking it out and letting it dry on the table. "I won't interfere with them, you'll encourage Roman to not interfere with us. Do we have a deal, then?"

They offer their bare hand to shake. For once, Virgil doesn't hesitate, but takes it immediately.

Skin hits skin. Virgil finds an agreeable little shudder running down his spine as he appreciates for the first time how attractive this person is. Elegant chestnut curls, heterochromatic eyes that are dancing with delight, and disarming smile.

Dante winks as they withdraw their hand. "What, not going to check for your completed mark now, just in case?"

Virgil grins back. "No, but I can help you look for yours later, if you want."

"Is that a proposition? Monsieur, goodness, you move fast," Dante replies, fluttering their eyelashes.

Virgil shrugs. "It could be one. You know, we're clearly gonna be around each other a lot. They found each other the old fashioned way. Maybe we could try something a bit... less traditional."

Dante smiles. "I'd like that a lot, Virgil. Should we break into cloud nine over there and ask them about the future now?"

Virgil nods. Soulmark or not, the future's looking pretty good.

tag list: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed @hawthornshadow @mariniacipher and obligatory royality tag @notveryglittery and anxceit tag @vintage-squid

#soulmate au #subverted trope #happy ending #brotherly prinxiety #qpr moceit #royality #anxceit #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #ts deceit #deaf patton #black roman #black virgil #arab patton #white deceit #sanders sides fanfic #Roses Writes Fanfic

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cutebutstillsingle · 4 years ago

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... you mean designed to be deleted because the people at @Hinge are not the brightest crayons in the box?

I violated nothing, let me assure you. I have a master’s degree, I’m a perfectly upstanding citizen who was genuinely on Hinge hoping to engage in some harmless socialization with good men. I wasn't even on there with the intention of seeking a romantic relationship after learning from my last bf (found on Hinge) that shit can’t be moving too quickly. You really gotta take your time with dudes these days.

So here’s what went down when I reactivated my Hinge account this time, in 2021...

Within one week of firing up a Hinge account I got Catfished and lied to three times. The first was by a person who didn’t mention they had children, until the baby showed up on the video date-from-home chat. Second, by a guy who looked nothing like his fucking pictures OK? Homie was a good 200 pounds bigger than the person in the photograph, looked nothing like the person in the photo except by maybe ethnicity, and even during the date-from-home video he refused to ever put the camera lower than to allow me to see the top third of his face, while blaming the strange angle on the lighting. And then, the third, and the worst —I got tooth-fished. By which I mean unfortunately the dude was legit missing multiple front teeth. Which of course did not come across in his photos on his Hinge profile.

No offense to anyone toothless out there, but if you are toothless in your 30s and beyond, you should know by that age to get some dental work done. And if you’re cruising around hiding the fact that you’re the father of a toddler, or that you’re 200 pounds heavier than the photos you choose to put on your dating profile, I don’t know what to say about your mental stability and/or social intelligence. Except that you are lying. You’re lying to the people on Hinge and you’re lying to yourself and in profound denial about your true state.

To make a long story short, I’m sure it was one of these guys I had to un-hinge from who likely reported fake violations and got my account shut down.

But getting banned Hinge did make me realize that as a woman, we need to craft our profile much more mindfully. Because apparently at any moment’s notice you can get banned by the app without a reason, investigation, or warning. And God only knows who’s “reporting” your profile, or what is happening to your information and photographs. For all you know, the 300 pound creepers with kids they’re hiding and no teeth are screenshooting all of your information, and doing who the hell knows with it. There is theoretically nothing stopping a creepy ass dude from taking all of your photos and turning them into another fake profile or throwing it up on some other website. Who the hell knows what any of these social media apps do with the world’s photos and information, is the point.

That being said, here is my advice:

-Leave off any obvious identifiers that would easily allow yourself to be noticed in public if you don’t want the bitter rejected gentleman callers to be able to spot me in public. Or sex traffickers. Real talk. Listen up, ladies.

- leave your rare breed pets off the account.

- leave all kids’ faces off dating profiles. I don’t even know how it’s legal for dating sites to allow children’s faces on them; even if it is your very own child, that’s not the point. The reality is that sex traffickers can memorize you, screenshot that photo, and stalk you and your child at Walmart. Sex trafficking is so real in my state. It is a MAJOR problem.

- Never, ever feature your car on your dating profile. This should be sound advice for men, too. I know you males love to floss your vehicles cause dudes are obsessed with cars-- yeah maybe stop doing that.

- For the love of god never, ever put your last name on a dating profile & maybe even shorten your first name or deliberately misspell a rare name so that stalkers don’t background check yo ass. If they ask you “is that your real name?” let them believe whatever they want. The only people who are safe to put a complete name on a dating site are men in the military. Because they know how to operate firearms and how to engage in hand-to-hand combat when they’re in a situation of danger. The average woman? Not so much. Even those of you men who ARE soldier dads-- don’t put your firs and last name on that shit and make your children vulnerable to sex traffickers.

- Don’t give people locational details, tell them where you work, or what businesses you own. You can say what industry you work in; so something like “Jenny. Teacher at Public School”. A guy who owns a very specifically-named health bar/ smoothie bowl business in my city told me he was the owner of what he claimed was a family business. And he failed to realize that he is mixing business and personal life with complete strangers from the internet. If he makes a poor impression, or we don’t end up vibing, I can’t ever go into that business ever again, yenno? And I really like that business. So I made it clear that I would prolly not pursue anything. And I suggested he not tell girls the name of his (family) business, for the business’ sake.

- Never use your actual phone number as you are getting to know guys from dating sites. Two words: google voice. if you meet up IRL and he is safe & cool, then he may earn your real number thereafter.

- Be extra cautious with travelers. Many men vacation-date. Hell, I’ve vacation-dated, many times (domestically, not internationally). And you do not know who those fools really are. They could be married. They could have criminal records. Not only are they complete strangers but they are complete strangers from different states. Pay attention to the details they give you. for example, I was talking to a guy on Hinge who said he was a doctor. And then he said he got a Covid test from CVS in order to prepare for his trip to my state. His hometown listed one location, and then he said he lived in another state. I’m the kind of woman who pays attention to these kinds of details. If the man is a medical doctor, why would he need a Covid test from CVS? Would he not be able to get one from the hospital he works at??? Why is Hinge more concerned about people’s ‘hometown’ then they are with someone’s city of residence, yenno? Just me?

Anyway, I hope these safety tips keep you safer out there as you navigate the treacherous seas of online dating. And now you all know that Hinge will spontaneously delete your account at random if they feel like it. Maybe Hinge deleting my account unfairly is a blessing in disguise...

#hinge app #dating #dating apps #online dating #safety #safety tips #online dating safety tips #dating advice

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checkoutafrica · 4 years ago

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By Xavier; A man of many talents

Internationally acclaimed, sought-after South African photographer, Xavier Saer is a man of many talents who rediscovered his passion for music during the first lockdown. This passion resulted in two radio single releases which got him noticed and signed to Tiësto’s record label, “Black Hole Recordings”, one of the world’s leading Dance Music Labels.

Most people know him as a photographer (having one of the most impressive celebrity catalogues in South Africa) however, not many people know that Xavier was a club DJ, he has two SAMA Best Pop Album nominations under his belt for the song writing he did for two artists’ albums, he has four of his own albums to his name and has written over 2000 songs. I told you guys, this is a man of many of talents.

By Xavier is an amazing story to come out of lockdown and also speaks to people’s ability to reinvent themselves, home in on previous passions, and give in to creativity and see where it takes you. I spoke to him a couple of months back and this is what he had to say;

Who is Xavier Saer? Tell us your story.

I’ve been a lot of things and I’m just about trying new things all the time, I think that is really what life is about, it is really about the spice of life, trying new and different things and just seeing and learning new things. I just think that really makes life a lot more fun. I’m actually and economics by trade, so I study that, I did it for my parents. I was like guys here is my degree, bye I’m leaving now and I want to go be a DJ. I did that for a couple of years at the top clubs in Joburg and from then I travelled and lived all over the world which was very interesting. I then became I recording artist for about 3 years, I toured and I did a couple of albums. I’ve been everywhere and I’ve done everything to the point where I even had a bit of an existential crisis so I wrote a book which took two years and was published then I had another what do I do now moment ahahah. I just live challenges and now with lockdown, I’ve just been signed to a major label so it looks like life is taking me back to music again.

At what point in lockdown did you realise that you wanted to make music again?

In a way, musics chooses you, you don’t choose music, it’s always in you and it’s always been in the back of my head, I just had a very busy photographic career, I’ve been busy for the last few years so I haven’t had time to do anything but photography and I’m one of those people that like to focus on things 100% so if it’s photography, it’s nothing else and if it’s music, it’s nothing else. And now I’m trying to balance it all, but music has always been my first love and you never forget about your first love. I’m really enjoying this process, it’s a really beautiful creative journey.

What do you love the most about creating music?

Gosh Uhmm. I’ve had a very straight story, like I’m not a guy that sits down and writes music but it always comes to me. I’ve written over 4000 songs in my lifetime, it’s the most natural thing to me, like this latest single, it just came out to me when I was cooking. It’s like this little tingle that happens. I guess when I’m very creative, a lot of things happen, I mean sometimes I can write up to 5/6 songs in a day, I just have to put time into it and it flows like a river.

Why did you choose to go under the name “by Xavier” for your music?

So as a photographer I have a very strung brand in South Africa – by Xavier. I’m from Peru originally so my name is actually pronounced havier in Spanish but if you say Xavier here in SA it can be very confusing so I prefer to be just Xavier because it’s an English pronunciation and also not that hard to pronounce. It’s simple and it’s easy. A recognisable brand.

Tell us about your new single “beat is strong”

So the song is an analogy about life, about perceiving and not giving up on your dreams. So I almost feel like i wrote it for people who are in creative spaces, for example there are people that are waitressing but wanting to be actresses or people that wanna be musicians but are doing something else. It’s almost like it’s a song for when they’re rich and this is their struggle to get there, it’s about the journey of being a creative but anything really because anything you wanna be takes time and discipline. It’s an uplifting song of never give up on your dreams really.

You have done so many things and you have been so many things, what would you say your biggest achievement in life is?

I think just being alive is an achievement on its own. But I guess my book means a lot to me, it took me two years to write and I just remember writing for months and months, for hours and hours so that was one thing. I would not recommend tho ahahah, do not write a book guys, it’s HARD, but if you have the time, go ahead.

what is the one quote that you try and live by?

It’s a quote by Helen Keller and she said “life is an adventure or nothing at all” and I try to make my life an adventure on a weekly basis. That’s literally in my diary, every Monday I tell myself that I will make this week an adventure somehow. Every week I make sure that my life is interesting, that there is something motivating me, that there is something inspiring me and I try to live my life like that. Life is way too short so we have to make it exciting.

You’re also an avid traveller, where is your favourite place to go in the world and why?

I guess my favourite places to travel are the places that I don’t know yet. I dream of going to Japan, I am fascinated by everything Japanese, I mean I don’t know why but maybe it’s because I had a jaiden se neighbour as a kid – he was like Mr Miyagi to me and he taught me so many things, he made a huge impression in my life.

I also love Mexico, the people in Mexico are amazing. I always say it’s not really the place but it’s the people that make it, there are so many places where The place is amazing but the people aren’t that great meaning that the experience itself wasn’t really that amazing.

I love Africa, there is something here, I mean I live in Africa for a reason. It’s like it just stays with you done how! I’m Peruvian so I love the mountains, I love the Andes. I just think everything is beautiful, it’s hard to pick just one. There is beauty everywhere. My advice to you is to travel, travel, travel, travel. You always come back a better person.

what is the biggest lesson that you have learnt from your travels?

That we are all the same. We keep fighting for the most ridiculous things uno, we chase and kill eachother for politics but when you meet someone, you don’t even need to speak the same language cause you can see it in their eyes that they just want love and compassion, we wanna laugh and just enjoy life. We’re all the same.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years time?

I’m not a guy that looks at the future too much, because the future is uncertain, the past is gone already. All I can do is now. How I create my future is what I create with my thoughts today. So I see myself still creating creating music photography and I see myself cooking actually. I will retire having opened up my own bakery and I will feed the poor – that is main goal.

Listen to his single here;

The post By Xavier; A man of many talents appeared first on CheckoutAfrica.

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#Interviews #Music

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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What may I call you? Stephanie or Steph.

Where are you right now, exactly? In my room on my bed.

Over or under 18? I’m well over 18.

Have you been watching the Stanley Cup play-offs? (GO BRUINS!) No.

Ever believed your house was/is haunted? If yes, why; what happens? Nah.

The building you live inside; how long ago was it built? I think early 80s.

Ever travel internationally? I’ve been to Mexico once.

If you could go anywhere RIGHT NOW, where would it be? And why? I don’t want to go anywhere RIGHT NOW.

Do you fancy someone currently? Tell me about them! No.

Ever have a big ol' crush on someone you've never met in person? If so, did you ever tell them you did? Well, on celebrities.

What makes you feel luxurious? I don’t feel luxurious.

Do you enjoy drinking scotch as much as I do? I don’t enjoy drinking scotch at all. Or any alcohol.

What have you done that makes you proud of yourself? Meh.

What makes you envy someone? Someone who seems to have their life together. I know everyone has their struggles and hardships, but there’s people who manage to push through and handle things better. They’re able to function still and are doing something with their life. I envy people who despite their hardships have a strong, positive, can-do attitude. I envy people who are passionate about things and do what they love. I envy talented, creative, and intelligent people.

For you, is jealousy something that makes you more sad or angry-feeling? Depends.

Do you get the munchies? Natural munchies sometimes.

Every been to Germany? If so, what part? Nope.

Do you buy newspapers just for the puzzles? No, I don’t buy the newspaper for any reason.

Describe any tattoos or piercings you may have...? I just have my earlobes pierced.

When's the last time you smacked someone's butt? (Or been smacked :P) I don’t do that.

Do you enjoy making art? If so, what's your style like? I don’t make art, but I like to color.

Were you a shy child? Very. Now I’m a shy adult.

Ever wanna run away with the circus? Uh, no.

What is the closest object to your feet right now? My feet are near the edge of the bed and my bedside table is nearby.

Reach behind you- do you feel anything? What is it? My pillow.

Is English your second language? No.

Have you ever designed and constructed your own clothing? No.

What's the very last digit in your phone number? Nah.

Is your house an odd or even number? Odd.

Do you have a favorite superhero? Who? Iron Man, Spiderman, Star Lord, Ant-Man.

What power would you like to receive, if given the option? >>I don’t know. The power of brain that work good. <<< Ha, yeah that would be nice.

Ever punch someone in the nose? No. Or at all.

...will you write me a haiku? Nope.

What was the last thing that really delighted you? Hmm.

Do you wear skin-colored clothes? I have a pair of pantyhose that are like the color of my skin.

Ever eat German cuisine? If so, what'd ya have? No.

Do you have conversations with any animals? I always talk to my doggo.

Do you have a little sibling? If so, are you protective of her/him? Yes.

Recommend me a good book? I don’t know what you like.

Can you sleep on your back? (I can't, I feel too vulnerable!) I can, but I prefer to sleep more on my side.

What's the last special thing you did for someone? (Buy, cook, etc.) Hmm.

Did you cook something today? If so, what was it? Ramen.

Ever baked ALL day? No.

Can you recognize the smell of death? Gahhhh, I’ve smelt dead rodents.

Ever known a mortician or a coroner?? (Now you do!) No.

What makes you feel good about yourself? Nothing?

Could you ever be some type of counselor for kids/teens? No. Funny how that’s actually what I wanted to do for a long time when I was younger.

Do you enjoy getting dressed up for no real reason? No.

What are you afraid of? A lot of things.

Ever been to a maximum security prison? You, or just visiting? No.

Do you think mint toothpaste is too minty? I use a light minty one for sensitive teeth.

How is a raven like a writing desk? I still haven’t figured that one out.

Are you currently eating or drinking something? If so, what? I’m finishing up my Starbucks energy drink.

Do you own striped socks? What colors are your favorite ones? No.

Black Metal ist Krieg. Agree or Disagree? >> I had to Google that and apparently that’s a name of an album of a metal band, but I’m guessing you’re asking if I think black metal “ist krieg”, which for me no it’s not my thing.

Are there any numbers that have significance to you? The number 8.

Do you know how to read palms or tarot or anything else like that? I don’t believe in those things.

Do you own any bones or other preserved organic ..things? Unfortunately not. Accepting all bone donations. <<< That made me chuckle for some reason lol. I’m lacking those things as well. Well, I do own the bones in my body...

What do you think about internet piracy? I can’t say I’ve never partaken... I haven’t in several years, though.

Do you know anything about Nordic runes? No.

How do you feel about children? They can be cute and they can be annoying, ha.

Whatcha looking forward to right now? Summer being OVER. This triple digit heat wave needs to goooo. We’ve had power outages the past couple times and it will probably happen all this week, too. D:

How do you feel about clowns? I like Pennywise.

Are any of your friends clown by profession? I’m a clown. I majored in clownery.

Do you put grated cheese on popcorn? I’ve never tried that.

Do you thing anyone ever actually gets in trouble for having milkcrates? What? Why would they get in trouble for that?

Do you tip street performers? (YOU SHOULD.) Not usually. I didn’t ask them to be there, I have no obligation to them. I’ll do it if I feel moved to (and if I happen to have cash, which is the other important variable here). <<< “I didn’t ask them to be there” hahah I love your answers.

What are your virtues/morals? Ya know, stuff like honesty, being loyal, taking responsibility for your actions, being tolerant of differences, treat others how you wish to be treated, forgiveness, no cheating, respect, don’t commit murder, don’t steal.... stuff like that.

What do you smoke, if anything? I don’t.

Does being an addict make someone a bad person, in your opinion? No.

Have you ever experienced any type of detox? No.

Ever been institutionalized? ...was it because of just one pepsi? No. And I don’t get the Pepsi thing?

Tie up, or be tied up? Neither.

Ever shoot a gun that wasn't a handgun? Rifle, shotgun, etc? No.

Is your mother a really cool lady? Yes, she’s awesome. Everyone loves her.

Ever suddenly find a friend very attractive but had to keep it to yourself? I’ve liked a few of my guy friends, but I told them.

What time is it right now? 7:35AM.

Last time it's rained? I think back in April. Feels like forever ago.

Ever been through a deadly natural disaster? No.

What do you do when you lose power? Ugh, we’ve had that happen the past 2 days during the hottest time of day. It’s been high triple digits and inside my house has been 90 degrees, 92 when the power goes out. D: It’s horrible. I go and get my little battery fan and a wet washcloth and mess around on my phone and/or talk to my family until it comes back on. And complain about how hot it is.

Do you have a boot fetish too? No.

Have you ever done home-repair stuff? No.

Reason you last used a knife? I eat my spaghetti with a fork and knife.

Ever tattoo or pierce yourself? What, and how did it turn out? Nooo. I’d be terrified to get either one done, I certainly couldn’t do it to myself.

Have you ever assisted in a birth? No.

Have you ever had a bad trip? I’ve had a bad weed trip before and an actual trip.

Do you ever yell at your TV/computer/video games? Ha, yeah. Maybe not yell, but definitely talk back to it or comment out of frustration.

How long do you take in the shower? 30-40ish minutes.

If you could ask someone ONE thing & get 100% honesty, what would you ask? I don’t know.

What's the best thing you've ever found in a thrift/second hand shop? I don’t go thrift shopping.

What's one skilled craft you like to learn? Uhhh.

How do you feel about magicians? It can be pretty cool to watch. Some are really clever.

What do you smell like right now? I smell my laundry detergent on my clothes.

Tell me about the last person that made you laugh. He’s intelligent, funny, and cool.

Who was the last person to really make you feel special? It was nice receiving birthday comments from family and various people on social media and the birthday gifts from my family.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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hearts-hunger · 5 years ago

Text

I’m Happy at Home || part one

Series Summary: Your husband is one-fourth of the internationally famous band Queen, and it’s just part of your everyday to travel all over and watch their stadium shows from backstage, usually with your little boy in tow. But whatever this world can give to you, your little family is all you’ve ever needed, and you and John are always happy at home.

Part Summary: You’re hanging out backstage with the boys before they go on at their show in Montreal, and your son has all four members of Queen, especially his dad, wrapped around his finger.

Pairings: John Deacon x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: None!

A/N: What did I tell ya? Here’s the first part of that dad!deaky fic I was telling you about! I think it’s pretty cute, and it’s got lots of fluff and the boys being uncles, and later on there’s lots of cute married fluff with you and Deaky. But fair warning, I wrote all 10k+ words of this as one big thing, not as separate chapters, so now that I’m trying to break it up, some of the chapter breaks are a little sudden and weird, my bad. Also, it’s unbeta-ed, rip. I hope you like it!

“Listen close. Can you hear how it changes when I put my finger on the fret?”

Teddy watched his father’s hands in rapt attention as John played an open G followed by a C note three frets down.

“It goes a bit higher, yeah?” John said. “Here, you try. You strum and I’ll play different notes.”

A grin lit the five-year-old’s face as his small fingers plucked the bass strings, listening in wonder as John’s right hand moved deftly over the fretboard to produce a string of notes in the choppy beat of his son’s strumming.

“I’m playing, daddy!” Teddy said, beaming.

John smiled. “And you're quite good, aren't you? Pretty soon your uncles will be asking you to play instead of me.”

“Oh, we’d already considered it,” Roger teased, habitually twirling his drumsticks. “Little tyke’s already as good as you when you started, Deaks.”

Teddy grinned. “You’re silly, Uncle Rog.”

Roger stuck his tongue out at the boy, making Teddy giggle.

“You ought to learn guitar too, Teddy,” Brian said from the couch, tuning the Red Special.

“Don't twist it too tight, Uncle Bri,” Teddy warned. “It might break the string.”

Brian smiled, glancing up at John, knowing Teddy was most likely repeating a warning his father had given him about tuning his bass. John just smiled and shrugged.

“That so?” Brian asked Teddy.

The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh, daddy said so.”

Brian chuckled. “Your daddy's right. It's not good to make the strings too tight, but I promise I'll take good care not to.”

Teddy glowed with pride that his advice had been useful, completely oblivious to the fact that nobody knew the Red Special better than Brian did. He opened his mouth to say something else, perhaps to offer more advice on the guitar, but his attention was drawn to Freddie’s entrance into the dressing room.

“Uncle Freddie,” Teddy said with amazement, his hand falling from the bass strings. “Are you Superman?”

Freddie looked confused for a moment before he looked down at his shirt, remembering the Superman logo emblazoned across the chest. He laughed and hunkered down to be at Teddy’s height.

“Unfortunately not,” he said. “But I am friends with him. He let me borrow this shirt for the show tonight.”

Teddy’s eyes widened. “You’re really friends with Superman?”

Freddie grinned, completely comfortable with showing his smile around his family. “Sure I am, darling. And he told me to tell you that you’d make an awfully good superhero too.”

Teddy fairly beamed at him. “I can play bass too, Uncle Freddie, and be a superhero.”

“You can?” Freddie asked, the excitement in his tone showing his love for the boy. “Go on and show me, then.”

Teddy looked up at his father. “Could we show Uncle Freddie?”

“Sure,” John said with a smile. “Go ahead and play on the bottom and I’ll play on the top.”

Teddy drew his hand over the strings, looking to Freddie for his approval. Freddie smiled at him and kissed his cheek, absolutely taken with the little boy.

“You’ve got a talent on your hands, haven’t you, Deaky?” Freddie said as he stood. He gave Teddy a wink. “Not even Superman can play bass as well as that.”

Teddy giggled. “Keep making the notes, daddy.”

John chuckled. “Alright, keep strumming and I'll keep making the notes for you.”

You watched as your son continued to play with the bass slung low across his father's chest, John creating a melody from it almost automatically even as his attention was drawn to you. You'd been watching the adorable scene from John's chair that you'd claimed when you first came backstage, unable to keep from smiling as you saw your two favorite boys playing together. John smiled as he met your eyes, his own bright with happiness.

“How do we sound, Mrs. Deacon?” he asked.

You stood and came over to them, giving John a chaste kiss. “Best I’ve ever heard.”

Teddy looked up at you and grinned. “Do you hear me playing, mummy?”

You ruffled his curly brown hair, so like his father’s. “I do!” you said. “You and daddy sound lovely together.”

A knock sounded on the dressing room door; a moment later, Gerry, the boys’ tour manager, stuck his head in.

“Ready, lads?” he asked. “You’re on in ten.”

Teddy looked up at John. “You’re going to play?”

“It’s almost time,” John agreed. “You and mum are going to watch from backstage.”

“We could watch the whole show?” Teddy asked, alight with excitement. “With the lights and the explosions and everything?”

John laughed. “Explosions? Last time we tried to have explosions, Uncle Rog nearly got blasted right off stage.”

“We’re not repeating that experience, thank you very much,” Roger said, standing and tapping Teddy’s head lightly with one of his drumsticks. Teddy laughed and grabbed for it and Roger gave it to him, still twirling the remaining one.

“How do you do that, Uncle Rog?” Teddy wondered.

Roger grinned. “I’ll teach you sometime,” he said, adjusting the bandanna around his neck. “And your mum will get onto me for it.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you influenced my impressionable son, would it, Rog?” you teased.

Roger laughed. “Hey, he’s turned out alright. Besides, could you really have expected anything else?”

Teddy tugged on the hem of Roger’s shirt with his free hand, the other holding the drumstick in the middle, turning his wrist back and forth. “Like that?”

Roger chuckled. “Close. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“And then we’ll have drumsticks flying all over the place, won’t we?” Brian said. A look of worry crossed his face as Teddy drew his hand close to his chest at Brian’s approach, looking at the guitar he held with a near fearful reverence.

“What is it?” Brian asked.

“Mummy said I’ve got to be very careful with Red Special,” Teddy said in a hushed voice. “I don’t want to hit it.”

Brian gave a soft laugh. “Oh,” he said. “Thanks for being careful. You can play it sometime if you want.”

Teddy gasped. “Really?”

“Sure,” Brian said. “Next time you come with daddy to the studio, I’ll show you how to play some, hm?”

Teddy grinned, but his reply broke off into delighted laughter as Freddie scooped him up from behind and kissed his cheek.

“Come on, you,” he said, making his way towards the door. “Let’s go see how many people are in the audience.”

“Do you think there’s hundreds?” Teddy asked, his little arms circling Freddie’s neck.

“Thousands, even,” Roger said, following them.

Teddy’s head popped over Freddie’s shoulder. “You coming, Uncle Bri?”

Brian chuckled. “Right behind you, little bear.”

Roger threw a smirk towards you and John. “You two behave; I know Deaky’s fast, but he’s not that fast.”

“Roger Taylor,” you said, playfully aghast. Having been with John for ten years now, eight of them happily married, you were more than used to the affectionate teasing that came with being friends with the boys as close to you and John as brothers. When Teddy was born, you’d never actually had a discussion about what your son would call the boys; they’d been his uncles from the time he could talk, and they loved him as if he was their own flesh and blood. You were so thankful for the way your little boy had grown up and would continue to grow up always knowing he was loved. Roger, Freddie, and Brian were family, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

But with family came endless ribbing, of course, especially from Roger. You stuck your tongue out at him and he did the same as he followed Freddie and Brian out towards the backstage proper, leaving you and John alone in the dressing room.

“I dunno,” John said. He stepped closer to you, a grin playing on his face. “Maybe we ought to try and prove Roger wrong, what do you think?”

You bit your lip, unable to help entertaining the thought for a second. He did look awfully handsome in that light blue.

“Tempting,” you said. You tugged on the lapel of his black leather jacket.

“Tell me about it,” he teased. He put his hand on the bass to keep it from bumping you as he leaned down to kiss you, a little less chastely than he would have if you hadn’t been alone. You couldn’t help a sigh as he nipped at your bottom lip, his pre-show energy evident in his body language.

“Mmh, John,” you said against his mouth. “We can’t.”

He breathed a laugh. “No?”

You tangled your fingers in his curls despite yourself. “No, you’re on in five minutes.”

He took you by the chin and gave you one last kiss, quick and cheeky. He grinned as he pulled back.

“How would you feel about revisiting this after the show?” he asked. “It’s been a while since we’ve made a mess of a dressing room.”

You wiped a smudge of your lip gloss from his mouth, smiling as he kissed your fingers.

“Too long, really,” you said. The two of you used to be positively wild at shows, fast and hungry before with nervousness and excitement, or lazy and languid in coming down from the adrenaline high afterwards. More than once had the boys caught you going at it, but the novelty of the backstage dressing room was too good to pass up. You’d only started to give it up when Teddy was born, because you’d started going to less shows and at the ones you did go to you usually had Teddy in tow.

“Who’ll we put on babysitting duty tonight?” John asked.

“Who cares?” you joked. “The boys should be able to handle him for a few minutes between the three of them, don’t you think?”

John smirked. “Who said anything about a few minutes? We’ve got to make up for lost time, Mrs. Deacon.”

“I’m with you all the way, honey, I really am,” you said, trying to keep yourself in check. “But you’re about to be making up for lost concert time if you don’t get out there.”

He groaned. “Ugh, fine, if you insist. You go ahead of me, though.”

You gave him a suspicious frown. “Why?”

“No reason,” he said easily. “I just rather enjoy the view.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know?”

He grinned and gave you a kiss. “Ah, but you like me like that, don’t you?”

You pushed him away even as you smiled. “Don’t push your luck, Deacon.”

He followed you out of the dressing room, no doubt enjoying the view like he said he would. As you came to the curtained area just off stage, though, his attention was quickly drawn to his son barreling full-speed at him.

“There’s hundreds and hundreds of people, daddy!” Teddy said excitedly, skidding to a halt just in front of his father.

“Yes, they’re rather loud, aren’t they?” John asked, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the crowd.

“You’re going to be even louder, aren’t you?” Teddy asked gleefully.

John smiled. “We’ll certainly try.”

“Alright, boys,” Gerry told them. “At the thunder, you’re good to go.”

You remembered that John had warned you they were using thunder sounds to usher in the first song, a bit worried that it might scare Teddy.

Gerry motioned to the other side of the stage. “Roger, Brian, places please.”

They gave their bandmates one final grin as they headed around to the other side of the stage they would enter from. Freddie and John looked to each other, the energy palpable between them colored by the little bit of nervousness that they would never completely shake even if they performed to crowds like this a thousand more times. They were ready.

“Say bye to daddy,” you said, gently guiding Teddy closer to you. “It’s time for them to play!”

Teddy obeyed and wrapped his arms around your leg, the noise of the crowd a little frightening for him, despite how excited he was. You had no doubt that he’d been clinging to Freddie the entire time you and John had been backstage; hopefully he’d warm up a little as the concert started.

You took John’s face in your hands and kissed him. “Good luck, sweetheart. Show those kids what real bass playing is.”

John grinned. “That’s the plan. I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too.”

“See you in a bit, buddy,” John said, ruffling his son’s curls as he walked over to join the Freddie at the edge of the stage. You watched your husband walk out on stage to meet his brothers, all smiles and energy as they were greeted with a wave of noise that could only be described as ecstatic. You picked Teddy up and held him on your hip; suddenly the sound of crashing thunder echoed through the arena, making Teddy jump. You gave a sympathetic laugh and held him closer.

“It’s ok, baby, it’s just the sound,” you said. “Look, daddy’s going up on the steps close to Uncle Roger.” You pointed to John’s unmistakable figure standing squarely on the steps of the drum risers, wanting to anchor Teddy with something he would find exciting rather than scary. A rainbow of lights swept up the stage, catching in the theatrical smoke; after another of the artificial peals of thunder and the accompanying rise in volume from the audience, you heard the familiar wail of the Red Special as Brian began to play.

Read part 2!

forever taglist: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl @hazah @dashlilymark

#maddie writes stuff #john deacon x reader #john deacon fanfiction #deaky x reader #queen fanfiction #john deacon fluff #dad!deaky #i'm happy at home series

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years ago

Text

706.

Would you date someone who still lived with their parents? >> I don’t date, but if I did, that wouldn’t be a dealbreaker in itself. I think it would depend on how the situation was -- sometimes it’s just easier financially, or sometimes they’re taking care of a parent who is ill. All that is fine. But if it’s an obvious codependency situation or something like that, I’d regard that as a red flag. Are you a generous person? >> I can be generous. I can also be not generous. Do you have a close relationship with your family? >> I have no relationship with my family. Would you have to sleep with someone before marrying them? >> I did not sleep with the person I’m married to. But I do think that sleeping with one’s partner before tying the knot is a very logical thing for people in sexual relationships to do. Do you think there is life on other planets? >> I think it’s highly likely.

Do you own a car? >> No. Would it bother you if your bf/gf flirted with someone else? >> Not at all. Would you enjoy a night of playing video games? >> Sure, if I was in a gaming mood. Are you sexually attracted to any inanimate objects? >> I’m attracted to some buildings and I’ve always had a thing for robots and various related forms of machinery. Do you dream of traveling the world or are you happy where you are? >> I always dream of travelling. Have you traveled internationally? >> Not yet. Would you watch a porno with your partner? >> If I was in that kind of relationship, sure, absolutely. Have you ever stolen from your work? >> --- How much does intelligence turn you on? >> Intelligence isn’t a thing I consider sexy. Passion and curiosity can be attractive, yes, but just being able to rattle off math figures or various history facts or whatever isn’t going to turn me on. Seems kind of boring to me, without the aforementioned passion and curiosity anyway. Do you ask someone out or wait for them to ask you? >> --- Do you watch soap operas? >> Well, I watch Grey’s Anatomy. Do you own any sex toys? >> Nope. Do you talk about your sex life with either of your parents? >> --- Do you search someone on the Internet before a first date? >> --- Are you married,engaged, or in a relationship with someone u want to marry? >> Married. How often do you use facebook at work? >> --- Do you enjoy television or movies better? >> I mean, it’s not a comparison. I enjoy watching both. Do you have a friendship that has lasted for 10 years or longer? >> Surprisingly. Elle and I are still friends and we met in 2009. Would you date someone half your age? >> Again, I don’t date, but I definitely wouldn’t date a 16yo if I did. Would you consider donating your body to science after you die? >> I’ve considered it. I prefer decaying. Are you a romantic person? >> No. Would you be okay with your partner hanging with their ex as friends? >> Absolutely. Are you careful with your money? >> I mean, as careful as I can be, I guess, considering I don’t have much of it in the first place. Do you have a current passport? >> No. Do you like to be friends with someone before dating them? >> If I was ever going to date, it’d be this way. Do you like soccer? >> No. Is it more fun to go out just with your date or on a group date? >> --- How often do you go dancing/clubbing? >> I don’t. Have you had a relationship with someone of the same sex? >> Yes. Is marriage a necessity for two people who love each other? >> No. Do you meditate? >> I have tried to establish a meditation routine at least 5 different times, and it never sticks. Sometimes I just do little spontaneous contemplative moments instead, since that seems to suit me better. Have you ever been fired from a job? >> No. Is there anything you think science will never be able to explain? >> Sure, maybe. I wouldn’t argue with anyone about it, but I don’t think science is the be-all and end-all when it comes to interpreting the universe. Do you cook fancy meals for dates? >> --- Is intoxication ever an acceptable excuse for acting stupid? >> It’s a reason. Whether it’s a reason I’m willing to accept and forgive or not varies with the situation (and the intoxicated person in question). Do you believe in an afterlife? >> No. Well, I mean. We interpret Inworld as an afterlife, so I guess I technically believe in one life-after-life kind of situation, but... that’s different. I don’t necessarily believe that that’s what’s going to happen to me, for instance. Do you litter? >> Nah. Would you have sex with someone hot who you hated? >> No, dude. Do you have a career plan? >> No. Do you mostly cook your own meals? >> No, Sparrow cooks most of the meals. Have you ever been arrested? >> Kind of. I say “kind of” because I’m not sure if “taken into night court because of an open-container fine I didn’t pay” counts as an arrest. I wasn’t booked or anything. Could you live with someone who was really messy? >> Noooo. That’s part of what got Sigma kicked out. Are sex and love the same thing? >> Obviously not. Do you go to church? >> No. Do you have pets? >> I live with a cat. How many concerts do you attend a year? >> Zero or one, nowadays (depends on whether we can afford Trans-Siberian Orchestra when ticket sale time comes around). I’d like to go to more but I have. specific requirements. Do you enjoy getting drunk? >> No. I enjoy being buzzed, but beyond that I just get fucking tired. Do you believe in fate or destiny? >> “Destiny” (or ka as they like to call it over there in All-World) is 100% some Roland Deschain bullshit and I’m not about that life. Have you ever called your friend a slut? >> Not maliciously. Are you attracted to someone with Power? >> I mean, what kind of power are we talking about? Self-actualisation and emotional stability, confident resilience, is a kind of power. That’s attractive. Charisma is a kind of power. That can be attractive, depending on how it’s applied. Social capital and career success is a kind of power, but that doesn’t attract me. Doing nothing all day makes you feel…? >> Worthless, but what the fuck do you want from me. Have you ever had sex with someone you worked with? >> --- Do you have any children? >> No. Would you date someone just for the sex? >> --- Do you give money to charities? >> No. Have you ever shot a gun? >> No. Have you ever gone on a blind date? >> Yeah, long time ago. Have you ever had a one night stand? >> I’ve had way too many, because I really didn’t fucking know any better. Are you a passionate person? >> I don’t feel like I am. I guess that’s why I find passion attractive, because it’s a thing I’m missing. Do you consider yourself a positive person? >> Ehh. Have you ever lied about the number of sexual partners you’ve had? >> No. Are Sex and Intimacy the same thing? >> Sex is a kind of intimacy. Have you ever played strip poker? >> No. How often do you get angry? >> Not very. I tend to get irritable and impatient and stuff like that, but not full-on angry. Do you consider yourself an emotional person? >> Well, yeah. Just not the same way as other people. Is work important to you? >> --- Have you had cosmetic surgery? >> No. On a first date do you pay or do they? >> --- Do you only date people who have jobs or are full-time students? >> --- Could you date someone who does drugs? >> --- Are you a jealous person? >> No. Do you enjoy watching sports? >> No. Except for figure skating, that’s the tits. Are you a cat or a dog person? >> --- Is a girl who’s slept with 100 guys a bad person? >> Why the fuck would that make them a bad person? Answer me that. Do you offend people? >> I mean, I’m sure I do on occasion. You can’t really avoid it. Do you prefer people in your life be simple or complex? >> What even is a simple person? I assume everyone has a rich internal life just like I do. Seems better than assuming the opposite... Have you ever been to a sex shop? >> I’ve been to a lot of sex shops. Have you ever had a threesome? >> Yes. I vastly prefer Inworld ones to outworld ones, just saying. Do you enjoy discussing politics? >> No. I refuse to discuss politics, in fact. I will listen to a discussion if it remains civil, and see if I can learn anything from it, but I won’t participate. Would you do a striptease for your partner? >> No. Would you date someone who doesn’t have a car? >> --- Do you enjoy dancing? >> Yes, very much. You have a week off, travel or stay home? >> --- Does spending the weekend at home annoy you? >> No, but I do like to get out if possible, even if just to the store. Right now, it’s not possible (unless it’s to the store, and even then only for essential items), and it’s killing me. Is it wrong to watch porn if you’re in a relationship? >> Not for me, it isn’t. Obviously other people have varied opinions. Do you think men should pay for everything on dates? >> I legitimately do not give a single fuck about this or any of these dating questions, sigh. Would you tie up a partner if they asked you to do so? >> No, because I have no expertise in knot-tying and that’s not safe. But I’d probably be okay with simple restraints. Do you consider yourself open minded? >> Yes. Are you a virgin? >> No. Have you ever had sex in a public place? >> Yes. Do others find you sexy? >> I don’t particularly care if they do. It wouldn’t do me any favours. Have you ever met someone in person you met online? >> Quite a few times. Would you date someone twice your age? >> --- Should a child caught masturbating be punished? >> Absolutely fucking not??? Why is this even a question. (Don’t answer that. I know why. It’s just that the “why” is so disappointing.) How often do you drink? >> Eh. Depends. Coffee or tea? >> Tea. Do you tell your friends you love them? >> I don’t tell anyone I love them. Inworlders notwithstanding, but it’s different there.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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reallygoodbuddy · 5 years ago

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My honest to god thoughts on Strathcona Spirits

Today was my last day at Strathcona Spirits! Now that I’m no longer on the payroll and have nothing to lose or gain, I feel like I can speak honestly to what it is Strathcona Spirits produce in that tiny little pink shoebox. Speaking as a man with a decent palate, a lot of (maybe too much?) experience tasting spirits of all kinds, and having started Canada’s Best New Bar 2018 (woot woot!), let me give you my however-educated hot take on the sauce cooked up at Strathcona Spirits.

In my travels around the province as a sales rep, I have tasted many (if not all) of the now 28 craft distilleries in our fair province (and those that have gone the sad way of the dodo as well). Some of them are bad. Some are mediocre. Some are good. Very good. In fact it leans towards very good, and I think this is owing to the small scale of production. I suppose that’s no eureka moment, but some people still don’t get this. When you work in such small batches with a molecular attention to detail, and when you are committed to cutting no corners in sourcing your raw material or hurrying the process of fermentation or buying cheap old worn out barrels or cheaping out on bitter / boring juniper from this cheap region or that (not naming names), the spirits dripping out the other end of the still simply have a much better chance of being excellent. Doesn’t mean they will be, but the odds are much better.

I think what some people do not understand is the utterly gargantuan scale at which some of their favourite international spirits are made. They think “how could something made in my backyard for only three years possibly be as good or better than this much longer-lived product that’s fame has brought it half way across the world to my local liquor store, that has achieved so much fame that they are now an international standard, and yet selling for $10-$20 less a bottle!” Oh boy… it is not that these international products cannot be good. Some of them are great (and some of them deserve a total moratorium... and some of them are the very products some of my favourite bartenders shill for every year as the competition rounds start, booooo!, just kiddingggg I love you guys and who wouldn’t love to go on a big fancy all inclusive trip somewhere and be recognized for transforming at-best-mediocre spirits into something that tastes palatable, you are champions in my eyes no matter what). The fact is that most of the world’s best spirits, wines, beers, ciders, cheeses, etc etc etc, are not made in large enough quantities to be widely exported, if at all. The insane scale at which those other bottles were made guarantees that the attention to detail is lost (would you rather be served a dish made for you or a dish made for an army and scooped into your bowl? would you rather have a wound stitched with a needle or a chopstick?) and this means the bad batches are just blended in with the good batches and the base spirit itself is almost always bland at best or rubbing alcohol at worst. There are great spirits made on massive scale, absolutely!, but the chances get worse, NOT BETTER, as the scale increases. For some reason, however, there are still craft bartenders who see this scenario the opposite way, thinking the larger brands are more likely to be good and the smaller distilleries are just learning and pawning off their learning process to the public at twice the price while hiding behind the good faith of being locally produced. This does happen, yes, in all things, but not nearly as often as you might think, and what is the all-too-common reverse? Huge multi-nationals pawning off their shill onto us and putting the marketing mega budget lipstick on the proverbial pig. We all know how many of the best marketed brands make bland boring weak tasteless garbage. But if you think that big brands have the benefit of the doubt and small distillers don’t, I can’t help but think that the marketing worked on you, fellow bartender. If this is your default setting, I strongly encourage you to reconsider. Yes, your craft distillery cannot fly you to the distillery and comp your first two cases when the new cocktail menu drops or give you branded umbrellas for your patio, but I can guarantee you there is a lot more heart and soul in that bottle. Anyone who appreciates wine knows that scale matters (and we celebrate the difference between vintages and vineyards, vive la différence!). Do you want an estate wine? Or one that is blended from a hundred vineyards so that your last bottle of Apothic tastes just like your next one?

With all that said, I will be the first to acknowledge that there is a huge discrepancy in quality among craft spirits, just as surely as there is for internationally marketed spirits, and nothing out there is automatically good just because it is produced in Alberta, or anywhere else for that matter. But I have now begun to ramble and get off track. I really bring all this to the fore for the simple reason of testifying, now that I have nothing to gain from it, that it is my honest to God opinion that Strathcona Spirits are making the best damn juice in the province. I have tried the different distilleries’ products. Some are well made but boring. Some are interesting but not well made. Some are both (kudos!) and some are neither (but maybe they will be eventually!). But at the end of the day, I think that what Strathcona is distilling is always creative without being eye-rolling and yet still coming out wildly delicious, which is the true challenge. It’s like trying to make music no one has ever heard before (easy) or trying to make music that sounds good (easy): the true challenge is making music that no one has every heard before that also sounds amazing.

How do I love thee, you Strathcona Spirits, let me count the ways: Eschewing all flavoured vodka yet making an exceedingly flavourful vodka, easily one of the best vodkas I’ve ever tasted, anywhere and from anywhere. Big bodied. Bold. Expressive of our central albertan wheat and the terroir it flourishes in. A bread basket of a vodka for the bread basket of North America. And then making a big bold low-toned robust gin that can put some hair on your chest, a gin equivalent of left-bank Bordeaux while nearly everyone else out there these last ten-gin-renaissance-years seems enamoured of delicate light floral gins that one might liken to champagne, if I can torture the metaphor. I like those floral gins too, but I strongly believe that Strathcona makes a bartender’s gin, one that performs outstandingly well with amaro and vermouth, and at the end of the day, those are the only gin drinks I will ever order. I mean sure, shake with it all you want. Such a waste. I will avert my eyes. And then aging that gin in virgin oak quarter casks, it’s nuts, I can’t believe Adam was bold enough to try this, I can’t believe how well it worked. A very expensive experiment, and it paid. The BAG is what won me over to Strat, because every other barrel aged gin I had tasted before this one was gross. (I’ve had some other good ones since, but still, most are gross). I will say that, in my own personal opinion, the barrel aged gin is the most finicky of the bunch and requires a true bartender to wield it well. Some of the most fascinating drinks I’ve tried by bartenders using our spirits have been ones with the barrel aged gin. But that’s because it doesn’t behave like gin, it doesn’t taste great in tonic, it doesn’t go well with dry vermouth, so it takes someone who knows how to work intuitively with the oak aspect and carve new paths forward (or just subs it into whisky classics!). I maintain that it makes the best Sazerac riff out there. First virgin oaked quarter casked gin in the world, and a gin suitably big and with a low enough profile to actually benefit from barrelling, none of these herbs or flowers or vegetables that just clash with the natural flavours American oak imparts. And then there is that ruby queen, the Pinot Gin, a lucky stroke of genius. It is easily my favourite of the whole line. Finishing gin in ex-BC Pinot Noir casks means pulling out all the old sticky oxidative pinot living in the staves of the oak, and damn! The way it just melts into the gin as it sits, the gentle toasted french oak nuttiness sneaking in there, the dried cherry and forest floor and cola notes from the wine, all combining with the low baking spice and bitter orange peel profile of the gin, the result is this uncanny sarsaparilla and orange marmalade and cherry dr. pepper aspect that’s as delicious as a sipper as it is beautiful in every cocktail I’ve tried it with.

And then there are the whiskies. I have been enjoying little samples from the barrel at full strength over the time I’ve worked here and I am always stunned. The belgian yeast was a stroke of genius, seeing as we’re using witbier/hefeweizen hard red spring brewer’s wheat to begin with. I am pretty sure these are the first virgin oaked wheat whiskies, at least from what I have ever been able to find online or asking the various whisky nerds and store owners I encounter in my travels, and a virgin oaked wheat whisky is well overdue. It is a brilliant new category that Strathcona is pioneering, and one that Edmonton is authentically positioned to spearhead, seeing as our Fort Edmonton pioneers were making wheat whisky and topping it with just a splash of rye while our neighbours to the south were drinking straight rye. Wheat is the last of the four major grains to be reevaluated and elevated (so move over malt, corn, and rye) and these Strathcona whiskies are going to be such big bold burly unrepentant whiskies, just the way I prefer. I wish I could have still been around to sell them when they dropped.

In writing fiction and poetry we have a simple rule: show don’t tell. Any talented salesperson, knowing it or not, has absorbed this rule in sales as well. As the rep for Strathcona Spirits, it would be extremely suspect for me to walk into a place and say: honestly, in my opinion, our distillery is making the best spirits in the province. Even if I cushion that by talking about the other Alberta distilleries I love, it would still ring hollow. Now that I am gone and stand nothing to gain (I have been waiting so long for this), I just want to step up to the microphone and say that I have tasted more Alberta craft spirits than most, and in my honest opinion, Strathcona Spirits are the best, and that is my honest personal opinion. They are full bodied. They are strong in flavour while smooth on the palate. They are inventive. They are interesting. They are dynamic. They are hand made. They are purposeful. And as someone who started championing these spirits long before I worked for them, I maintain that they are patently superb spirits for cocktailing. I would even go so far as to say that they are better as cocktail ingredients than as stand alone spirits, and that is their great advantage. Don’t get me wrong, they are wonderful sipped, but their flavour design is so conducive to playing and marrying well with other bottles and ingredients. I love them. I hold about six other Alberta distilleries in high esteem, sometimes it is all of their line, sometimes just some of it (and may I take a moment to shout out some of the more interesting products: Wildlife Amaro, Burwood Honey distillate, and the Eau Claire Equineox). I still feel like more distilleries need to take more risks and try to invent their way forward. Not in kitschy ways but in fundamental and elemental ways. I will not list the many ways I feel Strathcona does this because this is getting way too long. And I should also mention that I would never speak ill of other craft distilleries because we are not each others’ competition, we are all in this together. Bombay is our competition. Crown Royal is our competition. Grey Goose is our competition. If we can peel even a portion of their drinkers over to Alberta craft, we will all win together.

I don’t know how much spirit drinking I’ll be doing now that I am moving onto my newest adventure but I know I’ll still be ordering Strathcona drinks off the menu and anxiously waiting for the whisky releases.

What is your newest path, Joe, you might ask? Well, kind soul still reading this beefy prose in our age of declining attention spans, your old boy Joey Gurba is taking a partnership role in Garneau Block, a fledgling natural wine importing agency! If you know me well, you know I’m obsessed with wine. Gabriella has been kind enough to invite me on board to grow this thing into a juggernaut for wines that are alive and fascinating, and we have five new wineries coming to you over the next eight weeks. Wineries from Mount Gambier (Australia), Maryland (USA), Puglia (Italy), Castilla y León (Spain), and Châteauneuf-du-Pape / Côtes-du-Rhône (France). If you follow me on instagram, rest assured, you’ll see no shortage of coverage. And do follow @garneaublock if you haven’t yet. And, of course, if you don’t follow @strathconaspirits yet, thou must check thyself lest thou wreck thyself. They’re good folks, good good folks, and even in this trying time of layoffs and all, they have been converting the still over to making hand sanitizer and giving it away for free (for as long as they can afford to). If you’re not quarantined, drop by and grab some (inevitable) quarantini supplies and a bottle of free hand sani ASAP (or order from your favourite liquor store, most of them are delivering now). Quick, go, before we are all forced into our houses indefinitely.

Thanks for reading all this. I’m embarrassed by it on some level, something about it feels a little uncouth, but I have always been a little uncouth and unconventional, right? And since I am not trying to sell any Strathcona to anyone anymore, I’m pressing send and speaking my heart for these guys. Gooooooo Strathcona.

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blasphemings · 5 years ago

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old love & hotel rooms

i’ll be fine show me how it felt before

(everyone lives commission for @himbolesbian that i went a little ham on...love and light)

“An address?”

Josuke squinted down at the telephone book. Kira. An address on the outskirts of town, the street name one he vaguely recognized, as though he might have walked past it a few times taking an alternate route to school.

“You’re sure that’s the name?”

Koichi glanced up at Jotaro. “Kira Yoshikage. Yeah.” He shuddered. “I wouldn’t forget.”

“I doubt he’s there now,” Jotaro said slowly. “He seems to be any number of things but I don’t think he’s an idiot.”

“You got anything on the…” Josuke gestured vaguely to his face. “The guy with the…?”

…face cut out. He hadn’t seen Kira’s face anywhere in the salon. He wondered, briefly, whether that meant Kira had taken the shards of his old face with him. Maybe carried them in his pocket. Did he intend to put them back?

“Poor Aya,” mumbled Koichi.

“Yeah…”

“I’m…looking into it.” Jotaro pinched the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, wouldn’t it have been a smarter move for him to just…put his own face on the man who was killed?”

Josuke watched the blades of the ceiling fan spin overhead in a valiant effort to cool the room down, despite their slowness making it impossible to cause a noticeable difference. “So we’d think he was…?”

“Mm.”

“Seems like you’d be better at this than he is,” Koichi said.

He fought back a smile. “Thinking about faking your own death, huh?”

“Of course not,” Jotaro snapped.

Josuke blanched. “Sorry—I didn’t—”

“But, you know,” he said, “it’s only nine in the morning.” He looked down at his watch. “So you can ask me again in a few hours.”

Koichi snorted, earning himself an eye roll.

“You think we ought to go check it out?” Josuke stood and stretched, narrowly avoiding bumping his hair on the ineffective fan. “I can go get Okuyasu.”

“Don’t you—” Jotaro rubbed his eyes and swiveled in place, looking for his hat after realizing he no longer had a bill from under which to glare at his teenage uncle. “Don’t you have school or something?”

“I don’t remember you ever having a problem with ditching school before.”

The new voice was quieter than the others, gentler, but always resting on the edge of laughter. Jotaro froze at the sound of it, the familiarity belonging to someone who he firmly believed should not have been there.

“Or running into enemy territory without a plan,” the newcomer continued calmly, stepping over an open suitcase on his way through the door. “Although I suppose the odds are a little further in your favor, for once.”

“Hey,” Josuke said sharply. “Hey, who—”

“It’s okay.” Jotaro held up a hand as he stood. “It’s—he’s my—my friend.”

Kakyoin smirked.

“I thought you were with—”

“Jolyne’s with Joseph,” he said.

“She’s here?”

“Yes. I made the mistake of telling her I was going to see you and she threatened to tell her mother all sorts of things if I tried to send her home.”

Jotaro blinked, then chuckled. “Sounds like her.”

“She’s definitely your kid.” Kakyoin sat on the edge of the hotel bed, carefully smoothing the wrinkles left behind by his weight. He glanced at the untouched pillows, then back at Jotaro.

Josuke’s head snapped up. “Your kid?”

“Well…”

Kakyoin laughed in delight. “Oh, you—don’t tell me you didn’t tell them?”

“It never came up,” Jotaro mumbled.

Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to answer the questions that would inevitably arise from the younger men finding out about her; where she was, where her mother was, who her mother was. The nature of the situation at present was such that only the three of them—Jotaro, Noriaki, and Maria—were really capable of understanding how and why they kept things the way they were. Or the truth about the way things were in the first place, for that matter.

“Her name is Jolyne,” he said reluctantly, acutely aware of how intently he was being watched by the two boys. Kakyoin had leaned over to rearrange the pill bottles on the bedside table, averting his eyes in a timely manner as only he seemed to know how.

Maria, for her part, had been better about the whole business than Jotaro could ever have dreamed she might be. Her favorite joke was that her having brought him to the realization that he could never really feel that way about a woman was a blow to her ego; Jotaro’s consistent response was that she should feel flattered, given that it had in reality been the fact that he had ultimately figured if he didn’t feel anything towards her, he wasn’t going to be able to muster it for anyone.

Jolyne hadn’t quite understood, having been only about four years old at the time. But she got along with Kakyoin well enough—too well, sometimes, Jotaro felt.

“She’s seven,” he added when they kept staring. “Now that she’s here, I’m…sure she’ll want to meet you.”

Josuke’s face brightened.

“And you’re…?”

He smiled at Koichi. “Noriaki Kakyoin. I’m his—old friend of his.”

“You’re in the picture,” Josuke said.

“Picture?”

“Yeah, the—that one.” He pointed at the desk, where an old photograph rested beside the plastic-framed stock photo of Morioh’s town square supplied by the hotel. Kakyoin squinted at it, barely able to make out the familiar silhouettes. It seemed too small a grievance to take out his glasses for, though such things had him frequently thinking he might want to just give in and keep them on as a matter of principle, deteriorating as his vision seemed to be these days.

He shook his head gently to fend off Jotaro’s concerned glance.

“You were in Egypt?”

Kakyoin nodded slowly. “Mm.”

Josuke blinked, looking between the two of them curiously even as they avoided one another’s eyes.

“I’m not unhappy to see you, but…” Jotaro paused. “Noriaki, what are you doing here?”

“I heard…” Kakyoin took a deep breath, suddenly and uncharacteristically shaky. “Heard there was a…someone was killed. A bomb, the news said.”

“I didn’t know Morioh news traveled so far.”

“It doesn’t. I’ve been following it.”

“I…see.”

“I wouldn’t really call it a bomb,” Koichi said, exchanging a look with Josuke.

Kakyoin raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Stand bomb,” Josuke said cheerfully. “And Jotaro’s fine now.”

Jotaro paled. “Josuke—”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Kakyoin’s expression was one of calculated neutrality, his eyes unnaturally bright. He still refused to look at Jotaro.

Josuke paused, shifting uncomfortably as he sensed his misstep. “Just that—he’s fine. He was, you know, but his heart didn’t even stop like Koichi’s did. He wasn’t in—well, he was, but, I mean, I got there. In time.”

For a long moment Kakyoin was dead silent, staring through the window at two bluejays wheeling past outside. He seemed to be holding his breath.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For helping him.”

Josuke nodded.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t get your…?”

“Josuke.”

“Josuke.” Kakyoin glanced down. “And you’re…?”

“Koichi Hirose.” He got to his feet. “Josuke, we should—”

“Yeah. Okuyasu. We can—okay. Is that okay, Jotaro?” Josuke added.

“You have the address?”

He nodded again.

“We’ll meet you there. Don’t go inside without me.”

“Sure.” He waved, ducking under the door frame. “Nice to meet you, Kakyoin.”

“You too,” murmured Kakyoin, watching Jotaro fumble with the deadbolt. His heart sank a little.

“Still turning every lock you can get your hands on?”

“It’s only been a month,” Jotaro mumbled, still facing the door. “It’s not like I was going to get any better about it without you.”

“Locked doors won’t stop the kind of people who would be coming after you, you know.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much—”

“But I will.”

He turned and blinked down at Kakyoin, who was still eyeing the bedsheets.

“That’s why you’re here, is it?” Jotaro said, voice so light it could only be forced. “To protect me?”

“Something like that.”

They looked at one another and, for the first time in what felt like weeks, Jotaro smiled. This, at least, was a familiar exasperation, and one he found himself happy to field.

“How did she do with the flight?” he asked, dropping to the bed. “She wasn’t too pleased the last time we flew internationally.”

“Oh, she was fine.” Kakyoin leaned against his shoulder and yawned. “She just wanted one of those, you know, the sticker books. I did have to stop her from decorating the tray table with dolphins.”

“Dolphins.”

“I think they remind her of you.”

Jotaro stared up at the ceiling and sighed. There were hairline fractures just beneath the surface, the sort of thing he was never sure if he only noticed because of Star, or because he was simply accustomed to gleaning every fragment of information possible from his surroundings. He imagined there would be water damage at some point later that year. Likely after he’d left, he hoped. He wondered if he should say something to the hotel management before then.

“So,” Kakyoin said carefully, and Jotaro didn’t need to look to know he was being watched. “How long has it been since you slept?”

Jotaro looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what you—”

“These sheets are pristine.” Kakyoin flicked at them with one hand. “Still tucked in at the corners.”

“So?”

“I’ve seen what you think making a bed looks like.”

“Maybe I learned,” Jotaro said defensively.

“You put the little mint there just for the hell of it?”

“I…” He groaned. “Shit.”

“And even if you expected me to believe housekeeping had somehow been here even already—which, just, for the record, they haven’t, I saw him coming down the hall on the way up—you’ve got a ‘do not disturb’ tag on the door.”

Jotaro smiled again, the exhaustion in his eyes all the clearer now that Kakyoin knew where to look. “I didn’t realize you were here to investigate me.”

Kakyoin rested his arm on Jotaro’s shoulder, brushing the eternally uncooperative lock of hair back from his forehead. “How long?”

He sighed. “A few days. I don’t know. What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Hmm.”

“Jotaro—”

“What about you?”

“What?”

“How long for you?”

He paused, then chuckled. “Nothing gets past you, hmm?”

“No,” Jotaro said. “It doesn’t.”

Kakyoin looked down at their hands. He couldn’t have said who had reached for the other first. He had never really been able to tell, even the first time it had happened; he had simply noticed that he was holding and being held and felt, somehow, that it was always going to be this way.

“Since I found out about the explosion,” he said at last. “I called Joseph, so I—I knew, he told me you were all right, but I didn’t…I couldn’t…”

Jotaro squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

“It’s stupid. It’s stupid.”

“Okay. Tell me anyway.”

“I was scared that—I’d call and you…there wouldn’t be an answer.”

Jotaro raised his eyebrows. “You thought…?”

“I didn’t know.” Kakyoin shook his head. “I just didn’t. I knew it was probably—but I didn’t want to leave you alone against, you know, whatever it was.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but he remembered how it felt. It was an old memory, and one he preferred to keep as far away as possible on the days it didn’t haunt his every waking thought, but he remembered.

“I’m okay,” he said instead, gently pulling Kakyoin against his chest. “We’re okay.”

For a moment there was silence as they listened for the old comfort of one anothers’ heartbeats, proof that they had escaped the inevitable too many times to count.

“What on earth happened?” Kakyoin muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric of Jotaro’s shirt. “That kid—Koichi, the other one said he…?”

Jotaro grunted. “His name is Yoshikage Kira.”

“I thought he said his name was Josuke.”

“No—No!” Jotaro laughed. “No, it is. Kira’s the guy who’s been…he’s the one we’re tracking.”

“Then I assume he’s the one with the stand bomb.”

“Stand looks like a big pink cat, actually. In leather.”

Kakyoin bit his lip, trying not to giggle as he lifted his head. “In…leather.”

“It had a remote controlled ability that was—God, it was bad, Noriaki, it was practically—almost indestructible.” He shook himself like a dog trying to get dry. “Effective heat tracking bomb. And Koichi, he’s a good kid, but he…slipped.”

“So you took it instead.” Kakyoin had gone pale.

Jotaro nodded reluctantly. “He almost got killed as well,” he said. “If Josuke hadn’t…”

He closed his eyes, trying not to remember how familiar that particular wound on the backdrop of that particular school uniform had been. Kakyoin, for his part, was beginning to lose circulation in his fingertips from how tightly Jotaro was clutching his hand, but he remained quiet, watching the other man’s face.

“Turns out healers are useful,” Jotaro managed at last.

“Healers,” Kakyoin said thoughtfully, rubbing his free hand across his stomach without thinking.

Jotaro’s eyes brightened as he sat up a little straighter. “He might be able to do something for you.”

“Oh, I don’t—” He shook his head. “It’s such an old injury, I…”

“I saw you limping on the way in.”

“I’ve been limping for a decade,” Kakyoin protested. “It’s not like it’s getting worse.”

“Not getting better either. Let me ask him.”

He smiled, relenting at the rare excitement in Jotaro’s voice. “If it makes you happy.”

Jotaro pulled him to his feet, hesitated. “There is…one other thing.”

“Yes?”

“When I was…you know. When I didn’t know if I was going to.”

Kakyoin nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They still had not released one anothers’ hands, and it was his turn to hold Jotaro too tightly.

“All I could think about,” he said slowly, “was what you told me back in Cairo. About how you’d kill me if you didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Oh,” Kakyoin breathed, feeling tears prick at the back of his eyes.

“Because you didn’t remember you’d already tried to.”

“You told me you didn’t let me,” he said hoarsely.

Jotaro nodded, eyes on the ground, and he let out a little whuff of surprise when Kakyoin turned and hugged him tightly enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

“You better not go,” Kakyoin mumbled into his shoulder. “I’ll kill you if you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jotaro kissed the top of Kakyoin’s head. “And neither are you.”

It had only been an instant.

Jotaro had thought, many times, about what might have happened had he waited; had he been less defiant, or more accepting of fate, or given in to the hopelessness that had crushed him from all sides the moment the water tower came into view. He knew the fear that silence brought with it, and he couldn’t remember ever being more afraid or more sickened by anything than he had been by the silence that answered him that night when he shouted Kakyoin’s name as his footsteps echoed off the metal stairs that led to the rooftop where he had fallen.

He had no way of knowing when his heart had stopped. He would have liked to say that he could feel the soul still clinging to that body, or something of equal significance that would make what he had done something more than an the desperate act of a teenage boy who couldn’t bear to accept that he had lost his best friend.

And yet, in the end, it had been exactly that which was the miracle.

He still remembered how it had felt to hold Kakyoin’s heart in his hands; first the despair when he met the cold stillness of it, then the debilitating hope that struck him like a thunderhead when he felt the response to his touch. He remembered how it had felt when Kakyoin’s eyes fluttered open.

Jotaro?

I’m here. I’m here.

Oh…good. I wanted…

Stop. Stop trying to talk.

Wanted—to…goodbye…to you…

Please don’t. Noriaki. Please.

Jotaro…I…

Shut up. Shut up. You’re not going anywhere.

When he had come awake with a jolt in the hospital room, nearly fifteen hours later, after two surgeries and three flatlines and a stony-faced rejection of Joseph’s suggestion that he go back to the hotel to sleep, he had nearly jumped out of his skin before recognizing the hand on his forehead. He gazed up at Kakyoin, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The sun had still been up the last time he had opened them.

Did you fall asleep here?

Yeah. How are you feeling?

Like shit. Alive.

He had laughed at that, if only to keep the feeling caught in his throat from turning into a sob.

It was you, wasn’t it?

Depends.

Wait…Dio, his—

He’s gone. It’s over.

Gone?

Yeah.

You did it.

We wouldn’t have known if you—the old man understood. What you were saying.

And the others?

They’re all right.

And you?

I’ll be fine. You should rest.

Kakyoin mumbled something nearly incomprehensible. Was scared…

I…was too.

If I don’t get to say goodbye I’ll kill you, Jotaro.

His eyes finally focused on the moonlit face of his friend, and he started to ask what he meant, but Kakyoin was already asleep again, and he fell silent.

“Jolyne! Be careful!”

Jolyne cackled in delight as she was hoisted into the air.

“I’ve got her, Jotaro,” Josuke called. The ocean air had unraveled his hair a significant amount, and Jolyne’s fascination with it hadn’t helped the style hold. Jotaro found it intensely amusing that he had even styled it for the beach at all, but he had learned by now to keep quiet. It was a miracle alone that he allowed Jolyne to pat it every two minutes.

He smiled and shook his head. “She doesn’t listen,” he muttered.

“Well,” Kakyoin said, “as I keep saying, she is yours.”

“I think she got that from Maria.”

“Interesting theor—hey!”

He shook the sand from his hair as a shimmering green tentacle smacked Star Platinum’s hand away. Jotaro tried and failed to muffle his laughter with the back of one hand.

“You’re a teenager,” Kakyoin declared.

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“You’re twelve.”

“People don’t really call me young at heart.”

“People don’t know you.” He rolled his eyes.

Jotaro bumped against his shoulder. “Nope.”

“I think I’ll just let you leave your guard up and then retaliate when you least expect it.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The two men leaned back and listened to the sound of the waves. The salty wind stiffened their hair and scratched at their cheeks, and they couldn’t help but smile.

“Noriaki! Dad!”

Jotaro opened his eyes in time to catch Jolyne as she threw herself into his arms, still giggling.

“You’re having fun?” Kakyoin reached over his shoulder to ruffle her hair. Josuke jogged up to them, followed by Okuyasu, both slightly out of breath.

“She said she was looking for something,” he said.

“I found you one!” Jolyne chirped.

“Come on, you guys.” Okuyasu glanced at the sky. “Think the storm’s coming.”

He held out his hand to Josuke, who hesitated only for an instant before taking it. Kakyoin glanced at them, then down at his and Jotaro’s entwined in the sand below. He winked up at Okuyasu. “He’s right,” he said. “The clouds are coming in.”

“I like the rain…” Jolyne reached for her father’s hat, just short of being able to catch it.

“And the rain likes giving you a cold,” Kakyoin told her. “But if you can get your rain boots before it stops we can go for a walk, okay?”

Jolyne jumped out of Jotaro’s lap and looked back at him, hesitating.

“Do you like it?” she asked shyly.

He gazed down at the starfish she had placed in his hands.

“It’s beautiful, Jolyne,” he said.

#jjba #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #jotakak #thsi is my longest jjba content yet and i personally think it was for a good cause #did i write 3.3k words when technically i couldve stopped at 2k yes. do i regret doing that no i dont #when i say everyone lives i mean EVERYONE

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