#sai baba tour | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ruby-red-inky-blue · 3 months ago

Text

Post hoc ergo propter hoc

A con of being friends with the White House Press Secretary, Jyn finds, is that the good-natured hazing in front of the rest of the press room goes on for far too long. Another is that Leia will absolutely not take no for an answer on the “mandatory tour”, even though she clearly doesn’t have time for it, going by the four aides that immediately besiege her as soon as they step out of the press room.

Jyn is sure there will be pros as well, but she hasn’t found any so far.

“Leia, Draven wants you in his office in half an hour about the HUD thing,” says the last of the aides, jogging to keep up with them.

“Thank you, Kate,” Leia says without stopping, her arm still firmly linked with Jyn’s. “I’m just going to finish the tour for Miss Erso here. She’s my latest charge, she took over for Hal.”

“Oh!” The aide smiles brightly and shakes her hand. “Congratulations, ma’am,” she says and disappears down a corridor.

“Four people have called me ma’am today.”

“Get used to it. This is the White House, it’s like a reflex.” Leia stops to delegate some more important press secretary business in the next office over – Jyn gathers it’s the Communications Office – then returns to scoop her up again and drag her down another hallway.

“You haven’t shown me a thing, Leia.”

“Well, that was Kleya Marki’s office, and down there’s the mess, that’s always important –“

Jyn has a sudden realization followed by a horrible, sinking feeling. “Leia, please tell me we’re not –“

Too late. Leia has spotted her prey at the end of the corridor, and pulls her towards him, smiling brightly and heels unmistakably loud on the polished floor.

“Cassian!”

Oh God. “Leia, come on, he’s busy. It’s my first day, he can –“

“Nonsense, he just looks busy. He always looks busy.” She grabs Jyn by the sleeve and drags her further down the hall. “Cassian, meet the new Post correspondent!”

Jyn stumbles along, feeling like an absolute fool for falling for Leia’s whole spiel and letting herself be dazzled by the West Wing of it all – and for knowing the guy she was stupidly, wildly in love with in college and then left without a word now worked in this building, and still putting off preparing what the fuck she would do when she actually met him again until, well… right now.

The man who has stopped at the end of the hall is in a fairly rumpled suit, carrying a stack of files and looks achingly familiar even from afar. For half a breath, she’s standing in some Yale hallway and is about to run to catch up with him and probably do something silly like try and tackle the papers out of his hands – and then she’s back in the West Wing and they’re all ten years older and successful, serious people again. And she’s back to wondering if he still knows her name. Or if he hates her. And which would be worse.

After a beat, he turns around and walks towards them, with a spooked look on his face like he, too, briefly tripped over ten years of baggage – or, of course, like he’s trying to place someone who looks vaguely familiar. Then something, probably the lawyer in him, takes over, and he fixes an easy, warm smile on his face. She always liked his smile. He looks older, and even more tired than he used to – naturally, he’s Deputy Chief of Staff to the president – but still, he looks good. His hair looks as soft as she remembers, which is a deeply unhelpful thought.

“Jyn.”

She feels stupidly relieved. “You do remember me.”

An offended frown pulls at his eyes. She always did like those, too. They’re such a nice brown, it doesn’t translate on pictures.

“Of course I remember you.”

(To be fair, it probably is insulting to assume he’d forget a girlfriend he had for seven months, but still. He’s busy, and at least it would mean he couldn't hate her for disappearing overnight and never picking up the phone again.) Jyn opens her mouth, closes it again, feels herself blush.

“He keeps your Baba O’Reily piece on his bookshelf, you know,” Leia says with a grin, still holding on to Jyn’s jacket like she’s scared she’ll try and make a run for it. The thought has occurred to her.

“Very funny, Leia,” Cassian says curtly and makes a vague gesture down the hallway. “I… I’d love to – I have the Secretary of Labor waiting, so –“

“It’s fine, I know you’re –”

“We should catch up, though,” he says absent-mindedly, sorting through his stack of files before adding, with a quick look up at her: “Off the record.”

“Right.”

“Maybe just come by my office before you leave, if you’re free,” he says, fiddling with the files that are starting to slip. “I’ll be here, and uh, marginally less busy.”

“Okay, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Um - congratulations, Jyn, on the – I have to go.”

“Yeah.”

Leia watches him dart off, smirking. “So, you two are really over that whole thing, huh?”

[keep reading on Ao3!]

#rebelcaptainweek #with that title obviously it's a #west wing au #but i have found that when you cross a political show with a lot of pathos #and characters with a lot of trauma and baggage #the result is not... how do you say... lighthearted #so. much as i wanted this to be a 'secret plan to fight inflation' type story it's more of a 'two cathedrals' type story #(though minus the sudden character death don't worry lol)#anyway!#there is technically more of this but i'm worried i'll start a thing that needs finishing so i'm still on the fence about it #have this for now! (edit: okay people seem excited about this? i'll try and whip chapter two into shape soon ish)#jyn x cassian #rogue one #modern au #my words

54 notes · View notes

ghcstao3 · 5 months ago

Note

me: *grabbing you by your shoulders and shaking you like a rag doll* WHAT/- WHAT abiuOUT JOHNNY going to mEEt URKRnian aSIMons FAMiLy?!?? WHAT ABOUT THAT??? :(

(X) hmmm yes………. what about that…………

just a bit shorter of a post because admittedly i wasn’t too sure how to write out a scene, but! some things that happen:

- tommy is all “i told you so” the whole time johnny visits. all “i called it, that’s why simon was moping”, or “i told you he was texting someone, why else would he be smiling like that at his phone.” absolute nuisance, but it’s okay, because despite a language barrier he and johnny get along real well. two pains in simon’s ass (he still loves them both). tommy also uses johnny to practice english as if simon hasn’t given him suggestions of proper resources ten times over already.

- simon’s baba basically adopts johnny soon as she meets him. pinches his cheek and calls him handsome before turning to simon and scolding him for not inviting johnny home sooner. i mean, he’s respectful, educated, can cook—and not to mention, he’s been making such an effort to learn simon’s language and culture that it’d be a tragedy to lose him. if simon were to let johnny go, she threatens, he would no longer be her grandson (kidding, of course… mostly).

- simon’s mom is quiet, and cautious as she always is with strangers, but she’s also kind and patient with johnny as he struggles through his ukrainian, being she doesn’t speak a lick of english. simon is often the middleman to translate, but there are moments that johnny and simon’s mother exist alone, peacefully, near-silently in each other’s space, like when she teaches him a recipe. there’s one day, however, when she takes his hands and tells him with the utmost sincerity in a way that he understands most of what she’s saying: that she’s never seen her son happier than when johnny is around, so he’d better not hurt simon. johnny reassures her that that would never happen.

- simon, of course, does his best to immerse johnny in every way possible. tours johnny around his hometown in that same way, same experience one could only get if they knew a local. johnny absolutely loves it; is basically already planning his next trip in his head all the while. and, of course, it’s in one of simon’s secret spots, tucked away from the rest of the world, where they share their first kiss.

#ask #i hope this suffices :’)#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #riley family #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe

120 notes · View notes

toomuchracket · 1 year ago

Text

in front of a mirror (literal d word (dad) matty x reader fluff)

a little random fluffy moment for promptober day 18! just you and matty and your baby daughter getting ready in the hotel room. enjoy <3

the fluffy pompom on your daughter's hat tickles your already-cold nose, as you walk quickly down the hotel corridor with her in your arms. you sneeze, and lyla jerks in what you think is fright at the sudden noise; you open your mouth to reassure and apologise, but she giggles before you can, that joyous little baby laugh that you think might be your favourite sound in the world.

"oh, you think it's funny when mummy sneezes?" you tease, tickling her little tummy to keep her laughing. "yeah, it is a funny noise, i suppose. but do you know what you're meant to do when someone sneezes in front of you? you say 'bless you'. can you try that for me, munchkin? bless you."

lyla's little face screws up in concentration, an expression she's doubtless inherited from you. "eh ooh."

"oh, my clever girl! well done," you coo, kissing her little rosy cheek as you unlock the door to your suite. "you're so smart, munchkin! you definitely get that from me and not daddy. but don't tell daddy that, alright?"

"tell me what?" matty's voice echoes from somewhere in the suite. lyla makes grabby hands at the sound - again, your genetics.

"that we got babycinos with auntie carly," you reply, pulling off lyla's jacket and hat, then smoothing down her hair as you wander through the living area towards your fiancé's voice. you find him in the dressing room outside the bedroom, sat at the mirror with one of the band's stylists fixing his hair. "hiya! hi, baby. you look good. almost done?"

the stylist answers in the affirmative. matty's face lights up at the sight of you and lyla; it always does, but you don't think you'll ever get over how adorably happy he gets. "hi, my beautiful girls," he says softly. "have you had a nice morning? c'mere, munchkin, tell me all about it."

you pass lyla to matty - giving him a quick kiss as you do - before shrugging your coat off and sitting down beside them. lyla snuggles into her dad's chest, big eyes blinking tiredly as he softly strokes her head. they're so cute in their respective sweatshirts that you could cry just from how much you love them.

matty caresses your daughter's tiny cheek. "is somebody sleepy?"

despite her eyes growing heavier by the second, lyla musters up all the energy she has left to shake her head in vehement denial. all three of the grown-ups in the room laugh at her little curls bouncing, and she grins cheekily.

"i think you might be, baba," matty smiles. "maybe time for a little disco nap before you come out with me and mummy later, yeah?"

you snort. "a disco nap?"

"what? that's exactly what it is."

"fair, fair," you say, resting your head on the tabletop. "could do with one myself, actually. or at least a minute where i sit and do nothing. but it's alright," you stretch. "i should probably start getting ready anyway, once she's asleep."

you try to stand, but matty traps your leg between both of his and smirks. "nope! you're staying put, my love."

"what is this?" you ask, eyes narrowing as you clock the stylist smiling suspiciously too. "why are you both looking at me like that?"

"well, sweetheart, i know how busy you've been lately, taking care of everyone and everything, and i just want to make sure you're taken care of too," matty begins. "so i decided that i'll take lyla for a few hours today and get her and i ready, so you can have a bit of time to yourself to relax…"

"and i'll do your hair for you," the stylist finishes, grinning. "and just pamper you a bit."

the combination of tiredness and the sweetness of the gesture flicks some sort of weird hormonal switch in you; you genuinely start to tear up at the thought of getting a moment to yourself amidst the chaos of tour prep and dealing with both lyla and matty (who's arguably more of a handful than your literal baby daughter). "that sounds lovely. thank you."

matty shifts lyla into one arm and leans forward to wipe your eyes with the other. he pecks your lips, then your nose, making you giggle. "s'the least i could do, darling. oh, by the way, we're also going out for dinner tonight straight after the gig. just the two of us. date night for mum and dad!"

"how have you managed that? who's looking after lyla?" you laugh, almost deliriously.

"the macdonalds. mentioned to ross i was thinking about taking you on a date, and his wife all but booked a restaurant and swiped lyla out of my arms there and then."

"bless her. i'm excited," you smile, kissing matty's cheek. "thank you, baby. i love you."

"i love you too, my sweet girl. have fun getting your hair done," matty shuffles to stand, and you take a second to stroke lyla's head before they go. "we'll be next door if you need us."

"alright, babe."

with a final wink, the loves of your life disappear through the door. you turn back to face the mirror, smiling at the stylist. fuck, why do you feel nervous? "ok. please try and sort me out. i know it'll be a struggle."

they laugh, pulling the hairband from your head. "nah, piece of cake after dealing with your man's hair. and your daughter's inherited it! god help you, babe."

you giggle. "yeah, but they really are cute, with the curls."

and cute in general, actually - while you sit back contentedly and have your hair combed, you smile so hard it hurts your cheeks at the way matty coos and sings to lyla in the next room to get her to sleep. although you can't see them, you can picture the image clear as day; she'll be in her dad's arms the whole time, because trying to get matty to not constantly cuddle your baby is like drawing blood from a stone, and matty will pace around the suite until she fully nods off. only then will he sit down, quietly humming lullabies or just whatever songs are stuck in his head, looking at lyla with the expression of sheer lovestruck adoration he reserves for only her and you.

you actually get to see said expression in action around half an hour later, while your hair is being manipulated and pinned up into a messy updo; holding a peacefully-snoozing lyla just as you knew he'd be, matty moves to lean against the doorframe and catch your eyes in the mirror. "darling - oh wow, i love your hair like that! - i know i said i was going to give you peace, but can i really quickly ask for your input on my fit for today?"

god, his arms flex so gorgeously when he's holding the baby like that. your head fills with daydreams about them flexing like that as he holds you, your hips, your waist, keeping you steady and close to him as he…

jesus, you need to sleep with your fiancé. it's clearly been too long.

so distracted are you by thirsting over matty that you almost miss what he says. "hmm? oh, yeah. black suit trousers? what's your options for the top half?"

"the saint laurent polka dots, or the black silk one. with the short sleeves."

"i love both, baby, but aren't they a little fancy for a half-hour radio show set?"

matty blushes, looking up through his eyelashes at you in the mirror; he's so beautiful it almost devastates you. "yeah, but… wanna look good for you when we go out after. you'll look stunning, as always - i need to at least try to keep up with you, yeah?"

the stylist utters a quiet "aww!", which kinda perfectly sums up your feelings about your fiancé's words. he's so endearing, matty, looking at you all shy and sweet - you're not quite sure how your heart hasn't caved in from the amount of love for him packed inside it.

and yet… your mind is seemingly still in the gutter. "i think the silk one, honestly" because it shows off those fucking arms of yours better than the other one, baby.

"whatever my girl wants," matty winks, before disappearing into the other room again. he reappears once the stylist leaves twenty minutes later, fully dressed and gorgeous in his finery, with a slightly groggy (but well-rested) lyla and what looks like her entire wardrobe in his arms.

you spin away from the counter and your open makeup bag to look at him. "dilf!"

matty cackles, quickly stopping to soothe lyla when she begins grumbling at his volume. "sorry, munchkin, i just get really excited when mummy lets on how much she fancies me."

"it's not as if you don't know already," you giggle, batting your mascara'd lashes, before shifting your voice into something breathier. "daddy."

"not in front of our daughter!"

"later, though? after our dinner date?"

matty sighs, his cheeks pink. "by all means, princess," he emphasises the nickname, and you beam. "now, lyla-lie, let's get you dressed while mummy puts her face on."

"did you just simon and garfunkel our baby's name?"

"you know it, babe."

your turn to sigh. "alright. carry on."

"i shall," matty sits lyla on the table, just a bit along to the right from you, caging her with his own body while he quickly spreads out her outfit choices. "right, munchkin. well, i'm wearing full black, and mummy's wearing…"

"also full black."

"... so i think we should see about putting you in full black too, baba," matty smiles down at lyla, who's more focused on swinging her little legs than anything else right now. "let's see - oh, these little trousers are cool! d'you like these? yeah? ok. this top?"

you pause your motions of putting highlight on to glance at your daughter; she scowls at the offending top in a way so reminiscent of matty you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself guffawing.

matty nods. "i agree, it's not quite right. moving on!"

all in all, picking out lyla's outfit for the afternoon takes longer than it did for yours and matty's to be chosen; lyla might look more like you, but she's matty's daughter through and through, a stubborn little fashionista in the making. it takes so long for matty to get her dressed - although you don't totally begrudge him for that, because listening to him try to make up a song on the fly about different items of clothing is hilarious - that you're fully ready (sans lipstick, and even then you're standing tube in hand, ready to go) once she is.

you freeze just before you apply the lippy, though - your fiancé's voice rings out a warning just as you take the lid off. "don't you dare do that yet, sweetheart."

"oh?"

matty smiles. "wanna kiss you first, babe."

and who are you to deny such an appealing notion? you nod, and matty kisses you languidly. his free hand comes up to tenderly cup your jaw, and you smile against his lips; it's not as passionate as some of your other kisses, but as always it's imbued with pure love. you're totally content.

that is, until a tiny hand makes contact with matty's cheek, and he breaks away from you with an "oof". lyla giggles, and you can't help but join in - matty narrows his eyes at his daughter, but he can't resist smiling at her adorable little… well, everything. "excuse me, miss, but mummy and i were having a moment, before you interrupted it quite abruptly. which is actually quite on brand for you, to be honest, kid, given how you were... anyway, what is it you wanted?"

he boops lyla's nose, and she giggles again. as the noise fades into little hums, she turns towards you, reaching an arm out and looking at you pleadingly.

(matty's genetics. definitely.)

"oh, my girl, you want us to do a group hug? alright," you coo, moving closer to the two of them so you can take some of lyla's weight from matty. his free arm snakes a familiar path around your waist to tug you round, and the three of you have a little cuddle for a minute or so. you're reluctant to pull away from your family and the cosy little outpouring of love, and matty seems to be too, but lyla quickly gets distracted by something else and begins to wriggle.

as it turns out, the focus of her attention is her own reflection - you laugh when you realise, while matty cringes into his baby's shoulder. "yep, that's my fault."

"well, someone had to say it," you drily respond, looking in the mirror at your daughter's wondrous expression. "lyla, are you fascinated by how pretty you look in your cool outfit? it really is cool, by the way," you turn to matty. "good job, baby."

"oh yeah, you hear that, munchkin? we got the mummy seal of approval," matty cheers, dancing around a little and making lyla - and you - smile. he looks lovingly over her head at you. "and that's really good, because mummy's the coolest person in the world. and the most beautiful, although i think you're giving her a run for her money. but you do have her eyes, i s'pose - those would make anybody infinitely more gorgeous, if they had them."

you can feel your cheeks burning. you've lost count of the number of times matty's complimented you like that, and yet you still get totally lovestruck every time. "oh, shush," you grin bashfully. "i can't take credit for those beautiful curls, can i?"

"ok, true," matty nods. he sets lyla down on the tabletop - snorting as she immediately crawls right up to the mirror - and tugs you into his side. you immediately snuggle into his chest. "we really do make cute babies together, don't we?"

"we do," you say, smiling at your daughter before turning and wrapping your arms around matty's neck. "d'you want to make another one tonight?"

matty's breath hitches, and he tugs you down for a quick, head-spinning kiss before murmuring against your lips. "fuck yeah i do."

#mads muses #mads does writing #literal d word #d word matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #promptober75

259 notes · View notes

theunderestimator-2 · 3 months ago

Text

Hector Penalosa as captured by Melanie Nissen back in 1977 while performing at Larchmont Hall, Los Angeles, with The Zeros, a band of high school teenagers from Chula Vista, CA, who helped create the first wave of punk rock in Southern California (photo included in the photographer's 2002 "Hard and Fast " book with photos previously published in Slash Magazine as well as some never seen before).

cheunderground.site/ : "The Zeros, often referred to affectionately as the “Mexican Ramones,” cannot only justifiably lay claim to being San Diego’s first “punk” rock group but also can brag about being one of the first punk groups in the US. In a brief but brilliant career highlighted by some classic recordings as well as shows with the Clash and Devo, the Zeros played the first big punk shows in both Los Angeles and in San Diego as early as 1977, when they were still high-school students (…) at a time when greater San Diego was both indifferent to and unimpressed by counterculture movements of any kind. Zeros guitarist and lead vocalist Javier Escovedo hails from a musical family… His brother Alejandro founded San Francisco punk band the Nuns, whose pinnacle was opening for the Sex Pistols in their legendary final concert in 1978 at the Winterland, and, was the family member with the most influence upon his musical tastes. Zeros guitarist Robert Lopez and his cousin, Zeros drummer Baba Chenelle grew up together listening to music and learning to play the guitar and drums, respectively. Baba and Hector met in PE class at Chula Vista Junior High School on April 4, 1975, the Monday after KISS made its first appearance on Burt Sugarman’s “Midnight Special.” “I told this kid I had seen this band on TV with a bunch of makeup and platforms,” Hector remembers. “Baba said, ‘Yeah, man, they’re cool. I have three of their records, so I’ll bring ‘em tomorrow, and you can check ‘em out.’ Baba turned me on to a lot of cool music like Aerosmith, the Modern Lovers and the Velvets, and we became friends,” says Hector. Hector decided to switch to bass so that he could eliminate his competition. He began teaching himself to play bass using three albums as guides: “The New York Dolls”; the Dolls’ “Too Much, Too Soon”; and John Lennon’s “Rock and Roll.” During this time, Javier and Robert, who were students at Chula Vista High School, were playing in a band called the Main Street Brats, covering Standells, Seeds, and Velvet Underground songs, alongside Javier’s originals like “Main Street Brat,” “Siamese Tease,” “Wimp” and “Don’t Push Me Around.” They recruited Baba to be the group’s drummer, and later that year, when they needed a bass player, Hector was invited to audition at Javier’s house in Chula Vista. “I didn’t hear from them for a long time afterwards,” Hector remembers. “I finally asked Baba about it, and he told me that they weren’t sure because they thought if I joined there would be too many Mexicans in the band! They were looking for a blonde guy.” The band had now become the Zeros, a nod to a line by Lester Bangs Javier had read in Creem magazine: “I don’t wanna be a hero, I just wanna be a zero.” Founding members of the band Robert Lopez & Hector Penalosa reunited to form The Zeros ’77 and will be performing on a mini So-Sal tour on 17 Sept. in LA, 21 Sept. in San Diego & 22 Sept. in Long Beach. (from 'Getting Nowhere Fas't, a book on the '76-'86 San Diego scene by Ray Brandes of The Tale-Tell Hearts)

(via)

#hector penalosa #the zeros #1977 #punk #punk rock #melanie nissen #chula vista #SoCal #southern california #people

50 notes · View notes

themultifandomgal · 8 months ago

Text

From 2010- Start Of The Take Me Home Tour

2013

Part 29

23rd February- London O2

“I got this, everything will be fine” I say to myself in the mirror while my hairstylist/makeup artist Erin is putting my hair half up after spending the last few hours doing my hair and makeup

“Of course you’ve got this. Your going to be fine”

“It’s just the last time I was on tour Alex…”

“I know, but he would want you to carry on doing what you love. He’s here with you, I can feel it” Erin says finishing up “and we are done” just in time as well as there’s a knock on my dressing room door. Charlotte walks in with my clothes rack

“Time to get dressed, 5SOS have just gotten off stage”

“Ok thanks” I give myself one more look in the mirror, take a deep breath and let it out “everything’s going to be fine” I say one more time to myself before taking my pill and washing it down with some water. I take my first outfit from Charlotte and get dressed, meeting up with the boys back stage

“5 minutes” I hear a stage manager yell

“Alright?” Harry asks

“Hmhm” I nod smiling, but I’m honestly so nervous, more than I was during our first tour.

Soon enough I hear the intro to the tour and hundreds of screams. The start of Up All Night begins and we walk on stage. Annoyingly my inears aren’t working so I have to take on out so I can actually hear Harry before the chorus. I notice Louis also doesn’t have his in so while Zayn is singing both Louis and I quickly run off stage to see if the techs can fix the issue.

“Hello!” Harry shouts into his Microphone “we are One Direction and it’s and absolute pleasure to play for you today” as Harry talks Zayn hands me a water bottle “thank you so much f’being here”

“Thanks” I say to Zayn opening up the bottle and taking a sip of water

“We can see everyone!” I hear Harry shout

“Want to say that any louder?” I say to Harry

“Oh shush” Harry sticks his tongue out at me so I stick mine out back

“So mature” Zayn says shaking his head “so the next song we’re going to do, I’m not sure if any of you know it, it’s called One Thing”

“Come on O2. I tried playing cool….” Liam starts while Harry and I are dancing stupidly making Zayn laugh

“Shot me out of the sky. You’re my kryptonie. You keep making me weak, yeah frozen and can’t breathe”

“Somethings gotta give now, cause I’m dying just make you see that need you here now cause” I point to the audience who shout ‘you’ve got that one thing’

“Let’s here you O2!” Liam shouts.

“Everyone having a good time?” Niall asks “good stuff. Right the next part of the show is the most important part of a One Direction show. Let’s look at Twitter. Ok so we’ve taken in some of your questions and we’re gonna answer them here and now in the O2 Arena”

“Where’s cookie? YN I think this one’s for you” Zayn says. The boys all look at me waiting for an answer

“She’s with my friend Emma while where on tour. When we’re in Birmingham I’ll get to see her” I reply to the question

“Ok this one’s for me. What’s your favourite song to play on the guitar?” Niall reads “I think it’s a remix of what makes you beautiful and I’m sexy and I know it”

“Which Disney movie do you prefer?” Liam reads of

“YN will watch any” Harry laughs

“Hey I have a favourite”

“Don’t we know it Nants ingonyama bagithi baba” Niall sings

“And is Cookie is in the building you know she’s getting lifted up”

“Ok well what about you boys?” I ask

“There’s a few classics aren’t there, but I think I’ll have to go with the Lion King as well” Louis says

“Yes!” I run over to him and give him a high five

“Zayn I know your a man who likes cartoons. Talk to me” Liam says

“Tarzan”

“Good choice. Harry?”

“Is Dumbo Disney?”

“Is dumbo Disney?” I scoff “yes of course it’s Disney”

“You do fancy the little Mermaid though don’t you?” Liam teases

“I think it’s your turn” Harry dodged the question

“Mines more of a Pixar movie. It’s toy story” we finish up the Twitter section and continue on with the concert.

By the end of the night we are all exhausted. I get dressed in a pare of sweats and a jumper. I take out my contacts and place my glasses on. I grab my stuff and head out of my dressing room and knock on the boys’ door which opens in no time

“So that’s where my hoodie went” Harry says letting me in

“Oops” I shrug

“Are they my sweats?” Louis asks

“Maybe” I shrug again. Louis raises his eyebrows at me “ok fine but they’re more comfortable”

“Well now we know what to buy you for your birthday” Niall jokes.

#6th one direction member #one direction x reader #sixth one direction member #one direction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction

61 notes · View notes

askew-d · 3 months ago

Text

today i had an idea. that recess therapy channel, but make it wangxian.

teacher lan wangji, who recently adopted a-yuan, carried out his son’s desires to create a youtube channel interviewing other kids. he’s totally inept at it in the beginning, but fortunately his brother helps. and who would've thought? his son ends up making friends and he really finds children’s minds fascinating.

until their channel gets quite big. like, two million subscribers kind of big. other people interviewing him kind of big. and soon enough, his brother says, “wangji, huaisang wants to be part of one of your videos! he said it looks fun!”

nie huaisang didn’t have a large fanbase without reason. he was a well-known digital influencer with over ten million followers and a good writer. though lan wangji finds him odd sometimes, he accepts it. it couldn't bring any harm.

famous last words.

after nie huaisang, a lot of celebrities wanted to join in. lan wangji imagined it was for that facade of selling a good-hearted image inside the industry, but as long as a-yuan seemed to be enjoying, he continued.

in the two years he had the channel, he progressed to five million followers, hosted many top-tier artists along, interviewed hundred of kids — some more enthusiastic than others, that’s rather true — and received some proposals from famous entertainment companies to work with them, which annoyed lan wangji.

he continued being a teacher, a father and a host content creator for long, and one day, his son was checking his emails with him and jumped in excitement, “baba! look, look!”

lan wangji looked. it was a request from a certain wei wuxian’s agency, that, he later discovered, was one of the singer’s a-yuan and his close friends have been listening to lately. apparently, his rock band was very influential internationally, and when having a tour around china once more, he wanted to join for a video (why would his thirteen-year-old a-yuan be interested in rock music when humanity had the classical ones, he could never imagine).

lan wangji accepted, because again, it couldn’t do any harm.

well, maybe he should learn more about that expression, since wei wuxian was absolutely infuriating.

he was just a handsome, dauntless man in tight black pants and an oversized hoodie with the shiniest smile he has ever seen who got his son's favour in just minutes of conversation and could not, for the love of god, stop teasing lan wangji. lan wangji shouldn't be that affected by someone. he shouldn't be affected by the way he didn't care about social manners and plastered himself on lan wangji's side all the while he interviewed the kids as if they were intimate, but oh, what one shouldn't do truly wasn't how one acted or felt.

he found out that wei wuxian did have a good voice, although he secretly thought that he wasted it with those loud songs about rebelling against the government. he found out that he was exceptionally careful with children, withholding a balance of fun and wisdom; he had that carefree creativity and treated their worries with seriousness, struggling not to let them think he judged them childish. lan wangji was truly amazed at his character, and soon, they had recorded about four videos together.

and when it was all uploaded, the comments and views exploded. people focused more on them together than on the kids. it became the most viewed videos of his channels in no time.

"lan zhan, the numbers are growing each day! i'm so happy for that," wei wuxian said on the phone afterwards (when he proposed the idea of exchanging numbers, lan wangji was hesitant, but wei wuxian insisted that it was for them to share bunny videos, so he gave up on fighting the man, but weeks passed and they still talked more about their lives than just sharing said content). "but tell me, lan zhan, i think my amazing presence did bring some touch to your channel, won't you treat me to something as a sign of gratitude? you told me your family had a rule on being polite..."

they did have one. lan wangji told him once and it was enough to be engraved on wei wuxian's mind. he sighed and said, "mn. does wei ying want to have dinner with us tomorrow?"

wei wuxian laughed in apparent joy, and he shook his head slightly. it would be good to have someone over for dinner once in a while, beyond his brother. maybe he'd even buy some wine and meat for him, just as he said he liked.

lan wangji talked to wei wuxian some more, the other explaining about how his band would perform the upcoming sunday. they also talked about children, books and traveling. and on the other side of the room, a-yuan giggled in mischievousness.

#wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs #the untamed #cql #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #wangxian prompts #wangxian fic #wangxian drabble #wangxian ficlet #feel free to continue this if you want #ok i admit it i have a crush on the guy from recess therapy

26 notes · View notes

yatrikatour · 2 days ago

Text

0 notes

johnwickb1tsch · 8 months ago

Text

The Night Nurse ~ Chapter 10

A John Wick x Helen Fic

Masterlist / Chapter Map

Author's note: It's been a minute since I posted on this fic, I'm so sorry!! I lost a good chunk of this chapter to an untimely computer update (fuck you very much Windows) and I was so frustrated I just had to let it sit for a while. BUT I finally managed to re-write it, so here we are! I hope you enjoy! 💗💗💗 (Oh and the illustrations here are from the turn of the century version of Afanasyev's Russian Fairy Tales, the book John hid his marker in, in JW3...you'll see why.😉)

Times gets tough

Oh, they get tougher

Hold on to me

I got you, darling…

-I’ll be your man, The Black Keys

The walls of his library were lined with built-in bookshelves, filled to the brim with antique and vintage books. A single leather reading chair sat in the corner with a lamp and a small table. A larger table took up the center of the room with a proper book cradle. Helen breathed in, reveling in the magical smell of old books. She realized that this must be where John gets some of that intoxicating scent of his, bottom notes of leather and parchment paper. The chair in the corner looked well-worn, and she imagined him spending hours of his downtime just sitting and reading away the day.

For the umpteenth time, it squeezed her heart to the point of pain.

Throughout the course of the tour, they did not let go of each other once. John didn’t seem to mind handling books with one mitt of a hand, the fingers of his left laced tightly with Helen’s.

“Do you still have your book of Russian fairy tales?”

“Yes.” Gingerly he pulled it from a shelf, resting it in the cradle on the table.

They perused the book together, Helen leaning against his shoulder. He was warm, and solid as a tree, and for a heady moment it was difficult to concentrate on the antique tome, no matter how beautiful. The illustrations were utterly gorgeous, and she mentally kicked herself into focusing. She thought about a young John toting this beloved book around the world with him like a Lost Boy with his teddy bear, and the thought succeeded in tying her up in inextricable knots.

John turned to a page of an illustration of a lovely peasant woman in the woods, holding a torch made of a glowing human skull. “Oh, who’s that?” asked Helen.

“That’s Vasilisa the Beautiful,” answered John.

She hovered her finger over the first line of Cyrillic, careful not to touch the paper. “What does it say?”

John read it aloud, his voice low and all for her, and she sighed a little, not understanding a syllable. For some reason hearing him speak another language so easily, and something about the lilting cadence of the language in his deep voice, the soft shh and musical ya sounds of the Russian words inspired a curl of lust in her belly, a small thrill zipping down her spine. She shuddered lightly, and prayed he hadn’t noticed.

He absolutely noticed, his pupils blowing wide with desire. Doggedly, he kept them fixed upon the page below.

“Is that, ‘Once upon a time’…in Russian?”

“Something like that. This is a Cinderella story about a young woman who outsmarts her wicked stepmother and the Baba Yaga with her determination and the help of her magical doll. It’s one of my favorites.”

He’d seen a bit of himself in Vasilisa as a young man, straining under the yoke of his unforgiving masters. He turned the page to reveal a witchy old woman riding in what looked like an upright log. Helen couldn’t suppress a grin. “Oh look, it’s you, Baba Yaga.”

John snorted at that. “I still don’t know what idiot started that damned nickname,” he groused.

Actually, he suspected it was Marcus, but he’d never found out for certain.

“It sounds fierce, at least.”

His lips twisted in a smirk, and he couldn’t help himself from turning to look at her, then. Their faces were torturously close. “Think I should get some flaming skull torches for out front?”

“Yes, I think the neighbors would love that,” she deadpanned, and more felt than heard John’s responding chuckle.

He turned the page to a new illustration of a strapping knight on a black horse. “Oh hello, handsome. Who’s this guy?”

John narrowly resisted the urge to ask if she had a thing for men in black, even as that telling warmth clouded his brain.

“That’s…Night.”

“The night Knight?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Her lips twisted in a cheeky smile. “Nice. I like him.”

“You would.”

“I have excellent taste, John.”

He found himself looking at her mouth again, thinking her taste would be excellent. For the umpteenth time, he managed not to kiss her by the skin of his teeth. By the way she was looking at him...maybe he didn't need to be exercising such restraint. But maybe that was the excellent wine talking

Maybe he really was an idiot.

“So...in reward for being clever Baba Yaga gives Vasilisa one of the skull torches. She takes it back to her house, and when she lights the candles her wicked step mother and awful step sisters burn up.”

“Oooh. And she lives happily ever after?”

“Well...she marries the tsar, for what that's worth.”

Helen wrinkled up her nose, communicating her opinion on that. “Overall, I give it a nine out of ten.”

John couldn’t help it then. He actually grinned, showing teeth. “Glad you liked it.”

“Thanks for sharing with me.”

“My pleasure.”

She was still leaning on his shoulder, and was it him, or had she somehow sidled even closer, her body pressed to his side? Her eyes traveled leisurely from him to the book to the chair in the corner. It was then that she noticed that the bookmarked novel on the side table was a mass-market paperback she recognized quite well.

He’d taken her recommendation on the Codename Villanelle spy thrillers, despite teasing her about her taste in books, what felt like a lifetime ago that fateful night in the subway. The fact that he was on the second one touched her to no end, and she squeezed his arm.

“Aww, you’re reading about Eve and Villanelle,” she purred. “You like them?”

“Yes. You were right, they are fun.”

“Taking notes from Villanelle?” The Russian spy was wickedly clever at finding ways to kill her targets.

“Maybe. That poison hair stick was something. Think I could pull it off?” Helen reached up to curl a lock of his dark hair around her finger with a smile, and John couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of her touching his hair.

He was hopeless.

“Oh, definitely. You could so rock the man-bun.”

John rolled his eyes at that, reluctant to admit that he often did when training.

Helen looked back to the book, now with what John was learning to recognize as a sly glint in her eye. “I’m on practically the same spot in that book,” she noted. “Want to read me a chapter?”

John looked at his reading chair, the comfortable old soldier that it was. It was also the only place to sit in the room, and he went a little cross-eyed at the thought of Helen curled up in his lap in it.

There would be zero reading done, of that he was certain. He would debauch her for the first time in that chair, and maybe again on the table for good measure.

A virulent heat licked at his collar as he imagined it. Fuck him, but she was making him blush.

“Sure. Let’s take it to the living room,” he proposed, ignoring her lips pursed in a theatrical pout.

Minx. She knew exactly what she was doing to him—and he was increasingly unsure why he wasn’t just letting her have her way.

He scooped up the paperback book, her hand still firmly clasped in his other while he led them back to the recessed living room. He set the book down on the couch. “Want another glass of wine? I’m going to clear these dishes.”

He needed to clear his head, and he felt Helen look at him with some disappointment that felt a little bit like being stabbed.

“Can I help you?”

“No, this is your night off. Sit, relax. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” She seated herself on the couch with only the book for company.

She watched John practically flee into the kitchen, and wondered if she’d done something wrong.

Regaled by the sound of clinking dishes and the faucet running, Helen looked around at John’s shelves. They were rather bare, though she noticed he had a bit of a CD collection on display. It plucked at her nostalgia for the days before everything could be so easily accessed via the hand-held computers known as phones but so rarely used for actually talking.

Standing, she decided to be nosy and thumb through them. He seemed to favor classics, from classical music, to rock and blues. There was very little on the shelf dating from past the 90s, and that made her smile for some reason.

“See anything you like?”

She turned to find John with two freshly-filled wine glasses in tow. He set them on the coffee table, before joining her at the built-in cd tower.

“Some good stuff here,” she agreed with a Chili Peppers cd in her hand. The fiery pool with the ocean in the background on the cover tickled the nostalgia center in her brain for sure. “Who are these guys?” She pulled out a black and white album with a high contrast photo of a guy with glasses, and a bearded dude.

“Never heard of the Black Keys?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, honey.”

She chuckled. “Ok, do not pull the my taste in music is better than yours card. I will leave.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he defended with a sly close-lipped smile. “I reserve that card only for books.”

She snorted in answer, and found herself gravitating closer to him, even just standing there looking at his music. She just couldn’t help it.

That really was some good wine he served with dinner.

She watched as he popped open the jewel case, feeding the CD into the slot of his player. He hit a couple buttons, and the speakers erupted with a very bluesy distorted guitar riff. It was loud, and John laughed a little as she jumped—conveniently, into his arms.

“Sorry.” He turned down the volume slightly, his arms circling her waist almost of their own volition. It felt so easy, being with her. Maybe from the very moment they’d met, it just felt like she should be in his arms, and acting on it made something loud and uneasy always clamoring in the back of his brain to go quiet. She swayed her head and shoulders a little to the beat; it was impossible not to.

“John?” she asked from beneath his chin, brushing the soft scruff of his beard with her nose. It filled him with a tingling warmth, in the very marrow of his bones, a pleasure in this closeness that just seemed too good to be true. It was like a drug, better than cocaine or heroin or anything else he’d ever tried, and he didn’t know how he would ever let her go.

“Yeah?”

“They made you learn ballet at your…school, but do you like to dance?”

He’d spent so much time in night clubs, hunting, and acting as backup muscle for Tarasov while he closed business deals, but it wasn’t a setting he really enjoyed. He wasn’t sure he really classified the writhing and arm waving one engaged in at the club as dancing. He was familiar with other dance forms, but they didn’t come up often in his life.

“I feel like you’re actually asking me a different question,” he teased, leaning into her to reach out to skip to a different track.

“I am?”

“You’re asking if I want to dance with you?”

The first metallic notes of Dan Auerbach’s guitar rang out, and John swayed to the beat, a hand on her svelte waist pinning her close. With a smile she moved with him, her other hand finding his.

“Do you?”

He looked down at her with a glint of mischief in those shining dark eyes, and so much warmth that a flood of heat washed through her from her hair follicles all the way to her toes. This man. She really would follow him anywhere. Maybe the wine they’d drank lubricated this thought process, but she knew that didn’t make it any less true.

John knew that his answer to any question that involved an activity with her would be a resounding yes. Groceries? Yes. The dentist? Fine. Just hold his hand. He was broken for her.

“Of course I do.” He lifted his arm to guide her in a turn before pulling her close again, and she simply couldn’t help it. The joy in her heart soared.

Then the vocals in the song began, and Helen couldn’t help the fuzzy warmth that spread in her chest. Need a new love? I’m ready. Want my time? I’m willing.

There wasn’t a huge amount of open space in the living room, but John was very good at making do, leading her in steps to the beat, throwing in fun checks and turns and behind-the-back maneuvers that made her giggle. She knew she sounded drunk. It was on him though, far more than the wine. He made her happier than any one had in a very long time. Maybe ever, if she was being honest with herself.

To make things even worse, the chorus of the song rang loud in her ears with the infectious guitar riff: I’ll be your man. Mmm, I’ll be your man. She didn’t know if he picked this song on purpose for the lyrics, or the intoxicating rhythm, but she felt it in her bones, and in her heart, and every cell of her being; she was so attuned to this man.

She almost tripped when he attempted to twist her up like a pretzel in a figure-eight step, but he caught her, laughing with her as he held her close.

“I’m not that good,” she apologized, clinging to him more than she really needed to. He was just…so solid, and if she was being honest all she really wanted to do was climb him like a fucking tree.

His arm around her waist was like a warm band of iron, and he smiled gently down at her. She felt herself melting like chocolate in the sun, her knees gone weak beneath her.

“That’s ok. I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped from her throat. Because, she knew it was true, and not just here being silly dancing in his living room. She realized she trusted him not to drop her no matter what they were doing, or what they were facing. That kind of faith in another person, much less a man, was a rare and precious thing.

“John…” she said softly, looking up into his warm dark eyes from so very close. She wasn’t sure if she was asking a question, or if she just needed to cite his name like a prayer, invoke him like a saint in her personal pantheon. Maybe it was madness, but wrapped up in his arms like this, he felt like something to believe in.

Her eyes drifted down to his mouth, those full lips she’d coveted since the moment they’d met, if she was telling the truth.

This was the moment that John’s will to fight it broke at last. He felt it inside, not like a hard snap, but a definite release, like a boat coming unmoored, being swept down a swift stream. There was no more resisting. He was lost to her.

Pulled like a magnet, he finally leaned in that fraction of distance to press his lips to hers. His kiss was like a sunrise in her heart; warm and bursting, soft and sweet. She couldn’t stop herself from standing on tiptoe with a low moan, looping her arms around his neck as she pressed her body against his. It won her something like a deep growl that thrilled her to her toes, and greedily she wanted more.

She teased the seam of his mouth with her tongue, begging entrance he gladly granted. She felt the tremor in his arms as he held her, so tightly that he nearly lifted her from the floor. He kissed her like a starving man offered a life-giving meal, and her fingers fisted in his hair at the back of his head, holding him to her, holding on.

His heartbeat a thundering timpani in his ears, John felt like Helen’s lips on his was the answer to a question his heart had been asking his whole adult life. She was the air he breathed, the sustenance necessary to live, and the desire to drink her down, to eat her up, was a dogged, insistent demand from the darkest depths of his soul.

He never wanted to let her go.

With a ragged breath he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers, his fingers digging into her sides. She might have bruises later.

She didn’t mind.

She wanted his hands, rough or gentle.

She wanted all of him, and if he didn’t return his mouth to hers she was going to scream.

“Helen,” he panted. “I—”

The tinny electronic sound of his phone ringing in his pocket interrupted what might have been a foolish—or a life changing—confession. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, knowing he had to answer it. That was the deal with the devil he’d signed, when he didn’t really have any better choice. He was on call all the time.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

She nodded, but did not extricate herself, leaning on his shoulder while he pulled the device from his pocket. It was Viggo Tarasov, and his heart dropped like a stone. It was rare that the boss Himself called. He absolutely had to answer it, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t like what his pakhan had to say.

With a heavy heart he lifted the phone to his ear, his other arm still wrapped possessively around Helen.

“Da?”

“Good evening, John.”

John fought to keep the impatient snarl out of his tone, but feared he failed royally. “Evening, Viggo.”

“I’ve just heard some interesting things about your latest adventures about town. I think we need to talk.”

That was probably the understatement of the century.

“When?”

“Now.”

Of fucking course.

“I can be there in an hour.”

“Good.”

Viggo hung up, and John clenched the phone in his fist, fighting not to throw it across the room. He knew Helen heard every word for the way she sighed with disappointment, snuggling into the bend of his neck. The sensation of her front molded to his was heaven, and he didn’t know how to let her go.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized with lips to her forehead. “I have to go.”

“I understand.” There was some consolation, in that she sounded as devastated as he was.

“You’ll be ok here? My house is your house. Help yourself to anything you want.”

She made a kittenish little sound that sent all his blood straight to his groin. “What I want is leaving,” she informed him with a pouting lip, tugging on the front of his shirt.

He couldn’t stop himself then from stealing another kiss, a deep and probing thing that left her breathless and starry-eyed.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he told her.

“Promise?”

“Yes.” John wondered what Viggo had in store. If he was in trouble, or if his boss would send him out to teach the Medvedev boys a lesson tonight. He didn’t want to go hunting that night. Everything he truly wanted in the world, he realized, was standing right in front of him, looking up at him with melted toffee eyes. He cupped her cheek, memorizing every detail of her all over again.

He realized with a startling clarity that he could never get enough of her.

The intensity of his stare sent a thrill jetting down her spine. “John…” He worried her a little, when he got like this. She wasn’t afraid of him, exactly—but some little intuition in the back of her brain sang out that something bad might happen.

“It’ll be alright,” he told her, sensing her unease. “I have to change.” He kissed her forehead again, and disappeared up the stairs to his room.

Helen plopped down on the couch with a sigh, crushed with disappointment but knowing this was how it was, and she understood more than ever now that it wasn’t his fault or his choice. She picked up the Villanelle book, No Tomorrow, stroking her thumb over the cover, but not cracking it open.

When John stalked down the stairs he was wearing one of his slim-fit all black suits again, his hair slicked back from his face. He looked beautiful, and predatory, sleek as a panther stalking in the jungle, and fierce attraction warred with dread in Helen’s breast. She had a feeling that someone might die tonight, and it was so strange to think in those terms with such a sense of acceptance.

At least she knew John’s prey would be no one innocent.

“Don’t forget you owe me a chapter,” she said in a sing song tone as he approached, waving the book, trying to lighten the pall that had fallen upon the room.

The smile he paid her was filled with melancholy; she felt it like a knife between the ribs. “I won’t,” he assured her, taking her hand to press his lips to her knuckles. He paused, looking down at this beautiful woman seated on his couch, with her legs that went on forever and the warmth in her eyes all for him. There was nothing he wanted more, than to stay there with her. To lay her down and kiss every inch of her perfect flesh. He probably should have told her that, but he just sighed, and let her go.

“I’m going to leave this here, just in case,” he said, all business as he showed her a blocky black automatic pistol. “There’s one in the chamber. All you have to do is pull the trigger. It has a long trigger pull but please do not touch it unless you need it, and be very careful.” He stashed the Glock in a drawer beside the couch. “I’ll leave the alarm on. If it goes off I’ll get an alert on my phone.”

With wide eyes she nodded. “Do you…think the Medvedevs will come here?”

“No, or I wouldn’t leave you here alone.” He honestly thought this was the safest place for her. “But…” One never knows.

“Okay.” He could tell that he managed to scare her a little, and he hated himself for it.

“I’m being paranoid,” he tried to assure her. He dared add, “Because you’re precious to me.” She softened then, and stood to wrap her arms around his neck once more. Embracing her was as intoxicating as kissing her, and again John warred with himself as to how he was going to leave.

“Come back to me,” she demanded softly, kissing the soft scruff of his cheek.

“Always,” he answered without allowing himself to think about it, pressing his lips to hers in a long, gentle kiss filled with all the yearning in his heart.

Reluctantly, he slipped from her grasp, and didn’t look back.

She watched him go, admiring his tall dark form even as he was leaving her.

She heard the roar of the Mustang starting in the garage, and the trail of its growl as it prowled across the driveway, disappearing down the street into the night. She couldn’t help but feel like her heart sped away with it.

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x helen #helen wick #john wick the night nurse #keanu reeves

42 notes · View notes