#[ birthday posts 🎂 ]

[wizards101official]

Would try to insert a Laika reference into this caption but I would bust down in tears, per usual

[brian-in-finance]

A Tale of Two Tonys

and Brian knows the difference 😉

Part One of Four

It was suggested elsewhere in July* Brian confuses the Tonys’ roles. Brian’s own posts say otherwise. 🙃 (*Waited for today’s Happy Birthday 🥳)

Tony the band manager ⬇️

Band manager Tony McGill with Caitríona Balfe, his wife, in London England, 29 November 2023 (Image: Dave Benett/Wirelmage)

Tony the music producer ⬇️

Music producer Tony Hoffer with Joanna Sims, his wife, in Lyon France, July 2024 (Image: Instagram)

Here are some examples that dispute Brian confuses the Tonys’ roles. (Try to laugh with me. 😉)

Five posts, one theme

1.

Screenshot from Brian 27 March 2021

2.

• • •

Screenshots from Brian 30 April 2021

3.

The actress and her Scottish music producer husband tied the knot in August 2019, at St. Mary's Church in Bruton, Somerset, in the U.K. Much like their pregnancy news, the couple was discreet with their intimate nuptials.

• • •

Screenshots from Brian 18 August 2021

4.

• • •

Screenshots from Brian 6 March 2023

5.

• • •

Screenshots from Brian 8 March 2023

Remember… he’s not a music producer, by the way. I just have to do this... He really hates this because he manages bands. He's in artist management. One person wrote it and now everybody does. — Caitríona Balfe

Later edit: “Waited for today’s Happy Birthday” in the first paragraph should say “yesterday’s.” The birthday is 12 October. I got busy, posted late, and forgot to update. Oops… (This bit won’t show up on reblogs posted before 19 October 2024.)

[whitelittlebunny]

My first art this year aaand...its him, the love of my life 😩💜

Don't steal/repost. Otherwise Clavis will come after you 🐆🙂.

[itagakimizuki]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE @itsallaboutzayn 🎁🥳

[nightcourtcaps]

Night Court - The Apartment (S3:E15)

[heynhay]

⚡️🎸band battle!🎤⚡️

[holorform]

Happy Birthday to my Dear friend💛

*Lifts you up*

(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

"I may be short, but that doesn't mean I can not lift my dear friend up!"

Happy birthday @l4rge-spe4ker!

💛🎉🍰🎉💛

[chlorinecake]

hi!! i wanted to ask you your opinion about writing NSFW of riki. ive been seeing so many posts that disagree with it, and i also received both anon and open hate for saying that i am not against it. I'm the same age as jungwon btw, a little younger.

hi !! so, I’ll try and be nice abt this with you bc you’ve really given me no reason to be rude. I just find it creepy / disrespectful how some ppl are viewing Riki’s birthday as a green light for them to write NSFW content abt him instead of celebrating his transition into adulthood normally, y’know? I get that ppl will have differences in opinion concerning this, but you being “a little younger” than jungwon doesn’t make it less odd to me?? like, I’m more than a year younger than jungwon, and the idea of sexualizing someone born in my birth year (2005) gives me the ick, esp bc most of us are only 17/18 rn. Anyways, I appreciate you asking me abt this in a mature way. Still, ik that ppl are gonna write whatever their heart desires abt Riki, and in a way, it’s “okay” because he is technically legal now. And sure, every human has a sexual side, even 17/18 year olds like myself, but I’d rather ppl just wait until he turns 19 at least before they start, uh…. putting him down on some gangster shit :D But ofc, I’m not gonna stress myself out over this bc it’s too easy to block the content I’d prefer not to see on here 🥰 Ty, Tumblr ~~

And yes, there is a difference between 18 and 19, just like there’s a difference between 20 and 21 when it comes to drinking :D

[everysai]

【 Naruto x Sanrio collaboration illustrations 】

[caramellashton]

Happy 27th Birthday to the one and only calum hood!!

[leqclerc]

Outside the window, the world is dark, with only the occasional twinkle of a distant city or a star breaking through the velvety blackness. ↳ Charles and Bean and five birthdays over fourteen years Bean AU Words: 2527 *

She’s tiny, so small that she doesn’t even fully fill the cradle of his arms. 

Charles takes in his baby’s little button of a nose, the perfect seashell of an ear, the sweep of her delicate eyelashes, her rosy cheeks. He’s pretty sure she weighs less than the trophies he’s held aloft on the podium. 

One of the baby’s fists escapes the soft cocoon of her blanket. There’s a thin plastic band adorning her wrist that reads Baby Girl Leclerc.

He touches a finger to the ridge of her knuckles, feather-light. The loop of her hand closes around it with surprising tenacity. 

She’s awake and alert, looking up at him with the same intensity with which he’s gazing down at her, his wonderment reflected back at him in her big, slow-blinking eyes. Logically, he knows that he’s little more than a hazy image swimming across her blurry vision, but it still feels a lot like I know you. I remember you.

Of course she does—for months her entire world had been narrowed down to just him, and the timbre of his voice, and the warm steady beating of his heart and the oxygen they both shared. He’s everything she’s ever known; the first person she’s ever met.

It’s an all-consuming, dizzying thought. He hopes he doesn’t disappoint her. He’s not perfect, but he can be better. They did okay, so far, didn’t they, to get to this point.

“Béatrice,” he murmurs. “Chérie.”

one

Charles flies out of Amsterdam on Sunday evening. On the jet, he takes stock: the race was—okay. It could’ve been better, but mostly, it could’ve been worse. 

He’d ended up on the podium, at least, but he’s under no illusion that this will have any bearing on his championship hopes—those fizzled out before they ever had a chance to be fully-formed, the garage already resigned to another year of next year.

Bean’s already asleep by the time he arrives at the apartment to relieve Pascale of her babysitting duties. He leaves his bags in the hallway and goes to check on her, like he always does. 

She had been asleep long enough now that she had starfished over half the crib. The glow-in-the-dark stars—a staple of his own childhood—form a galaxy overhead, with her at the heart of this makeshift universe. She looks so soft in sleep. He wonders what she’s dreaming about.

✿

The morning sun filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the nursery. He allows Bean to wake up at her own pace, then guides her through her morning routine as usual. 

“Happy birthday, mon petit chou,” Charles says softly after she’s changed and dressed and ready to start her day. He lifts her high above his head, kissing both of her cheeks as she laughs, before settling her on his hip. Though unaware of the significance of today’s date, she easily picks up on the mood, her excitement mirroring his. 

There’s a celebratory cupcake waiting for her on the coffee table in the living room, a single candle perched in the center. Charles carries her over, leaning in so she can get a closer look. He watches as she stares at the candle with wide eyes, mesmerized by the flickering flame.

“Are you ready to make a wish?” He gently takes her small hand in his, helping her to understand what they’re about to do.

They successfully blow out the candle, the flame reduced to a tendril of gray smoke. Well—it’s mostly Charles doing the work as Bean lets out an amusing little puff of air in an attempt to mimic him. Still, he claps for her to show her she did well in an encouraging, positive affirmation kind of way. She giggles, clearly pleased with herself, and Charles can’t help but laugh along with her.

six

The Vista jet cruises smoothly through the night sky, the soft hum of the engines providing a gentle, rhythmic backdrop to the otherwise quiet, dimly-lit cabin. Charles sits in one of the plush leather seats, the glow from a single overhead light casting a warm, faint circle around him. Outside the window, the world is dark, with only the occasional twinkle of a distant city or a star breaking through the velvety blackness.

Bean’s curled up on the seat across from him, sleeping off another busy, excitement-filled day in the paddock. The blanket he draped over her has shifted, so he leans over and carefully tucks it back around her, making sure she’s comfortable.

As Charles sits back, he glances at his watch, noticing the time. It’s just past midnight, marking the official start of Bean’s birthday in their timezone. A soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he realizes it’s already her day, and here she is, sleeping soundly, completely unaware. 

There’s a perceptible shift in the weight of Bean’s body when she falls asleep—even now, when she sometimes dozes off in his arms and he has to carry her to the car, her limbs going loose like she’s giving her whole self over to Charles. It’s an achingly artless kind of trust.

Tonight, in the quiet cocoon of the jet, it feels as if time has blessedly slowed down, just for a moment. He reaches over and gently brushes a curl from her forehead, careful not to wake her. The soft rise and fall of her breathing is steady and soothing.

In just a few hours, they will land in Nice, where the city lights will greet them as they descend toward the coast. They’ll celebrate her birthday properly then, with cake, presents, and all the things she loves. But for now, Charles is content to sit here in the calm of the night, watching over her.

eleven

Charles retreats to his driver’s room after the Sunday morning strategy meeting, glad for the respite, a moment away from the bustle of the race weekend. He glances at his phone again, his thoughts drifting to his daughter.

It’s her birthday today, and for the first time, they aren’t spending it together. Instead, Bean is miles away at a karting circuit in the south of France, competing in one of the biggest races of her blossoming junior career.

His heart tugs as he imagines her, blonde curls wild under her helmet, focused and determined, not unlike him. He knows this is exactly where she wants to be, doing what she loves, but it doesn’t make the time apart any easier. He’s always been there for her birthdays. Not being there today feels strange.

Charles sighs and taps his phone, pulling up FaceTime. He waits a moment, hoping she’s not on track or too caught up in pre-race nerves.

A few rings later, Bean’s face appears on the screen. She’s sitting in the paddock of the karting circuit, green eyes bright with excitement, cheeks flushed from the heat of the day. The sight of her, even through the phone, makes Charles smile.

“Happy birthday, ma puce!” he says, voice warm.

“Thanks, papa!” Bean grins, her usual exuberance shining through. “Ready for the race?”

Charles chuckles. “Always. But today’s not about me, it is about you. How are you feeling? Nervous?”

“A little,” she admits, pushing a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s a big race, and... I kind of wish you were here.”

His chest tightens at her words. He hates being apart on days like this, but he knows how much karting means to her, and this is an important milestone in her young racing career. “I know, Bean. I wish I could be there too. I’d give anything to watch you race today.”

She smiles softly, though he can see a touch of sadness behind it. “It’s okay. I get it. You’re doing your thing, and I’m doing mine. I mean, it’s kind of cool we’re both racing on my birthday, right?”

“It might be a sign,” he says. “Two Leclercs racing on the same day—it’s got to be good luck.”

Bean laughs, her mood lifting. “I hope so. I’m going for the win today.”

“I am sure you’ll do great,” Charles reassures her. “You’ve worked so hard for this. Just trust yourself and enjoy it, okay?”

She nods, her confidence slowly returning. “Yeah, I will. And you? You better win your race too. It’ll be like an extra birthday present.”

Charles chuckles. “No pressure, huh?”

A brief pause follows. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’m not there, Bean. I wish I could’ve made it work. But I’m proud of you for everything you’re doing. Always.”

“I know, papa,” she says softly. 

A beat, and then: “I miss you.” There’s a startlingly vulnerable expression on her face, eyes big and guileless. “But I’m okay.”

He smiles, feeling a swell of emotion. “That’s my girl.”

Suddenly, someone in the background calls her name, probably one of her karting team members. She looks over her shoulder, then back at Charles. “I have to go now, I think. I’ll call you after the race?”

“Of course. I want to hear all about it,” he says. “Good luck, chérie.”

“Thanks, papa. You too.” 

Charles stares at the screen for a long, lonely moment after the call ends, feeling a mess of conflicting emotions.

fourteen

The lights at the hotel’s two-Michelin-starred restaurant have been dimmed for the dinner service. A gentle murmur of conversation floats through the air. 

Béatrice’s gaze drifts to the name card that sits beside a bouquet of fresh water lilies—its elegant lettering marking her place at one of those reservation only tables—and then beyond it, at the expansive windows that afford sweeping views of the impeccably manicured hotel gardens, bathed in the moonlight. She longs to excuse herself, to step outside and drink in the night air, but forces herself to stay seated as the first course arrives: a delicate plate of lobster carpaccio, thin slices of tender meat arranged artfully with microgreens, lemon zest, and a drizzle of olive oil. It’s one of those dining experiences where the dish is dwarfed by the size of the plate it’s served on. 

The meal is rich and flavourful, as expected, but her sour mood has sapped her appetite. She takes a few bites, then resorts to subtly pushing her food around the plate as her eyes drift to Charles.

He’s sitting next to her, but his attention is elsewhere. She watches as he makes polite, uninspired conversation with sponsors, wearing a practiced smile as he nods along to some business magnate’s stock market analysis. She doesn’t recognize the man, vaguely wonders if she should. He’s like everybody else here, just another face in the sea of well-dressed guests that surrounds them—models, executives, and industry moguls mingling easily, all gathered for Giorgio Armani’s exclusive event. Everyone seems so absorbed in their glamorous world—except her.

The second course is a perfectly cooked filet of beef, topped with shaved truffle and paired with a side of buttered potatoes and seasonal vegetables that looks like it came straight from a painting. It melts in her mouth, but it still doesn’t feel right. She shifts in her seat. The straps of her Chanel ballet flats bite into her ankles. 

She understands—these events are important for his career. It’s just. It’s not how she imagined spending her birthday. 

Dessert is an intricate chocolate mille-feuille with layers so fine and precise they look almost too perfect to eat. It’s accompanied by a tiny scoop of Tahitian vanilla gelato—and she has to admit, it’s delicious. But the grandeur of it all only makes her long for home that bit more.

As Charles leans in to chat with one of the executives seated beside them, Béatrice glances at her father. He looks handsome, as he always does in formal attire—crisp white shirt and tailored black Armani suit, the smoky, earthy notes of Tom Ford’s Oud Wood lingering long after the conversation has ended. But she can see the faint tension in his smile, the subtle weariness in his eyes. He’s working, even now, appeasing sponsors with casual banter and posing for photos whenever someone approaches their table. He makes the politesse look effortless, but she knows better. This isn’t how he wants to spend the evening either.

She sighs softly, glancing down at her watch. It’s well past 10 p.m., and they’re still at the table, with no sign of the event winding down anytime soon. She twirls a strand of her curly blonde hair absentmindedly, her eyes wandering the room, taking in the unfamiliar faces. 

Charles, catching her fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, places a gentle hand on her arm. “Okay, Bean?” he asks quietly, his voice soft with concern.

She nods but can’t hide the weariness in her expression. “I’m fine,” she says, though the truth bleeds through her words. 

Charles frowns, guilt creasing his brow. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your birthday, mon cœur. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he says, squeezing her hand gently.

Béatrice offers him a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay, papa.”

He nods, his heart heavy as he glances at the surrounding tables. The guests are still engrossed in their own conversations. With a deep breath, Charles makes up his mind. They’ve done their duty, fulfilled their obligation. Now it’s time to leave.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, standing up and excusing himself from the table with polite nods to the sponsors.

Her eyes light up with relief as she grabs her small handbag and follows him out of the restaurant, the cool night air hitting her face and easing the tension she hadn’t realized had built up in her shoulders. A sleek, black chauffeured Mercedes waits at the hotel entrance, the driver opening the door for them as they slide into the back seat. Charles gives her a tired smile as the car pulls away from the hotel, heading towards the airport.

She leans her head against the window as they speed through the quiet streets of Milan, watching the city lights blur past. By the time they arrive at the airport, the weight of the evening has caught up to both of them. The private jet is waiting on the tarmac, ready to whisk them away. 

She claims the familiar window seat, and he settles into the seat beside her, leaning back and watching as she makes herself comfortable, curling up and resting her head on his lap, like she used to when she was small. He cards a soft hand through her hair as they lift off into the night sky.

✿

Charles surprises her with a silk Hermès Équateur scarf, the one with the vibrant jungle print. He smiles, watching her trace the shape of each animal with something akin to reverence. And then Sebastian’s just unbearably old school about it, gifting her a curated CD mix of songs he thinks she might enjoy. 

They sit on a bench overlooking the Limmat, eating a selection of pastries from a local café—schnecken, with cinnamon and hazelnuts, nussgipfel, and warm, buttery croissants. The water is calm. The pastries melt in their mouths. Béatrice leans against Charles, resting her head on his shoulder, content in the moment. Sebastian sits beside them, stretching out his legs and tilting his face up towards the sun.

[brian-in-finance]

A Tale of Two Tonys

and Brian knows the difference 😉

Part Four of Four

It was suggested elsewhere in July* Brian confuses the Tonys’ roles. It’s also suggested one Tony entered the spotlight only when a(n imagined) narrative required a participant. (*Waited for today’s Happy Birthday 🥳)

Longer still before TV-Outlander…

The Fratellis — Jon, Mince, and Baz — and manager Tony McGill at SXSW 2007 (Photo: Wikipedia)

Music agency wound down after discord over funding

A MUSIC organisation which helped Franz Ferdinand and Snow Patrol find fame has been wound down amid uncertainty over its financial future.

One official from NewMusic in Scotland (Nemis) has criticised the government and the Scottish Arts Council (SAC) for failing to give contemporary music the level of support of other art forms.

However, the SAC said Nemis had failed to provide audited accounts and a business plan, and pointed out that a number of its board members had resigned recently. It has already had GBP 100,000 of public money.

Nemis, which has an office in Jamaica Street, Glasgow, offers advice to musicians and bands on a one-to-one basis and through organised seminars, as well as helping with marketing and promotion. It also has had a pivotal role in the annual Musicworks convention in Glasgow.

Two years ago, it produced a promotional CD of Scottishbased bands which went to some of Europe's most influential industry executives at the MTVEurope Music Awards in Edinburgh, including offerings from the-then little known bands Franz Ferdinand and Snow Patrol.

But now the four-year-old development agency has said it has run out of money and it will effectively have to halt operations. Only its website, offering contacts and diary dates, will remain.

The agency has had arts council grants worth GBP 70,000, and GBP 30,000 in start-up help from Scottish Enterprise.

Alec Downie, new music development officer forNemis, said the body could not continue its work and was scathing of "elitism" in arts funding.

"In my view, the arts council is nepotistic and bureaucratic and, most of all, is out of touch with what is happening now. I would argue that the likes of The Delgados, Chemikal Underground, and Belle and Sebastian are culturally significant, but they (the arts council)would not.

"That shows the mentality of the people that control the arts here."

Scott Twynholm, of the Glasgow electro-pop band Hoboken said help from Nemis had proved vital. The band released an album last year and will release a single next month.

"Through Nemis, we appeared on two CDs which were distributed at the majormusic conferences throughout the world, " Mr Twynholm said.

"There is no way we would be in the position of recording our second album, or our new single, were it not for the help and advice Nemis has provided."

Tony McGill, manager of The Fratellis, who recently signed to Island records, said: "I have got the MD of Island to send a strongly worded e-mail to the SAC because the work Nemis does is crucial.

"When you are starting out as a band, you don't knowwhat to do, you don't have the contacts or the knowhow, and Nemis supplies all that. I am shocked this is happening."

An SAC spokeswoman said there was no doubt of "absolute commitment" by Nemis to its work, but the council was "a steward of public funds and needs to be confident that public funding is being spent to best effect in an organisation that can clearly articulate where it is going".

She said it was not accurate to say that Nemis's funds had been cut, as it was not given revenue grants, but one-off assistance. Neither, she said, had it officially applied for new funds of any kind, nor did it raise any of its own income.

The SAC statement added:

"Essentially . . . it is an issue of confidence: information requested has not been supplied - fundamental information such as audited accounts and a clear business plan.

"We are primarily concerned with the governance and structure of Nemis. It is unclear whether Nemis is a membership organisation solely or is a limited company purporting to represent the contemporary music sector in Scotland."

SUCCESS STORIES

NEMIS promotional CD given out at MTV Europe Awards in November 2003 included:

The Darts of Pleasure - Franz Ferdinand

Spitting Games - Snow Patrol

I Love You Cause I Have To - Dogs Die in Hot Cars

Sons & Daughters - Johnny Cash

With Aplomb -Biffy Clyro

Maybe It's Time -The Grim Northern Social

Black Path - Aereogramme

Destroy Rock & Roll - Mylo

The Herald 26 October 2005

Music Week 2 September 2006

World Radio History 26 April 2008

World Radio History 7 June 2008

Remember… when you are starting out as a band, you don't know what to do, you don't have the contacts or the knowhow, and Nemis supplies all that. I am shocked this is happening. — Tony McGill

MD - music director

Later edit: “Waited for today’s Happy Birthday” in the first paragraph should say “yesterday’s.” The birthday is 12 October. I got busy, posted late, and forgot to update. Oops… (This bit won’t show up on reblogs posted before 19 October 2024.)

[ahappydnp]

did phil ever visit dan while he was on tour? if yes do you when?

no :( phil didn't visit him on tour because it was when he was really struggling with his dizziness and was getting a lot of tests done/not able to travel. the only wad date he went to was london night 2

in dan is leaving me they did mention phil joining him in australia (jan 2023) for a "holiday" which would make sense since there was a gap in shows right around phil's birthday. so i think they did plan on it but couldn't due to phil's health. he was also supposed to go to the last show in iceland (and then have a holiday there with dan and pj and sophie right after) but that show was canceled

[mashbrainrot]

I made it very clear right then that I was not interested in replacing Wayne as Trapper. ... The M*A*S*H people said right off that it would be a new role, B.J. Hunnicutt ...

... When we started, we had very little. It was agreed that we would all flesh him out by committee. But he was straight, to contrast him to Hawkeye. When I say straight, that really brought out some problems. The writers thought straight meant straight - he had no nuttiness to him, he could get boring very quickly. We had a lot of discussions, not battles, to make him less predictable. ... I had to stand my ground for B.J. or there just might not have been a B.J.

- Mike Farrell, on the creation of B.J. Hunnicutt, from 'The Complete Book of Mash' (Suzy Kalter)

[neonvandalsxcb]

📱• He flips the light switch on, shuffling excitedly in as Jisung shoots up from his bed. “It’s midnight!~ Happy birthday to our Jisungie!~” He cheers, holding up the camera as Mark twists the confetti popper.

☕️ • “Happy birthday, Jisung.” He hums, passing the cake to him with furrowed brows. “Don’t drop it.”

🎧 • “Oh my god,” He covers his face, flustered as he holds the plate securely in his palm. “Don’t record! I look awful!” He whines shyly, getting off his bed with a sheepish smile. “Thanks guys.. but now confetti is all over my room!”

🍉 • “Oops~” He shrugs with a laugh.

🍉 • “Happy 23rd birthday to the chaotic prodigy himself! We’re spoiling him later in the morning. For now, he gets his usual request to not go big. But, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some extra wishes and attention.” He smiles brightly.

[ 🎧🎶 • 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆’𝐬 B-Day Playlist (2023) — “Feel free to join me and listen to my playlist for my birthday!” ]

• Curtis Waters — Stunnin’

• Troye Sivan — Rush

• Jagwar Twin — I Like To Party

• Confetti — Hot

• Manéskin — FEEL

• Rihanna — S&M

[freyanistics]

I’m officially 24 years old!