#Avon answers

[fishsouper]

i want to gnaw on your art. you have shown so much improvement over the last few months it’s insane. i have no idea what genshin is but your art is just wonderful

thankyou so much aah,,,, i am in return gnawing on your sparkly gifs of house md characters :)

[j-august]

"One is for ever hearing of persons who have lost their fortunes at gaming, but one never hears of anyone who has won a fortune. It seems very odd to me. Where do all the lost fortunes go to?"

Georgette Heyer, False Colours

[eggs-can-draw]

I am here to ask about parsley! (If this sent twice no it didn't my Tumblr hates me)

Heeho parsley time!! I’m gonna divide this into the surface level Fun Facts and then go into her whole “schtick” under a read more!

She’s French! She only rlly lived there as a child but knows a decent amount of the language

Her last name is “Avon” in reference to the river Avon (purely cause I think she’d find it being the “river river” really funny)

Pun lover and maker

I’m gonna be going into this one a bit in the read more, but she’s trans! Her parents are supportive and helping her transition but its…complicated. Put a pin in this.

She comes from a very well off family with a lot of generational wealth, and her family is Matriarchal

Her mother is a world famous scientist, and she inherited her curiosity for the world

She has a strong sense of justice, and will always do what she believes is Right, even if it means getting her hands dirty

She’s been childhood friends with Nova for a long time, starting out as pen pals. She doesn’t approve of how Nova treats people, but somewhat understands where she’s coming from and just wants her friend to be okay

She used to live in The City, in a small penthouse she was Miserable in.

Basically, she moved to the mountain town this story takes place in due to both her parents jobs. Her father is starting a new super store chain and wants to “personally oversee its development” and her mother needs a place she can easily see the stars for the sake of her research.

The super store is a hit and quickly takes over the town, causing the rest of the shopping district to struggle to survive. In an act of rebellion, she becomes “The Azure Swan” and robs the rich in order to give to the poor.

As for that pin we put in her being trans, it accidentally went into defining her home life a little. I went into writing her like “okay. She’s gonna be trans, but I don’t wanna make a story about a trans character that solely revolves around her identity.” And then accidentally did that. Lmao.

So her parents Do Accept her but it’s not Unconditionally. Her parents believe that if she’s going to be a girl, then she needs to “play the part” correctly. She needs to be prepared to take over the company and live up to the legacy of both of her parents. She needs to excel in everything she commits herself to, and represent her family as the peak of perfection they believe themselves to be.

It’s exhausting, and puts a lot of pressure for her day to day, but she manages (just barely)

Her arc is about self acceptance, and understanding that she doesn’t need the validation of her parents to get validation from herself. She doesn’t need them to define what Being a Woman means for her.

[writing-the-end]

i am not normal about this fic if you couldnt tell

Lol but we love it! Asks and comments and people being excited is what encourages me to continue!

[ozzgin]

Can I have yandere Aka Manto x Reader? I see you write Japanese myths, cuz why not?

Yandere! Urban Legend x Reader [Aka Manto]

You never know when you're going to meet your soulmate. It could be on a beach at sunset, on the last bus home, in the elevator of an office building...Or in a public bathroom after you just finished your business. Nevertheless, this urban legend monster has its eyes on you now.

Content: gender neutral reader, urban legend, part horror part comedy, gore!, monster romance

"Are you deaf? It's occupied!" you shout one final time, giving the door a swift kick to emphasize your presence. That's what you get for using a public restroom. Your coworkers had convinced you to try out another bar after the company dinner, and you might've had one too many cocktails. Thankfully most of the drinks were watered down, although it is exactly because of this detail that you're now hovering above a toilet seat with a full bladder. On a Friday night, in the partying neighborhood of the city, so it could explain the persistent stranger - possibly even drunker than you - who keeps rattling the lock of your stall.

To your horror, the handle begins to turn, and you hear a click. You scramble to get up and secure the door, but it's too late. With your pants halfway down, you gawk at the bizarre individual squeezing his way in: a tall figure wearing a red cloak and a mask. "What the Hell?" is all you can mumble to yourself, awkwardly gathering your garments in order to preserve your remaining ounce of dignity. Out of all the things to happen tonight...Alright, calm down. It's most likely a crackhead. You cast your eyes down and focus on the floor tiles, with patterns strategically chosen to hide as much grime as possible.

Pretty. Almost too pretty to kill. He might just take his time with you and savor the moment. Of course, you'll have to answer his question first. With bureaucratic efficiency, he pulls out two rolls of toilet paper and extends them to you. "The red one, or the blue one?" he asks with theatric gravity. What in the Avon samples Hell is this, you think, fidgeting nervously and avoiding any eye contact still. If you ignore him, he should lose interest.

A minute passes in heavy silence. His ghastly arms begin to tire, so he lowers them with a disappointed creak of the joints. "Y-you have to pick one", he insists. Damn it! Perhaps you've been told what to do if approached by mischievous spirits like him? Ignorance means you keep your head, though he was hoping for a gory night of entertainment. You can almost feel the intense stare coming from behind the eerie mask. The tension becomes unbearable, so you finally decide to push your luck. You will not spend the night stuck with a deranged pervert looming over you in a public bathroom.

Without further delay, you shove him aside and open the door. He lets out a surprised hum, observing your daring gesture and almost expecting you to run for your life. To his even greater shock, however, you stop to wash your hands with a relaxed whistle, completely unbothered by his presence. What happened to the fear, the terror, the dread? You peek at his reflection in the mirror, and your lips curl in a mocking grin. Maybe it's the alcohol finally hitting your nervous system, but all you see right now is a pathetic charlatan who tried to intimidate you with literal toilet paper. A good-for-nothing scoundrel interrupting the innocent from their much-needed bathroom break.

In fact, the more you consider your situation, the more your chest puffs with outrage and bravery. You pay your taxes, you help the needy, and this is how your civic deeds are rewarded? By having your stream cut midway? Unbelievable. Unacceptable. No other soul shall suffer your fate tonight. "Wretch!" you cry out, turning towards the aggressor and continuing your demands: "Evacuate the premises at once!"

You might not understand it yet, but your act of defiance has sealed your fate. The hooded monster smiles, relishing the words that have closed the gap between your fragile body and his blasphemous claws. You have spoken to him; thus, he can do with you as he desires. And yet, his murderous fingers hesitate. Your entrails should be splattered across the rarely polished porcelain by now. What's holding him back? He tilts his head in contemplation, but any intention to ponder his feelings is quickly discarded once a loud shriek pierces his ears.

As it turns out, someone else had been using the neighboring stall and was alerted by your little argument. Their finger is pointed at the cloaked creature, features twisted in disgust and fear. "Can't you tell we're busy?" The mysterious man inquires sarcastically. On second thought, this should be enough to satisfy his cravings.

With a snap of the fingers, the frightened bystander is torn apart by invisible hands right before your very eyes. Their limbs detach with surreal ease, and blood splatters everywhere in hot, sticky bursts. In your petrified daze, you are reminded of nature documentaries: blurry snippets of sharks trashing their victim around, fleshy chunks coming undone from the violent handling. Within seconds, the bathroom is quiet again. The walls and ceiling are drenched in fresh blood, and occasionally, fat droplets collapse into a puddle with resounding echo.

It all falls into place. The hooded creature claps its hands, startling you back into awareness. "That's what it was!", he says with enthusiasm. He approaches you with quiet steps, cushioned by the meaty remains coating the floor. He places one hand over the mask, removes it, and gives it a shake as if to clean off the crimson fluid. You involuntarily gaze at his face, taken aback by the handsome traits. Is this the appearance of a ruthless ghoul who butchers mortals for amusement? You wouldn't believe it if it wasn't for the hot trickle of foreign blood trailing your skin.

"I think I've fallen in love with you", he confesses with a wide, saw-toothed smile. You feel a clawed finger tracing your cheek affectionately. "Well? What're you so silent for? You were quite cheeky a moment ago!" he continues tauntingly, gripping your chin and forcing you to look up. "Or have you seen what happens when you misbehave? No, no, darling, I'd never! There are other ways in which I can ruin you."

You're suddenly very cold. With dry lips, you eventually open your mouth to speak: "I'm not leaving here, am I?"

"You could, but that would make me very upset."

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom!Reader: Boy Moms

Good morning Hawkins I decided to take a break from my fanfic for a minute and write this short little thing out because fuck it I want to write little mundane crap about Dad!Eddie. Also because you know this GIF is how the fuck Eddie's sitting watching the conversation happen when some deranged boy mom starts speaking. Let me just preface by saying before I get mobbed: There's nothing wrong with whatever gender a child is, but boy moms scare the shit out of me. Seek therapy.

Warnings: boy moms (gags), sexism

****

“Having a boy is just life changing. I’m sorry that you’ll never get to experience true love.”

The silence was so palpable that you could almost hear the comedic sound effect of the metaphorical record scratch in both of your brains as all thought stopped. Eddie had been in the middle of packing the diaper bag in the stroller while you were putting your four-month-old in the bassinette. The two of you had been politely trying to cut the brunch date short.

You immediately wondered if you misheard the woman in front of you.

Not quite slack jawed, just with wide eyes, you and your husband both leaned forward over the pristine white linen tablecloth of the café table. One of your “mom��� friends - a woman by the name of April Laurentis - sat back across from the two of you and flounced, the magenta of her Avon lipstick bleeding into the cracks of her mouth. She was admittedly not the typical company you kept. Rather a desperate attempt to connect with other parents in Hawkins, and so far had been the only mother to agree to have brunch with an impoverished pair of fresh out of school metalhead parents who lived in a new doublewide with an uncle in Forest Hills Trailer Park.

“I’m sorry, what?” Eddie asked, blinking away the confusion in his face.

“You had a girl, and girl mothers just do not have the same bond as mother and son.” April said, flouncing her blown out curls dyed autumn barley.

She looked right at you and pointed a manicured finger.

“You won’t know true love until you have a son.”

You mouthed a soft ‘what the fuck’ under your breath, watching as Eddie leaned his elbow on the table. His wide brown eyes were fixated on the older woman before him; the corners of his mouth drooping in a grimace that made his smile lines transform into deep trenches on his face. His fist went to his mouth, as if trying to stop himself from speaking.

But of course, Eddie and his big mouth…

“So you’re saying that my wife…” Eddie had to really emphasize the ‘wife’ part, “Like… the first actual girlfriend I’ve ever had, since high school… I’m not her first true love?”

Eddie was a lot of firsts: first boyfriend, first true love, first sexual encounter, first baby daddy to your unwed eighteen-year-old self until Uncle Wayne paid fifty dollars for the marriage license at the Hawkins courthouse after Charlotte was born. Now hopefully, he was your first and last husband.

“Of course not!” April scoffed, “Because little Charlotte is YOUR first love, daughters are always their father’s first love… Your wife will never know true love until you give her a son.”

April dismissed this with a hand wave while her two-year-old started banging a spoon against her chair. You and Eddie just stood there, unable to comprehend the woman’s delusions of a particularly horrifyingly obsessive nature.

“… so you’re saying that your son, little Timmy over here…” you pointed.

“Tanner.”

“Right, Tanner… you’re equating Tanner here to romantic love…?” you asked, dreading the answer.

“It’s just different.” She argued, “You’ll never understand the bond I have with my baby boy. He’s my whole world!”

“And our daughter is what…?” Eddie asked, “A statue? A ghost? An object? What exactly are you trying to imply here? That my kid requires a penis for them to be counted as a valid member of the family to be loved? That’s a little medieval fiefdom of you, don’t you think?”

No sooner did the words leave his mouth, April began to go off on you even though you hadn’t even said anything, ranting about how you would never understand the deep bond that a mother and son shared because you hadn’t birthed one. Her spiel devolved into a delusional, impassionate speech about how you and Eddie would never understand: her heart was breaking just thinking of her baby boy loving another woman other than herself, and how she couldn’t imagine how Eddie’s mother must have felt when you ‘stole her son away from her’.

You had to lay your hand across Eddie’s chest to prevent him from turning over the table at that comment, and with one last hateful look, April gathered up her child and left the café, slamming a ten-dollar bill on her untouched plate of mixed greens.

For a long time, both you and Eddie just stared after her retreating form.

“… Am I on glue or did that really just happen?” you ventured after a while.

“No… that sure did just happen,” Eddie replied, “That was definitely a real conversation, and it was batshit crazy.”

“I won’t know real love, until I have a son.” You repeated, looking at your baby.

Charlotte had her fist in her mouth, gnawing away at her chubby little fingers with her gums.

“So like… the whole high school sweethearts meeting, falling for one another during a gig at The Hideout, having insane amounts of sex, popping out a kid, moving into the trailer park together, and getting married… That’s not love?” you asked.

“Apparently not.” Eddie responded to your rhetorical question, “I guess your husband is just some dude who occasionally contributes sperm, and the kid is the true love? Mark that down as fucking gross.”

“… okay so you totally picked up on the weird Oedipus vibes from her right?” you quickly asked.

Eddie, still horrified, nodded.

“Oh, hell yeah I did.” He said, “That was definitely Oedipus Complex... you didn’t hear the banjos?”

“I was hoping I had misheard.” You admitted, giving a full body shudder.

The two of you stood, put a few crumpled bills on the table and flagged down a waiter to collect the tab, then began the long, awkward walk to the Gaucho. Both of you were still downright horrified at the turn the conversation took, wondering what sins you committed to get to this point.

“Um… so… Definitely blacklist April as a potential mom friend.” You said, pulling down the visor on Charlotte’s bassinette to protect her from the sun.

“Most definitely blacklisted, I don’t want to know what kind of screwed up family life she’s had leading up to that delusion.” Eddie said, pushing the stroller along the sidewalk, “And I don’t want to expose Charlie to it either.”

“Oh she totally grew up overshadowed by her brothers.” You said immediately, “That’s textbook Freud. And she probably still has all those residual mommy issues, plus a hell of an Elektra Complex.”

“One hundred percent.” Eddie said, “Deep-seated mommy daddy issues, and from the sounds of the first love comment, a dead bedroom.”

“Jesus H.” you laughed, covering your mouth while Eddie let out a dark giggle, “Oh my god… that’s kind of terrible.”

“It’s true!” he argued, “You can’t sit here and tell me she has a great marriage with comments like that!”

“Yeah but that’s gross to say!” you argued back, still unable to help the uncomfortable laughter.

“Trust me,” Eddie laughed, “I guarantee you she was rotting with jealousy. Especially when at the beginning she made comments like ‘It must be so nice that your husband babysits your daughter for you’.”

You shook your head, wrapping your arm around Eddie’s as you both began laughing and making hideous gagging sounds every time either one of you brought up April’s weird son complex.

“See this…” you said, waving your hand in a circle, “This encounter we just had, this is why the aliens won’t talk to us.”

“Amen to that, baby.” Eddie shuddered, “They lock the fucking doors when they drive by us because of ‘boy’ mothers like April Fucking Laurentis.”

[ranticore]

I thought I'd make a quick "here's how u pronounce" for some names/words in inver & hibernogallic (the french language spoken there)

If I was really hardcore about it I'd post voice clips of me saying the words but if I did then u would know that i am shocking bad at french

Inver - not pronounced like the real world place Inver. It's more like "awn-ver"

Esk - not what you think - try to mash "esk" and "ash" into one word while you say it Comes from the first syllable of Eiscir.

Félix - sorry fellas it's "fay-LEES" as in 'lease'.

Senca - that's "San-ka"

Islin - you can pelt me with sticks and rocks for this one. It's "Ish-la"

Ó Donnchadha [Islin's surname] - irl this is the root of "O Donohue" but it's not spoken that way. "Dun-a-ha" is the best way I can write that without explaining how lenition sounds ('cha')

Erica - short for Ericales so it's like "er-ee-ka", not the feminine form of Eric.

Sionnach [Eri's surname]- "shun-ach" again with the soft ch. You can google how to pronounce that one

Carhaix - no fuckin clue I think it's car-ay

Lough - just say "lock" don't even try anything else

D'Ouilly - it's like Dwilly but ppl in Inver sometimes call them Dawleys.

Sidhe - you know how to pronounce this one

Searrach - if you got Sionnach right then you can work this one out too I believe in you

Amhan - that's "awan" and yes from the same root as avon

Invergorken - from Inbhearr Ceann, locals would scrub out the middle syllable and just say "Inverken". You can tell an outsider by their more careful pronunciation

Síofra - "shee-fra"

Valéry - not like Valerie, heavy stress on the second syllable so it's "vaLERy"

Ye - everyone is wrong about this. It's not "yeh" it's YEE and it's a plural "you". Similar to yous, yeez, or y'all

Wycombe - a real place I've been to multiple times and we'd see the road signs and go ahh it's WHY-CUM-BEE but it is in fact pronounced wiccam or if you prefer, Wickham. Basically the only time I let a character have an English name.

Some additional notes on the language - it's mutually intelligible with hibernian and aquitanian but considered really ugly by native speakers of both those languages. The most common complaint is that it sounds like someone speaking their language through a mouthful of rocks

There are no standalone words for "yes" or "no" - when they are used (and I made sure while writing that they are not used often in dialogue), it's usually as an additional affirmative in a sentence, and not in answer to a question. I slipped up a few times tho

To answer a question in the affirmative or negative instead of saying yes or no, you just repeat the verb from the question - "did you sleep?"/"I did" - "have you seen this?"/"I haven't"

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Mikokoro, Center of the Sea

"Center of the Sea, Eye of the World, Shrine of Enlightenment. Seek it for answers. Seek it for healing. Seek it and return transformed." —Scroll fragment from the ruins of Minamo

Artist: John Avon TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[cozymoko]

PERFORM, FOR US.

word count: 1.9k

WARNING(S): slight yandere themes, suggestive behavior

Yandere! Ice Skater x Pianist! Reader ❄

It's freezing, both outside and in. But it's winter so that’s to be expected. While a smooth, chilling breeze nipped at the skin of many, warm blankets shielded the bodies of many more. And before they knew it, the Winter Olympics were just around the corner.

Your fingers twitched above the monochrome keys, itching to play whatever dared enter your mind. A faint hum had just barely buzzed past your sealed lips, reaching the curious ears of the man sitting before you.

This year’s theme: Soft Wonderland

It was strange, you thought so too. But that didn’t stop you from giving it your all. The way you played piano was something otherworldly, and you were just as lucky to have such a skilled skater performing it.

The skater in question was seated directly to your right.

You reached out and lightly flicked his exposed forehead. “What’s with that look; is there something on my face?” Your question was rhetorical, even dripping with a hint of sarcasm; yet it flustered him all the same.

VINCENT hastily shook his head, placing a pale hand on his reddened skin.

You opted to ignore the look of admiration that had painted his sharp features. It didn’t suit him. Not at all. On television, he was a blessing to the eye. Gifted a cold exterior and a face to match. Most of his fans viewed him as the reserved, prince-boyfriend type, who’s protective and well-composed no matter the circumstance. If not for his previous interviews, you could even say he seemed unapproachable. 

Ugh, they couldn’t be more wrong.

Vincent Yves Beaumont is a star in the making. Thief of Hearts and Trophies galore. A real gentleman, who's real easy on the eyes. A prodigy, successfully obtaining more than a handful of awards at the young age of twenty-two. Born in France; raised in Belgium, fluent in at least three languages. That in which has gained him quite the fanbase.

He was amazing, in the eyes of the public. Made to be something phenomenal — a star. Vincent was…he was…

A big fucking baby.

Even now, he rubbed gentle circles into your thigh with the smooth pads of his thumbs. His arm was propped against the edge of the piano-polished frame while his chin rested upon the base of his free hand. He was close, incredibly close. So close that you swore you felt the richness of his cologne tickling your nose: Cinnamon with a hint of pine. The faint remnants of mint mingled within his scent subtly. It was pleasant, but you distanced yourself anyway.

A quick glance at the clock was enough to send your heart spiraling. You only had an hour, sixty fucking minutes, to record all the edits you made on the sheet music before Vincent’s big performance. Although after having an inner monologue, mid-session at that, you truly anticipated nothing less.

“Se concentrer! Nous avons peu de temps.” You scolded. 

'Focus! We don’t have much time.' Those were your exact words, in French at that. Despite it being your first (and his), you only used it when he managed to annoy you. Unfortunately, that was arguably his favorite pastime.

Why did this irk you so? One might ask. And luckily, there’s a simple answer to this unbelievably idiotic question. It’s the Olympics for crying out loud and this childish fucker was going to be representing you! Sure, you didn’t doubt his abilities; he had quite the talent. But still, you never worked well under pressure. You have a whole reputation to uphold!

You were a composer, after all. A damn good one at that. For only being twenty-six, you easily retained the talent of someone well into their sixties. You spent most of your early twenties frolicking alongside plenty of well-renowned figure skaters; Vincent being one of them. You had won a handful of awards along the way, along with plenty of generous deals.

Meaning, that everyone had high expectations for you.

A soft chuckle breezed by your ears. It was deep but just the right amount. If you hadn’t known better, then you’d say your viable hysteria amused him. Hmph, What a sadist.

“I am,” He grins earnestly. “I promise.”

Maybe you’d believe him, just this once. You were even tempted to give him the benefit of the doubt. But when he snaked his arm around your waist, all your hope when flying out the window. Then again, you didn’t have much of it anyway. “Vincent, get off of me you pervert.”

“Noo, You’re my lucky charm, I need you in order to perform well tonight.” The brunette whined into the crook of your neck, his nimble fingers toying with the fabric of your wool sweater.

Vincent shifted practically all his weight on you, causing you to go tumbling off the side of the wooden piano stool. You wrap your arms around him for support, refusing to acknowledge the sinful sound that slipped past his rosy lips. For fucks sake, he acts like a virgin.

Then, as if he couldn’t get any closer, leaned in and gently ran his tongue along the shell of your ear - like a cat in heat. Vincent’s pretty lips tug into a subtle smirk, purring, “If I win first place, will you reward me, Mon cœur?”

Never mind, definitely not a virgin!

Your heart was drumming against your chest, cheeks flushing at the man’s proximity. Fuck! Fuck!! Fuck!!! What were you supposed to do? He’s getting far too close for this to even possibly be appropriate, not to mention he called you “his love”. 

You shrug him away weakly, just barely maintaining your composure. Vincent slightly loosened his hold on you, only to meet your gaze. Half-lidded eyes, blessed with long and full lashes. His chin rested on your chest, his hair tickling your exposed clavicles.  His cheeks adorned a deeper shade of red, as though just the sight of you was managing to rile him up. This alone was euphoric.

“Please, [Name].”

God, he looked shameful. What a perv.

Using all of your strength, you push him out of the room, slamming the door right in his face. “Go get dressed, damn it!” You managed to scream through rigid breaths. This was no longer your problem — Vincent was no longer your problem. This was an issue for Hualing — his makeup artist; or Enlai — his stylist. 

For that fact, you were grateful.

“Fuck, I only have thirty minutes left!”

After dropping the CD, you hailed a cab to take you back. Your lungs were screaming for air; your back practically collapsing in on itself. At this point, you were positive that the only thing keeping you from quitting it all was a shit ton of stress and adrenaline. But just as you were about to unlock the door, a loud DING echoed through the hotel's vacant halls.

Hesitantly, you opened it.

MR. ALWAYS ON TIME (VINCENT’S COACH):

Hey, [Name]! Just so you know, Beaumont won’t be the first performer today….

▷ delivered 19:34

To your delight (and vexation), Vincent would be the third performer of the night. “Gee, thanks,” You replied. That definitely would’ve been great to know earlier.

That evening, you were able to put those extra minutes to good use. You’d cleaned up rather nicely, compelling those around you to compliment your attire. They’d never guess you were an absolute wreck not even forty-five minutes ago.

You greeted his coach with a curt nod, before sitting a few seats down from him. Due to your reputation, others were quick to offer you seats closer to the front. And there was no chance in hell you were going to decline.

You learn back in your cushioned seat, blasting soft classical music over the booming voices of those around you. From what you knew, Vincent should be on any minute now and ready to—

“AHHH!!!” 

You sigh, “I spoke too soon.”

Squeals that mimicked pigs and spoiled children tore through your ears (and sanity). It was loud, so loud that not even your headphones could withstand its volume. You reach to massage your temples, peeling your eyes open to try to focus on the man before you.

Once on stage, he bowed to the judges before adjusting his posture, allowing the bright stage lights to catch the purple shimmers decorating his uniform. His smile commanded the audience’s attention; seemingly genuine with deep dimples pooling at its sides. Full, ebony strands parted and combed out his eyes.

Cat-like, hazel eyes flicker over the vast audience; left to right, side to side. In search of something - or rather someone. The star was quick to find you, watching him with a certain regard that made his heart flutter. He felt light, under your gaze. It burned him, like a flame nipping away at frostbitten fingers. Hungry, craving more than what should suffice. 

A feverish smile tugged at the corners of his rosy lips, one he didn’t bother to hide from the public. Vincent still acted like a young schoolgirl in your presence. Despite meeting you all those years ago. Despite being your fan as long as he can remember.

“Now for the star you’ve been waiting for, the heartthrob of a century…Vincent Yves Beaumont! ”

Gliding along the sleek ice like a Blue Jay spreading its feathered wings. Vincent’s movements showed a feeling of contentment and even bliss. Each quad looked like mere child’s play as he landed them, perfect without the tiniest flaw. Each turn was perfect as though he was programmed to perfection. Each and every axel he executed pulled a series of silent cheers from the crowd.

The skater nearly rolled his eyes, for he couldn’t finish his choreo fast enough. He didn’t want to pretend like he enjoyed being down here, at least a hundred feet away. He didn’t want to compete for something as insignificant as a medal when he could have your love as a prize instead. But he did it in a heartbeat…for you.

Nothing mattered if it wasn’t for you. 

If not for you, this career meant nothing.

The fame didn’t matter if you weren’t experiencing it with him.

He wanted you - No, needed you.

And he’d fucking have you too.

You hum in realization as the last three lines of your song carried through the wind. Vincent’s performance was coming to an end. Landing his final quad loop, smoothly transitioning into a back-counter triple counter. His choreo had ended, and with it your song. He bowed once more, drowning in a sea of applause that engulfed the stadium.

Roses, Peonies, whatever you could think of was thrown in the ring. Yet, Vincent didn’t bother to acknowledge one. His eyes were locked on you, yours on him. You gave him a friendly wave, and to your surprise, he did not reciprocate it. That in itself was weird.

Now, you may not be a genius but the look in his eyes was far from normal. Everyone’s precious star, Vincent, was staring at you like a lion watching its prey. If you hadn’t known any better you thought he’d be already trying to pounce on you at that very moment. Hah, and you’re not wrong! He could hardly strain the animalistic urge to take you home and finally make you his.

That’s when it hit you, you’ve never seen him lose a competition. So that “deal” you made earlier was getting closer and closer to becoming reality. And something told you he wasn’t going to let you go~!

“Fuck me, bro.”

[givreencres]

Ereshkigel

En :

There was a time when I asked you...

Will you follow me into the darkness?

Will you follow me into the meanders?

Will you follow me into the light?

Will you follow me to the edge of emotions?

Will you follow me wherever my steps lead ?

Will you follow me through the ages?

Will you follow me through the tumult of time?

You didn't answer me

I kept asking you these questions

Again and again...

In the course of discussions and the passage of time

Through the turns of our meetings and the events of our lives

We followed our own paths

Our paths always intertwined

And yet you never answered me

And yet we were always there

For each other

One with the other

Love transcending time

Love fighting against the wind

And my eternal questions...

Will you follow me through adversity?

Will you follow me through melody?

Will you follow me where peace awaits?

I never expected a gesture from you

Just a word

A word you couldn't say

A word to set me in motion

And an action I couldn't take

Too long to go without an answer

And yet we're still each other's

So tonight...

I take the world as my witness

I give up everything for you

No more waiting, no more fear

Just one sentence...

Hanging in the air for eternity...

I...

Love You...

Ereshkigel

Fr

À une époque je t'ai demandé...

Me suivras-tu dans les ténèbres ?

Me suivras-tu dans les méandres ? 

Me suivras-tu dans la lumière ? 

Me suivras-tu à la lisière des émotions ? 

Me suivras-tu là où mes pas nous guideront ? 

Me suivras-tu à travers les époques ? 

Me suivras-tu à travers les tumulte du temps ? 

Tu ne m'as pas répondu 

J'ai continué à te poser ces questions 

Encore et encore...

Au détour de discussions et du temps qui passe 

Au détour de nos rencontres et des événements de nos vies 

Nous avons suivi nos propres voies 

Nos chemins se sont toujours entrelacés

Et pourtant tu ne m'as jamais répondu 

Et pourtant nous étions toujours là...

L'un pour l'autre 

L’un avec l'autre 

Amour transcendant le temps 

Amour luttant contre le soufflant 

Et mes éternelles questions...

Me suivras-tu dans l'adversité ? 

Me suivras-tu à travers les mélodies ? 

Me suivras-tu là où la paix nous attend ? 

Je n'ai jamais attendu un geste de ta part 

Simplement un mot 

Un mot que tu ne pouvais dire 

Un mot pour me mettre en mouvement 

Et une action que je ne pouvais entreprendre

Trop de temps à passer sans réponse 

Et pourtant nous sommes toujours l'un à l'autre 

Alors ce soir...

Je prends à témoin le monde 

J'abandonne tout pour toi 

Plus d'attente, plus de peur 

Une seule phrase...

Suspendue dans l'air pour l'éternité... 

Je...

T’aime...

Ereshkigel

© Givre Encres

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA For ruining a coworker's "business opportunity?"

For a bit of context this happened in the Summer of 2020. Also I'll be using the term MLM frequently and in this case it means "multi-level marketing" so comapanies like Avon, Tupperware, Monat, Vector-Cutco, LuLaRoe, etc. A

So I have this coworker let's call her T and in July of 2020 I got a FB message from her that said "Hey girl, so I recently started my own business and I thought you would be the perfect candidate to join my team! We'll be selling cooking and bakeware which should be right up your alley given how much you love to bake! So what do you say are you ready to join my team and leave [place of employment] behind?" I was immediately suspicious about the uncharacteristic tone of her message and asked her "What is the company name?" And she responded with "Pampered Chef." (an MLM). For the record, I am extremely anti-MLM, and know from following several anti-MLM YouTubers that hardly anyone makes any kind of money in those comapanies. So I politely declined her offer. And she immediately said "But you would be perfect! It would be just like when you sold Girl Scout cookies when you were a kid! I need you to join my team!" And I told her "I'm not interested in selling bakeware for an MLM. So my answer is still no." (Also bold of her to assume I did any of the cookie selling when I was in Girl Scouts, I gave thr forms to my parents and they did the bulk of the work).

I thought that was the end of it until I got an invite to an IN-PERSON (remember this was July 2020) Pampered Chef party at her house that at that point 40 people had RSVP'd to. I declined again snd blocked the group and a few days later I got another invite which I again declined. And the process repeated several more times. One day I got one at work within earshot of the manager's office and loudly said "Oh my GOD T I'm not going to your Pampered Chef house party in the middle of a pandemic!" Which got the manager's attention (we had already had one incident where an associate's wedding turned into a super-spreader event where 20 other associates ended up missing work due to Covid) and he asked me what was going on. And me being fed up with the near constant harassment, she messaged me several times a week and even went to my dad about it (he worked at the same store we did), I told him everything. And the following day T announced on Facebook "Unfortunately due to the current state of things, I regretfully have to cancel the in-house Pampered Chef party." She had also messaged me "thanks to you I can't hold my party or recruit people from work. Why did you tell management about it?" And I told her I was fed up with the constant harassment and didn’t see any other way of making it stop. I ended up blocking T after that. And thought it was the end of it.

Until her husband messaged me on FB several weeks later "Hi, I'm [so-so] T's husband, she asked me to reach out to you on her behalf to ask you if you would be interested in joining her team at Scentsy (another MLM that sells scented wax melts) she can't seem to message you for some reason." And I responded "Sir, with all due respect I've already had to threaten to file a harassment grievance against T if she continues to try and recruit me for her "businesses." My answer is still no and I will ask you to never contact me about this again otherwise I will go through with my threat." He apologized and I never heard from him again. T on the other hand makes snide remarks about how I ruined her businesses every time we happen to be on the same shift. And how I didn't have to be a narc and go to management about it and I should have just let it be. So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[lacesconfidences]

Tu es Gay ?

J'étais étudiant et mon éducation avec ma soeur et Christine m'avait permis de goûter tous les plaisirs des deux sexes. J'avais eu le plaisir de faire l'amour avec Christine à quelques reprises lors de nos jeux de l'après-midi, sur leur demande à toutes les deux. Mais… Je n'avais pas encore eu de relation sexuelle avec une fille en dehors de notre cercle intime. L'occasion s'est présentée avec ma première chérie, rencontrée à l'Université. Le souci, vous vous en doutez, était que sous mes dehors de garçon "normal", j'étais plutôt féminin. Dans l'armoire de ma chambre d'étudiant, il y avait peut être deux ou trois slips de garçon mais ils étaient perdus au millieu des petites culottes, des petites jupes et robes, des collants et de mes nuisettes ! J'avais presque autant de vêtements de fille que de garçon et beaucoup plus de lingerie. C'est dans ce cadre, en fin de soirée, que j'ai reçu ma première chérie dans ma chambre. Je ne lui avais rien dit par peur de la moquerie (j'y avais déjà eu droit à la piscine) et j'avais un peu honte aussi. C'est lorsqu'elle a déboutonné mon jean qu'elle a eu la surprise. Elle a découvert une culotte de coton blanc décorée de dentelle et de petites fleurs qui couvrait mon sexe presqu'entièrement épilé. Elle a eu un petit mouvement de recul et elle m'a dit : " Tu es gay !" Non, bien sûr que non ! J'aime trop les filles et j'aime me sentir bien dans mes dessous ! lui ai-je répondu. Craignant qu'elle parte, je lui ai demandé de m'écouter et je lui ai raconté mon histoire, mes apprentissages… ma vie cachée. Cela a pris un peu de temps et peu à peu elle s'est rapprochée de moi et elle a repris son exploration de mon jean. Nous avons ensuite fait l'amour et je pense que je lui ai donné du plaisir. Mes enseignements reçus de ma soeur et Christine m'ont permis de savoir comment m'y prendre. Nous sommes restés ensemble ensuite pendant quelques semaines nous avons partagé beaucoup de choses, à commencer par mes culottes qu'elle adorait m'emprunter !

******************************************************************

You're gay!

I was a student and my education with my sister and Christine had allowed me to taste all the pleasures of both sexes. I had had the pleasure of making love with Christine a few times during our afternoon games, at their request. But… I had not yet had sexual relations with a girl outside our intimate circle. The opportunity arose with my first sweetheart, whom I met at the University. The problem, as you can imagine, was that under my "normal" boy exterior, I was rather feminine. In the wardrobe of my student room, there were perhaps two or three pairs of boy's briefs but they were lost in the middle of the panties, the little skirts and dresses, the tights and my nighties! I had almost as many girls' clothes as boys' clothes and much more lingerie. It was in this context, at the end of the evening, that I received my first sweetheart in my room. I hadn't told her anything for fear of being mocked (I had already been mocked at the swimming pool) and I was a little ashamed too. It was when she unbuttoned my jeans that she was surprised. She discovered a pair of white cotton panties decorated with lace and little flowers that covered my almost entirely shaved sex. She took a step back and said to me: "You're gay!"

No, of course not! I like girls too much and I like feeling good in my underwear! I answered her. Fearing that she would leave, I asked her to listen to me and I told her my story, what I had learned… my hidden life. It took a little time and little by little she got closer to me and she resumed her exploration of my jeans. We then made love and I think I gave her pleasure. My lessons from my sister and Christine allowed me to know how to do it. We stayed together for a few weeks and shared a lot of things, starting with my panties that she loved to borrow!

[mama-29]

After several months of absence following an accident I was going to go back to high school. I phoned my best friend. We had worked together on a presentation before my accident. Since then we hadn’t seen each other. She picked up the phone. My throat was tight. We had finished our evening work in a very ... pleasant way with great pleasure.

She answered me by saying, is it you? Yes I’ll be back tomorrow.

She said, It’s really wonderful

I could show you the result of our work!

I have so much breast pain right now, but I don’t blame you. It’s so wonderful if you knew!

We hung up. I didn’t quite understand the relationship with her breasts and our presentation—

The next day I arrived at the entrance of the school. She was waiting for me. I stopped sharp, eyes wide open! She was .... Pregnant! So pregnant! And her breasts so huge and tight! I got her pregnant the first night! But she was so happy and grateful. Her belly was so round and big.

She approached me and whispered in my ear: I missed you so much, darling. Let’s go home and make up for lost time in my room...

She lowered her head looking at my pants. She smiled and told me I think you are willing to come inside me...

—————————-——————————————

Après plusieurs mois d'absence suite un accident j'allais retourner au lycée. J'ai téléphoner à ma meilleure amie. Nous avions travaillé ensemble sur un exposé avant mon accident. Depuis nous ne nous étions pas vue. Elle a décroché le téléphone. Ma gorge était serrée. Nous avions terminé notre soirée de travail d'une façon très ... agréable avec beaucoup de plaisir.

Elle m'a répondu en me disant, c'est toi ? Oui je reviens demain.

Elle m'a dit, C'est vraiment merveilleux

Je pourrais te montrer le résultat de notre travail !

J'ai tellement mal aux seins en ce moment, mais je ne t'en veux pas. C'est tellement merveilleux si tu savais !

Nous avons raccroché. Je ne comprenais pas trop le rapport avec ses seins et notre exposé...

Le lendemain je suis arrivé à l'entrée du lycée. Elle m'attendait. Je me suis arrêté net, les yeux grand ouvert ! Elle était .... Enceinte ! Tellement enceinte ! Et ses seins tellement énorme et serré ! Je l'avais mise enceinte le premier soir ! Mais elle était tellement heureuse et reconnaissante. Son ventre était si rond et gros.

Elle ses approché de moi et m'a murmuré à l'oreille : tu m'as tellement manqué mon chéri. Rentrons chez moi rattraper le temps perdu dans ma chambre...

Elle baissa la tête en regardant mon pantalon. Elle sourit et me dit je crois que tu est disposé à venir en moi...

[mazzystar24]

Hello

Hope im not bothering you and I dont know if this had been talked about before on your blog but I was really really curious about your opinion on something. I know we have to take a grain of salt when it comes to actors interview cause they don't write the show but what are your thoughts on Ryan using neutral gender pronouns when talking about Eddie's possible futur relationships? (Using partner and themselves instead of girlfriend or herself when he has been until the marisol break up very much explicit with using lots of femal pronouns concerning Eddie's love interest and relationships)

Like I said I know Ryan most likely isn't aware of much for season 8 but its very likely that some stuff must have been talked about and I dont want to be that buddie shipper but to me it's screams that it has been talked about, and I'm not saying it has been confirmed among themselves but with him using gender neutral it screams so loud that at least buddie has been talked about. Sorry that was long but its been wracking my brain and I really wanted your opinion cause honestly I love being one of your avons cause you are always lovely and sweet and formulate very lovely responses (thank you so much btw cause I really really love when you answer me ❤️)

Lots of love from anon that appreciate you like im sure many others do ;)

HI BABE IM SO SORRY I NEGLECTED YOU💐💐💐💐 I only just caught up on the interviews that had dropped

Like these bits oml the secret optimist in me is SCREAMING

Like yes Ryan is stressing a million times that s8 is very much a question mark on what will happen and that he as an actor is the last to know yada yada but I love the way Ryan is like “partner” and “them” very interesting indeed

Also love how much he understands Eddie but that’s a whole other story

But yeah what he wants with Eddie stopping the cycle of looking for a mom for Chris and instead looking for something NEW and for himself is just so perfect and exactly what we’ve been begging for

Also I keep seeing people referencing more stuff so if you have specific snippets you wanna send me please do because I think I might not have found all the articles

Ahhhhh and I love having YOU as one of my anons you guys are literally the sweetest people ever 🫶🫶🫶

Lots of love and I appreciate you sm 🥰🫶🫶🫶

[boobo13cambridge]

Skyfall | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé | OC

As she gazed out of the window, her eyes lingered on the sprawling cityscape of Paris below, a tapestry of lights and shadows. With a resolute heart, she made a silent vow to herself - to live fiercely, to be the champion for those silenced in the shadows. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but her resolve was unyielding, a debt of honor to the one who believed in her when doubt cast its long shadow. He had been her mentor, her guardian; he had taken her under his protective wing at a time when skepticism clouded her every step. His unwavering presence had been her fortress, standing valiantly by her side, a solitary defender against a sea of naysayers in those echoing halls of judgment that was the Assas.

A solitary tear, a crystal testament to her inner turmoil, traced a path down her cheek, caressing her skin like a whisper of the past. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply, though the city's air was tinged with the bitter notes of reality, but mostly pollution (and was that piss?). A sudden, sharp cough, rattled her body, breaking the spell of her reverie. A rueful smile touched her lips as she mused on the cinematic trope of the enigmatic lawyer, solitary and contemplative, gazing out over a city - a scene far more inspiring in a James Bond movie than in real life.

With a finger raised towards the dark sky, the young woman whispered a prayer into the night. 'Vae victis,' she breathed, her words a soft caress against the chaos of the world, 'woe to the conquered.' Her whispered incantation rode the winds, a spectral force, stirring an unseen tremor that resonated through the city, a silent herald to those who would stand against her. 

Chapter One

August 12th, 2023

Parc des Princes

8:00 p.m.

One hour before kickoff, Laila was seated in the office of President Nasser Al-Khelaifi, wishing he would just get to the point. She had to admit, Kylian Mbappé possessed an almost uncanny ability to send the club's president into bouts of extreme hypertension. The obsession with the young French star seemed borderline obsessive to Laila, almost creepy. She often marveled at how Mbappé managed to maintain his composure and resist the urge to confront the old geezer. From a business standpoint, however, she could grasp why the PSG president was so adamant about retaining the French prodigy; after all, money makes the world go round.

Despite her desires to be anywhere else, fate had different plans. Her late mentor had insisted that she start her so-called mission with the French football club for reasons he didn’t entirely foreclose. It was in these moments, she felt a deep kinship with Harry Potter who also had a mentor who seemed to leave the world with more questions than answers despite the world going to shit. Even from beyond the grave, he seemed to enjoy watching her struggle in this unexpected role. Being a lawyer for PSG was far from what her teenage self had envisioned for her future. But such was life.

“Je ne peux pas croire qu’après tout ce que nous avons fait pour ce connard, il ne veut pas renouveler. Il veut quoi de plus put-” the president grumbled in his accented french.

“Avec le plus grand respect, Mr. le président,” Laila interjected, “vous devez comprendre que les résultats du PSG après le mercato n’étaient pas satisfaisant. Vous lui avez promis un bon mercato, et pourtant, ils ont été éliminés dès les huitièmes de finale en ligue des champions. Et pourquoi? Parce que vous avez mis tout l'accent sur l'acquisition de stars. Sérieusement, qu’est-ce qui vous a traversé l’esprit en voulant avoir Messi, Neymar, et Mbappé dans la même équipe? Et vous pensez vraiment que Messi allait s’essayer si proche de la retraite?”

The words tumbled out of Laila before she could stop them, her frustration with the president's incessant complaints reaching its peak. Sometimes, he acted like a petulant child.

“Et alors, c’est de ma faute ça ?” President Al-Khelaifi retorted defensively.

“Si vous voulez des stars dans votre équipe, Mr. le Président, vous devez avoir un entraîneur capable de gérer leurs égos astronomiques. Messi venait du FC Barcelone, et il était évident le respect qu’il avait pour le PSG. Malheureusement, un coach comme Christophe Galtier ne fait qu'empirer les choses,” Laila countered.

“En tout cas, passons à autre chose. Je veux que tu ailles voir Mbappé et sa famille et que tu essaies de le convaincre. Ils vont être là ce soir pour voir le match.” (As usual, the president didn’t want to discuss anything that put him in a bad light)

“Peut-être que la première chose à faire serait de lui dire qu’il ne sera plus dans le loft?”

“Oui, oui, dis-lui qu’il peut revenir, mais je veux qu’il reste. C’est compris?”

“Sí, señor,” she replied sarcastically, exiting the room swiftly as she noticed President Al-Khelaifi’s eye begin to twitch.

As Laila stepped out of the president's office, she let out a deep sigh and made her way down to the Salon Louvre. Truly, Nasser should’ve been smarter than this but money does have a way of blinding a person. Regardless, she had a job to do and if it meant that she had to play Nasser’s little games, she would do it. Laila knew exactly what the end goal was and she wasn’t going to get distracted. 

As she made her way to the Salon Louvre, where Chef Arnault had promised to reserve some of his renowned crème fraîche and caviar deviled eggs for her, she couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for the match. Parc des Princes always pulsated with infectious energy and passion, which she adored. The stadium itself was incredible, and the Ultras knew how to light up a stadium. Every time she scrolled through Twitter or Instagram, she saw the tifos they made. The huge banners were truly works of art, and she deeply admired and respected the fans for the effort they put into them.

Her thoughts drifted to her three musketeers, her closest friends, and how carefree they had been before life's harsh realities had intruded. She reminisced about that summer night of August 14th, 2021, when they had come to watch PSG vs Racing Club de Strasbourg, the first match after COVID restrictions were lifted. How different things were back then. She yearned to reconnect and mend the fractures time had caused, but deep down, she knew it was perhaps a futile wish. With her eyes brimming with unshed tears, Laila wandered through the hallways leading to the salon, lost in her memories. Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't notice the figure in front of her and walked straight into what felt like a very warm wall.

“Tabarnak-,” she swore, instinctively rubbing her nose.

“Pardon, mademoiselle,” a voice apologized.

Startled, Laila looked up and found herself face to face with the French captain. Flustered, she took a step back, momentarily at a loss for words. Kylian Mbappé stood before her, and she couldn't help but notice how strikingly handsome he was. Dressed casually in a white Dior t-shirt and paired with stylish brown pants, which complemented his athletic build. His confident posture and the easy smile playing on his lips added to his striking appearance. He naturally carried a certain air of charisma that left her with a dry throat and a racing heart.

And God, those dimples...

How was she supposed to argue with this living reincarnation of big dick energy? Much less, convince him that he would be better off staying in a club where it was quite unlikely that he would ever win a Champions League, forget a Ballon d’Or. Her professor was so lucky to be lounging in the afterlife, because when she did find him, she would make him pay for putting her in this situation.

Kylian's gaze met Laila's, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes at her evident surprise. "You okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Yeah, just... wasn't expecting a human roadblock," Laila joked, trying to mask her nervousness. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile, those famous dimples making a brief appearance.

"I've been called worse," he chuckled. Kylian's smile took on a knowing edge, his gaze sharp yet playful. "So, Laila Soltani, the lawyer Nasser has brought in to convince me to stay at PSG, eh?"

Laila's eyes widened slightly,  her eyebrows arching in surprise."Yes, that's me. How did you know?"

Kylian leaned in slightly, a playful grin spreading across his face. “See, now I’m more inclined to be offended. Athletes can read too, you know?” he teased, nodding towards her badge.

Laila felt her cheeks warm. “Oh, n-no, that’s not... I mean, I wasn’t—” she stammered, her words tumbling over each other in her fluster.

He laughed, a light, easy sound that seemed to echo around them. “I’m just messing around with you. Besides, it’s not every day the president hires someone specifically to deal with me. You must be quite persuasive.”

Laila laughed, a sound more relaxed than she felt. "I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Mbappé. But yes, that's why I’m here, in part. Though, convincing someone of your caliber to stay... that's a tall order. My greatest adversary so far."

Kylian's eyes glinted with amusement. "Greatest adversary, huh? Sounds like you’re ready for battle. Just remember, I'm not so easily swayed."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Laila retorted, her own eyes sparkling with the challenge. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Looking forward to it, Mademoiselle. May the best person win."

With a final chuckle, Kylian turned and strode away, leaving Laila to ponder the intriguing encounter. She shook her head, a smile lingering on her lips, and continued her journey to the salon Louvre. As she entered, she was immediately greeted by the buzz of fans, whose enthusiasm seemed to infect her immediately. The modern design boasted a sleek and refined look, with geometric light fixtures casting a constellation of warm, ambient light across the polished floor.

She found Chef Arnault behind the mini bar, a silver-maned sage in the world of haute cuisine. With the twinkle of seasoned joy in his clear blue eyes, he beckoned Laila over with a broad grin that seemed to know more than it let on.

"Well, well, if it isn't our lawyer," he teased, the light in his eyes matching the mischief in his tone as he took in her flushed appearance. "You look like you've just spent the whole evening sweating in a sauna. Let me guess, Mbappé charm in action?"

Laila rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth turned upward involuntarily. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to those who know," he chuckled, presenting her with a plate of deviled eggs, each a small culinary work of art with creamy filling and a crown of caviar. "Here, I made these just for you. They might just give you the boost you need for the evening to deal with the capitaine."

Laila decided to just brush off Arnault's teasing and, not wanting to wait another second, she tossed back a whole deviled egg. The taste was amazing—so good it almost made her moan right there at the bar.

With a quick thanks to the chef, she slipped through the crowd of fans as she heard Michel Montana's voice encouraging the Ultras to cheer for the team. Their chatter was just noise against the hum in her head as she moved to her seat. It was pretty close to the president's spot, giving her an incredible view of the field.

She dropped into her seat, taking in the low buzz of the stadium and the distant echo of the players getting their game faces on. The excitement was kicking in. This wasn't just another day at the office for Laila; it was like stepping onto a chessboard where every move counted. The match was about to start, and she wasn't just thinking about the football. It was game time on all fronts.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: Hello, my lovelies. I'm back 😘

[mochademic]

100 Days of Productivity [Day: 83] || 100 Jours de Productivité [Jour: 83]

this was my first year doing documentation for a company audit. I've never done this kind of stuff before but I'm exhausted. you don't really realize how hard back-tracking is when it's from before you started working there. that being said, everything went well, we've been cleared, & no one is getting fired or taken to court for fraud lol.

my sweet mum also sent me a care package & in it sent me some of my favourite bottled/canned coffee drinks. this made my cry so hard for some reason. though I love it here, I still struggle with missing home.

academic work:

-finish unit 1.2 - 1.4 of independent course -listen to podcasts in slow french -re-write course notes [focus on accents] -start comparison notes between different French varieties [ie. Cajun, Belgian, Canadian, Swiss etc.]

freelance work:

-make ivory paper -start putting together round-back book for binding -take books out of press & cut signatures for new ones

office work:

-enter payroll -start data sheet for last month's write-offs -edit spreadsheets -answer all emails

currently listening // Two Lives by MARION

C'était ma première année de documentation pour un audit d'entreprise. Je n'avais jamais fait ce genre de choses auparavant, mais je suis épuisée. on ne se rend pas vraiment compte à quel point il est difficile de rassembler des informations lorsqu'elles datent de plusieurs années avant que l'on ne commence à travailler dans une entreprise. cela dit, tout s'est bien passé, nous avons été blanchis, et personne n'a été licencié ou poursuivi en justice pour fraude lol.

ma douce maman m'a également envoyé un colis et, dans celui-ci, quelques-unes de mes boissons au café préférées en bouteille ou en boîte. cela m'a fait pleurer très fort pour une raison ou une autre. bien que j'aime être ici, j'ai toujours du mal à m'ennuyer de chez moi.

travail académique :

-Finir l'unité 1.2 - 1.4 du cours indépendant. -écouter des podcasts en français lent -réécrire les notes de cours [accent sur les accents] -commencer les notes de comparaison entre les différents français -commencer les notes de comparaison entre les différentes variétés de français (cajun, belge, canadien, suisse, etc.).

travail en freelance :

-faire du papier ivoire -commencer à assembler un livre à dos rond pour la reliure -retirer les livres de la presse et découper les signatures pour de nouveaux livres

travail de bureau :

-saisir les salaires -commencer la feuille de données pour les amortissements du mois dernier - éditer les feuilles de calcul -répondre à tous les courriels

chanson // Two Lives par MARION