#Cable Festival

[mistrustmusic]

Mistrust Live at Cable Festival 2024

Hello there! I'm pleased to announce that I will be playing live at Cable Festival 2024 this coming Saturday! I'd love to see you there!

Synth pop singer/songwriter Mistrust will be playing live at Cable Festival 2024 on Saturday 24th February 2024. Buy Tickets Synth pop singer/songwriter Mistrust will play live at the Cable Electronic Music Festival 2024 on Saturday 24th February 2024 at 4.45pm Tim Blackburn who records under the name Mistrust will be performing live at Cable Festival, Stoke-on-Trent in February…

[ms-dos5]

Vintage Computer Festival Midwest 18

[horrendousmustard]

Kaneki Goes on a Trip Part 4 - finally back at accomodation! Despite his exhaustion, he makes time for reading before bed…

[transpondster]

Cabel Sasser, Panic - XOXO Festival (2024)

This is a good XOXO talk about an artist who was never really recognized enough to even be forgotten, but who namelessly had a visual impact on millions of lives, discussed here only because this speaker was stunned by something he saw at an out-of-the-way McDonalds in Washington state.

The ultimate lesson being, try to see what’s around you and let yourself be surprised at any moment.

[fructidors]

standing directly in front of (under?) john during the spontaneous unplugged performance of memories due to technical difficulties from this show was honest to god one of the top 10 musical moments of my entire life. the moment at the very end when the sound kicks back in just as he hits the final chorus? i genuinely think i understand what it felt like to be in the crowd at the newport folk in 64 when dylan went electric

[fingertipsmp3]

My conspiracy theory is that Christmas is sponsored by Big Battery

[sentate]

SENTATE - The Willow Collection

This month is all about comfort, cosiness and gorgeously soft knitwear! Perfect for a low key but still suitably glamorous December; what better way to brave the cold than in buttery soft cashmere? Let your sims skip party season all together, put a cosy cardigan on and spend the evening on the sofa.

The Willow Collection is a cuddly collection of some of my favourite knitwear looks, from floor sweeping maxi cardigans to intricately textured cable knits all knitted lovingly by Agnes Crumplebottom herself, your sims are sure to thank you when they're snuggled up in their new favourite sweater.

This set also features my new 30 swatch palette that I hope you will all love, plus a few festive swatches on the Ariana Sweaters. I've also included 2 overlays for the Cynthia Maxi Cardigans.

11 Items Total / 30 Plain Swatches / + 2 Overlays

DOWNLOAD - Free on Patreon

MORE DOWNLOADS  |  TERMS OF USE  |  LINK TREE

[you-will-return]

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[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Teach Me How To Play Coach Miller

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Austin Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,275 Summary: You're home alone, relishing a lazy day when your hot neighbor knocks on your door. Seems his TV is out and he really wants to watch the Rangers game. You know nothing about baseball... maybe he can teach you a thing or two? Warnings: smut, porn with very little plot, age gap (reader's college aged, Joel's in his 30's), oral (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, baseball terms, Joel's a filthy liar but it benefits all of us, mentions of voyeurism and masturbation, big balls Joel Miller in gray sweatpants, no use of y/n, not beta read.

Masterlist

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It’s another famous hot September afternoon in Texas. Too damn hot to do anything besides walk outside, roll your eyes at the sweltering temperature, turn around and walk back inside. The thick humidity and overbearing heat makes your skin slick and clothing stick in all the wrong places– or maybe the right places– it depends on who’s looking. 

A ring of the doorbell interrupts your lazy day movie marathon. The house is yours for the weekend, your roommates are all gone for a festival and your coursework is all done, so naturally you’re laid on the couch taking a reprieve from the overbearing temperature.

Another ring.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumble. 

You open the door, your knees buckling at your bad luck.

GOD DAMNIT. OF COURSE IT’S JOEL MILLER. *THE* JOEL MILLER. The hot DILF you and your roomies all lust after. The broad, golden skinned GOD of a man that you all argue over who’s going to get to bed one day. 

“Joel? H-hey,” you say, attempting to hide your embarrassment over how you look. It’s 4 PM and you’re still wearing what you woke up in… an oversized Rangers shirt of your ex-boyfriend’s over a pair of lace boyshorts… it’s too freakin’ hot for actual clothes. 

“Afternoon–uh–so my cable box just stopped working and it’s the clenching game for the playoffs,” he nervously huffs, putting a hand to the back of his neck. “I know it’s crazy to ask, but can I watch the game on your TV?” He lifts a six pack of beer enticingly, “I brought this as payment.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen in surprise. Joel Miller… on your couch? Yes! Joel Miller on your couch! You open the door wider and step aside to let him in. “Of course, make yourself at home.” 

He walks into your house… this is a dream come true, he’s in GRAY SWEATPANTS and they hug his thick body perfectly. 

You take a precursory look around your living room, silently thanking yourself for picking up the house yesterday. Now the hunk of a neighbor you’ve touched yourself to while watching him mow his lawn is closer to you than he’s ever been.

You quickly stroll over to the coffee table, picking up the remote and handing it to him. 

“Thanks for this, appreciate it sweetheart,” Joel says, sitting on the couch, taking up a whole cushion with his broad body. 

Ohhhh, sweetheart. His eyes darken at the sight of your breath hitching, before his eyes gaze lowers to your bare legs. 

“Yeah, o-of course,” you nod, feeling very underdressed with your handsome neighbor taking a seat on the couch you were just laid out on a few minutes ago. “I’ll go get an opener.”

Joel turns the game on and settles his back against the couch cushions, “Thanks sweetheart.” 

__

The ceiling fan chains clang against one another, it only does this on high, it drives you crazy but the soft breeze it sends down is worth the annoyance. Your skin’s too overheated sitting only a couch cushion’s length away from Joel. Your foot nervously taps against the carpet while you try to focus on the book you’re reading. You’re overwhelmed by his presence, hearing his lips form around the beer bottle and taking a swig, the movement of his body against the couch cushions, the smell of wood and coffee he’s brought into the house. You sigh, turning your attention to the game, maybe today’s the day you’ll learn about America’s pastime. 

“Why is it called a shortstop? Do they have to be short?” You ask putting your book down. 

“No,” Joel chuckles, “s’just what the position is called.” 

“Ah, and every team has one?”

“Yes,” he shakes his head, “what exactly do you know about this game, sweetheart?”

“Um, I know I like their tight pants.” 

“Oh really?” Joel looks over at you, crooking his eyebrow up. 

“Yep, and the guy throwing the ball is really tall and cute.”

“That’s called a pitcher sweetheart,” he shakes his head at your ignorance.

“And he throws to the…” your finger taps your cheek while you mock contemplation, “catcher?” 

“That’s right,” he nods, his voice dropping an octave. “What else do you know?”

“I know there’s bases and home runs, adorable mascots and Cracker Jacks.”  

“What bases?”

“Hmm. First base, second base, third base, and home.”

“Good girl,” he grins, “you’re a smart girl.”

“I know I am,” you smugly smile at him. “First base is kissing. Second base is above the waist, third base is bel—“

Joel’s laugh cuts you off. “Is that right? Seems you know all about baseball, you’ve… ‘played baseball’ before?” 

“Mm,” you lean towards him, “I like playing baseball… I just haven’t in a few months… you know besides practicing with myself.”

He shakes his head, a devilish smirk lights his face as he angles his body towards you. “You practice a lot?”

“Yeah, especially when my hot neighbor is outside mowing his lawn and he gets all sweaty. My bedroom window looks right out on his lawn.” Joel’s eyes widen at the realization that you’re talking about him. “Sometimes he lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes his brow, I get to see a peek of his stomach, it’s super hot.”

“Funny,” he puts his beer bottle down and licks his lips. “I have a hot neighbor too. I’ve, uh, ‘practiced’ before while thinking about how good she looks running in her tight shorts and tiny tank top.” 

Your core begins to pulse at his words, desire lights inside your body. Joel Miller has noticed you *and* gets off to the thought of you?! And now, he’s on your couch, sending you a lascivious look. Let’s ball. 

“Can I play?” you ask, head tilted with a smirk before scooting closer to him.

“Yeah?” his eyebrows crook up. “You want to play with an old man like me?” 

You nod. “Put me in coach.”

“Batter up baby,” he growls, grabbing and lifting you to straddle his lap. You’re thankful for your measly lace panties, less layers between you and Joel’s dick. “You wanna show me first base?”

You gulp, pouty lips agape begging to be kissed by Joel Miller. “First base,” you nuzzle your nose against his, “is kissing.”

“Mm,” he nips at your bottom lip, “then kiss me, pretty girl.”

You pull away, angling your head to look at the TV. “But what about the game?”

“They’re losing by four,” he grabs your chin, turning your head back towards him. “Plus, I don’t think it’s possible to care about the game when a pretty girl like you is on my lap.”

Leaning forward, you plant a soft kiss and suck his plush bottom lip into your mouth. Your heart flutters inside your chest when his mouth opens inviting you to lick into it as he lifts the hem of your shirt. 

You swipe his hand away, “Not at second base yet.”

“Fuck,” he pants. “Been wanting to see you since you moved in last year.”

His confession rolls through your body, sending waves of want through your limbs. You want to rock your hips against him, you want to feel your bare skin against his, you want to feel him inside you, but you also love the game you’re playing and it’s not just every day your hot neighbor comes over to watch a ballgame and winds up with his tongue in your mouth.  

You deepen the kiss, moaning against his lips as your tongues collide and explore each other’s mouths. Raucous shouting of the announcers on the TV interrupts your makeout session.

“Mmph, will you look at that? Rangers just hit a grand slam ’n tied the game. You wanna celebrate now?” Joel grabs the hem of your shirt and angles his eyebrow up.

“Show me second base Joel.”

Your shirt is lifted and tossed aside, your nipples pebble under the cool fan air and Joel’s attention. He stares, eyes wide in astonishment as he takes your bare chest in. 

“Second base is above the waist stuff,” you direct. His large, calloused hands mold around the weight of your flesh. 

“Mm, knew you’d be soft,” he rasps in awe. His touch drives you crazy, just an hour ago, you were dozing off on the couch to Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion, now Joel Miller is holding your tits in his hands. He rubs the tips of his thumbs back and forth across your nipples. “Can I use my mouth on you baby?” he asks, his gaze moving from your chest to your eyes pleadingly. 

“God yes,” you pant, rising up to bring your chest to his mouth. He clasps his lips around your nipple, sucking and pulling, swirling his tongue around the peak before letting it go with a pop. Your back arches, your weight settling firmer against him when he nips his way across your chest, taking your other breast into his mouth and suckling. Your hands snake underneath his shirt and run across the plush of his stomach petting your hands across the smattering of hair across his belly. 

Joel buries his face between your breasts, breathing you in and groaning against your skin, his hands grab your hips and push your body firmer against his half hard cock still clad in his sweatpants.

He’s fully dressed, your teensy pair of lace panties do very little to stop your cunt from dripping onto the light gray fabric of his sweatpants. Your hips begin to grind against the shape of him, begging for contact. He ruts his hips up to tap against your core pulling a moan from you. 

He snickers teasingly, “We goin’ to third base already baby?”

You whimper a measly yes, rocking yourself harder against him. Fuck the pace of game, it’s going to be a quick one. You’re so needy for him, you can’t believe this is happening with Joel “hot dad” Miller. Your roommates are never going to believe you. 

You reach for the hem of his shirt, bunching it up before he chucks it off and throws it across the couch. You lean back, eyes widening at the sight of him. Good LORD, he’s perfect. His skin glows in the late afternoon light beaming in from the front window. His shoulders and arms are toned from all of the manual labor you always watch him accomplish. Your hands roam his soft muscles, exploring the plains of his body. He’s the whole fucking package. He looks at you with a smug smirk while you take him in. 

You want to taste him and see if he tastes like the sweat and sunlight. Your lips find his collarbone, licking and sucking, tasting the slight salt of the sweat the heat leaves on everybody’s skin on days like today. Delectable.

His throat groans against your tongue, he shivers underneath you, you’ve never wanted someone so badly before. 

“Fuck me,” you plead against his skin, “please.”

“Not yet, not yet baby, we’re still at third, you’re still learning all about baseball. I need to enjoy a game as sweet as you,” he implores, sliding a hand between your legs and petting your soaked panties. “This all for me?” 

“Yesss,” you hiss, licking your way up through his scratchy beard to his mouth. 

You gasp against his lips when he slides a thick finger inside. He chuckles a deep breath against your mouth, “So fucking wet aren’t you pretty girl?” 

Your only answer is a garbled moan and a clench around his second finger that stretches you. 

His fingers languidly fuck you while his thumb teases soft circles against your clit, you’re writhing from his touch, breathing mews into the air. He licks into your mouth swallowing every shattered breath that escapes from your throat. So many nights you’ve fallen asleep to the thought of this moment laying alone in your bed, gazing out the window at the Miller household. What would Joel Miller’s overworked hands and plush mouth feel like against your body? Well, now you know, and it feels even better than you could have ever imagined.  

He licks his way down to your neck, asking “Can I taste you?” against your skin. 

“Yes,” you cry out. 

Joel lifts you with a grunt and lays you down against the couch cushions. He stands over you, running a hand across your body, mapping his way from your breasts down your stomach to the trim of your panties.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muses, his eyes turning black as he pulls your panties down, exposing your pussy to him. You spread your legs open encouraged by the possessiveness of his stare. He tosses your underwear behind him before settling on the couch between your legs with a deep growl. Your legs are lifted over his shoulders. “Fuck,” he sighs, planting a kiss against your thigh, “you’re so fucking hot. Let’s get to third base sweetheart.”

His eyes flutter shut at the first taste of you when he parts your folds with his tongue. Everything about Joel Miller is wide- his fingers, his shoulders, his chest. Right now, his wide tongue is driving you crazy as it swirls against your clit. He devours you, licking and laving all over your drooling pussy, drinking you down and savoring you like you’re his last meal. His eyes stay on your face the whole time, watching you fall apart against his mouth. Your fingers wrap around the dark waves of his hair pulling him in closer, hips undulating against his mouth getting yourself off on the feel of the bristle of his beard against your sensitive flesh. His tongue flattens and runs up and down the shape of you before he dips two fingers into your entrance and buries them knuckles deep. Your back curves at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue on your clit as your soaked walls clench around his thick fingers. 

“Mm, close,” you whimper while your feet thud repeatedly against his strong back. He nods against your core, dark brown eyes still focused on your face. Your heart races at the way he watches you under his thick eyebrows creased in concentration. Of course Joel Miller is good at eating pussy, he’s a hard worker. You wail his name out when you orgasm against his mouth, your body tightens as you flood his fingers and throb for him. He kisses your swollen clit gently, letting a deep moan and chuckle out while you spasm underneath him. 

Joel’s face glistens with you when he lifts his head up, “Welcome to third base.” 

“You haven’t gotten here yet,” you arch an eyebrow and lick your parted lips, still panting for air.

He kisses each thigh with a loud smack before getting up. 

He looms over your blissed out body on the couch and yanks down his pants and boxers, a gulp rolls down your throat at the sight of him. So fucking thick and engorged with a sweet drop of precum rolling down his shaft.

“Wow,” you gasp, rolling to your side to bring yourself eye level to his twitching cock. Your eyebrows rise in awe when he wraps his hand around himself and strokes.

“Yeah?” his voice smolders through you. 

“I’ve thought about what you looked like naked, and now that I see it… wow.” You can’t believe the confession just left your mouth.

“Funny,” he collects a drop of precum on his fingertip and rubs it against your bottom lip,” I thought the same thing.”

Your tongue darts out to taste him, salty, bitter, so fucking manly. You want to taste more of him. 

You bring your lips to the crown of his cock, kissing the tip and running your tongue along the length of his shaft. He gasps, leaning forward to rest his hands on the sofa back. 

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s good,” he drawls when you suck him into your mouth engulfing the thick length of him in the wet heat of your mouth. 

You cup the heft of his balls in your hand… thick cock, big balls, of course Joel Miller has big balls. 

“You’re good at this sweetheart, really fucking good,” he huffs, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as you hollow them and suck him to the back of your throat. 

Your eyes flutter up to watch Joel snarl down at you while his hips buck into your drooling mouth.

“Can’t keep lookin’ at me like that sweetheart, or else we’re not going to get to homebase.”

Your pussy clenches at his words, begging to be filled like your mouth. It’s as if Joel can read your mind, his hand lands in between your thighs and begins petting your aching cunt. 

“Feels like she needs to have my cock in her, doesn’t she?” he says, tapping his fingers against your entrance. “Think maybe we should get to homebase?”

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and lifts you off the couch into his arms, he’s so fucking strong. 

He leaves a searing kiss on your lips before settling on the couch, still holding you close to him. 

“You ready for homebase?” he asks, gazing into your eyes. 

“Put me in coach, I’m ready to play,” you smile, giddy at the anticipation of getting fucked by Joel Miller.

“Go ahead sweetheart, fuck me,” his drawl drips in arousal as you slowly sink yourself down on him, gasping at the feel of his thick cock stretching you. 

Your hips rock back and forth to adjust to the size of him spreading you open. 

“Knew you’d feel so good sweetheart, knew it as soon as I saw you,” he says, peppering kisses across your face and neck. “So pretty, so soft, feels so fucking good.”

Joel Miller always seemed too intimidating, too closed off, too attractive to ever be interested in a neighbor much too young for him, and yet here he is ignoring the baseball game he wanted to watch, instead burying his cock into your pussy.

You ride him, your pace turning more frenzied and desperate the more he chants your name.

The ticks of the fan chains clanging against one another accompanies the sound of your pussy bouncing up and down on his dick. Hips meeting hips, skin hitting skin, breath gasping breath, chain knocking chain. Your fingers wrap around his curls pulling his head up to kiss you. Your breaths puff against his, you can’t hide the blissed out smile that lights up your whole face as he pounds into you.

Your body begins to tingle and quiver when his cock hits the gushy spot that makes you see stars. 

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” Joel grits against your neck biting and sucking, marking you with his mouth and owning you with his cock. 

You scream a choked sob when your orgasm lights through you, your walls clutch Joel’s cock as you come undone. He grips you harder, pushing you into his chest and holding you as close as he can with his tense muscles as he lifts you and pulls out painting your pussy lips with his cum. You collapse against him, gasping for air against his sweaty skin, darting your tongue out to lick some of the sweet salt so you can always remember the taste of playing ball with Joel Miller. 

“Can I tell you something?” Joel asks, his voice radiates through your ear resting against his chest. 

“Hmm? Yeah,” you sigh.

“My TV still works,” he sheepishly says. You sit up at the shock of his words. “I just really wanted to watch the game with a pretty girl.” He sends you a sultry, guilty smirk that you cover with your lips. 

___ Tagging people who showed interest in my WIP a couple weeks ago for this. Along with my camp coven friends who helped.

@luxurychristmaspudding, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @sawymredfox, @magpiepills, @yxtkiwiyxt

@beefrobeefcal, @ace-turned-confused, @yopossum, @mothandpidgeon, @bitchesuntitled

@maggiemayhemnj, @jennaispunk, @timelordfreya

[mistrustmusic]

Mistrust Playing Cable Festival 2024

I’m pleased to announce that I will be playing live at Cable Festival 2024 in February next year! It will be only my second appearance at a music festival! Cable Festival is one of the biggest gatherings of upcoming electronic music artists and bands in the United Kingdom. It will take place at the Captain’s Bar in Hanley, Stoke-on-Trent, from the 22nd to the 25th of February 2024. I will be…

[dollytopsy8b]

Embroidered Top Patchwork Blouse Boho Sleeveless Cami Vintage - Etsy UK

[hiddenreamers]

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

[your-local-simp-writers]

Ashes of Affection

Word Count: 1610

Warnings: None

Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The crisp autumn air danced with the scent of fallen leaves and the faint hint of caramel apples as Halloween approached Night Raven College. Orange and purple lights twinkled around the campus, casting playful shadows that flickered like ghosts in the fading daylight. Pumpkins adorned doorsteps, their grinning faces glowing in the twilight, creating a festive ambiance that filled the air with excitement.

You made your way toward the Ignihyde dormitory, your heart fluttering at the thought of spending time with Idia. You had both agreed to take a break from studying to enjoy the Halloween festivities, and you couldn't wait to see what he had planned.

As you approached his door, you paused to admire the decorations he had set up. Cobwebs stretched across the corners of the doorframe, and a few mischievous plastic spiders hung from the ceiling, creating an eerie yet charming vibe. The faint sounds of video game battle cries emanated from within, mixing with the occasional giggle from passing students in costume.

With a gentle knock, you pushed the door open, revealing the organized chaos of Idia’s room. Cables snaked across the floor like vines, and various gaming posters adorned the walls, each telling a story of epic adventures and battles fought. The air was filled with the comforting mix of popcorn and the sweet smell of candy.

Idia looked up from his screen, his eyes widening behind his signature blue hair and glasses. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, a hint of surprise coloring his voice. “You came! I mean, not that I expected you not to come. I just thought maybe—” He fumbled over his words, cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he gestured to the mess around him. “Sorry for the mess. I was in the middle of a game.”

You stepped inside, laughing softly. “It’s fine! I love your setup. The decorations are great! It really feels like Halloween in here.” You admired the makeshift haunted house he had built from cardboard boxes, complete with fake bats and a strobe light that flickered eerily.

“Thanks!” Idia said, a shy smile creeping onto his face. “I thought I’d make it a little festive. Halloween is my favorite time of year, even if it’s mostly just me gaming in the dark.” His fingers danced nervously over the controller, the excitement evident in his demeanor.

You settled down on the floor next to him, your heart warm at the sight of his enthusiasm. “What are we playing today?”

Idia’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Oh! It’s this new RPG that just came out! You get to build your character from scratch, and there’s this Halloween-themed event where you can unlock spooky outfits! There are monsters and magic and… oh, you’ll love it!” He shifted in his chair, excitement radiating from him as he leaned closer, eager to share every detail.

As he explained the plot and the intricate world-building, you noticed how his nervousness seemed to fade away, replaced by the confident glow of someone sharing a passion. The way his eyes sparkled made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but smile at the passion he displayed.

The hours melted away as you both played, laughter echoing in the room when Idia would dramatically react to in-game events. His animated expressions—eyes widening in shock or his mouth forming an exaggerated ‘O’ of surprise—made it impossible not to feel a connection with him. You found yourself leaning into his shoulder, sharing the comfort of the moment.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the room was illuminated only by the glow of the screen and the occasional flicker of the strobe light, casting soft shadows that danced across Idia’s features. You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, the kind that only grew when you were with him.

“Y/N,” he said suddenly, his tone shifting to something more serious. He paused the game, his eyes locking onto yours. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your heart raced, a mix of curiosity and anxiety bubbling up inside you. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, a hesitant smile creeping onto his face. “Everything I do for you isn’t because I feel obligated. It’s because I love doing it.” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous but determined. “I love spoiling you, making you happy. It makes me feel good, knowing that I can make you smile, or laugh, or turn your frown upside down.”

You could feel the sincerity in his words, your heart swelling as he continued. “I want to give you the world, sweetheart. I want to show you way more than that, but the world is all I got. All I can offer.”

His vulnerability was captivating, and you felt a mix of admiration and affection. “Idia, I…” you started, but he interrupted you, his voice lowering to a whisper.

“I don’t know how to kiss, but let me kiss you, and I’ll do it just right.” There was a raw honesty in his expression, and the earnestness behind his words made your heart flutter even faster.

You cupped his cheek gently, feeling the warmth radiate from him. The world around you faded into a soft blur as you stared into his eyes, which reflected a mixture of excitement and fear. “You’ll figure it out,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just trust your instincts.”

With that encouragement, Idia leaned in, hesitantly closing the distance. Your breaths mingled, the moment stretching out like a melody before you both finally met in a soft kiss. It was gentle at first, almost like a question, but it quickly deepened as he found his rhythm. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the warmth of his emotions wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

When you finally pulled away, both breathless and wide-eyed, you couldn’t help but laugh. “That was… amazing!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushed with happiness.

“Really?” Idia’s voice was filled with disbelief, his cheeks matching the hue of a sunset. “I mean, I didn’t mess it up completely, right?”

“Not at all!” You grinned, feeling buoyant. “You kissed me like a pro!”

He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

With a playful glint in your eyes, you leaned closer. “Just imagining a love life with you makes me sick,” you teased, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you both. “In the best way possible, of course.”

His expression shifted from surprise to pure delight, a genuine smile breaking through his typical shyness. “Sick? In a good way?”

“Exactly! I’m just saying that being with you feels like a wild adventure, and I’m all in for that!” You leaned back, your heart feeling light as a feather.

“Then let’s be adventurers together,” he said, his voice low but filled with resolve. “My love, I would burn down the world if it meant I could be in your arms. And I would spend the rest of my life with you rising above the ashes…”

The sincerity in his voice sent shivers down your spine. You knew in that moment that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories and dreams, laughing and teasing each other. The connection between you felt electric, alive with possibilities. You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he resumed the game.

“Do you think you’ll ever get tired of me?” he asked, a hint of worry creeping into his tone.

“Not in a million years,” you replied, your voice soft yet firm. “You’re stuck with me, Idia. I like your quirks. I love the way you can get so passionate about things that light you up.”

He turned to look at you, his expression softening. “I’m really glad you think that. I never thought I’d find someone who understands me like you do.”

The vulnerability between you deepened, wrapping you both in a cocoon of intimacy that felt like home. You stayed up late into the night, sharing hopes and dreams, the world outside fading away as you lost yourselves in each other’s laughter and warmth.

As the evening came to a close, you stood at the door, feeling a mix of reluctance and anticipation. Idia followed you, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he shuffled beside you.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked, glancing up at him, your heart fluttering at the thought of another day spent together.

“Of course!” he replied, a wide grin breaking across his face. “I’ll have something special planned for you.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” you teased, leaning closer as you reached for the doorknob.

Idia’s expression turned serious again, and he stepped forward, grabbing your hand before you could open the door. “Y/N, I mean it. You make me want to be better. You inspire me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “You’re already amazing, Idia. Just be yourself. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

With a final smile exchanged, you stepped out into the cool night air, the stars twinkling above you like a promise. As you walked away, the distant sounds of laughter and the crackling of bonfires filled the air, reminding you that the Halloween festivities were just beginning.

You glanced back at the Ignihyde dormitory, the warmth of Idia's confession lingering in your heart like the glow of the pumpkins outside. Halloween had become a night of magic for you, one filled with the spark of new beginnings and the promise of love growing amidst the flickering lights.

[cads-the-cat]

Wait tell me about sugar and spitting and cables and stuff???

There's nothing I'd rather do😁

This is a bigger post so check for the stuff under the cut

Enjoy this set of gifs (originally taken from the post linked)

Don't know what exactly was going on, especially in Vessel's mind (do we ever though) but the level of unhinged is unmatched and i love it (also would like to know what old iv and iii thought about this🤣)

Sugar was the original instance of band members being chairs. Lots of performances of Sugar in 2022 included Vessel ending up on iii to the point where you might ask 'Do you want to get a room?'

(Found this on pinterest so credit to unknown)

Or getting very touchy with either iii or iv

Require some evidence? Here's a few videos

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DD6XgfMxZrC/?igsh=MWt2Znlhb21pYW12eg==

Basically the entire first half of the video:

Start at around 1 min

Also start at around 1 min for this one

And who could forget Birmingham (starts at around 1:10)

And Manchester (start at around 30 seconds)

And as a bonus insane content, the legend that is Leeds Festival 2018. It's wild

Thanks to all the legends who captured them and their feralness in their early days🙏

Hope you enjoy

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

The tale of Alex Turner's girlfriend's jumper, Josh Homme, and the making of Humbug

(Extracts from Mojo Magazine, September 2009)

The jumper sealed the deal: the cable-knit jumper, belonging to his girlfriend. Alex Turner just happened upon it early one evening in the different late summer of 2008, as he waited for the telephone to ring. It wasn't so much the fact of it being a girl's jumper. He could get away with wearing a size skinny, after all. And besides, it would be dark at the gig he planned to go to later on. No, it was the cable-knit which gave him pause. Was he, Alex wondered, really a cable-knit guy?

His reverie was interrupted by the call he'd been expecting. Alex had spoken to Josh Homme before: the Queens Of The Stone Age leader declared himself a fan by marching into the Arctic Monkeys dressing room at a Belgian festival the previous year; later in 2007 the Monkeys supported the Queens in Houston. Compliments were exchanged, though Alex did wonder about the precise mutuality of this appreciation. Maybe 70-30? Obviously, the Monkeys were big fans of QOTSA: the Queens' sensual dirt-rock had been a key benchmark for their album Favourite Worst Nightmare. And Josh Homme? He had at least heard of Alex's band, and that was good enough. But now here he was, on the phone, accepting the invitation to produce the next Arctic Monkeys album. Alex deferred taking the conversation down to brass tracks. Airily, he mentioned his knitwear dilemma.

Homme was firm on the matter.

"Go for it, man."

But I'm not sure. I mean, it belongs to me girlfriend, and it fits, and it looks all right, but...

"Just throw caution to the wind," said Homme, as if issuing an imperial edit. "Let go of those inhibitions you've got there and just wear your cable-knit."

Sound, said Alex. So, about this record...?

"I listened to the demo," said Homme. "I heard 30 seconds of it and thought, You're coming to the desert." Then, to himself, he added with relish. "And little do you know what's about to happen..."

That evening, Alex Turner wore his girlfriend's cable-knit jumper. A month or so later, he and his three bandmates were picked up from a Los Angeles hotel by Josh Homme and driven out to the small Mojave Desert town of Joshua Tree, where they began recording the new Arctic Monkeys album. One phone abut cable-knitwear later, Arctic Monkeys were off to southern California for a hot date.

....

Presiding throughout this transformative process [of recording Humbug], during the warm autumn days or late into the chilly desert nights, would be Alex Turner's girlfriend's cable-knit jumper.

"Josh likes to speak in analogies, in terms of how things should sound," says the Arctic Monkeys' songwriter with a chuckle, as he reflects upon the six-month gestation of his band's new album. "Cable-knits got mentioned a lot during recording. He was like, if you can wear a cable-knit you can put a glockenspiel on a tune. It became a metaphor: you can wear a cable-knit and then sonically we can try something different. We went off on a little adventure. Because we were conscious that if this were really going to work, we would have to open up a little more than we have in the past. Joshua Tree really feels far away. You felt..." He frowns, reaching for the right word. "Unpoliced."

Which all rather begs the question: does that six and a half foot ginger hunk of abiding rockness Josh Homme wear cable-knitwear? A small smile plays around the corners of Alex Turner's mouth.

"He assured me he did."

....

The previous evening Alex finally spoke to Josh Homme for the first time since Humbug's completion. After expressing his delight with the end results of their combat crawl through the Mojave badlands, Homme enquired whether Turner was going out later. Alex informed that he was. "Cable-knits?" asked Homme. "Cable-knits," said Alex, the Arctic Monkey, comfortable in the embrace of the strange.

....

[reversedumbrella]

teruki week 2024: happy birthday teruki

image description:

[ID: a five page comic for teruki week day 7: birthday. the first 3 pages happen inside a clothing shop's dressing room, where teru is trying multiple outfits while out of view mob comments on them. the first two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 1: fire/electricity. on the first fit, teru wears a top with a flame on it and fluffy long sleeves colored orange and yellow. his pants have five sections, each with flame designs. one red, one orange, one green, one blue and one purple. teru is wearing flipflops. mob comments "colorful." on the second fit, teru wears a green long sleeve shirt, a vest made out of fake lightning bolts, pants made out red, blue and black electric cables and boots. mob comments "zappy."

mob sits on a benchon the dressing room, right by him his flip phone is ringing. mob says "those look really good. anything else, Hanazawa". out of viwe teru replies "PLENTY! and with this years birthday money I might be able to take it all home!"

the second two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 2: school/festival. on the first fit teru is wearing a torn version of his school uniform. he smiles while rocking his head back and forth. mob comments "rock n' roll". on the second fit teru wears viana do Castelo's typical women clothing, nowadays just worn for an anual parade. red cloth on his head, large golden earings and necklaces. red shawl over a white shirl. large red apron over a black skirt. white socks and black shoes. mob comments "wow."

the third two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 3: star/copy. on the first fit teru wears a sparkly five point star around his head, star sunglasses, a pink top, jeans with two big sparkly stars over each knee and a lot of small stars all over, pink high heels. he wears bracelets similar to his head apparatus. mob comments "shinny." on the second fit there are two teru's each wearing outfits only differing in color, with only the shorts being the same. a top over a t-shirt over a long-sleeve shirt. shorts over leggings and sneakers. mob comments "maybe the shorts on the left…"

mob is sitting on the dressing room bench. his phone is either still ringing or ringing again. up to interpretation.

the fourth two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 4: official art/omake. the first fit comes from official art. purple and blue cap, green jacket over a white shirt with a lemon pattern. red shorts over greyscale camouflage leggings. green and yellow sneakers. none of these colors go well together. mob comments "fun." on the second fit teru is wearing a beach outfit. shirtless with blue beach shorts and green sandals. he has colorful necklaces and bracelets. with his right he's grabbing abucket with a shovel inside. on his head he's balancing a beach ball wearing heart sunglasses. mob comments "careful"

the fifth two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 5: hair/trauma. in the first fit teru is wearing a crazy wig that covers his upperbody and arms. it has four ponytails and is covered in braids. it also gives him a large moustache. he's wearing red leggings and green shoes. mob comments "hairy". the second fit is a brocolli and boots. both meet at his calves. his arms are free but his hands have smaller brocolli over them. this is the only fit mob doesn't comment on.

mob is sitting on the bench when teruki grabs him while saying "C'MON". mob replies "huh?!" and teru answers "you didn't really though i was buying just for me?!"

the last outfit was inspired by teruki week day 6: protagonist/rival. mob is the one wearing it. mob's outfit is a clash of colors and patterns. sweater with a star design around the neck. the neck is red, the star is orange and the rest of the sweater is yellow ith green stripes and dots. pink bell bottoms with bright pink stars. teru is showering mob in compliments. he drowns himself in dread thinking "i should have known kageyama-kun would have looked amazing regardless of what he wears. those clothes are too bold even for me but he dawns the clothes i picked with such ease. i have lost again. he is my rival even in fashion sense. there is no way i could have ever won against him…"

the next two apges are the aftermath of the shopping spree. mob and teru laugh and walk with multiple bags, teru carrying two and mob carrying the rest on his arms. happy, teru looks up and then at mob. he says "thank you for getting some time to spend on my birthday with me. i know you have a busy life". mob blushes and turns away saying " no problem. i like spending time with you…" mob phone rings again. teru points at it and says: "there goes your phone again". mob makes all his left arm bag levitate and uses it to open the phone. mob clarifies "just master reigen. there'sa complicated client . he keeps texting in case i need to go there" out of view teru comments "it's nice he calls in advance" to wich mob throws a side-eye. mob looks surprised at his phone, grabs teru and screams "we have to go!!" mob and teru run with the bags floating around them. teru goes up the satirs to reigen's office. out of view mob says "prepare for anything!" teru grabs the door handle and opens the door. inside reigen, serizawa, tome, ritsu and the awakening lab kids scream "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" reigen is holding a cake with 15 candles. end ID]