#kind of a continuation of last year’s birthday art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mawlaeina · 4 months ago

Text

BIRTHDAYS | SAGAU Childe

🍊 content: SAGAU! Childe & Reader

✦ content w: none! it’s fluff sorta

July 20.

It was the day that you looked forward the most every year.

Back then, July 20 was just the same as any other day for you—maybe another boring day of school, another day of work, or maybe even a local holiday. Whatever it was, it bored you (—unless it’s also your birthdate, I’m sorry).

That was the case until he came out.

He piqued your interest, even his story quest made you invested in him—more than you expected. You wished on his banner, joking about how you’ll get him first pull.

Your jaw drops—you got him at first pull.

You stared at the screen in disbelief—eyes glued, and jaw parted in awe as Childe came home in all his ginger glory. Eventually, you farmed enough resources so that you could main him through and through.

Moving forward to the present, you see a few tiktoks showing that other users had little to no crit rate for their damage showcases. However, that wasn’t the case for you.

Childe would always crit when you used him, especially when you played co-op with friends. Oh, how you loved it. In a way, it made you feel a bit special—though you later thought that you were just being delusional.

Then the clock struck 12am, a quick notification coming from your calendar saying that it was now July 20. You got out of bed, excitedly making your way to the kitchen with a smile as you hold a few sheets of paper and a pen in hand.

You take out a small cake from the fridge—decorated with orange frosting and a blue narwhal shaped decoration sitting at the top.

Some oranges from the nearby fruit bowl for good luck and prosperity.

A bottle of vodka and a shotglass—because you think Childe likes alcohol like a typical russian.

The mini speaker from one of the shelves so that you could play ed sheeran songs.

And lastly, his newly posted birthday art that you printed in high resolution just a few moments ago after it was posted on Genshin’s socials.

Now everything was complete. You place everything into position, lights dimmed as you used candles—the scented ones that smelled like the ocean.

It was your 4th time celebrating his birthday now, and you did this little celebration annually since his release, as if it were some kind of ritual.

Sure, it wasn’t anything too fancy, like the ones you see on social media where they fill the table to the brim for Childe’s birthday. But you were doing this out of pure love for Childe.

You set the pen and papers aside as you began to sing him a happy birthday song. You laugh awkwardly since you celebrated alone, and it wasn’t even your birthday. This was why your friends called you delusional, but you didn’t mind it—not when it made you happy, and how it was a way you could express the love you have to offer for Childe.

Now midnight had long passed, and ed sheeran was playing over the speaker. The cake had been eaten in half, an orange 3/4th finished, and the vodka nearly half. You cursed yourself for continuing to take shots earlier despite having such low alcohol tolerance.

Yet that didn’t stop you from finishing the last act of celebrating Childe’s birthday—his birthday letter.

You sat at the counter, head rested on one of your hands as your elbow sat shakily on the counter. Your other hand was busy scribbling lazily on the paper—handwriting coming off as an imitation of cursive, but it was readable still.

There were about two or more letters that you had already finished, and now you were writing another one as Photograph began to play on the speaker.

You wrote, and wrote, and wrote.

Expressing your heart out in sweetness, bitterness, and affection, all directed towards Childe alone. You wrote about your days and experiences after the last celebration of his birthday—you were writing to him as if he were real.

You finished the last letter, ending it with your signature. You sighed before chuckling sadly, knowing that the letters won’t reach him—and if they do, you knew he might not acknowledge them.

You were lovesick for someone who wasn’t real, someone who doesn’t share the same skies as you do.

On the other hand, inside one of the homes of Snezhnaya. Childe is woken up on his birthday by Teucer, who shakes him in excitement, reminding him that it was his birthday today. Childe smiled at his younger brother, ruffling his hair as he says that he’ll come down in five minutes to celebrate his birthday with his family—he needed some sleep, he had just returned home after a fatui mission after all.

Teucer agrees and exits Childe’s room, and finally the ginger makes a move. He sits up and stretches lightly, ruffling his hair a bit as he lightly pinches the bridge of his nose. He makes it a mental note to keep the promise he made with Teucer to go ice fishing the other day.

He sighs before he glances at his pillow. He wonders if there would be letters today as well since it was his birthday.

Ever since he started to receive letters under his pillow from his 21st birthday (2021) from an unknown person, he began to receive them annually. The number of letters always gradually increasingly, and always coming from the same person.

He remembered that he tried to track the sender of the letter down, only to come to a dead end every time. Eventually, he just found himself looking forward to receiving them, ocassionally reading them from time to time during his breaks.

Maybe it came from you? The one from across the screen?

He sees you, yet he can’t seem to communicate with you. He hears you as well, and he can’t help but recall the sounds you make when you have your little victories with him after boss fights.

He initially gave it some thought, and later came to a conclusion that maybe it did come from you—since you rarely ever come online when it’s his birthday, but when you do it’s usually at the last remaining hours of the day.

He slides a hand under the pillow, almost immediately feeling what seemed to be like three or five sets of letters. He chuckled quietly to himself as he took them out, revealing an actual number of 6 letters.

He reads them one by one, laughing a bit every now and then from the jokes you made, confused at some of the ‘references’ that you made—who was ed sheeran?

Then, there’s the part where you wrote down about how you felt towards him. His smiles fade into a poker face as he reads them with an unreadable expression—he’s unsure of what he’s supposed to feel.

He doesn’t think that he shares the same feelings that you had for him, at least, that’s what he believes. All that he knows is that you’re worlds different from him—existentially speaking. So, he’s never thought about it in the first place.

He’s thought of you as a comrade more than anything else.

Yet the letters he receives from you never fails to include such feelings—the same love and affection directed towards him, all written differently over the years.

“Ajax!” He heard his mother call him from downstairs, it seemed like they were growing a bit impatient. He looked at the clock on the wall, finally realizing it had been more than 5 minutes as he’d been busy reading your letters.

“Coming!” He responds plainly before he lets out a small yawn.

He stands up from the bed and leaves it in its messy glory as he approached a wooden box that sat idly on the nearby shelf.

He opens the box, revealing all the other letters that he received from you since his 21st birthday. He stores the newly received letters on top of the others, stacking them neatly so that it doesn’t look as messy as his bed.

There were now 15 letters in the box, and in his mind he was still counting.

He closes the lid as he took out a shirt from the closet, putting it on before he exits his room.

He somehow feels guilty, or rather he feels weirdly uneasy that he can’t return the favor nor your feelings. He silently hopes that you’d grow out of it, that it’ll pass in the end.

Yet a part of him also doesn’t want that to happen. He’s somehow conflicted.

He temporarily pauses in front of the window across his bedroom door. He looks up at the sky, fully knowing that celestia isn’t quite real—that it only existed in this confined world that he was living in.

He wished maybe the skies that you had in yours were brighter, fresher (and doesn’t lag).

Childe proceeded to walk away from the window and towards the stairs. A little smile plastered on his face as he comes down to greet his large family. He opens his arms as they swarm him with a loving hug.

He began to think.

Maybe it would be nice if you were here too.

🍊 “delusional” oh you mean mentally unstable ^v^?

🍊 childe it’s fine if you don’t love me back, i have enough love for the both of us TwT <3

🍊 is it obvious that he’s my comfort character? what an odd guy, idk how he became my comfort character (i love him)

🍊 he’s ed sheeran of Snezhnaya, change my mind

🍊 i’m too emotionally invested in him, help

🍊 btw that little ritual is personal experience, i do it every year for him and i’ll do it this year too :)

139 notes · View notes

wololo-01 · 5 months ago

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MRS. WATER!!!!

Yayyyy!!!! It finally here!! It my girl birthday!!! I'm so happy to finally celebrate Mrs. Water birthday <3

But actually that's not all I really want to celebrate and say.....

Oh boi ok long LOOOONG texts above ( there is Also some swearing so be warned too :'b) ↓

(also sorry for interrupting any of you guys!! For the people I tag, you all can just read the part I mentioned you and then skip all the rest!! <3)

*sigh* ok, I'm not going to lie here, since the last 3 years here in this community, it never crossed my mind that I would meet people as incredible, funny, creative and majestic as everyone here,And I'll tell you the truth, this fandom changed me a lot, I didn't imagine this would happen but look, this actually happened hahaha!! XD

To be honest, I had a lot of problems last year and this year too, a lot of shit happened to me and that really discouraged me in a lot of things,I had problems with my self-esteem again and wanted to give up trying anything and life as well I felt useless on several days but you guys, you all cheered me up so much!! I never had the courage to tell you this but if it weren't because of you all I really don't know what I would do :') everything was like: "No one will ever like my style" - BANG! Them find my style cool. "I made this drawing but I don't really think someone will-” BANG! People actually like it a lot “i made this fanart for them but what if then-” BANG! them like it a lot! I'm so happy! :'D

sorry, sorry kakskaak buuut also, There is actually some special people who I want to thank a lot, they are people who of all inspired me to continue and made me so happy:

@bluetorchsky & @androidcharles

YOU TWO.

Since the first time when I moved in to tumblr again to post my thsc art in a old account, I was scared to death that maybe there was no person who knew this game here and my style back then...jesus Christ"; _;, I was really about to gave up until BOOM!! suddenly you both show up in my notifications and I saw the reblog and read the nice tags you guys leave it AND- *slam table* AHHHHHHHHH/p YOU TWO LITERALLY ARE SOOO FREAKING NICE AND AMAZING!!!! Not only that but your both have such extraordinary creative and talent!! You two deserve so much happiness and love!! I was too shy to say this but now damn you both deserve to hear this!!! >:}

Blue your artwork is pretty!! Pretty like the moon and stars shining high in the sky!, your writing is extremely beautiful, like music on a violin or a piano at night or the ones pretty poems Written with so much passion, your writing is extraordinary! You dedicate yourself so much and manage to make a story seem like a book that you are lucky enough to know and read!! And not only that but your ocs, violin and accordion DANG I love how well written they are so much!! They designs are so great yet sooo fabulous and they storys is very veeeery good and greats!!!. I really hope that you continue with those Masterpieces that you write and draw!!, But not only that, but you are such a kind, spectacular and divine person, I really appreciate soooooo muuuch all the things you do here, your writing is done with so much passion and your art is so unique, Don't feel sad or anything just because you can't write or draw at some point, it's totally fine and you deserve all the time but also ALLL THE LOVE AND APPRECIATION in the world! ^^)

Katiee!!! First of all WHERE DID GET SO FREAKING AMAZING IDEAS AND CREATIVE?!?!!???? I SWEAR YOU ARE AMAZING AND FUNNY!!, sometimes I envy you a little, but I also consider you one of my inspirations!!!! Your art is beautiful, beautiful like a painting of flowers or like a clean and calm river, your style is so cuteeeee Those stick people really look like marshmallows!! I so eat your art!! >:3 (kakak sorry), but seriously you are a talented person too, many people here also like you and blue!! You are neat and I glad to be able meet you and your artwork!! (Also I saw that you also writing and it one about your au, I still need to Taste this new delicious write of you 🍽️) when you did the Toppat clan week YIPPEE I GOT SO EXCITED!!! I was scary to not be able to participate but I managed!! I have so much fun drawing all those stuff!!! The prompt You put it was really good also extremely interesting!!!, and talking about something I love so much your ocs!!! Especially Amelia! She such a cuteee cinnamon roll and a adorable blueberry cake!! I love her personality and the design Ohh ESPECIALLY the hair!! Its like a fluffy blue cotton candy!! You super cool, I really appreciate all the work you do, I hope I can see more, you are a talented, funny and absolutely magnificent person!!! Don't forget this!!! >:]

@capturecharlesau & @crown-of-roses-thsc

YOU BOTH ARE MY TWO FAVORITE AU BLOG HAHSHSHAK SUCH CREATIVE, SWEET AND AMAZING PERSON YOU GUY ARE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Minnie!!, you super cool! Like really you such a cool and amazing person!! You also so sweet and kind!!! You like one of those cool kid in the school who I look like at and said "I wanna be like she!! She so awesome!! Yep, she deserves this popularity, she deserves nothing but the best for all things" In the last year, I was really down by some things that happened, but then I saw some one of the chapter you post it and BOOOM!!! Your au is what brings me back the joy!!! AAAAAA I was so hyped about your au!!! Jesus it just so DAMN WELL writing, I love the ideas you have and the characters?? NAHAHAHA THEM ALSO ARE SOOO FREAKING GREAT you manage to combine the words anguish, violence and comfort in such an incredible way! (And snicker you too do!!) Some of your chapters were thrown out at times when I really needed something to distract me, seriously you are a divinely talented person!! And other things I love about your au is Terrence, I'm still a hater of this piece of crap but I want to praise you so much about how you wrote it!! He really was such a good and badass villain/antagonist!!! God, I've even had some nightmares involving him, he really gave me the chills, The way you wrote it from start to finish was AMAZING, I swear I still love rereading it all again, to me it's like a frollo like the hunchback of Notre Dame with a bit of the personality of Clayton from Tarzan or Ursula from the little mermaid!! (Sorry they all are one of my favorite villains), Another thing I love so much are your ocs! Not only Danny but I can also say allwork and Benz!! AHHH THEM ALL ARE SUCH COOL OCS!!! I also need to say you are amazing when it comes to writing about Characters!! I really wanna know so much more about them all!!, Danny is still my favorite (he so lovely and sweet, he and you deserve the world) but either way, I thankful for you get in this fandom :') you deserve so much loveee and appreciation!! You made wanna go back in training more cartoon styles and expression because of your artstyle who is perfect!!!! I and everyone here will love to see your next works and arts!!! DON'T FORGET WHO FREAKING NICE AND AMAZING YOU ARE!!!!

Snicker!!!! (Hope it okay to call you that)) *sigh*.....

I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE A MEDAL FOR THE BEST AU THAT IS BEING WRITTEN.

Wow, God, how can I put into words in English how good she is??? I won't even be able to describe it in Portuguese CUZ GODDAMN YOU HAVE SUCH A POWER TO WRITE SOMETHING SO GOOOOOD😭😭 think I can say you and have the absolutely talens of god and the creative of a Talented artist who deserves much more appreciation and great recognition!!! When you showed up I was having a few bad days but YOUR AU SUDDENLY FELL FROM THE SKY AND WAS IMMEDIATELY BLESSED TO READ SUCH THE MAGNIFICENT MASTERPIECE!!! I love sooo much the idea of Ellie being Terrence daughter It such a cool and think I can say, a really original ideas (I mean about ellie being Terence daughter, not Terrence having a child "^^) I also adore so much all the personalities of each, RHM is one of my favorites, I'm also curious about his story and the others, I can't forget to talk about the villain!, AAAAAA YOUR TERRENCE IT'S SO NEAT!!! I also still his hater but you done such a good job with him gave the big vibe of two-face villain or the cocky anger issues one (idk what it the name for this one XD) but seriously? Meeen I wish I could could puch him just like rogue from jewel au from @smoresthehalloweenqueen ((Smore you also another of my inspiration and favorite artist!! >:3)) and CC!terrence, for me rogue, CC!Terrence and CoRTerrence are pretty good villains but make Blood boils so much just by seeing them but hey hey! This why I love villains you like them very much but wish them all just die soon (cc!Terrence was one Only these two are missing and I can't wait to see them all in hell ahahaha >:D) you really are spectacular, take the time you need to do the chapters, but I wanna to said that you are also my new Big inspiration!!

@00lari00

LARIIIII FINALMENTE EU TENHO UMA AMIGA BR NESSE FANDOM!!! DEUS É BOM DE DEMAAAAAAAAIS PORRA 🙌🙌

Akaskska sorry XDD but I serious!! I so happy to be the only brazillian person here in the fandom on tumblr!! It sucks sometimes not having someone who speaks the same language as you to talk :'''b but suddenly A SMOKE ARISED AND SUDDENLY FROM BEHIND, WIZARD LARI FINALLY ARRIVED!!! HOORAY!!!! Lari we can not talk to much since you busy with your school and I am a shy idiot but I need to said, HOLY SHIT YOU ARE THE MOST FUCKING COOL PERSON I HAVE HAD THE PLEASURE OF KNOWING, YOUR ART AND CREATIVITY ARE LIKE MAGIC COMING TRUTH!!! And this au you are creating??? É MUITO FODAAAAAA 😩😭🤌🤌🤌 CARALHO VEI TU TA FAZENDO UMA OBRA PRIMA ESPERO QUE VC NÃO PARE!!! É MUITO INCRÍVEL TUDO QUE VC TA FAZENDO!!! (Sorry back to English KAJSKS) I can't lie to you, I sometimes envy you, you are such a special, kind and incredible person. It's like I'm talking like the coolest maid ever and I think 'god they're so cool why they are even talking to me?, but I also see you as one of my big inspirations!! I know I will reach the same level as you in talent and art but I at least want to have some of your courage to talk to people and be good at drawing just like YOUU!!I also want you to remember that you are so wonderful and a very magnificent and awesome person!! Anyone who talk shit about you and one it's a hater because them never gonna be in the same way as you are!!! Also take all the time you need it for draw, study is also important I am here to let you know that I'm rooting for you every day!! I can see you Gonna have a bright and wonderful future, thank you for being my friend and also so being my inspiration

And now a really special one...a person who I am very very grateful...

@doodlethings

Bunnu?, omg I think I will cry (I already am since I'm writing all this) YOU. HOLY SHIT BUNNU I SWEAR HOW DARE YOU BE THE COOLEST, AMAZING, SENSATIONAL, WONDERFUL, KIND, AMAZING PERSON??? WHAT THE FUCK, I WISH I COULD GIVE YOU THE FUCKING WORLD, GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU DESEVE IT AND MORE THAN THE WORLD CAN OFFER TO YOU, In fact, how long have we been glued to each other? Type 4?? 5?? Or 6 years?? Oof time passed so quickly I lost count ;_; but well fuck it! The most important thing I want want to said is, YOU ARE SUCH DIVINE ARTIST AND WRITER!!! YOUR ART IS AS WONDERFUL AS A LIVING PAINTING A MUSE PAINTING, And this art deserves to be featured, every detail of it is so impeccable and incredible, and your writing? They are like a special, treasured book that deserves to be read, even if no one does, I will, I will appreciate your art and I will read your stories for the rest of my life, again and again and again, You are like a sunshine or flowers in the snow, you are my bestie, my favorite person in the world!! And you are my biggest inspiration to continue drawing, you have cheered me up all these years and continue to this day, you have the best sense of humor and music of all, your gave so wanna tips and help me a lot to deal with live and learn to love and appreciate more the things!! If wasn't because of you? Geez I really don't know but this doesn't matter, you are the best, intelligence and great yet sweetly and maravilinda person in this WHOOOOOLE WORLD!!! I LOVE YOU!! THANK YOU FOR BEING MY BEST FRIEND AND BE AND TALK WITH ME TO THIS DAY, I'm sorry about my horrible sense of humor, my delulu theories, lack of brain cells and Also because they heard the stupidest story I tell it ksskskajk you got a bored dumb friend :'b but I happy to be on your side until now and I can't wait to see you shine more <'3

Oh and for the people I didn't tag and said here

I'm sorry I can't tag all of you 😭😭 if tag more people here this post will be post only a few weeks later akajsj BUT DON'T THINK JUST BECAUSE I DIDN'T TAG YOU GUYS IT MEAN I FINDA ANY OF YOU SO NEAT AND AMAZING!!! YOU GUYS SUPPORT AND LOVE THAT YOU ALL GAVE ME HAVE A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART!!! A LOT (almost everyone) OF YOU ARE ALSO MY INSPIRATIONS!!! YOU LOVE EVER BLOG, DRAW, THEORY, WRITINGS AND AUS THAT YOU ALL DO!!! KEEP SHINING AND GOING EVERYONE CUZ YOU GUYS ARE FABULOUS 💞💞💞 💅 I WANNA SUPPORT AND LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!!! YOU GUYS DESERVE A LOOOOOOOOOOOT OF MORE THAN I CAN OFFER AND SAID DO NEVER FORGET WHO COOL AND BEAUTIFUUUUUUL YOU ALL ARE!!!! 🗣️📢

You knows? Today also is my birthday and there is It's a tradition in Brazil where, when someone has a birthday, after congratulations and lighting the candles, the person gives the first piece of cake to someone important, but all of you are important to me soooo...Since this is the internet not real life, I wanna pass several first pieces to each of you all!!!! SO GRAB ONE GUYS!!! NYEHEHEHEHEHE 🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰 >:DDD

Well this all I can actually said, happy birthday again Mrs. Water and Happy birthday to me!!

Also have I got this stupid idea her ajakskdkk xb

#thsc #henry stickmin #the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin oc #thsc oc #thsc mrs. water #mrs. water #thsc julio #WOLOLOart

58 notes · View notes

painted-bees · 1 year ago

Text

part i

Hitting a cafe during rush hour wasn’t Raf’s definition of a fun idea, and he was well practised in the art of saying ‘no’. Yet, for some reason or another, that skill failed to find him when the wide-eyed little Portasound busker insisted on treating him to a coffee.

The streets outside Granville Station were abuzz with traffic of all kinds. The wide sidewalks were, at least, accommodating to the amount of pedestrians that relied on them during the city’s busiest times of day. The same could not be said for the roads as cars rolled slowly forward, bumper to bumper. Still, the ambience was manageable despite all the bustle. Only the hissing, honking noises of transit bus breaks would coax the occasional wince out of him in their random, unpredictable intervals.

The little Portasound busker, ‘Magritte’, kept up beside him in lock step. She hadn’t stopped talking since they began their walk together and, in honesty, he preferred it that way. She was a disheveled little thing, more than a head shorter than he was. Her manner of dress was as sloppy as the thick bundle of curly, dark red hair that flopped loosely atop her head. Her grey sweater was several sizes too large, covering her to the knees. With sleeves that hung far past her hands if she didn’t scrunch them in her palms. Black leggings were tucked into knock-off ugg boots whose soles had eroded so severely on the outer edge, Raf was concerned she’d roll an ankle if he made her walk too briskly. She smiled so vehemently as she spoke, that her lips rarely closed around consonants, making it difficult to understand her at times.

“–so when my dad was like, ‘you can stay here and work, or you can move out and do your music stuff’, I moved out. That was like…oh–almost three years! I was eighteen. I just turned twenty-one today!” She accompanied that last sentence with a joyful little skip that caused Raf to turn his head and watch her.

“Well, happy birthday.” He exhaled a small laugh. “Vancouver’s an expensive place to live, but house hunting here probably already gave you the full story on that.”

“Rent’s insane,” Magritte echoed his small chuckle. “But the weather’s way more agreeable in the winter, which is what I’m after. And the music scene! I heard there were tons of musicians in Van, and look–I’ve already met two in the first few hours of being here!”

“Oh, you’ll meet more.” The way he said it made it sound more cautioning than he intended and he diffused it with a snort. “Guess the music stuff must have paid off after all, if you can afford a place in the city.”

There was silence between them and Magritte chewed the nail of her forefinger for a moment. “It actually hasn’t, I’m not a professional musician by any means. I’m just really good at finding a lot of short term work and stuff. Sometimes it’s music related, but not often enough to call it a living.”

“Mmh.” Raf glanced down at her. The bounce in her step had vanished and he watched her chew on her lip beneath a knitted brow. With a shrug he said, “You sounded good in the station, all things considered. You stopped, you listened, you came in at appropriate moments, you improvised really well. The pieces I played weren’t really…great for busking…and demanded a lot more than what your little keyboard could reasonably provide, but even your rests were composed and natural. You didn’t drop off abruptly any time the melody brought you past the range of your keys, you played into it.” He smirked. “I’m not gonna lie and say we did a great justice to Paganini today or anything, but I was very surprised by what you were able to pull off. I dunno, seemed like the chops of a professional to me.”

That brought the bounce back into her step, though she continued to chew on her lower lip. Raf was content to see her spirits buoyed at least somewhat by his sentiments. He hadn’t embedded a single white lie into his assessment.

They arrived at the cafe of his choosing; a popular spot, very near to the station, named Caffe Artigiano. The outside seating was full up with patrons, but Raf hoped the inside would be a quieter space to sit anyways. Opening the door, he followed Magritte in. It was busier than he would have liked, but he couldn’t have expected differently, considering the hour. Still, one thing he appreciated about the place was that it did not play music. Only the sound of numerous quiet conversations filled the air. Raf gravitated towards a freshly vacated table in a far corner, and Magritte followed him to it. Her gaze hung on the coffee menu that loomed above the counter.

He waited for Magritte to pick her seat before gently offloading his violin case onto the seat across from her. “I’ll go order. Was it a latte you said you wanted?”

“Actually…” She let out an indecisive little sigh. “A mocha, I think. I want…choco. Oh, but–!” She dropped her duffel bag onto the ground before unzipping a side pouch and pulling out the twenty dollar bill that had found its way into her upturned ball cap at the station. She held it out to him. “With this! Please?”

He hesitated before taking the bill from her. “Yes, ma’am.” There was no point in telling her that the twenty had been his before it became hers. The thought was what mattered.

The line at the counter wasn’t long, despite the busy patronage, and Raf soon returned to their table and evicted his violin case out of the seat across from Magritte. Finding an unused chair from a nearby table, he pulled it up next to him and sat his carrying case on it.

He reached over the table to hand Magritte the change, and she stared at it blankly for a moment before saying, “–Oh!” with a bit of a start. She turned her palm up to receive it.

Magritte stuffed the money back into the pocket of her duffel bag. “So, Question.” She sat back up and looked to Raf. “You say you’re not a professional, but you sound like...you know…Properly trained, or whatever.”

“Mmh.” It was a predictable topic, but not one he wanted to stay on. “Or whatever.” He laughed. “Yeah. Parents pushed it onto me a little too hard. I’ve got the training, but playing it is a chore and I kinda hate it.”

Magritte’s eyes grew wide and rueful and she shrank against the backrest of her chair. “Wait, really?” She covered her face with the sleeves of her sweater and threw her head back with a guilty little groan. “I’m sorry, I made you play so many songs!”

Raf patted the air in front of him in a placating gesture, “No, no. You didn’t make me do anything, relax.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I did that to myself. I meant it, though, when I said it was fun. It was the first time in a long while where I actually enjoyed myself once things got going.”

Magritte drew in a deep breath, recollecting herself before tentatively asking, “Enough that you’d wanna do it again sometime?”

A beleaguered laugh escaped him, “No.” He had given her much of his time and energy already, and being asked for more put a bitter taste in his mouth. The arrival of his iced americano and her hot mocha couldn’t have been better timed. As soon as it was placed in front of him, he brought the drink to his lips and took a long sip.

Magritte sheepishly turned her gaze down to admire the little white hearts in the foam of her coffee before she started to drink it. She placed the cup back down but kept both hands curled around it. “Did you enjoy it when you were younger?”

“Music?” Raf shrugged. “I don’t remember. It doesn’t really matter.” His gaze turned down towards her duffel bag as he grasped for a better topic. “Is your main instrument the piano?”

“Yeah! It’s what I had access to, growing up.”

“Who taught you?”

“Oh, I, uh…mostly just the internet and stuff. My parents didn’t wanna waste money on it, and my highschool didn’t have like…a music class or anything. Just choir. None of my friends played music.”

“...You learned online?”

“Well, like…on Myspace and LiveJournal. Lots of people share what they know there, and I made some really good online friends who tried to teach me things. We’d share music with each other and do weekly challenges and stuff. It was fun.”

“So, self-taught, more or less.”

“Mostly. Oh, except–!” Magritte ducked down to unzip the main pocket of her duffel bag and dove her hands into it. She rummaged around until she produced a small mp3 player and earbuds attached by a chord. “There was a year when I was living in Montreal, my girlfriend was a jazz pianist. And then we met other, um…friends who taught me more in that one year than I think I ever learned in my entire life. It was her and a whole lotta horns. They all let me use their instruments and taught me proper technique and stuff. I think they liked watching me stubbornly struggle with it. In the end, I was only able to record one song before I had to, um, move on. But I’m still kinda proud of it. I dunno if you wanna–it’s instrumental and kinda eclectic, but I loved making it.”

In response, Raf extended his hand, and Magritte spent a second scrolling through her library of mp3s before stuffing the little music device and earbuds into his open palm.

She performed an excited little wiggle in her seat as Raf wordlessly placed an earbud into his ear. “Just hit play, and it should be the right song.”

Raf wasn’t sure what he had expected to hear. He was, at least, perfectly comfortable with listening and offering his honest input. He didn’t believe in ‘bad’ music. There was skilled and unskilled music, there was music that fit his tastes and music that really didn’t. But none of it was bad. All music created deserved to be created and allowed to exist–if only for the satisfaction of the musician who produced it. He was prepared to tell her that the best music she could make is the music she enjoyed making, even if it didn’t resonate with his personal tastes. He pressed ‘play’.

What hit his ear was an uptempo half-time funk sound carried on a unison horn line; crystal clear, well mixed, high quality audio. Right from the jump, the sound had a quirky, catching character. He fitted the other earbud into his ear as a sustained note leapt into an energetic, off-beat ska groove. His brow furrowed deeply as he tried to discern the instrumentation. The drum fill might have been digital, but the winds sounded far too dynamic to be synthetic. And there were…three of them; the two horns he couldn’t quite specify, and then a baritone sax. The horns took centre stage, confident and playful, supported by a jaunty walking bassline and synthetic, bubbly organ accompaniment. Despite its G minor key signature, the character of the piece was lively and a little goofy, smart but playful; it was simply–fun. A smile lit across his face as the melody modulated G minor into G Phrygian for the bridge section. The effect was a jesting ooh gonna getcha vibe.

He listened to the end of the song before he began to comment on it. “Very cool. Your jazz friends weren’t sleeping on their music theory classes. I assume the organ is you?”

Magritte shifted nervously in her seat as her thumb smoothed over the handle of her coffee cup in small, repeated strokes. “I borrowed instruments for this one and recorded it in…um, my girlfriend’s parents' house. They had a music room where I was allowed to record things.”

“You borrowed–right. But the horns..?”

“Yeah.”

Raf levelled a measuring stare at her.

“I recorded each instrument separately,” she began explaining, “It’s uh, piano, trumpet, trombone, and–oh! The baritone sax was played by Sadie, one of my, um…jazz friends.” She let out a weak laugh. “And then, like…a bass, I also played. And a synthetic drum fill ‘cus…none of us knew how to actually play drums.”

“You played each instrument? Learned them and recorded this song within the span…of a year?”

“No, just the trumpet and trombone! I already knew piano and bass.” Confusion must have been apparent on Raf’s face, and she tried to address it by saying, “It’s all digitally processed, so it sounds a little more–”

“No, I–I know that.” Raf massaged an eyebrow with one hand. “You’re the songwriter too, I assume?” His tone was a little more sharp than he’d have liked it to be. It betrayed his incredulity.

Magritte picked up her cup and eyed him nervously over the rim as she sipped from it.

“No, I don’t know how.” She sounded embarrassed. “I can’t read or write music. I just sketched a bunch of it out digitally first, and then–”

“Fresh compositions? By ear?”

“Yeah. And then I recreated it with the correct instrumentation.” She chewed on the nail of her thumb. “It works, I think.”

“That’s still songwriting. It counts.” Raf sniffed and leaned back in his seat. “I gotta be honest, and don’t take this the wrong way but…it’s a little hard to believe.”

Magritte’s nervousness dissolved into a flattered grin. “Yeah?”

Raf’s brow twitched downward as he tried to read past her demeanour. He had expected a more sheepish response, if not a more defensive one. His doubt wasn’t intended as a compliment, but if she were being wholly honest with him, perhaps it made sense that she’d take it as one.

He drained the last of his americano. “So, you’re not pursuing this professionally, because..?”

“Oh, I am!” Magritte shrugged and turned her eyes to the upper right corner of the room. “It’s just been kinda…difficult.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” It was a stupid question he already knew the answer to. Music was more easy to find nowadays than ever before, but discoverability still relied on knowing how to promote the work and get the right ears onto it. And, across the entire spectrum of skill, this is what everyone tended to blame for the inability to live off their–

“Money.”

“M–!” The response was so sudden and matter-of-fact in tone, Raf couldn’t stop a bark of surprised laughter from escaping him. He’d have laughed the same way if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

Magritte slapped her palms down on the table and leaned forward with wide eyes to state her defence. “Instruments are expensive, lessons are expensive, computers are expensive, software and sound libraries are expensive! Everything’s so expensive!” She slumped back in her seat, turning her palms over in an exasperated gesture. “If I could afford to go to school and actually like–learn music, and if I could afford to rent instruments and recording equipment and stuff, I could make more songs! I could upload like…whole albums! I’ve got all these doodles with my shitty midi libraries and they might sound actually good if I could just record them properly! But it’s been like…four years since I left home, and the only properly produced track I have to show for it is that one.” She flopped her hand towards the mp3 player on the table. “So, I just make my little digital doodles, and I come up with tunes that suit the sounds I have access to. I like it. I’m happy I get to make any music at all, but it’s a bit niche, you know? And I have all these other ideas in my head that need like…better, less…synthetic sounds. There are libraries that sound pretty convincing, but all the best ones are…expensive. And vocals are hard to record with the stuff I’ve got.”

Raf held up his hands in effort to placate her. “No, I know, you’re right–money. I just–” It wasn’t a struggle he had ever faced, and he couldn’t help but feel like a bit of a heel over the fact that he hadn’t even considered it as an obstacle to the extent that she was describing it.

“On the other hand,” Magritte’s voice took on a capitulating tone, “With the right skill, I should be able to produce bangers with whatever I’ve got, yeah? And,” she took up her coffee cup in one hand, staring into its contents, “if I was better at saving money, I’d be able to afford those really good sample libraries just fine, probably. I just like my sweet foamy lattes too much.” She sighed a little laugh at herself.

Raf let out a low groan of disagreement, but didn’t elaborate on it. “I kinda…want to listen to those ‘digital doodles’ you mentioned.” If nothing else, it’d give him an idea of how much input her jazz friends had over the composition of the song he heard. If the obvious compositional prowess flexed in that fun-loving jazzy ska piece were completely absent in her little sketches, he wouldn’t chalk it up to being just a fluke.

Drawing in a deep breath and holding it, Margritte reached for the mp3 player and scrolled through its contents before handing it to Raf. “You can just skip through these as you like. It’s all a little–” She wrinkled her nose and let out a grunt in place of any real adjective.

With an affirming little snort of his own, Raf took the little music player and put the earbuds into his ears once more. He pressed play, and immediately understood what she meant. The synthetic instrumentation was wholly lacking in dynamics, and the musical ideas present in the melodies begged for more colourful phrasing. As he skipped from one song to the next, he grew more frustrated. The compositional writing was good. Consistent with the first song he had heard, Magritte seemed to really love playing with eccentric progressions and modulations that were unconventional for the mood or emotion that the song was attempting to capture. And ever present in each little composition was this boundless sense of joy. But god, the instrumentation (or rather, the lack thereof) really, really held it all back.

As he listened, his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, with a low groan that betrayed his thoughts, he took out the earbuds and handed the music player back. “Yeah, that sucks.” The end of that statement stuck in his throat as he sputtered to clarify, “Not the music–”

“Yes, the music.” Magritte’s giggle was one of genuine affirmation as she tucked the mp3 player away into her duffle bag.

“No,” Raf argued, “your toolset. There’s a lot of skill here, but the cheap synthy sounds aren’t doing it any favours. You went absolutely ham on those horns in the first song, and I don’t hear any of that in these sketches because it’s just not possible. There’s a lot of energy that is just…missing. Even watching you play at the station, yeah your keyboard suffers the same limitations, but at least in person I noticed you’ll even make use of like…the percussion of your fingers hitting the keys, which, you know…is dynamic.”

As he spoke, Magritte retained a smile and provided small nods before asking, “You like it, then?”

Raf leaned back, folded his arms and chewed on the question for a second before replying, “Yeah. I do. A lot.”

A lot.

There was a corner of his mind that begged him to get back home to his apartment and try out the melodies with an instrument that could do it proper justice. Jesus Christ, this actually makes me want to play the violin.

The realisation made his lip curl with a feeling in his gut that he couldn’t quite identify. “You know…”

Magritte, taking the last remaining sips of her latte, turned her eyes up at him with a little “Hm?”

There was a pause while Raf wrestled with himself. “I, uh…work at a recording studio not too far from here. Just down on uh…Powell Street.” He felt his jaw clench. There was no good reason for him to tell strangers about where he worked. There was no possible good outcome in doing so. Mentioning it felt too much like an open invitation for her to pop in at any time, for no good reason at all except to make things uncomfortable. “It’s called Hi-Note, and it’s got like…a pretty standard assortment of instruments to rent out and such. It closes early.” He wasn’t looking at her. Brow furrowed, he stared at the ice melting in his otherwise empty glass. “Swing by tomorrow night, after eight, and maybe we can jam for like..half an hour or something before I head home.”

He didn’t glance up to see her expression, but her voice was slow to rise to his ears. “..Wait, really?”

No. “Yeah.” What the fuck? “Really.” Unable to unfurrow his brow, he managed to at least turn his gaze towards her. Her eyes were so large on that petite face of hers, and her lips parted slightly, muscles tense with the anticipation of some kind of catch or condition. Or, perhaps she had picked up on his apprehension and was waiting for him to revoke the offer. For some reason, the idea of doing so suddenly felt…unconscionable to him.

In a small voice, she said, “I’d really like that.” The restraint of her response was belied by the way she wiggled in her chair. Beneath the table, her leg wagged restlessly like an excited dog’s tail. “Eight o’clock?”

“Mmhm.” Raf felt some of the tension in his browline relax as a slight smile passed his lips. “Let's see if we can revisit some of those tunes you have. Just–for fun. No recording, nothing serious.”

It seemed that Magritte could never keep a smile off her face for long, and once again, that broad, delighted grin of hers painted her features. “Yeah, yeah! I’d like that a lot!”

“Alright then.” Raf knocked his knuckles twice on the table like a gavel, before standing up.

As he reached to retrieve his violin case off the chair next to him, Magritte pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Hi-Note, eight o’clock.”

Raf favoured her with a lopsided smirk. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t. I’ll see you there!”

He provided her with an affirmative little wave, but by the time she had realised he was taking his leave, Raf was already halfway to the door.

He heard her call out to him, “Thank you for the–um–everything!”

Looking back to her, Raf returned the sentiment with an appreciative nod before pushing through the cafe doors; exiting onto the busy sidewalk outside.

He wanted to get home before sundown…

To play his violin.

#Hi-Note #I'm not a very good writer I don't paint very well with words haha but this is at least one way to get the scenes outta my head!#rafael #magritte

172 notes · View notes

brian-in-finance · 1 month ago

Text

A Tale of Two Tonys

and Brian knows the difference 😉

Part Four of Four

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

Longer still before TV-Outlander…

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

Music agency wound down after discord over funding

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The SAC statement added:

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

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

SUCCESS STORIES

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

The Darts of Pleasure - Franz Ferdinand

Spitting Games - Snow Patrol

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

Sons & Daughters - Johnny Cash

With Aplomb -Biffy Clyro

Maybe It's Time -The Grim Northern Social

Black Path - Aereogramme

Destroy Rock & Roll - Mylo

The Herald 26 October 2005

Music Week 2 September 2006

World Radio History 26 April 2008

World Radio History 7 June 2008

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

MD - music director

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

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #A Tale of Two Tonys #Part Four #The Fratellis #2005 #2006 #2007 #2008 #Rectangle of Reality #WYITK 🦉#Happy 48th Birthday! 🎂🥳🎈#12 October 1976 #Post created 16 July 2024 á propos of nothing else

30 notes · View notes

the-ace-with-spades · 2 years ago

Text

Bradley is eleven, will turn twelve in five months, his mom has been dead for over a year, and his dad for over nine.

His homeroom teacher gives him a permission slip for a school trip to some dumb museum Bradley’s probably already been to and says, “Your dad needs to sign it before next Monday.”

It’s Mav picking him up from school today — it’s Ice, usually, but he is supervising night-time flight maneuvers tonight — so Bradley gets in the car and they go over the normal, how was school today, any new grades, any homework to do, do you need to bring anything for class tomorrow.

They’ve stopped at a light and Bradley takes out the permission slip and says, “Mrs. Sanchez said my dad needs to sign it before Monday or I won’t go.”

Mav—Mav freezes. His hand grips the shift gear and he clenches his jaw, not looking at Bradley. The car behind them has to honk for him to snap out of it.

“I’m—I’m not your dad, Bradley,” he finally says.

“It’s just what Mrs. Sanchez said,” he points out. He doesn’t think it’s such a big deal — Mav’s been doing everything a dad would for years now, for Bradley, and Ice has been helping him the last couple of years. It’s a conclusion that many come to and it seems logical. Bradley is sure half of his teachers thought that even back when his mom was alive, Mav had certainly been to enough PTA meetings with her that it’d be an easy mistake.

“You can correct her, buddy, no one is going to be mad if you correct her, okay?”

They arrive at the house and Mav still hasn’t added anything. Bradley shrugs it off — Mav has these moments, sometimes, when he gets all quiet and unresponsive. Ice usually tells him to leave him alone or wait a couple of hours and try to cuddle with him. Bradley is kind of too big for that now, but it seems to help sometimes.

So Bradley asks if Mav needs help with dinner and after hearing no, goes back to his room.

Out of all that mess, he forgets about the permission slip.

He sits down and fills out all the empty lines so Mav just has to sign it — in capital letters, his handwriting isn’t that readable yet — and leaves just that last line with the date and signature empty.

He thinks, once again, about what Mrs. Sanchez said.

He doesn’t feel the need to correct her, still. He barely remembers his dad — he knows he loved them and he’ll never forget all the stories he heard from everyone but they’re, well, just stories. Mav is the one who taught him how to ride a bike and helped him make stupid macaroni projects for art classes, taught him how to count to a hundred, and how to tie his shoelaces and who would notice when Bradley was outgrowing his clothes or needed a new shoe size. Mav is there, every memory he has. Mav loves him like his mom and dad did.

Mav is his dad.

If Bradley’d really think about it, Ice is getting really close to being his dad, too. He’s making Bradley’s school lunches and helping him with his English homework from time to time, and he comes to Bradley’s matches and, even if Mav will never admit it, he’s the one who choses Bradley’s Christmas and birthday presents. He makes him hot chocolate when he has nightmares and stays with him for hours in the living room, reading plane manuals out loud, in the same tone his mom used to use to read his bedtime stories.

Bradley calling Mav his dad is as logical as people assuming he is his dad. And maybe it can be the same with Ice, in the near future, or maybe even now, if he agrees.

Bradley wants to call Mav dad.

So he grabs the permission slip and goes to the kitchen to tell him that.

“I don’t know, Ice, I just don’t know.”

He doesn’t notice Bradley there, standing with the piece of paper in his hand in the doorway. The phone’s cord is stretched across the kitchen, almost completely straight, as he talks with the handle between his ear and shoulder, slicing an onion at the same time.

“I’ve always wanted to have kids, as unrealistic as it seemed, but not like this,” he continues. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, I’m not his dad, he’s not my son, it’s just wrong to think that, I’m not—He can’t think that.”

Bradley blinks. Once, twice, a third time. Takes a quiet step back behind the doorframe, flattens his back on the cold wall. Holds his breath.

“I mean, you’ve always said you don’t want kids,” Mav says, the knife clanking on the cutting board as he changes the hand holding the phone. “We made do with the situation, obviously, but we’re not his parents—”

Bradley doesn’t want to hear more.

Bradley was right — he’s already been to the Castle Air Museum. More than once, with his mom, with Mav and Ice, and with Uncle Slider and Aunt Sarah.

His dad didn’t sign the permission slip but Mav did.

It’s sunny so they’re left to wander around the outside display. The tour was boring — their tour guide couldn’t even answer the questions about engines and wingspans and takeoff capacity and it was so disappointing to know more than the adult that was supposed to teach them, again.

The rest of his class went with the tour guide, to see the open cockpit of the Mentor but Bradley just turned around to the F-4 that was on the edge of the display, old and partially reconstructed with cheap metal and plastic. He sits down on the grass in front of it and lets the sun shine at the modern paint that should not belong on the fuselage of a Phantom.

Mrs. Sanchez comes over, standing above him, looking at the Phantom with an appreciation that is clearly less understanding and more awe at the sight. She hums before asking Bradley, “You don’t want to see the cockpit with everyone? Maybe they’ll let you sit in the pilot seat, today. Our group is small.”

The open cockpit belongs to T-34, a piston-driven one they stopped using in the fifties. “I flew one of those, but it was a T-34C, powered by a turboprop.”

Mrs. Sanchez looks at him, tilting her head a bit, not really understanding what Bradley said, like most people don’t when he talks about planes. ”I suppose it’s not that impressive of a place when your dad is a naval aviator, is it?”

Mav told him to correct her so he does, “He’s not my dad.”

He brings his knees closer, wishing she’d go away. Instead, she sits down next to him, her white pants smudged green by the grass in seconds.

“Is something wrong at home, Bradley? Is your—Is everything okay with Pete?”

“Yeah,” he says because he doesn't want to be whiney. He’s already been enough trouble. “His dad flew one of those.”

Mrs. Sanchez looks at the plague in front of them to remind herself of the plane’s name. “A Phantom?”

“Yeah, during Vietnam War.”

“He must be really proud of Pete then.”

Bradley supposes he’d be. “He didn’t come back.”

Mav lost his dad, too, and then his mom. He met Bradley’s mom in the foster system and she became like a sister to him. Bradley probably wouldn’t even know Mav if Duke Mitchell was alive.

Bradley was in the foster system for three weeks when his mom died, before Mav and his case worker had filed all the appropriate paperwork. He was placed in a foster family in the neighboring town — the wife, Sandie, didn’t work and would take him to school every morning, and the husband, Robert, was a corporate lawyer, bent from six to five. They would take Bradley to church every Sunday with the rest of the kids even though Sundays were the only days Mav had enough time to drive out of Fresno and visit him while the paperwork was still in progress,

They were nice, he supposes, and some of the kids called them mom and dad, so they couldn’t be too bad.

“Is there a way I could go back to the foster system?”

Mrs. Sanchez looks away from the plane, clears her throat, and asks gently, “Why would you go back there?”

“I dunno, just—Is there a way to put me back there?”

“I don’t think so, no, Bradley, not unless—” she breaks off, taking a deep breath, and says softly, “I’m sure Pete wouldn’t like that.”

Maybe he wouldn’t like that but it’d make everything easier for everyone.

It’s a few weeks later. Mrs. Sanchez hasn’t mentioned anything to Bradley even if she keeps on looking out for him during recess so he doesn’t think she’ll drill the topic.

Mav and Ice have both gone to the PTA meeting which Bradley finds odd. They’ve always been very careful about their relationship — his mom had given him a talk about how he couldn’t call Ice Mav’s boyfriend when he was six, well, Bradley had called him his husband because he didn’t really know the difference back then, and he had been instructed to keep it a secret.

He’s never mentioned it to anyone, since then, especially not to Mrs. Sanchez. He used to think it was stupid because they were both his parents and they should both be allowed to come to his plays and career days and charity fairs, but now he supposes it was convenient since Ice didn’t want a kid and probably didn’t want to be included in all those parental stuff anyway.

They pick him up from Uncle Slider and Aunt Sarah’s place but they don’t say anything. Usually, they at least mention that Bradley has good grades.

Maybe he’s doing something wrong, again. He got into one fight a couple of weeks ago but Mav said it was alright as long as it didn’t happen again.

“Can you come up to the living room once you unpack?”

Bradley takes his time. He unpacks his English homework, the only one he couldn’t do but also one Uncle Slider couldn’t really help him with — Aunt Sarah probably could but she’s been sleeping the whole time because apparently being six months pregnant is making her super sleepy. Contemplates asking Ice for help with it but decides it’s probably better he doesn’t.

He needs to start doing these things alone. He can’t bother them forever.

In six years, he’s going to be in college, and he holds onto that thought.

“So, your grades are perfect and we’re really proud of how well you’re doing in school, but—But Mrs. Sanchez mentioned a couple of things about your behavior,” Mav says.

Bradley doesn’t sit down with them on the couch even though they left space for him in the middle. He also doesn’t reply anything.

They both look at Bradley for a long moment and he fidgets under their gazes.

“Mrs. Sanchez said you asked her whether we—whether we can give you back for adoption,” Mav begins. “We’re just worried about where that question came from, Bradley, we aren’t going to—”

He said we like Ice actually wants anything to do with Bradley’s guardianship.

“We love you, Bradley, we promised your mom we’d take care of you and—”

He isn’t their son. He’s a promise they’re keeping and nothing else.

“Can I go back to my room?”

“Buddy—” Mav begins again.

Bradley doesn’t want to hear whatever he has to say. He already knows everything he needs to know.

“I know you love me, I know you won’t give me back. It was just a stupid question, is all,” he says because that was the truth — they promised his mom they would love him and here they were, trying very hard to do that.

They don’t need to pretend it’s anything else.

“Okay,” Ice says, carefully. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate and we can talk some more—”

“I just want to go to sleep.”

There’s a moment of silence and they give each other a meaningful look before turning back to Bradley.

Ice notes, “It’s not even seven.”

“We painted the whole nursery with Uncle Slider, I’m just tired. Can I go?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Mav says.

“I know,” Bradley tells him even if he isn’t so sure about it. “Can I go? I still have some homework to do.”

part two/Slider POV now here

#bradley rooster bradshaw #mavdad #icemav #tgm #my fics #this was supposed to be a series but no time and too many wips #so im just posting it as it is #tho be prepared for icemav pov of this and slider pov and future post-mission hangster pov #so maybe part 2 coming?#it'll be angsty too but well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#the ace rooster fic is being written btw bc #the mini fics are in my head and banging on the walls begging to come out #op #charlie writes

944 notes · View notes

yuellii · 1 year ago

Note

Just with the same three characters, Neuvillette, Zhongli and Pierro if it's alright and thank you <3

dying by the hand of an artful man

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 of red flags in your relationship

feat. neuvillette, zhongli, pierro ( separately )

notes. gn reader, click on summary above for part one, honestly unsure if knowledge and context of part one will be needed ;; these are really not the best :’) i wasn’t sure how to continue the first part…

NEUVILLETTE, always too serious, was one to continue carrying on.

Perhaps it was foolish of you to marry a man whom you knew had little to no basic understanding of human emotions—but maybe you were just too kind for even trying. Foolish for even thinking that he would attempt to learn for you, because you believed he was a man that was understanding enough.

But the cold distance felt further to you than ever, especially after you acknowledged such a displacement between his position as a husband and as a judge. In the eyes of the public, he is fierce and firm, like an unwavering flag of justice that stands his ground to bring the guilty to their downfall.

In the eyes of little ones like the Melusines, he is a good leader, one that says hello every morning like a caring father. And yet, this is the side you feel you’ve never met once in this marriage. It was as if you fell in love with Neuvillette, but married only the Chief Justice—a difference you realized too late.

“I’ll be going.” His voice was cold just the same as it was emotionless. You watched as his unwavering gaze never met yours whilst he headed out the door, wondering if it has always been this way.

“Stay safe, Monsieur.” A title that held no meaning, no love. The first time you stopped calling him names of endearment, you had hoped he noticed it. And maybe, you were a little too naive to pray for any kind of reaction. But alas, he still just nodded like it was nothing. You wondered if he loved you at all.

The Chief Justice of Fontaine, in all his stern seriousness, loving someone so emotionally deprived like you. He claimed to, at least; and at the time, you believed him. But now is when the thought crosses you like an arrow to the heart, like the Gods truly cursed you with the reminder of just how inhuman this man you called your husband truly is.

He might’ve misunderstood what love was in the first place.

ZHONGLI, even more overly protective, kept you locked tight nowadays.

It wasn’t often you could stare out the open window without him being there anymore.

Since your last escape to Lantern Rite, you’ve found the front door locked with something that seemed like adepti magic, and event the windows were shut with no route of escape anymore. Too dangerous, he said. Another Osial could rise again, he always warned.

Maybe it was the fact you were human, and he lives the life of immortality. And, maybe it was the fact he was so particular in the way you aged, and your birthday being today made no exception.

“Another year older,” he smiled so gently at you. You think it made you feel sick. “Age only brings fragility,” he muttered so close to your face, “Like stone that ages with the world, until it’s ground into nothing but sand.”

And there goes his comparisons again—comparison to something more fragile than you were.

“I only wish you’d allow me to protect you more.” And then he inches closer until his lips are on yours, tasting a bitter tea you once found so lovingly sweet. But now the flavor turns to mud on your tongue, and you’re seconds away from spitting him out. He still has the touch of a dignified, refined man. Yet his demand for control over your “safety” showed you less of a husband and more of a parent.

Tomorrow night marks the next Lantern Rite; And you plan on seeing it again. If he wants to keep you locked up here, he’ll have to drag you by the ankles from the Harbor.

You did not consider that was exactly what he’d do.

PIERRO, who asked if you would die for him, continued his pampering.

With what sanity you had left, you could sense it. Something big would be happening soon, and the death of The Fair Lady only amplified your fear.

“Shh, don’t cry now,” the leader of the Harbingers whispered sweetly into your ear. His voice was a low rumble, one that made you shiver more than reassured. “Look, she’s still with us,” he pointed, little fire moth resting atop his finger. You only continued to shake amidst your tears as you sat curled up on his lap. You were scared, yet your head rest on the chest of the most dangerous man, your husband.

“She died for a noble cause,” he told you. You might’ve been too shaken to realize where he was leading this to go. “For the Tsaritsa,” he continued, “and her everlasting glory and goals.”

Your tears slightly slowed down from your focus on his words; but you fear you may lay awake haunted by his voice again.

“This is how you should plan your death, too.” You tensed. “It should be meaningful, show-stopping…” When he trailed off, his large hand came up to rest against the side of your head, pulling you off his chest so he could see you. The pads of his thumbs swiped at your tear-stained cheeks in such a gentle manner that you were completely fooled by his manufactured love all over again. “…Sacrificial.”

Your face might’ve contorted to fear, because his hand shifted and tightened to clasp sharply at your jaw. “I love you, you know that?” he asked so kindly.

Yes.

Theres a low chuckle in his throat. “Then tonight, there’ll be a feast. And tomorrow, there’ll be a war.” He smiles at you now with a different kind of love. “And that’s when you can show me that you love me, too, through your glorious self sacrifice on the battlefield.”

#neuvillette x reader #zhongli x reader #pierro x reader #genshin men x reader #genshin x reader

320 notes · View notes

bluetorchsky · 3 months ago

Text

Birthday Thoughts

I just ramble about stuff since it's my birthday today. I'll put it under a read more but like, TL;DR: I want to keep growing and keep finding the bits and pieces of who I am, keep loving the person that I am, and be kinder to the person (me) who does and tries their best no matter what.

*blows party maker* Happy Birthday to me! I'm gonna be spending the day by myself, just going out and doing stuff. But it's gonna be a good one, I know it.

Another day, another year where my age ticks up another number. It's been one hell of a year since my last birthday and just, a lot of stuff has happened. Usually stuff happens but like...it definitely felt a lot more than usual. I just felt a lot of stuff, I did a lot of stuff in regards to work and school, even if I didn't finish school.

I don't really see myself going back to college or university at this point, just to take a course that might get me in a career that's not needed anymore. It's also been really stressful, and I think I'm just not ready to be back there. Which is totally fine, I need a break from it. Sometimes I do feel bad for not completing any of the courses in Animation, but it just didn't really click with me at all. The technically stuff stumped me, but doing character designs and what not (except layout) is what I liked doing better.

Still, I'm not about to throw more money just to take another course. At this point, I just want to take it day by day and try and enjoy the time I have. Even when I'm dealing with customers almost every day, I'm at least in a department where I don't always have to do that, heh.

I would love to learn more skills in art, but I also want to get back to writing. The last fic I did "You Are Here (You Are Love)", I really felt proud writing it. I want to do more, I want to be able to write stories and create images in the minds of the readers, that at some point they will feel like they are there, even for just one second. It's ambitious, but it really just comes down to wanting to improve on my writing.

Another day, another year where I turn a year older and feel like it's any other day in my life. But at least I know that I have changed in some ways, that I have improved in some aspects of my life, that there are people who do look to me not just for help but because I'm their friends, and even though I try to be more than myself, I love the person who I am now. I love that I am still learning more about myself. I love that I can find a piece of me either in my family or friends.

I know there are days when I put myself under so much pressure and stress, that I'm never kind to myself if something goes wrong or what I say doesn't happen. I am only human, I can only do what I can do that is in my control. So I'll keep being who I am and continue finding out who I am.

I think I've yapped a bit too much, haha. So much I want to say, but I can't always say all of it. I do want to say thank you to those who speak and interact with me as mutuals or as friends. You guys really do mean a lot to me, and I know I would not have been able to do what I do without y'all there with your support. You all really mean a lot to me, I love ya guys.

#bluetorchsky #bluetorchsky musings #and like #i really muse in this one #i feel like I could say a lot more #but i dont want to get too sappy or sentimental #ill save that for another time haha #ill be off to bed at this point #got myself a list of stuff i wanna do for myself

38 notes · View notes

dreamilysporadicpervert · 1 year ago

Text

S. Aizawa | A Flame From the Ashes

Art: bill60223 on X(Twitter)

Step-father Aizawa x Step-daughter reader, where (Y/n) looks too much like her [dead] mother to resist

Word count: 2666

MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT

CW: 18+, dub-con, (sort of) incest, vaginal penetration, overstimulation, age gap (reader is 16)

It’s been a few years since your mother died, and it’s affected you and your stepfather both immensely. But in those years, the loss has just made your bond even stronger. You do everything together whenever you can, and he even takes time off of work for you, which makes it even more special. He is your rock, and you are his.

You’ve never really had a boyfriend, and even when you have, they never last long. It’s not that you look bad; you look more and more like your mom every day, and she was gorgeous. It’s not your demeanor; you’re very kind, sweet, and caring to everyone you meet. For the life of you, you can’t figure out why you can’t keep a boyfriend longer than a few days.

It was your sweet 16 last weekend, and this weekend, you’ve decided to just chill in your house instead of going out to see other people or having any friends over. With all of the excitement of your birthday and then school throughout the week, there’s only one person you want to be around: Aizawa. He’s a wonderful father-figure, even though he’s not your biological parent.

You haven’t seen your own father since your mom took you when you were 7 to see him in prison, so Aizawa is the only real dad you have. He’s also the only family that you have, as your mom didn’t have any family left and Aizawa himself doesn’t have anyone, either. It’s just the two of you, and honestly, that’s enough for you.

Aizawa is a bit cold and strict with everyone else, but with you, he’s like a different person entirely. He dotes on you as if you were truly his own, giving you all the love and affection that he has inside. It’s almost enough to make you jealous when he is nice to anyone else, because you’re so used to being the only one to receive his affection and it makes you feel special to be that person.

That being said, he has already promised this weekend will be just you and him, and you couldn’t be more excited. He’s even coming home early from work just to maximize his time with you since last weekend was time you spent with all of your friends. It is almost like his birthday gift to you. Well, another gift, since he also gave you actual gifts at your birthday party, but this is like an encore.

When you get home from school, you go take a shower because you want to be clean and comfortable when you snuggle in with him for the movies he promised to watch later. After your shower, you get into your favorite oversized T-shirt and shorts, leaving your hair loose after you brush it so it can dry properly.

Once you’re finished, you waltz out into the living area, running to greet him at the door. He’d barely had time to even properly get inside before you attacked him with a hug. “Hi, Daddy,” you say affectionately, squeezing him tightly. The sight of you so excited makes his heart skip a beat, and he leans down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Hey there, sweetpea,” he greets back, setting his keys and a bag with takeout in it on the counter and kicking the door closed behind him, wrapping you in his warm, strong arms. “You ready for this weekend,” he questions softly, affection laced in his voice that one would only hear when he’s talking to you. Once again, you find yourself feeling happier because of this knowledge.

“Yeah,” you answer back, your voice bubbling with excitement. Your eyes glitter as you look up at him, your cheek squished against his chest as you continue to hug him so tightly. He can’t help but smile at how adorable you are. When you let go of him, you both eat your takeout and he goes to take a quick shower, coming out in sweatpants and a T-shirt. “Ready to watch some movies,” he asks, chuckling when you nod so eagerly.

You settle in and watch a steady marathon of all of your favorite movies, only really getting up between movies to go to the bathroom or get up to make popcorn or get more drink. It’s the perfect chill night with your favorite person in the whole world. You watch movies for hours, staying curled into his side but snuggling closer with every movie that you watch.

On one movie break, when you come back from the bathroom, he lets you sit on his lap. It’s a perfectly normal occurrence between the two of you, and you like it because it means that he can hold you even closer while you watch movies with him, his chin resting on your shoulder as you relax together. You watch the whole movie like this, comfortable in his embrace with nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Hey (Y/n),” he whispers into your ear, his chin digging into your shoulder with every word as he speaks. “Yeah,” you answer back softly, turning your head slightly to look at him for whatever he wants to say. He looks like he debates what he wants to ask before finally opening his mouth to speak. “Do you want to watch a new movie with me?”

“A new movie? Sure,” you say excitedly. You always love when he has new movies to show you, so you’re sure this will be no different. He looks at you with a soft smile, affection and… something else, twinkling in his gray eyes. He speaks, his voice soft and sweet. “Alright, (Y/n)… It’s a bit more mature than some of the things we watch, but you’re getting older now, so I can’t limit you to kids movies forever, you know?”

“Oh… Well, I don’t mind, I guess. I’m sure it will be fine, right?” You look at him, returning his soft smile. He pulls up the movie he wants to watch and returns his chin to your shoulder, his arms draped loosely around you. It’s Deadpool, so there’s a lot of action and you are absorbed in the story since it’s almost like what you imagine Aizawa doing, but a bit more violent and vulgar.

The vulgarity doesn’t really bother you, because you’ve heard worse at school. It’s when Wade finds Vanessa and their intimate moments are displayed that you find yourself getting a bit flushed and embarrassed. You try to power through, but your body starts to become as warm as your face and you have no idea why, but your heart is also racing.

“You okay, sweetpea,” Aizawa asks softly, secretly knowing exactly what’s happening and reveling in it. “I… I’m okay, Daddy,” you say, your face beet red, unable to look away from the movie. It’s like morbid curiosity. You feel Aizawa’s chin digging into your shoulder again when he speaks. “That’s what two people do when they love each other very much,” he whispers softly.

You swallow and keep watching, not noticing where his hands are until he slips one down over your hips and in between your legs, rubbing you softly through your shorts. Your core throbs from the sudden touch and you let out a soft noise of surprise. “Shhh,” he whispers. “It’s okay, (Y/n). I know what you need. You just have to trust me, okay?”

“Mhm,” you answer hesitantly, more of a whimper than anything else. He gives a soft smile and applies a bit more pressure, causing the throbbing to increase, wetness building quickly at your entrance. You’re not really paying much attention to the movie anymore, and he pauses it to give you his full attention. You whimper again, not sure what this is but knowing that it feels wonderful.

He knows you need a bit more, so he slips his hand into your shorts and starts playing directly with your throbbing clit. Your legs try to squeeze closed on instinct, but he holds them apart. He coos sweetly into your ear while he massages you just right, “You’re my sweet girl, aren’t you?” Your mind is slow to process that he’s said anything, still concentrated on the pleasure, but you manage to answer. “Y-Yes, Daddy.”

He smirks quietly, slipping his other hand up your shirt to start massaging your breasts, playing with your hardened nipples. You lean back into his embrace, squirming as he gives extra care and attention to your sensitive skin. He decides that it’s time to keep going, slipping a long digit into your weeping hole while he keeps circling your clit with his thumb. The sudden invasion makes you gasp, but it feels good when he curls his finger inside you, so you don’t complain.

He listens to the way you mewl in pleasure, your breath coming in hot pants, and he starts to get hard beneath your squirming form. He knows he needs you prepared for him so he adds another finger, kissing the side of your neck. He feels you start to tremble, your juices slick on his hand, and he knows you’re close. “Let yourself go, sweet girl. It’s alright,” he whispers softly.

Something about the way he says it makes your body follow his command and you let out a strangled moan as you squirt all over his hand, clutching at his forearms as you ride it out. He kisses the side of your neck again. “Good girl,” he whispers sensually. “Do you want me to make it feel even better, sweet girl?” He grins as you mumble an affirmative answer, panting hard from the exertion and your release.

He has you turn around, pulling his pants down enough to free his erection, pre cum already leaking from the tip. He motions you closer and guides you to straddle him. “It might hurt a bit at first, but I promise it will feel so good, (Y/n),” he whispers. You nod your understanding and then he pushes your shorts aside, aligning his tip with your entrance. He pushes you down on it slowly, watching himself disappear inside of your slick walls.

“Sweet girl, you have to relax just a bit, okay,” he grunts softly, biting his lip as he slides you down further. You clutch onto his shoulders, tears pricking at your eyes, but you try to do as he says and relax. When you do, you notice that it doesn’t hurt as much anymore and you let out a soft noise of pleasure as he reaches deeper and deeper.

When you’re fully seated on his lap, he lets you sit there for just a minute to get used to the size of him inside of you. It’s a very full feeling. “Are you ready, (Y/n),” he asks you softly. You nod, and he puts his hands on your hips, his grip firm but gentle as he helps you start moving up and down. “D-Daddy, it feels so good,” you whimper as you start moving more on your own.

“Good, sweet girl,” he replies softly, brushing your hair back off of your collarbone and pressing light kisses to your skin, groaning softly as you keep riding his lap. He kisses along your collarbone and up your neck, nipping and sucking the skin lightly here and there. The fabric of your shorts is getting sticky with your juices as you keep going, but neither of you care at this point.

He’s actually thankful that you decided not to wear a bra or panties. It makes it that much hotter for him. He slips off your baggy T-shirt so he can watch your breasts bounce, letting out a low moan at the sight. His hips jerk upwards into you and you let out a whimper of surprise as he starts rutting into you, matching your pace. He thrusts faster, gripping your hips as he helps you keep up with his pace.

The faster and harder he thrusts, the farther he pushes inside you, and the entire situation is just too much to handle. You clench around his cock without warning, soaking his lap as you cry out in pleasure. He barely has time to pull out before his hot seed spills all over your thighs, staining the front of your shorts. Both of you pant, your breathing hot and labored. Something about the sight of you right now turns him on even more.

He pulls you in close and gives you a tender kiss. “How are you feeling, sweet girl,” he asks in a soft whisper. Through your heavy breathing, you mumble, “I’m okay, Daddy.” He watches you for a minute, pulling you a bit closer in his arms and rubbing circles into your back with his fingers. “Do you want more,” he asks cautiously.

“More?” You ask, a bit confused. “I don’t know if I could do that again tonight.” He brings his hand up and caresses your cheek. “(Y/n), I can give you more, and this time, I’ll do all the work… If you want, that is. We don’t have to.” His voice is soft and sweet, and you feel like you do want him to do more. “It’s okay, Daddy… I want to.”

“Alright… Lay down next to me,” he commands softly, patting the couch cushion next to him. You do as he says and watch him strip off his shirt and pants, revealing his muscled form in an extent that you’ve never seen it before. He grabs ahold of your wet, sticky shorts and slides them off of you, leaving you both completely naked, just staring at each other for a moment in silence.

Aizawa moves closer, crawling on top of you. He positions himself between your thighs, leaning down to kiss you. His lips are warm and soft, and he hopes that you can feel just how much he loves you through his kisses. He probes your lips with his tongue, rubbing the tip of his cock on your swollen clit to make you gasp and let him explore your mouth. Your taste is intoxicating to him, and he grins into the kiss as your tongue starts moving against his.

He rubs against you for another minute or two, teasing you just right until you let out a needy whine. “Okay sweet girl… I’ll give you what you want,” he says softly, pushing his cock deep into your already quivering walls. There’s no adjustment period this time before he starts slamming his hips into yours. The new angle rubs that spongy spot in just the right way with every powerful stroke.

He kisses you while he pounds into you, muffling your moans as his tongue invades your mouth once more. He pushes you quickly towards your release, growing more and more ravenous for your taste and the feel of you squeezing around his cock. When his own release comes, he doesn’t even bother pulling out this time, filling you up with cum and pumping it deep inside you.

He fucks you until your cries become completely incoherent and his seed oozes from your overstimulated hole, your heart pounding in our chest and your throat a bit raw. He strokes your hair softly, smiling down at you as he tries to get his own breathing under control. “Are you okay, sweet girl,” he asks affectionately, his gray eyes slightly concerned that he may have gone too far.

You nod slowly, not trusting your voice quite yet. You’re both covered in sweat and the couch is a complete mess, but he doesn’t much care about those things right now. He lays down next to you with his back against the couch, pulling you in close and turning the movie back on. He kisses you gently on the cheek, overjoyed that this all went over so well. He already knows he wants to do it again, but he just hopes that you want to do it again with him as well.

#aizawa smut #aizawa #aizawa shota #aizawa shouta #dadzawa #daddyzawa #eraserdaddy #bnha aizawa #mha aizawa #daddy issues

338 notes · View notes

estebanocon · 1 month ago

Text

Ok, here's my recap of seeing Esteban over the Singapore GP! I've been attending every Singapore GP since 2017 and have supported Esteban each year. For me the highlight from this year was finding out that not only does he recognise my face, he also knows my name. 🥹

The video above is a compilation from two days: Thursday and Saturday. Full story below the cut. 👇

PRE-RACE WEEKEND / ESTEBAN'S BIRTHDAY

I've been travelling since late July and my flight back to Singapore from Vancouver was actually on Esteban's birthday. I had already committed to editing a video to celebrate his achievements at Alpine. Some of you (bless y'all, seriously) answered my open call for art/video/message submissions and I spent the afternoon before my flight putting it together. I'm happy I got it done and I was even happier when Esteban commented thanking us for it just before I got on my plane. You can watch the video on Instagram here.

THURSDAY

A.K.A. The day after I arrived back in Singapore after 2 months on the road and a 16-hour time difference. I have no idea how I wasn't severely jetlagged lol.

I got to the paddock entrance after 1pm, early enough to still get a spot in front of the barrier, but gosh there were so many people this year. Either F1 has really exploded in popularity (especially with the younger generation) or we just have more fans from overseas coming to Singapore for the race (why tho, it's so hot y'all). Luckily I had a friend with me and he was kind enough to help me take videos when Esteban arrived.

My friend hadn't hit record yet so the video missed Esteban saying "good to see you again, how are you doing?", and you can scroll back up for the rest. ☺️ He thanked me after I asked if he'd seen the birthday video and then there was an awkward moment when I didn't know if we were doing a fist bump or a handshake but man's a gentleman and didn't make me feel weird about it. 🫠

I don't know why after seeing him so many times I still get nervous but I was, and I struggled to take the cap off my marker so he could sign my cap. He very kindly took it from me to open it himself but my marker betrayed me and wasn't working properly (now that I think about it, it also happened the very first time I asked him to sign my hat back in 2017 🤡). Thankfully the girl next to me offered her red marker which actually worked (though Este stabbed the life out of it first to be sure). 🙏

I initially wanted to hang around in the evening with some friends who were coming after the pitlane walk. But at 7pm it was already super crowded and I don't even know why (all the drivers, TPs and media are already in the paddock at this point and won't come out till late that night). So yeah, I just went home to not tire myself out before the race weekend actually started.

FRIDAY

I've accumulated quite a bit of merch since last year so I was bringing a different one on each day for him to sign haha. In the selfie I'm wearing a shirt he signed the day before.

I normally try not to take up too much of his time because he always does his best to make sure all the fans get something from him. I only had one shirt for him to sign but after he did, he continued standing in front of me so I just took out my phone for this picture and then he went on his way. Este is bestie fr. 😭🫶

I didn't hang around outside the paddock again on Friday night because I went to watch OneRepublic. ✨

SATURDAY

The best day for me because this was when I managed to get most of my selfies (including with Mick, who I missed on Thursday because he came with Esteban and obv I have priorities) and also because Esteban managed to drag the car out of Q1. 👏

It was also a good day because I asked Esteban if he could write my name on the cap and as I was trying to spell it out for him, he cut me off because he knew, he just didn't see it was me at first because some guy had draped a huge flag over my friend and me for him to sign. 😭🫶

We tried to wait outside the paddock after qualifying but they started chasing us out at 12am and since they had armed police out in full view, we decided to not fk around and find out. (At previous SGPs they'd stay in the van so we never actually saw them.) Also didn't help that Esteban chose that moment to leave so people started mobbing him and even though he tried to stop at first, security physically pushed him to the exit. 🥲 (which was probably for the best tbh)

SUNDAY

I actually gave Este the wrong hat to write my name on (I wanted him to write it on the cap from his store, not the Alpine one) so I had to ask him again and he kindly obliged.

That night I was lucky to catch him just before he left the circuit, there were some fans running alongside him because he wasn't stopping but he stopped when he saw me. 😭🫶 I got a quick hug and he said see you next year so I guess the greedy mfs at SGP are going to continue getting my money smh.

BONUS ESTE'S BESTIES

Here's a picture of stuff I got signed by Este, as well as some gifts I got from other Esteban fans! And also, a picture of me and Fiq who I met for the first time on race day.

#esteban ocon #eo31 #f1 #singapore gp #rach at f1 #in general i have to say the crowds are not it this year #like they just run all over the place and mob whoever they can get #and honestly it pisses me off because the online discourse this season has been very anti-este #but suddenly at the track people were paying more attention to him because he was one of the few drivers giving them the time of day #BUT ANYWAY #POSITIVES #can I just say I really appreciate the way he took my gift for him #with both hands???#very demure very mindful #giving asian children raised to accept angpows with both hands because it's polite #and also his sincerity whenever he says thank you pls #idk how anyone can hate him #and crazy fans aside #I love the small community I'm finding at SGP #wasn't expecting to receive gifts from other fans incl a Lewis fan I last saw in 2018?? who gave me a Lewis fan (haha)

22 notes · View notes

odyssean-flower · 1 year ago

Text

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 7 - Summer: Paintings and Sunflowers

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: Your relationship with Neuvillette continues to develop. Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now?. Also someone walks in on someone coming out from the bath Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging out in front of his fellow dragon apep's house

Previous | Next

“This isn’t working...” you sighed as you stared at your watercolor painting, which was more water than color due to the fact that your paints were heavily watered down to make them last longer.

You were currently trying to update your art portfolio, which was woefully inadequate. You had heard that governesses who could teach art were in high demand these days, so you decided to concentrate on art recently.

However, the blobby mess that meant to be the view of the sea from the garden was highly unlikely to impress anyone.

The sun was beaming down on you heavily. Even your old straw hat was having a hard time doing its job. You took a sip of Snezhnayan water. Seriously, what is the difference between this and water from Fontaine? Maybe I’m just too unenlightened to understand.

Ever since you and Neuvillette decided to be friends, things had been...quite different. The two of you talked about everything and nothing. Neuvillette liked talking about water and the Melusines, while you would talk about the books you had read. After a while, you sensed that he was learning more about you than you about him, as he always steered the subject away from himself and towards you. It was odd to have someone be interested in your opinions about things...but you found that you really liked that feeling.

You could ask Neuvillette for money to buy new paints, a voice said in your mind, but you shook your head. You couldn’t ask that favor of a friend, and besides, it was better that you didn’t rely on him too much, or you would get used to it in the future.

Maybe I'll go check out the art supplies store again and see if they have anything on sale, you thought. Standing out here wasn’t going to do anything.

Deciding to do just that, you went up to your room to change and spotted your sister’s letter on your desk. That reminded you that you had to buy her a birthday present soon. Since you didn’t have to worry about money as much these days, maybe you could buy her something nice this year.

“Marie, I’m going out!” you called out to the parlor where she was dusting.

“Okay, Madame,” Marie said, poking her head out from the door. Her eyes widened upon seeing your long-sleeved dress. “Are you truly going to wear that dress in this weather?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It’s in solidarity,” you said, thinking of Neuvillette’s heavy, multilayered getup that he wore every day. You idly wondered if he sweated.

“Solidarity?” Marie repeated in confusion, but you were already out the door.

“Ugh...”

You were quickly regretting your choice to wear this particular dress. Your hair was already matted to your forehead with sweat.

It was late afternoon, but the temperature showed no sign of dropping. Looking at the cold drinks held by pedestrians, you decided to stop by the Café to get some iced Fonta first. Ah, just the thought of it made your water.

As you approached the establishment, you stopped in your tracks. Sitting in the corner table, far out of sight (but not far enough to not attract stares from other patrons) was Neuvillette and Menthe. Both of them reminded you of wilted flowers.

“What kind of water do you serve here?” you asked the manager, Arouet.

“...Just regular water, Miss?” the manager looked confused. You couldn’t blame him.

“Alright, please get me a glass of cold water, an iced Fonta, and an iced coffee, please,” you said.

After you got your orders, you walked over to the table. “You two look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Ah, Madame,” Neuvillette said and attempted to straighten up in his chair. He looked as impassive as ever, but you had observed him long enough to know that he was in quite a lot of misery right now. “Such pleasant weather we’re having today, perfect for a walk in the city. I see that you have the same idea as well.”

You stared at him. Is he being serious right now? “Please don’t force yourself, sir. We both know you can’t stand this weather,” you placed the drinks down on the table and sat down. “Here, water for Monsieur Neuvillette, and an iced coffee for Menthe.”

“Thank you, Madame,” Menthe said with a yawn. “I needed this.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked Neuvillette. “You know better to than to be out and about, dressed as you are.”

“I was out for a quick shopping trip, and then I saw Menthe looking a bit dispirited, so I thought I would take her into the shade to rest.”

I think you’re the one in need of rest here, you thought as you watched Neuvillette wipe at his forehead with a handkerchief. So he does sweat after all.

“You were shopping? Why didn’t you just get someone to do it for you?”

Neuvillette cleared his throat and looked away. It was only then that you noticed something wrapped in parchment paper in his lap. “I didn’t wish to entrust this to someone else. I was shopping for a present for someone important.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded. Was it a Melusine’s birthday today or something? “What a coincidence, I’m out shopping as well. For paints, and if I’m lucky, a birthday present for my sister.”

“Paints?” Menthe looked at Neuvillette. “Oh, Monsieur—”

“Ahem, Menthe,” Neuvillette cleared his throat.

“Oh, um, I mean, Monsieur Neuvillette told me that you paint really beautifully, Madame! He really likes your paintings of the sunflowers back in your hometown.”

“Her sketches are wonderful as well,” Neuvillette said, sounding oddly proud. “You should show the Melusines your sketchbook some time, Madame.”

“Ooh, may I?” Menthe looked at you with big eyes.

He’s making too much of me, you thought, hiding your embarrassment by chugging down your Fonta. “Alright,” you said.

“Yay!” Menthe clapped her hands together. Just then, the great clock in front of the café let out a chime, signalling the end of the hour. “Oh, I must get back to work. Goodbye, Monsieur, Madame!”

“Goodbye, Menthe. Please take care of yourself,” Neuvillette patted the Melusine on the head, who giggled and skipped away. You found yourself feeling oddly jealous.

Now it was just the two of you. You looked at Neuvillette, who was sipping his water. He looked back at you.

“Um, I hope the water is to your liking,” you said. “I know it’s not the fancy imported stuff you enjoy.”

“It’s perfect,” he said. “Just what one needs on a day like this.”

You looked at his outfit. His cravat was tightly tied around his neck, and his cuffs were buttoned neatly, showing not a bit of skin. He must be dying on the inside right now, but he still managed to look put together. You felt very shabby next to him.

“I know you said that you always dress according to your standing, and I respect that. But I feel like you could at least take off your gloves, or loosen your cravat a little when you’re on break. I doubt anyone would mind.” In fact, they might go crazy over it.

“Very well,” Neuvillette said, then proceeded to take off his gloves. The silver ring on his finger glinted even in the shade.

“You're still wearing the ring!” you blurted out in surprise.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow.

You didn’t know how to answer that.

“And you’re wearing yours as well,” Neuvillette said, indicating your right hand, which was mostly covered by your sleeve. To be honest, you put it on every morning without even thinking about it anymore. It was a reminder to yourself that as easy and comfortable as this “marriage” was, it was still a marriage, and one that was a means to an end. That was what you told yourself, anyways.

Neuvillette continued to sip his water. He seemed to be enjoying it, which pleased and baffled you at the same time. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around the idea of water from different places having distinct flavors, but Neuvillette swore up and down that the difference was real and that anyone could taste it if they savored the water patiently enough. Even now, you still wondered if he was secretly testing you or something.

Still, what a shame it is that he doesn’t enjoy Fonta, you thought. He’s missing out.

Back in your hometown, only the basic, original flavor was available. But once you moved to the Court of Fontaine, you were introduced to a veritable rainbow of Fonta flavors. You had even spent a week drinking nothing but Fonta. You suspected Neuvillette might have a heart attack if he heard about it.

Neuvillette finished his water, and then stood up with the box tucked under his arm. “I must return to work. I shall see you at home, in the evening.”

You nodded. “Make sure to stay cool, sir.”

Neuvillette was about to walk away when he suddenly turned around. “Ah, Madame. Are you still going to visit the art supplies shop?”

“Yes. Why?”

He looked like he was about to say something, but then shook his head. Was he...smiling? Before you could look closer, he turned away. “It’s nothing. Please, enjoy your day.”

You watched him until he was just a blue speck in the distance.

Afterwards, you headed to the store. Unfortunately, none of the good quality paints were on sale. Maybe I should just make my own, you thought glumly. The owner, on the other hand, seemed to be in a very good mood.

By the time you got home, it was already evening. You decided to take a nice long bath to wash away all the sweat. Ah, baths are the best, you thought as you soaked in the bubbles. Back at the boarding house, you had to share two bathrooms with twenty other girls. This was heaven.

Just then, you heard a knock on the door. That was probably Marie. You wrapped yourself in a towel and went to the door. “Coming!” you shouted and opened the door. “Marie, what—”

Your words got stuck in your throat as your eyes took in the tall figure standing in front of your room. He was holding the wrapped package from earlier in his hands.

For a few agonizing seconds, the two of you simply stared at each other. You saw his hands start to shake, and redness creeping to his cheeks.

You slammed the door in his face and hurriedly put on your bathrobe. Your thick, fluffy bathrobe with a sturdy tie that could be fastened tightly, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Taking a few deep breaths to control your pounding heart, you flung open the door, catching your bright red face in the vanity mirror in the process.

Neuvillette was still standing there. You were pretty sure that he hadn’t moved a single inch. His face was now visibly red. As soon as he caught sight of you, he closed his eyes and turned his head away from you.

“M-My deepest, sincerest apologies to you, Madame,” he said. His voice sounded as though it was being uttered from the deepest trenches of the sea. “I have committed a disgraceful act—”

“Let’s just forget about it,” you interrupted him. “We’ll both pretend that it never happened. And besides, um, I wasn’t completely naked or anything, I was wearing a towel, and we’re technically married, so...”

What in Archons’ name are you talking about? Your mind screamed. Neuvillette seemed as though he might never look at you in the eye again.

“So, anyways, that present is for me?” you said. Does that make me the important person? Despite the situation, your heart grew warm.

Neuvillette nodded and held it out to you. It looked like he wasn’t going to speak to you again either.

You carefully accepted the box and tore open the packaging. You let out a gasp when you saw a rosewood box with a carving of roses on the lid.

It was the watercolor set from the art store you had always admired from a distance. It was too expensive for you to even dream of owning it, of course.

But now, it was in your hands.

You opened the box and was met with robes of paints, brushes, and an even a small palette.

“Y-You got this for me?” you said, looking up at him. He still wasn’t looking at you. “Why? H-How did you even...?”

“I-I did say that I wanted to help you achieve your goals, and I...I noticed that you were in need,” Neuvillette said. “And, do friends not give presents to each other?”

“Yes, but...not anything so expensive!” you stroked the lid. “I cannot possibly repay you.”

It was then that Neuvillette finally turned his head and fixed his gaze on you. “There is no need for repayment. I bought this because I wished to. Just seeing you content is enough for me.”

His words struck something deep within you. You were so used to receiving hand-me-downs, of stretching things to their limits, that you had no idea what to do in this situation. Your hands felt like they should be doing something, but what?

“Thank you,” you whispered, and before you knew what you were doing, your hands reached out and clasped his hand tightly. You could feel its warmth even through the glove, and the contours of his ring. You shook his hand vigorously. “I will treasure this gift for the rest of my life.”

Neuvillette stared at you for a few moments, and then he turned around and walked away. It might have been a dramatic moment, if his brisk pace didn’t cause him to step on his coat tails and almost trip.

For the third time in the hour, Neuvillette glanced at the clock. He was currently attending a banquet hosted by an important government official, which meant he had to attend.

He forced another bite of the dry steak into his mouth. He reached for his glass to wash it down with wine. Wine wasn't his first choice of beverage, but it was better than nothing.

The other dignitaries sitting near him engaged him in conversation about politics and other related topics, and he did his best to respond in kind. But perhaps because his mind was unfocused, his answers came out short and curt. The others seemed to take this as annoyance at being bothered and excused themselves.

He held back a sigh. Even though social events like these weren’t his strong suit nor even his hobby, he generally tried his best to perform his role and to fit in. But tonight, he was suddenly feeling very impatient to go home. He had been feeling this feeling a lot recently.

Neuvillette absentmindedly stroked his ring. I wonder what she is doing right now...

For the past few days, his wife had been working on something and had promised that it would be finished by today. She had refused to let him see it until it was ready. All he knew was that it had something to do with painting.

Neuvillette glanced at the clock again. There were still hours before this banquet was supposed to end. He closed his eyes and took another sip of wine, imagining calming things in order to quell the restlessness he was feeling. A perfectly flat water surface at night, a cool sea breeze, the smiles of the Melusines, his wife’s smile when he gave her the watercolor set, the feel of her hands around his...

“Ah, Monsieur Neuvillette, thank you for coming,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see the host of the banquet standing before him. There was a young woman standing next to him. “May I introduce you to my daughter?”

The young lady curtsied gracefully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur.”

“Likewise,” Neuvillette nodded.

The young lady stepped closer, and he caught a whiff of her perfume. He couldn’t help but compare it to his wife’s scent when she came out of the bath that day—

“Oh, dear, Monsieur, are you okay?” the young lady and her father looked at Neuvillette with worry as he coughed violently, having choked on his wine.

“P-Please excuse me,” he said after the fit subsided, and then proceeded to walk out to the balcony to catch his breath. There was no view of the sea from here. It was going to be a long day.

The sky was dark by the time Neuvillette arrived home, but even from the front door, he could tell that his house was uncharacteristically noisy.

There seemed to be a crowd of people in the parlor. Neuvillette paused at the door, listening to the snatches of conversation.

“Madame, are you almost done with Rhemia?”

“Blathine, don’t rush her. She has been sketching for hours now.”

“Madame, could you teach me how to sketch too?”

“Sure. It’ll be good practice, anyways.”

Neuvillette opened the door. A group of Melusines were sitting on the couches and floor of the parlor. Even Marie was there. They were all holding sketches in their hands, and watercolor paintings were scattered on the floor. In the center of it all, his wife was sitting in his chair, sketching a posing Rhemia.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, you’re home!” Sedene was the first to notice him.

His wife turned her head towards him, and the corners of her lips turned up slightly. Neuvillette felt all the restlessness and fatigue he felt earlier drain away.

“Welcome back,” she said and stood up, giving him back his chair. “How was the banquet?”

“It was fine,” he said. “What are you all doing?”

“Well, the Melusines all came over and asked me to show them my paintings. Then, they wanted me to sketch them, so I did.”

“I see,” Neuvillette said, peering at the sketch of Rhemia. “They are wonderful.”

“Thank you.” His wife seemed to be putting the finishing touches on the sketch. Neuvillette studied her profile. She looked completely focused on her work.

“It’s done,” she announced, and handed the sketch to Rhemia.

“I’m next,” Blathine said and stepped forward.

"I think Madame Neuvillette needs to rest her hands a little bit,” Marie clapped her hands and gave Neuvillette a knowing look. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen for cakes?”

The Melusines followed her outside, leaving Neuvillette and his wife alone in the parlor.

“I apologize for their rowdiness,” Neuvillette said as he watched her gather the scattered paintings in her arms. “Please feel free to decline their requests if they inconvenience you.”

“It’s no problem,” she said. “It was nice having so many people here. It reminds me of the old days. And I’ve never drawn Melusines before, so it was a fun challenge.”

Neuvillette also stooped down to help her. He didn’t have the discerning eye for art, so he couldn’t make any comments as to technique, but he found that his wife’s paintings had a quality to them that made him yearn for something unidentifiable, which was what made them so fascinating to look at.

“By the way, I finished your surprise,” she said. “Would you like to see it?”

Neuvillette nodded, and she led him upstairs to her room.

“It took me some time to work on it, because I had to use my imagination instead of drawing something I see,” she said, speaking a bit quickly. “And I wanted to use the paints you gave me carefully.”

“Are they to your liking?”

“Yes. The colors are so vibrant, and the brushes are so smooth, that I’m afraid that they are a bit wasted on me, since I don’t really paint because it’s my passion, so...”

“But they are useful to you, are they not?” Neuvillette said. “Isn’t that enough?”

“...I suppose so,” his wife said after a few moments of silence. She then cleared her throat and turned towards the covered easel near the window. “Here it is.”

She lifted off the blanket, revealing a small canvas. At first, Neuvillette didn’t know what he was looking at. Then, his eyes recognized the amorphous blobs, the blurry line of blue in the distance.

“This is a painting of the garden in rain,” he said, looking to her for confirmation. She nodded.

“It hasn’t been raining at all recently, so I had to try hard to picture the scene in my mind.”

“What made you choose this subject?”

“Well...before, I’ve never really paid attention to the rain. It was just an excuse to stay home for me. But...then I would see you standing out in the rain, and I would suddenly notice all these things I haven’t seen before...so...” her voice trailed off, and she looked down. “I just wanted my first painting with your gift to be something you like.”

Neuvillette felt an unfamiliar feeling in his heart. If he had to compare it to something, it would be feeling the heat of a warm current all around you after ages of swimming in the cold ocean.

“Do you like it?” his wife asked, looking up at him.

Neuvillette had to think about how to answer that. “...Yes, I do,” he said at last. “It’s my favorite of your works.”

His hand reached out towards her head, his fingers running over her hair, gliding over her cheek, and rested on her shoulder. His wife stared at him quizzically. “Sir?”

“...It’s nothing,” Neuvillette said. He wasn’t sure what came over him.

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” Sedene’s voice sounded from downstairs. “We have a request for you!”

“Sounds serious,” his wife quipped.

The two went downstairs to the kitchen, where the Melusines were looking at paintings of houses with sunflowers standing in front of them.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, what do you think of planting sunflowers in front of the front door, just like in Madame’s hometown?” Sedene asked.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Neuvillette said. “One rarely sees sunflowers in the city.”

“I can ask my family to send us some seeds,” his wife said. “But one thing I’m worried about is the lack of rain lately, since sunflowers need a lot of water to grow.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Neuvillette said, drawing a confused look from her.

Previous | Next

Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #the winding path of fate #my fics #neuvillette x female reader

144 notes · View notes

everythingisawayoflife · 3 months ago

Text

MORE Random West Wing Headcanons bc I said so

i’ve gotten back into the show recently (esp bc i understand all the politics and crap) and i feel the need to talk about my favorite dysfunctional political administration

in the first post i made, i said ainsley and sam dated for two years before breaking up. well that breakup didn’t last very long. a month later, they started dating again. from that point, on they never left each others side. they live in georgetown with a rottweiler and four kids.

after being really involved in solving a finance crisis, josh was invited to throw the first pitch at the Mets game. when the camera zoomed in on him, he was visibly emotional.

donna was over at josh’s apartment so much during his recovery period, they’ve begun to have weekly movie nights. they continue this tradition even after marriage and kids.

josh and donna’s house has a wall in the hallway of their house when you first enter that is covered with their kids’ handprints - at first, it was just their oldest being naughty but they let it grow into the Moss-Lyman art exhibit. even sam and ainsley’s kids, and toby and andy’s kids have added their prints to the wall

there’s a weekend every summer where all of senior staff and their families come up to Manchester and stay on the Bartlet Farm at Abbey’s insistence - she wears the title of “Grandma Abbey” proudly

at the inaugural ball (aka s4 josh & donna), josh and donna spend so much time together that a lot of the people there going to congratulate josh on getting bartlet’s second term mistake josh and donna for husband and wife - as a joke, donna and josh let people believe it

^^they end up getting quite the talking to from abbey - because she’s mad they didn’t tell her first (and cj, who has to field press questions the next day and they almost caused a domestic incident)

as an april fools day prank, zoey and charlie covered bartlet’s walls in the oval office with sticky notes - sam helped and wrote a “your mama” joke in latin as payback for bartlet having fun with the staff

josh has a terrible habit of biting the skin around his nails until they bleed - he doesn’t realize how bad it is until he turns some papers into the president with large drops of blood on them - donna keeps spare bandaids at her desk

toby likes to have a little fun with donna and say things to deliberately get a reaction out of her - some are truths, some are lies. one truth is that he likes beans on toast. donna called him clinically insane.

leo really likes musicals. can he sing? hardly ever. but on days he finds he needs to relax, he puts on the original cast recording of oklahoma and everything turns out okay

donna unofficially adopts a sickly kitten that lived in the trash near her apartment - she names it Brownie and nurses it back to health

^^Josh is allergic to Brownie but doesn’t say a word to Donna until after they’ve been married and had kids when they reach the age where they start asking for pets

Donna is sort of a multiple-threat kind of girl - she was an excitable kid so she grew up knowing how to do all kinds of things - these things are tap dance for seven years, karate for two years, horseback riding has been the only constant in her life, she can knit and sew, and she even speaks a little french - josh LOVES it when Donna speaks french

josh is always cold, he’s never run warm. donna knit a blanket for him as a birthday present. he’s never said anything but it’s one his favorite things in the whole world

donna actually likes hearing some of the president’s obscure historical tidbits - she even goes so far as to learning some of her own to exchange with him

toby visits the veteran’s grave that he buried every year and even talks to him a little while he’s there

it took a solid 20 minutes after donna had their first kid to let someone else hold him besides josh. the third person to hold their kid was bartlet.

^^^donna has never seen josh more in love than when he held their kid for the first time. cj took a photo of josh gazing at the little baby swaddled in blue clothing with visible tears streaking down his face. it’s one of donna’s favorite photos.

Sam is really good at hockey. He takes his kids to hockey games whenever he can.

#again posting cause it needs to see the light of day instead of collecting dust #way shorter than originally planned but whatever #the west wing #tww #donna x josh #josh lyman #jed bartlet #ainsley hayes #sam seaborn #leo mcgarry #zoey bartlet #charlie young #abbey bartlet #cj cregg #toby ziegler #my headcanons

43 notes · View notes

ponett · 11 months ago

Note

hello!

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas 🎄🎁🎉 😄

I was gonna ask when the series had gone on a little longer, but since you got gifted "Do A Powerbomb", I was wondering if you'd checked out DWJ's Transformers run?

Have a wonderful day! 🌠

I have! I've been following it as it comes out and was completely enamored with it by the end of the first issue, which is why I wanted to read Do a Powerbomb (which also completely owns)

After IDW lost the Transformers license I kind of dreaded what a new publisher might do with the property. IDW had pushed Transformers into so many new and exciting directions over the years, giving me some of my favorite Transformers stories ever and shaping other parts of the franchise for years to come (and also making a ton of Transformers canonically queer). The last thing I wanted was for a new publisher to throw all that out and just go back to square one with easy G1 cartoon nostalgia. Especially after I ended up being really unenthused with the post-continuity reboot "IDW2" era, I worried that it could be years and years before we got another new Transformers comic that really spoke to me like the MTMTE/RiD era did

And then Daniel Warren Johnson's Transformers dropped from Skybound. Despite leaning so hard into G1 cartoon aesthetics, and despite being part of a new shared universe with the okay-but-not-amazing Void Rivals by Robert Kirkman and some GI Joe comics I don't really care about, I was cautiously optimistic because I'd previously heard really good things about DWJ's other work. And I've just been absolutely blown away by it. It's already one of the greatest Transformers comics ever made

From the very first page you can tell it's doing new things with the traditional Transformers iconography, while also tapping into the heart of the series better than anything else I've seen in years. The hand-inked art can be a little loose and messy, but that helps give it so much energy, ESPECIALLY in the inventive fight scenes. Whether it's vehicle mode action, Optimus doing literal wrestling moves on Decepticons, or even just a panel of someone transforming, there is SO much life in all of DWJ's drawings. But he also cares about tying things to the human cast in really compelling ways. We've already gotten so many good scenes between the robots and the humans that give it so much heart. The deer scene with Optimus and Spike went viral for a reason, it was instantly one of the best Optimus Prime scenes ever written. It's not just about the robots or the humans, it's about the dichotomy between them. He gets it

I love a lot of IDW's comics that are just about robots interacting with other robots many light years from Earth and barely ever even transforming on the page, but like. This is the comic you wanna hand to someone to be like "This is what Transformers is about. This is why it fucking rules"

Seriously, though. Anyone with even a passing interest in Transformers should be reading these. I am constantly on the edge of my seat waiting for the next issue these days. Look, Optimus literally suplexes Starscream in the first fucking issue YOU HAVE TO READ THIS

#anon #ask

78 notes · View notes

yaeklore · 4 months ago

Text

"Hm? Oh! It's recording, okay– *Ahem ahem* Pleasure to talk to you all, gothamites! I am Nevowl, the new vigilante around Gotham! If you ever see something flying right past you it may probably be me, if not well then it's probably The Blue Boy Scout! Enough rolling around and 'blah's-blah's'.. My pronouns are well, any really, even neopronouns are accepted! I am.. actually i won't reveal my age but i am pretty young! Not near older than 18 but not younger than 15! I am bored most of the time so feel free to talk to me all you want!"

!¡OOC!¡

Hello-Hello there! This is a DC OC RP account, i am down for roleplaying anything, expect certain themes, it's not that i have triggers is just the preference of not roleplaying certain kinds of RP(rp's with explicit 🍇/SA scenes for example).

If you want to RP with me, you can directly tag me in the post, DM me or send a ask! Although the DM one you can just do it in the cases of very very very specific plot or arc. Of course there's no problem with you messaging me on private if you want to establish or specificy something for the RP, or if you want to set your boundaries on what you wish to avoid or to have in the RP.

!¡My rules for this blog!¡

Please do not, and i mean it, do not ship my OC with anyone that is way over the age of 15 or under the age of 15, the max i can accept is 16 and that's it. I don't really like stories with 15x17, so i prefer 15x15 or 15x16.

Post are going to sometimes be PG-13 so if you are under 13 do not interact with such posts, if you interact with posts that are not set for you age i will give you a warning, if it continues then i'm sorry but you are getting blocked :(

OC's interactions for my OC is completely fine! In fact i would enjoy some interactions, the same goes for DC characters, feel free to interact :)

+18 interactions or things like that for this character, are not going to be accepted by me for the very reason that my OC is a minor and i do not want those interactions with my character. PG-13 interactions are fine, just don't go too overboard with it.

!¡General info and appearance!¡

Name: Yaeklore Sofia Lima

Vigilante name: Nevowl

Birthday: 13/02

Age: 15 years old

Height: 5'0'' (short aah)

Gender: Female

Xenogender: Nocstuffic, Jelliestarlic and Nuclearacidic.

Pronouns: She/Her

Neopronouns: Nocstuffic; Noct/Nocturnal/Nocs - Stuffie/Stuf/Stufself

Jelliestarlic; Star/Stars/Starself - Jellie/Jelly/Jellyfish/Jelself

Nuclearacidic; Acid/Acidic - Nuke/Nuclear - Toxic/Toxin/Toxicself

Sexuality: Bi Aroace

More info;

Metahuman: Snow Owl. She has the same abilities and instincts that a snow owl would have, she will get sleepy during the day sometimes and way too active during the night, she also has night vision and acute hearing.. so sneaking up on her on dar clothes won't work since she will still be able to see you and if you make one little sound.. she will hear you. She is also able to shift between forms, one where she has only her wings and talons showing, another where she looks more animalistic and feral, and the last being of a young owl.

Parents: Unknown. She hasn't heard about them in awhile now.

Any disability?: During the day, while she can see normally, sometimes things will get messy so she uses glasses with a sunscreen protection on them.

She has ADHD and Autism! :)

Since the picrew didn't help on her appearance this is how she looks like in her other form;

(ART IS NOT MINE!!)

In her second form she will look exactly like that, but with Snow Owl characteristics

(snow owls look like this)

#gotham rp #only in gotham rp #dc rp #dcu rp #dc oc rp #dc comics rp #dc rp blog #dcrp #dc roleplay #dc comics roleplay #dc oc #onlyingotham #only in gotham #gothamite #gotham oc #gothamites #dcu #oc intro

42 notes · View notes

theragethatisdesire · 1 year ago

Text

much ado about nothing chapter 2 - eren x reader - 18+!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

welcome back to the much ado universe for our second installment! this chapter is just a lot more yearning and getting to know everyone in the uni, fleshing out the mysterious eren a little more, but there's a treat at the end ;)

@toxrez was kind enough to make some LOVELY fan art of this chapter, please find it linked here i am so appreciative so go send her some love!!!!

specific cws: tee tiny pinch of smut, drug/alcohol use, swearing, historia plotting on your downfall like the meddlesome best friend she is

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” - Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare (Act II, Scene 2)

A solid week or two passes and…nothing. You chastise yourself for being disappointed at Eren’s radio silence, especially since you hadn’t exactly given him a way to contact you. He knows Historia has your number, but he hasn’t reached out to get it from her. And why should you expect him to? the annoying, self-doubting voice in your head corrects you every time you dare to hope, you’re not exactly his usual type.

It’s true; since your run-in, Historia’s been busy doing reconnaissance on anything Eren-related she can pick up from the rumor mill. His dating history is a near-blank, but his “hoe history” as Historia lovingly dubs it, is colorful, full of rave girls and bar rats and Instagram models. You’d drank enough that night that it was entirely plausible you had imagined the excited sparkle in his eyes as you rambled on about misrepresentations of theme in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He had come to Scout’s to work after all, not on the prowl for a sex-starved literature student who couldn’t hold her tequila.

The fact was, he wasn’t interested, cemented after your night out to Scout’s on Halloween. Historia had gone to the trouble of dolling you up in an appropriately slutty outfit on the premise that It’s like, one of the biggest party nights of the entire year. There’s no way he’s not going to be there. But, the bar had been devoid of intoxicating cologne and green eyes, and you’d gone home empty-handed and far more drunk than you’d intended to.

The surprise comes a few days after.

You’re sharing a cup of tea with Historia as she paints your toenails on the couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly and enjoying the pampering. As you're moving your thumb to like Sasha's Instagram post, Historia reaches for her phone suddenly and knocks the nail polish bottle over, spilling it all over your– again, hand-painted coffee table. After four years with her, you can only contrive a semblance of annoyance; you’re surprised the table even lasted this long with no major casualties.

“Stor!” You scramble for the bottle, righting it, but Historia’s typing madly on her phone, muttering under her breath.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

“What?” You can hardly contain your impatience, trying to quell the hopeful flutter rising in your chest. Historia bites her lip, grins wickedly at you.

“I told you. I told you.”

“Told me what?”

In lieu of an answer, Historia turns her phone to you. You squint to read the texts through the recently-cracked screen.

> Pregame at my place for min’s birthday tn u in?

> for sure! what time?

> 9ish u know the addy?

> yep! we’ll be there.

> See if ur friend wants to come too.

“Your friend?” you scoff, pushing her phone away in painfully feigned disinterest when in reality, your heart is pounding in your throat.

“That’s you,” Historia wiggles her eyebrows meaningfully, as if you weren’t already aware of the fact.

“I resent that,” you say, picking up your phone to continue your mindless scrolling until Historia snatches it from you, fixing you with a pointed look. “What? He can’t even use my name? What a douchebag.”

“That’s just how boys text,” Historia swats your concerns away. You bite back your scathing reminder that Historia has been a loud and proud lesbian since her teenage years and has no idea how “boys text”. Sure, you might be grasping at straws to hate him, resist the temptation rising in your throat, but you’re determined. He humiliated you once, and he won’t get the chance to do it again.

“We’re not going,” you say at the same time as Historia talks over you: “We’re going.” You scowl.

“We have to,” Historia shakes your shoulders, “he was all over you at Scout’s, not to mention that mysterious eight inch claim.”

“He’s had more than a week to reach out, and this is how he decides to do it? Summoning me through you?”

“Maybe he was too shy,” Historia shrugs, returning to painting your last few toes.

“Eren doesn’t strike me as a guy who’s too chicken to ask for a girl’s number, especially after everything you found out from Ymir.” Historia’s girlfriend may have been a bit on the anti-social side, but she somehow knows everyone and everything. Despite her bristly demeanor, Ymir possesses the god-given art of pulling the juiciest gossip out of complete strangers, and it isn’t a talent any of you have let go to waste over the years.

“He might surprise you,” Historia looks up at you through her lashes, “this is all just to get you laid anyway, so don’t think too much into it.”

You bite your lip, allowing her to work on your toes as you slip into thoughtful silence. If you’re honest with yourself, like, really honest, you’re not the best at “just getting laid”. In college, you were always the one stuck on the giving end of a one-sided situationship, and your only solution when it would inevitably fall through was to start anew with an equally terrible guy.

As you’ve leaned into your graduate years, you’ve been able to avoid your past pitfalls, sleeping with guys who are far enough away from your type to avoid heartbreak but cute enough to catch your interest, a category Eren should fall into. Something about him has you trapped, though, the same way you used to be. He makes your head spin, renders your normally pin-sharp thinking null and void, makes you say stupid, stupid things. Things like:

“Okay, fine. But an hour, max.”

You reflect on your stupid mistake as you stand on Eren’s porch with Historia and Ymir, in another cute-but-not-cute-but-not-trying-to-look-not-cute (or, at least, you think that’s the criteria) outfit of Historia’s choice. Historia had insisted on bringing her girlfriend to leave you free to “couple up” with Eren, but you realize all that means is you’re arriving to a party full of strangers as a third wheel. Great.

As Historia knocks, your stomach erupts in a bout of nervous grumbling. Not only have you forgotten to eat, but you haven’t been to a drug dealer’s party since you were probably nineteen. It’s actually quite a cute little house, homey brick with a red door and a well-kept lawn, not the trap den you’ve been envisioning all afternoon. The scene is eerily quiet, no LED lights shining in the windows, the low hum of music at a reasonable volume bumping through the walls. It’s not what you expected, but then again, you’re still on the wrong side of the door.

“Coming!” A voice— a feminine voice— echoes through the inside of the house, and one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen flings open the door. Just fucking great. “Hi, you guys are…?”

“Historia,” Historia chirps, not thrown off in the least. You smile timidly, trying to absorb some of the confidence that rolls off of her as she introduces Ymir and then you. The girl eyes you in particular but not threateningly, a hint of a smile playing on her face.

“Mikasa,” she opens the screen door, letting you inside, “Eren mentioned that you were coming.”

“Really?” Historia’s friendly grin grows devious, and you pinch her arm behind your back. “Ow!”

“You okay?” Mikasa frowns over her shoulder.

“Yeah, just stubbed my toe.” Historia scowls at you.

You round a corner to the source of the music, feeling a little like you’re going to puke, but you’re pleasantly surprised by the scene in front of you. It’s not a rager, and there’s nothing suspicious out except a handful of red solo cups and a couple of expertly-rolled blunts being passed around hand-to-hand.

Armin offers you a small wave from where he’s parked on a loveseat beside a striking, intimidating-looking blonde woman, failing miserably to flirt with her. Mikasa falls into an armchair beside another pretty brunette who’s wearing some sort of work uniform and an apron; her name tag reads Hitch<3. You faintly recognize the guy hitting the bong, his name might be John, and the dude beside him is one of Sasha’s best friends, Connie, who’s been posted on Barstool an impressive four or five times.

Eren comes strolling out of the kitchen with a half-eaten piece of pizza hanging out of his mouth and holding his phone, which he’s squinting at, away from his face like an old man. He looks so ridiculous you almost snort.

“Would you just get some glasses already, dude?” John coughs, waving the smoke out of his face and passing the bong to Connie.

“‘On’t need ‘emph,” Eren’s words are muffled by the pizza as he disproves his point entirely, moving his phone back and forth in the air until it seems he can finally see it. When he finishes his text, he takes notice of you, pulling the pizza out of his mouth with a crooked grin. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you try to come off nonchalant, but it doesn’t work, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“This is—“

“I introduced myself while you were stuffing your face,” Mikasa waves him off, leaning in to look at something on her friend’s phone. Eren scowls at her, moving along.

“Hitch,” he points to the name tag girl who offers a friendly wave, “Annie,” the blonde girl beside Armin on the couch, “Armin— well, you know Armin. Jean,” the mullet dude who’s still coughing, “and Connie.”

A chorus of greetings sounds off from around the room.

“Thank god we’ve finally got some more estrogen around here,” Hitch says to your little group, “these guys are insufferable with anything less than an equal ratio.”

Historia laughs, bouncing over to make further conversation and dragging Ymir behind her. You want to throttle her as she situates herself on the leg of the armchair (that’s already squeaking under two people’s weight) because now you’re left alone with Eren, who ducks into the kitchen and returns, holding something out to you.

You recognize the label of the local beer you’d been drinking at Scout’s the night you met, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

“You drink this, right?” Eren squints at the bottle, examining it. “I thought I remembered, but there was a million others at the store that looked just like it.”

“It’s my favorite,” you admit, accepting it from him with a little flutter in your chest. He grins again, toothy and pleased with himself.

“Good. Well, get comfortable, sit wherever, smoke whatever. I’ll be right back,” he holds up his pizza crust meaningfully, and you stifle a laugh. Eren Jaeger, the intimidating drug dealer apparently known around campus for his giant dick, doesn’t eat his pizza crusts. The thought eases your nerves; he may be the gorgeous, bad-news guy you’d flirted with a couple weeks ago, but he’s also a real person.

You follow his instruction, sitting beside Connie, not so close as to give the wrong impression, but close enough to invite a conversation. He offers a friendly hand.

“You’re Sasha’s friend, right?”

“Yeah,” you shake it, “Connie?”

“I’m surprised you remember. I’ve been backpacking through Thailand for the last eight months, thought everyone would’ve forgotten me by now.”

“Backpacking through Thailand?” You’re impressed.

“He’s only bringing it up so he can talk about it some more,” Jean grunts, shooting Connie an annoyed glance.

“I’d love to hear about it,” you say honestly, “I’ve never traveled.”

Connie launches into a detailed story of his flight over, being crammed between two families with crying babies, the different cities he visited, his bout with food poisoning on a twelve hour bus ride on his side trip to Cambodia. He’s funny and energetic, and it soothes you, lets you relax into the couch a little as you listen intently, asking a question here and there. You’re so caught up in his antics you don’t notice Eren sauntering over, plopping down beside you on the couch.

“Are you talking about Thailand again, bro?” Eren groans, wiping a hand over his face. Connie’s face flushes pink as he frowns.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Jean directs his red-eyed glare at Connie.

“Don’t stop him,” you argue, feeling bad as they dogpile on their friend, “I’m listening, Connie.”

Connie smiles gratefully, continuing on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Eren sighs, resigned to his fate, and settles into his seat to your left, throwing an arm carelessly over the back of the couch, and, coincidentally, around your shoulders. You feel awful because now you’ve lied; you’re not listening to Connie at all, too encapsulated by both the physical and the emotional weight of Eren’s arm around you. No, you reprimand yourself, he’s just getting comfortable. Don’t read into it.

The hour you promised Historia flies by. You’re thoroughly entertained by Jean, Connie, and Eren’s dynamic; Jean seems like a bit of a hothead, bickering with Eren at every opportunity, but Connie balances them out nicely, providing comedic relief at the perfect moments. When you finish your first drink, Eren’s quick to offer you a second and eventually a third, heading off for the kitchen and throwing your one-hour rule right out of the window. One more won’t hurt, you think, especially since you’re actually enjoying yourself. With the lack of distraction, you’re now free to look across the room where Annie, Armin, Historia, Mikasa, and Ymir are all huddled in a circle around a phone. You hear Historia’s drunken giggle and decide to interfere.

“What are you guys doing over there?”

Historia and Ymir exchange an inspired look that makes you sick to your stomach as Eren returns, throwing his arm back over you and peering at the screen in Historia’s hand. “Is that that Truth or Dare app?”

“You know it?” Historia’s eyes sparkle; you can feel it in your bones that’s she’s just concocted a fresh form of torture for you.

“Sort of.” Eren scratches his head, unwitting to the plot you can see unfolding right in front of you.

“Play with us, then!” Historia smiles innocently, beckoning you over. You know better and start to hesitate, but Eren smirks at you.

“What? Too chicken?”

You scowl at him childishly, and turn back to Historia, gesturing to her to bring the game over to the center of the room. You all get re-settled with the new focal point of Ymir’s phone as Historia explains the rules: the phone will pass from player to player, and whoever is holding the phone gets the opportunity to read a truth or a dare prompt to someone in the circle. Simple enough, you think, relieved that Historia won’t have the creative liberty to think of anything humiliating.

“We’re playing the spicy version,” Ymir smirks, “hope you guys don’t mind.”

Fuck. So much for that idea. You try to stay calm under Eren’s arm, praying he doesn’t feel your body tense up.

Historia goes first, daring Connie to reveal his body count. The phone moves to Armin, who has to dare Annie to kiss him on any body part of her choosing, a pink stain erupting on his cheeks when she leans in to peck his nose. The dares progressively get worse until you’re all in stitches laughing at Ymir and Jean tentatively touching tongues, Ymir retching into her hand dramatically afterwards.

“Okay, I’m not that bad,” Jean frowns, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I have an aversion to men,” Ymir hisses, narrowing her eyes. Historia pets her girlfriend’s hair soothingly.

“Down, girl. Go, Armin!”

Armin presses the little rolling dice icon on the screen, and the game chimes as it arrives at its decision. Wide, blue eyes meet yours, and he says your name, asks the question.

“Truth or dare?”

You want to pick truth, take the safe route, but after a couple of drinks and Eren calling you a chicken, you can’t convince yourself to. See, Eren? I can be fun.

“Dare,” you answer confidently. Historia winks at you; you ignore her. Armin reads the screen, the corner of his mouth curling up mischievously.

“It’s daring you to sit on Eren’s lap.”

You blanche. The lap-sitting dare’s already been called several times: Armin himself is reading your dare out from where he’s perched on Hitch’s thighs. But Eren? Surely, Historia rigged it; you look to her in a panic, but her face is simply split into an anticipatory grin. You’re frozen for a beat until Eren shuffles around beside you.

“C’mon then,” Eren grunts, hooking you under the armpits and scooping you up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your stomach so your ass is pressed firmly into his crotch. You look over your shoulder at him, positive that your eyes are comically wide in surprise; you’ve been able to feel the ripples in his arms through his hoodie all night, but you hadn’t expected him to be so strong. Eren shrugs from behind you, an impish smile on his face. “‘S just a dare. I don’t bite.”

“Don’t believe him,” Mikasa deadpans from across the table, “he’s got rabies.”

That lightens the tension between you, and you exhale an easy laugh, wiggling around on Eren’s lap until you’re comfortable. You hear Eren suck in a sharp breath behind you, low enough that only you catch it.

“You okay? Am I too heavy?”

Eren meets your eyes, almost looking a little startled that you heard him. “No, yeah, m’fine.”

There’s a strain to his voice that wasn’t there before, but you opt to ignore it, hoping you aren’t making him uncomfortable. You have to force yourself to focus on the game and not the heat of his hands sinking through your shirt, unmoving from their station on your hips. The game continues amidst several roaring rounds of laughter: Jean has to “slide his hand up Armin’s thigh suggestively”, Mikasa has to lick Hitch’s neck, Historia has to tell everyone her favorite sex position.

Hitch gets dared to kiss you next, standing and walking to where you sit on Eren, giving you a chaste peck on the lips full of tipsy giggles. Jean, Connie, Eren, and Armin are rendered silent, much to the girls’ amusement.

“Hello?” Mikasa waves a hand in front of Jean’s unblinking eyes; he swats her away irritably. You peek at Eren to see a perverted grin splitting his face; he looks happy as a clam. You pinch his thigh, making him jump.

“Ow! Damn, what was that for?” He rubs his thigh, voice wounded.

“Being a creep,” you say, but the smile twitching at your lips betrays you. Eren’s eyes grow imperceptibly darker, in a private way that feels like it’s just meant for you.

“If you think that’s bad…” he trails off, shaking his head and wrapping his arms against your stomach, snuggling you into his chest. You kick your feet in protest, laughing as you try to shove him off, but Eren’s got you pinned to him, eyebrows raised in amusement at your struggle. He sneaks a hand to your ribcage, digging his fingers in to tickle you. “C’mon, you’re not even trying!”

“Stop, Eren- fuck, that tickles!” You manage to choke out around your furious giggles, worming around in his iron grip.

“Can you lovebirds cut it out?” Jean shoves Eren’s shoulder harshly, nearly knocking you both off the couch. You slide off of his lap, already having fallen halfway off in the struggle, cheeks burning as you come back to the room full of half-strangers and out of the little moment you’ve just had with Eren. You can feel Historia’s eyes burning a smug hole in your forehead. “It’s almost eleven, if we’re going out we need to get moving.”

“Shit, really?” Eren’s still catching his breath, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to check for himself. Sure enough, 10:57 is glaring white on the screen back at him. The past week hits you, and suddenly you’re so tired, unwilling to face Scout’s or wherever they’re planning on going. “Scout’s or Devil’s Paradise? What are you guys in the mood for?”

You feel the permanence of the few drinks you’ve had and the lack of sleep this past week setting in, eyes heavy. “I think I’m probably just going to head home.”

You’re met with a resounding round of protests from the group. Only Eren is there to come to your defense, swinging an arm around you and pulling your ear to his mouth. “Want me to take you?”

He’s only had one beer, safe enough and far preferable to stumbling through the cold streets half-drunk and alone. You nod; you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the exhaustion, but your eyes flutter, and you lean into his embrace.

“I’ll meet up with you guys later,” Eren says, waving his friends out the door; his tone leaves no room for argument. Ordinarily, you’d be embarrassed at the way he speaks for you, but you’re grateful for it now, legs draped over his while the rest of your party files out.

“Text me when you’re home!” Historia calls, she and Ymir making up the caboose of the line that files out of the door in search of more fun to be had. You’re not worried about missing out, content with the warmth of Eren’s body against yours. Once the door shuts, you two sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Eren scrolling on his phone and you drifting dangerously close to sleep, curled into him.

“Ready?” Eren’s inquisition isn’t pressing; he actually sounds more than happy to let you lay here for the rest of the night, let you take advantage of his status as a personal space heater and cuddle up for the next few hours.

“Ready,” you reluctantly sigh, allowing him to pull you to your feet and out the door. You let him practically carry you, leaning on him heavily until he buckles you into his obnoxious muscle car. Eren starts the engine only for metal music to come blaring out of the speakers.

“Fuck!” Eren jumps, scrambling to turn it down. “Sorry.”

You’re so tired you’re barely phased, laughing sleepily and pulling your knees to your chest, making yourself comfortable in the seat. “S’ok.”

The red LED lights lining the accents of the leather inside soothe you, the movement of the car rocking you softly as he pulls out and onto the street, driving you home. This is far too comfortable for a potential one night stand at best, but you’re too exhausted to care, little tidbits of Elizabethan English literature rocketing around in your tired mind. The car ride is short, your head bobbing against the cool windowpane as you watch the streetlights pass by. When you arrive, Eren places a hand on your knee, warming your skin through your jeans.

“Sure you’re okay?” You don’t miss the note of concern in his tone, smiling to yourself.

“Yeah,” you answer, shaking yourself awake as best you can, “I’m fine. Just tired, s’all.”

Eren looks dubious, searching your face. “You don’t seem like the type of girl to fall asleep at the pregame.”

“It’s school,” you admit, “and work. I’ve gotten like six hours of sleep in two days.”

“Want me to walk you up?”

“You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I asked.” The authority in his voice isn’t something you’ll soon forget, feeding the flames in your core.

“I’m a big girl, Eren, I’ll be fine. I just have to hop through that door,” you point at the illuminated door in the parking garage, “into the elevator, and then third door on the–”

“Left. I remember,” Eren finishes for you, leaning onto the center console. He’s very close to your face, close enough for you to graze your hand over his cheek, which, you do, curiosity and beer outweighing your common sense. Your eyes are wide open now, studying him. You know you’re staring at his lips, too forward for your relationship as it stands, but you’re tipsy and far beyond tired and you can’t help yourself. In the low lighting of the parking garage, he’s gorgeous, eyes almost glowing.

You’re not sure who leans in, but you feel your lips brush together, tentative and shaky. He leans into you further, pressing his lips fully against yours. His mouth is even hotter than his hands were, searing as he kisses you deeper. You can feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, cupping your face and pulling you closer to him. You hate yourself for it, but a little whimper escapes you, pouring into him. Eren takes advantage of your open lips, swipes his tongue against your teeth, and before you know it, he’s pulling you over the center console to straddle in his lap.

He’s not too rough with you, but he’s insatiable, his hands traveling up your back, one landing on the back of your neck to hold you firmly to him and the other gripping your ass through your jeans, drinking you down like he’s a man starved. You nip at his bottom lip, wide awake now and grateful for the slight tint to his windows. Your hands run through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and it earns you a throaty groan from deep inside his chest, making you smile against his lips.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you up?” Eren murmurs, mouthing at your jaw. The sound of his voice grounds you a little, and you giggle breathlessly as he brushes over a particularly ticklish spot.

“Told you I’m a big girl,” you whisper, “what do I need you for?”

Eren smirks, dark and dangerous. “Might need me to protect you. Who knows? There’s all sorts of awful guys who would love to take advantage of a pretty little thing like you.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Eren’s half-hooded eyes flick down to your chest and back up to your eyes, making your regretful response twice as difficult to get out.

“I need to go to bed, and you need to go with Armin’s birthday thing,” you sigh, leaning back against the steering wheel. You’re well aware you don’t have the willpower to turn him down to your lips inches away, but it’s late, and you could use the sleep. Not to mention the 8:00 am lecture waiting for you first thing in the morning. “Isn’t he like, your best friend?”

Eren groans dramatically, throwing his head back against the headrest.

“Armin won’t mind, I mean,” he traces a hand up your body, fingers grazing you from hip to chest, “just look at you.”

“What?” You cock your head playfully. Eren rakes his gaze over your body, stopping in a few choice places, something wicked pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Really gonna make me say it?”

You smirk down at him. “Maybe.”

“You’re trouble,” he tackles you again, pulling you into another kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and giggles. Eventually you find the willpower to shove yourself away from him, knocking your spine into the steering wheel with a short honk that makes laughter spill from both of you.

“Okay, really, unless you would also like to wake up at 6:30, I should get going.” You dab at the little tears pricking your eyes, trying to catch your breath. “Plus, you’d be a bad friend if you didn’t head back out for Armin’s birthday.”

“Can’t have that,” Eren agrees, regret flickering over his face. He reaches for his door handle so you can climb out on his side, but he changes his mind, withdrawing his hand and going for his phone instead.

“What is it?”

“Before you go,” Eren slides his phone open, tongue caught between his lips— God, he’s so fucking cute, “lemme get your number.”

You can’t help yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, so now you want my number.”

Eren frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Could’ve asked Historia all week.”

An indignant flush rises in his cheeks. “I’m a man. I wanted to ask you myself, in person. Plus…”

The rest of his words taper off into a quiet mumble that you can’t quite catch. “Plus what?”

“I was nervous,” Eren raises his gaze to meet your eyes sheepishly, cheeks now bright red. Your heart thuds in your chest; he really is beautiful, with his long dark lashes and strong nose. You can hardly conceptualize the fact that he’d just kissed you- twice. A teasing smile tugs at your mouth.

“Nervous?”

“‘M not exactly your type, am I?” You can barely hold your laugh in, remembering your own cyclical, self-disparaging thoughts over the last few days.

“Give me that.” You snatch his phone and type your number in, handing it back to him with a smile. “Okay, I really should head up now.”

Eren concedes, throwing his door open for you to clamber off of his lap, stand in the doorway of his car, look down at him. Eren stares at you for a beat, running his eyes up and down your body. You start to step back, bid him goodnight, when he breaks out into a boyish grin, raises a hand to flick two fingers at you in a come-hither motion.

“Get back over here.”

You dissolve into giggles, feeling light as air, leaning back into the car to indulge him in one- no, two, or maybe three more kisses before you’re pushing yourself off of him with a quiet moan. “Eren, I need to go to bed, really, I do.”

“I know,” he sighs, leaning back into his seat. If you dare to look down, you can see where his pants are starting to tent, a thick bulge behind the zipper. You swallow hard; maybe he’ll end up living up to his impressive reputation after all. It takes every ounce of nerve in your body, but you step back from the car and wave meekly.

“Goodnight, Eren.”

“I’ll see you,” Eren smiles, shutting his door. Before you can even make it through the door, your phone buzzes, and you pull it out with a knowing smile.

> nice ass ;) sleep tight

It's so crude it makes you laugh out loud, turning around to see Eren snickering to himself childishly in his car. You toss him your middle finger as a response, only making him laugh harder. You don't hear the roar of his engine until you're already stepping into the elevator. The ride up feels long, exacerbated by your exhaustion, and you lean heavily on the wall, nervous butterflies dancing in your stomach as if you’d just had your first kiss. Your phone buzzes again, and you know who it is before you even unlock the screen.

> make it home safe? it’s ok if u don’t answer bc ur wrapped up in bed with ur boy toy ;)

Historia’s text would have ordinarily annoyed you, but you’re so giddy and love-drunk you giggle to yourself, thumbs trembling as you type back.

> he just dropped me off. he’s heading back to u guys now

> what???? nothing happened?

> i don’t kiss and tell

> aha! so u DID kiss him

> maybe…

Your phone buzzes close to a dozen times after that, but you pocket it, figuring you can just fill Historia in in the morning. You want nothing more than to collapse in your bed, but the lingering taste of Eren on your lips is distracting you. All throughout your skincare and your tooth brushing and your changing clothes, it still feels like his hands are ghosting over your body.

When you finally tuck yourself in, you slither a hand down your body and into your pajama shorts, rubbing mindlessly until you cum with the memory of Eren’s mouth and everything it might be capable of on your mind and his name on your tongue. You feel a lick of hot shame as you throw your shorts into the hamper, but a rush of elation follows it up. Eren wants you just as badly as you want him, and now, you’ve gathered enough evidence to do something about it. One good fuck, you decide, and he’ll be out of your system. Just one.

#eren jaeger #aot x reader #aot smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger series #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x you #aot x you #snk smut #snk x reader

372 notes · View notes