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wutheringcaterpillar · 1 month

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What if Tommy is desperately (secretly) in love with his step sister, extremely protective, very sweet towards her, but always making sure she’s kept under his thumb just to keep others from taking her from him. Although nothing happened between them until she becomes betrothed to another, he snaps and ruins her so her betrothed wouldn’t want her which would make her stay under his thumb again.

Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy!

Sorry it took so long to come out! ❤️

Warnings: stepcest, age gap implied, smut, p in v,

Tommy sat beside the window in the arm chair, cigarette in his hands as his eyes drifted from a contract he’d been working on, glancing outside watching the gloomy weather.

The grandfather clock ticked quietly in the background, your footsteps thumping around upstairs in your bedroom.

It seemed as though it was just yesterday Tommy was taking you to piano lessons and telling you endless stories before bed but those days seemed to have past.

You and Tommy always had a rather close relationship since his mum married his dad. After she passed and his dad disappeared he was always the protector who spoiled you rotten as a child and even still to this day as now a grown woman. His crystal eyes focused on the wilting flowers beside the window, thoughts rummaging through his mind as he reminisced the days of past.

“How do I look?” Your voice echoed through the quiet room, pulling Tommy out of his nostalgic thoughts, throwing on a light hearted smile when he looked your way, hiding the intruding thoughts surfacing in his mind.

There you were in a royal blue sparkling dress, makeup painting your face lightly. Not that you needed it, you were quite beautiful without it.

Tucking his hands in his pockets Tommy stood from his seat, diminishing the cigarette in the glass ashtray before walking toward you.

“You look breathtakingly beautiful, as always. Come here.” You blushed from his compliment, heart palpitating anxiously when you leaned into his touch. With growing up came hormones but the profound, illicit thoughts you had for your brother you often found yourself burying such inappropriate feelings, knowing that it wasn’t ideal.

“Be safe tonight eh? I might be running a bit late but I’ll be there. Don’t let any of those bloaks try to whisk you away from me or I may just have to put a bullet through their brain.” You giggled softly into his toned chest, hands roaming his upper back.

“No one could ever replace you, not even if they tried at the speed of sound.” Tommy hummed in agreement, your words bringing a tremendous amount of reassurance that he’d never admit he needed.

“Ms. Shelby the car’s here!” Francis called after you. Biting down on your bottom lip and smiling awkwardly you bid Tommy goodbye, kissing him on the cheek before running out the door toward your friends and hopping in the car giddily.

He couldn’t help but worry that you were drifting away, the feeling unsettling his stomach just picturing you with another man or no longer living in the same house as him.

Glancing down at his watch, he released an uneasy breath before picking up his briefcase and heading toward his meeting.

Tommy being a man of knowledge and suspicion found himself unable to focus on the baboon sitting across from him, only thinking about what you were doing and if you were safe.The idea of men staring at you, flirting, fucking trying to get in bed with you etched in his brain.

This meeting was getting nowhere as it was, the man trying to change the settled agreement with no good reason. This was a deal he could live without.

Removing his glasses, he sighed bored from the man’s piss poor negotiating.

“Alright, this is going fucking nowhere.” Tommy stood up shredding the piece of paper before tossing it in the fireplace.

“You can see yourself out Johnathan eh? I have more important places to be.” The man waved his hands in irritation.

“It’s Bill!” Tommy waved him off before heading out to your party.

When he walked in the music was blaring, definitely underage drinking going on not that he cared as long as it wasn’t you.

He spotted Arthur at the bar, approaching him first only to get a glimpse of you in the corner of the room sat on a sofa with a boy, immediately seeing red.

“Who the fuck is with our sister?” Arthur turned around in curiosity, lips still attached to the bottle still chugging the rest of his drink.

Releasing a exhale of pleasure, he gestured toward the young lad with his arm wrapped around your hips.

“Don’t even get me started on that worthless bloke. He’s the youngest of the Charleston family, they’re new to Birmingham. Y/N’s been seein him for a few weeks. Thought we taught her to respect herself that went out the window didn’t it brother, hm?” Tommy clenched his jaw in annoyance, dead pan staring at the boy’s hands wrapped far too lowly down your waist. Why didn’t you tell him? It would be rude if he didn’t introduce himself.

“Hold me drink Arthur. I’ll be back in a moment.” When Tommy turned around, Arthur made sure he wasn’t looking before finishing off his brother’s drink, a little blonde gal catching his eye in the process, steering him away from whatever the hell Tommy had planned.

Upon approaching you both, he heard the sound of your infectious giggle, so innocent and pure. Blood pumped through his veins realizing that you were slipping away from him, you were growing up.

“Am I interrupting something?” Tommy was shocked to see a beer in your hand and multiple empty ones sat on the table beside you. You were his baby sister, you didn’t drink, you didn’t partake in adult activities. Yet you didn’t seem intoxicated, perhaps that was your first beer, his good girl, but wait what the hell was this and why the fuck did this guy have his hand on your lap, why was he just kissing on your fucking neck. More importantly why was there now a ring on your fucking finger?

He made an incredulous look of disapproval before his breath nearly being taken out of him, your chest falling onto his as your wrapped your arms tightly around Tommy.

“Oh! Tommy I missed you! I was just talking about you to Matthew, I was hoping to introduce you sooner rather than later.” What the fuck was that supposed to be mean? What happened to the conversation from earlier? Tommy grasped your hips, your cleavage rubbing against the fabric of his shirt.

Tommy noticed the boy making a partially disoriented gesture, a look of confusion from the blatant display of affection that some would consider to be unordinary. His eyes dilated, fixating on the boy, challenging him to say something.

Unsurprisingly he merely took a step back, putting his hands up in surrender that he didn’t want to fight, exactly what Tommy thought.

“Come on, let’s get you some water, eh?” You nodded against his chest, hand sloping down his arm until it clutched his muscular grip.

Walking off with you hand in hand, he guided you up the stairs to a back secluded room, voice booming for the crowd of people to get out.

Sitting you down on the sofa gently, he could feel your eyes watching his every move as he pulled down a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water to help you sober up.

“Drink this.”

“Tommy I only had one beer.” He raised his eyebrows expectedly, motioning with his hand, insisting thar you drink it. For some reason your heart seemed to flutter with how willing he always to take care of you.

Downing the glass, you set it on the table before kicking your shoes off and reclining back against the arm rest, Tommy already feeling the tightening in his pants seeing the bare skin of your leg.

Scoffing, he pushed your legs back down and grabbed the small of your wrist, pulling you closer. His breath was hot against your skin, lips just inches away from the lobe of your ear.

“He doesn’t deserve you love…” Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his hand go below the fabric of your dress, inching upward toward the radiating heat in between your thighs. Your skin forming goosebumps from the not so innocent touch, the way he was caressing your bare skin swiftly, prompting your eyes to flutter shut, still trying to fight this immoral battle in your heart.

“What-um-what are you-“ His other hands brushed your chin, tilting your face to look at him before his lips landed on yours. The world seemed to stop for a moment, the feeling of your older brother’s lips on yours unexpectedly sensual, the anticipation for more causing your heart to beat rapidly.

You couldn’t resist from kissing him back, the mesmerizing sensation so wrong but so right.

“I don’t want to see you with anyone else. That fucking low life and you fucking said yes?! You are finished with him, understand? We’ve always had something and you fucking know it.” You nodded against him nearly breathless, unable to form any thoughts other than what might be in his pants.

Ripping your dress with his hands, you tugged at his suit, tossing the expensive fabric onto the floor when you fumbled with his belt.

The sound of music and people partying only heightening the desire for Tommy to take you right here right now.

In the midst of his tongue delving between your lips, he curled his hands with yours, fingers fumbling around until he found that god forsaken ring. Tugging off, he threw the shiny piece of jewelry on the floor, accessory rolling over to the corner of the room.

When his cock spring free, your eyes widened at the sight of his girthy length.

“Has he touched you here yet?” His skilled fingers carressed the slippery slope between your soaked folds, making you moan and whimper beneath him, shaking your head vigorously no. You dreamt of your brothers touch so long.

“I knew I raised you well my good girl.”

Tommy circled his thumb around your throbbing clit in slow circles, his index finger entering your right canal to ensure you weren’t lying.

“Tommy please!”

He couldn’t find it in his heart to tell his baby sister no. No he’s waited much too long…

Aligning his cock, he readjusted himself so he was on his knees ready to drill into you and claim you as his own.

The head of his cock at your entrance only fueled your eager want to be taken.

Pushing the tip in, your winced below him from the slight uncomfortable feeling. He must have noticed when his hand glided down your thighs, caressing your hips with his calloused hand soothingly.

He couldn’t wait much longer to pick up speed with your warm cunt practically suffocating his cock.

The sight of you completely nude beneath him, legs spread on display while his cock was pushing inside you, he couldn’t hold himself back.

How could something so forbidden feel so right?

He snapped his hips forward, jolting your body upward not giving you anytime to adjust.

“Fuck! Tommy it feels so-“ He quieted your screams by covering you mouth raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Language sweetheart, we have to be quiet unless you want him to see.” The idea of someone walking in on your brother fucking you sending chills down your spine, pussy squeezing tightly around his cock.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last long. Up you go.” Without pulling out Tommy lifted you effortlessly from the sofa, pushing your back against the walls as his lips ravished your neck, pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.

“Oh fuck, faster, faster!” Your curls bounced gracefully on your shoulders, tits shaking in an up and down motion vigorously while one hand cusped his muscular shoulders other tangled his hair.

You’d dreamt of this day for so long, you couldn’t help but glance down wanting to see your brother’s shaft completely buried inside you.

Did it hurt a bit? Yes, but the pleasure was so much more, little did you know Tommy knew how to pleasure a woman’s body so expertly.

You could feel your slick pouring out and swimming down his length, you were close so very close.

You craved his seed to paint your walls, for him to mark you as his own.

“Look at my girl, taking me cock so well..” Tommy smirked proudly in a fucked out gaze as beads of sweat formed on his chest.

“Gonna fill your tummy with my cum, make you walk out there with it dripping down your fucking legs for everyone to see.” You moaned sporadically, thighs twitching around his waist, toes curling as a euphoric orgasm claimed your body.

“Mm, Tommy, Tommy! Feels-fe-ohh…” You panted, holding onto him for dear life. If it weren’t for his hands gripping your ass cheeks below, you’d surely make your sweet descent to the hardwood floor.

Tommy’s blue charismatic eyes focused in on the fucked out expression, seeing your lips parted, face contorted into pure bliss. He couldn’t withhold any longer until he was pulsating inside of your cunt, painting the interior of your perfect pussy white with his seed.

“Y’know I’ve wanted you for so long, and now you’re fucking mine.” You nodded still too deliriously exhausted to form words. Pulling your chin to meet his sapphire eyes, he placed a powerful, dominating kiss to your plush lips before setting you down gently and settling you back down on the sofa while he gathered the clothes.

Looking at the dress, he deemed it still suitable as long as you hadn’t bent over it should still be wearable.

“What about my underwear?” Tommy reached for his jacket after tightening his cufflinks.

“What do you need those for? C’mon love.” Your cheeks reddened, he wasn’t kidding about his cum dripping down your legs.

“Still look beautiful as ever. After you my love?” You glanced back at your brother before exiting the door, pressing your lips to his once more.

Tommy smiled softly, before nodding you off and realizing the ring was still on the floor.

Walking down the stairs with you, he encouraged you to go enjoy time with your friends, only to see Matthew in his way out ignoring Arthur practically fucking some inebriated girl against his brother.

Approaching the boy, you watched the scene unfold from afar, seeing what your dear brother would do.

“Eh!” He pulled the ring out of his pocket, clicking his tongue before shoving the object against the boy’s chest, merely towering over him.

“Here’s your fucking ring. Take it and get off my fucking property before I change my mind and kill your right here, right now.” Everyone in the room turned their eyes to the altercation, including Arthur. When the boy hadn’t moved, twiddling the ring in his grip still staring at Tommy with challenging eyes, calling a bluff, Arthur shoved the girl off of him ready to go to fucking war only for Tommy to hold him back with the wave of his hand.

“Look around kid. You have about five seconds to get out me fucking pub before I splatter your brains on this wall.” He still hadn’t moved, only tightening his fist.

“You think I won’t?” Tommy chuckled beneath his breath, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips before pulling out his gun, finger on the trigger pointing it directly at the middle of his forehead.

“5, 4, 3-“ The boy scattered out the door, satisfying Tommy that he’d never be back.

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas shelby imagine #Peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby smut

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3eyesdivine · 5 months

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Reigns’ Girl

Chapter Two : After Class

inspired by the movie Miller’s Girl and song Teacher’s Pet.

warnings ; 18+ only, smut, intimate & heavily erotic scenes, teacher x college student plot, angst, thriller, obsession, drug use

It's been two weeks since I started Mr. Reigns' class, and my desire for him is growing by the minute. I've noticed every little detail about him, from the way he runs his big hand down his long, dark beard when reading, which is accented by little strands of gray hair here and there, to the way he twists and turns the black wedding band on his left hand when he's talking to someone, almost as if he's processing his thoughts before they turn into words.

“See me after class.” I heard a deep, velvety voice murmur near my neck and turned to see Mr. Reigns kneeling over me, his right hand lowering a piece of paper onto my desk with a letter grade scribbled in red. My gaze quickly shifted from his to the large A+ in the corner of my work.

I wasn't given a chance to respond before he sauntered away to put the lesson to an end.

I wish I could have him closer. Body to body and skin to skin. His aroma was comforting, like vanilla with a dash of shea butter.

"Work on your homework for the night please, It's due first thing tomorrow." I heard him call to the class, followed by the sound of students racing and rustling as they grabbed their stuff and left their desks, moving one by one as they hurriedly exited the classroom.

Getting up slowly, I approached Mr. Reigns' desk and rested my palms on it, bending forward and looking up at the guy with an illusion of naivety in my pretty eyes.

His deep brown eyes seared into mine, dark and low. I recognize that gaze anywhere, one filled with desire, want, and sex.

"You're an amazing writer, Lilith. Your paper was the best I’ve read in a while." He praises, extending out his hand to direct attention to a little seated area in his classroom.

It had a cottage core feel about it, with a hint of forest fairy. It held a warm tone to it, with occasional hints of green. It was like a miniature captivating library, with four small shelves mounted on top of each other, each full and organized with both old and modern books. The two of us take seats across from each other, the man adjusting his attire while I let my sight wander over the little space we're in.

“So, Ms. Dumas, your paper.”

My focus shifts to him, and I'm all ears as I straighten up and smile politely.

“Yes. I wasn't very confident in it, but I'm glad you felt so highly of my writing ability.” I conversed while glancing down at my hands, where my fingers danced against one another. A coping mechanism I adopted as a way to handle certain things, in this case, a powerful blush battling to find its way across my cheeks.

“She was quiescent, her voice soft and sweet like nectar. She hummed a tune, the same melody every day at the same time; at this point, it had become an official aubade for the peculiar girl, but only she could purr it in a far more euphonious manner than the original.”

He pauses and takes a breath, as if it was written with such intensity that it nearly strikes the life out of him.

But, he proceeds..

“This was the woman's early morning ritual as she sat in her overgrown garden at a little, old table painted white with a few chips and cracks that only revealed the furniture's age. Atop the table were a pile of books, each of which she had read several times and would continue to do so whilst she couldn't get enough of the art that lay just beyond the hardcovers of each one.”

I was floored.

"You remembered that whole piece?" I questioned. My eyes were probably wide enough that they were popping out of their sockets, and I watched the man smile with a scarlet hue along his cheeks as he turned away for a brief moment before returning my gaze.

"Yeah, that must've been a bit over the top, Ms. Dumas. I apologize. That one paragraph just happened to be what caught my attention the most. I must've read your paper about a dozen times." He admits with a big smile upon his lips, revealing his flawless teeth, without a single one out of shape or disfigured in any way.

This man was downright perfect.

"Your writing is beyond outstanding." He adds.

It felt like this man reached into my chest and gave my heart a small jolt of life; it was racing and thumping so fast that I was a bit frightened I might pass out.

I leaned back against the cushion of the little couch I was sitting on and glanced at the man, my bottom lip trapped between my teeth. "You know, I've read your work too."

Mr. Reigns' eyes reached me faster than light.

"You read my book? Seriously?" He queried, his expression appearing intrigued though he tried to mask it.

I nodded and leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, my dazzling brown eyes piercing into his.

"I would quote every word off the top of my head but it wasn't really a book appropriate enough to be spoken about within school walls." I dared to say, and the man's instant response was to adjust his seated position to the edge of the chair.

We're inches away..

Just a little closer.

"I wrote it about my wife, Ms. Dumas. So, you'd be correct. Nothing in that book is suitable for conversation in this environment.”

He dared to move another inch closer.

Goodness, just a tad more and we’re nearly kissing.

Please.

“Even for the innocent mind of a nineteen-year-old college student." He concluded.

Innocent, my ass.

But, nevertheless, I could feel it. A heavy and overwhelming sense of tension that settled in the air surrounding us. This was undeniable sexual tension.

My thighs gently pushed together as I felt an aching of passion between my legs, a pulse so powerful that I had to suppress a whimper. There's no question he felt it as well, as evidenced by the way he gulped so hard I could hear it and his breathing, which was formerly calm and controlled but had become heavy and unsteady.

"Have a good weekend then, Lilith." He husked, moving away slowly, and I could no longer feel the warmth emanating from his presence.

Thank you for reading! Chapter three will be up hopefully soon, maybe some smut ;) !

In the meantime, send in some requests and if you'd like to be tagged in this series and many more works of mine, don't be afraid to let me know.

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paper-mario-wiki · 6 months

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do you have any tips for commissioning art of yourself/self-adjacent characters?

it's something i've wanted to do but i always get nervous, and i don't know whether to send a selfie or a picrew or a doodle of myself or what, and i've noticed that you seem to do it a lot so i figured you're probably pretty knowlegable on the subject.

first and most importantly: don't ever be embarrassed when commissioning something benign, because i can tell you with certainty that whatever artist you're going to contact has FOR SURE been contacted by someone way less self conscious than you with a way more embarrassing idea. depending on WHO you commission there's a non-zero chance they've drawn some wacko fetishes before. youve got nothing to fear.

now, in terms of actually putting it together: truth be told, it was easy for me to jumpstart the process because i worked with an artist to come up with a design in the first place, so by the time i started sending out commissions i already had a sona-fied version of myself to send.

that said, you can absolutely create a shitty ref in MS-Paint and, so long as it's clear what you were TRYING to draw, that will be enough. you don't have to draw each detail to perfection, you just need to get down the most IMPORTANT details. things like the shape of the hair and face, the width and height of the body, and then any accessories you want to add on to represent you.

another great tactic is to create a collage that represents how you want your commission to look! here's the most recent piece i commissioned vs the collage i included with my written description!

in the collage you can include poses, environments, clothing, or even characters that have the same vibe that you're trying to go for!

hope this made sense, and best of luck 0:^]

#anon

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eroticnoices · 5 months

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Jake Webber x singer reader

The fame rate is like Melanie Martinez 💕

-🧚‍♀️

spotlight.

jake webber x afab!reader

warnings: language, pet names: baby, anxiety, first time on stage in front of almost a million people.

synopsis: after succeeding in your singing career, you’ve decided to take a state tour.

“you’re on in 5, ms. y/n!” The producer, Sam stuck her head into my dressing room; i looked up from my mirror and smiled. “Thanks, Sam.”

“sure thing!” she nodded, and left. a few seconds after she left there was a knock on my door. “come in!” i said, as i finished applying the last touch ups of my lip gloss.

“hey baby! have you seen the crowd! they’re going-.” Jake said as he entered the room, but stopped talking due to my my nervous painted face. “oh my god, thank god you’re here.. jake..” i immediately stood up from my makeup chair and grabbed both his hands; “ i’m so nervous..”

jake stuck his bottom lip out in a pout and pulled me in for a hug. “no need for that. i’ve heard you sing. you’re amazing.” he rubbed my back softly, calming my nerves. i took a deep breath, but was startled when there was suddenly another knock

“ms. y/n you’re on in 30 seconds, we need you, now.” Sam said smiling but silently rushing me. i took one last deep breath before kissing jake. “i love you, you’re gonna kick people’s socks off!” jake said smiling. “i love you too!” i said leaving the room to go on stage.

as i walked back behind the stage, people were hooking an ear piece up and hooking it in my waist band. “10 seconds.”

i closed my eyes feeling the rush of adrenaline. before walking on stage when it was my queue; as i walked on stage with a smile, waving happily to all the beautiful supporters in the crowd. “how’s everyone doing tonight!!”

i ended the new surprise song with heavy breaths, and the crowd when absolutely nuts. “thank you everyone!” i looked at the thousands of people with nothing but love and thankfulness. “i wouldn’t be here without every single one of you.. so from the bottom of my heart. thank you, and i love all of you.” i sent the crowd air kisses.

“i’m very sad to say that was the last song for tonight! but we have more shows coming soon! goodnight everyone!” i said waving goodbye to everyone as i walked off the stage feeling complete. when i turned i saw jake, he was looking at me with loving with love and admiration.

“y/n! baby! that was so sick. you definitely knocked my socks off!” jake smiled jokingly pulling me in for a hug. “that was.. exhilarating!” i laugh feeling like i just accomplished my dream.

#jake webber smut #jake webber #jake webber fluff #sam and colby #enjoy !!

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mspaint-flower · 7 months

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how did you do that black lineart piece? its amazing...

AAAAA thank you!!!! ;w; i'm assuming you mean the one with colourful lineart and black background? honestly it's quite tricky to explain but i'll try my best to show it step by step. it mostly relies on how ms paint's transparency works and the 2 colour slots!

^ these are the colour slots in question

say you're drawing with black lineart and you want to make it rainbow. well first of all turn on transparency, which is here

usually i do this with 2 ms paint canvases open so it's easier: so basically i open another ms paint tab and enable transparency on there as well. important thing: set the second slot colour to your lineart colour to affect the lineart!!!

then if you have transparency on, you can copy the drawing from your first canvas and paste it on your second canvas, which is rainbow coloured (or whatever colour you want really), and it should do this!

TADA!!!!!! you got your rainbow lineart!!!

you can also do this with literally any colour as long as it's present on your drawing and it's selected on the second slot colour. so if it's set to the background colour, it'll do something like this

that's basically it!!! i'm not sure if you can do this with 1 tab but i do it with 2 so it's easier to copy the drawing and stuff, i hope i explained it well!!

#asks #ms paint #ms paint tips #long post #honestly i really like how ms paint transparency works because it's basically like using layers #it has helped me with so much stuff especially when it comes to backgrounds #also sorry for answering this really late i really had to think about a way to show this HKJDHGKJHJKEGH

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lucky-bucky-boy · 1 year

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could you write something abt eddie munson meeting a new girl in town? it doesn't have to be smut ty!!!!!!!

tw: alcohol consumption, slight description of reader having tattoos

The murmur of the slightly run-down dive bar was nothing new to Eddie, the same customers, the same stale beer, the same old songs playing on the jukebox. To an extent, he enjoyed the familiarity and routine that the place offered.

Every Tuesday, after a grueling 8-hour shift at the auto shop a mile down the road, Eddie would stop in for a beer. He'd offer his conversation and flirtation to Ms. Caroline, the older lady who'd been working in the bar well before Eddie was even old enough to form a thought, which would usually end in him not paying for the bottle of semi-warm liquid. But not today.

Eddie was stopped dead in his tracks as he walked into a much more brightly lit bar, quickly noticing the smell of cleaning solutions and the fact that the curtains were drawn and the sunshine was beating in. Thunderstruck by AC/DC was coming from the jukebox and for a moment he thought he was in the wrong place - but the old, almost yellowed sound machine let him know that he wasn't.

"Come on in, we're still open! Just getting some things cleaned up and updated, hun!" A voice he didn't recognize carried from behind the bar causing his gaze to move to where the sound came from.

Eddie's throat immediately went dry but his feet were already moving to the bar, curiosity peaking about the new face. He found his normal seat, scanning to notice the small changes. The mirror behind the bottles was cleaned, some postcards and letters were stuck to the glass of it, and at the end of the bar laid some swatches of fabric and paint chips as well as multiple bottles of cleaner.

"What can I getcha?" The girl in front of him asked, a bright and warm smile on her face.

"I - uh-" Eddie cleared his throat, finally coming back to Earth, "The cheapest bottle of beer you've got."

"Oh! You must be Eddie then," the girl giggled and for a moment Eddie thought he could hear angels singing, "Ms. Caroline told me about you. Warned me about the best head of hair and smile in town. She also told me to tell you this one's on her." The girl slid the bottle of beer over to him.

Eddie quickly took a swig, noticing immediately the cool temperature of it. "Oh really?" he asked after swallowing down the yellow liquid, "Speaking of my favorite old lady, where's she at?"

"She's on a vacation. Went out to Indianapolis to visit her son and daughter-in-law for a week. When I got here a couple weeks back she told me she hadn't had a vacation in over 5 years, and ain't even seen her son in almost 2. Old owners wouldn't let her take a break."

Eddie was listening, or at least he was trying to, but he couldn't stop looking at the tattoos that adorned the skin he could see on the girl in front of him. He was curious more than anything, seeing the solid lines and intricate details of every piece of art she had littered across her skin. It took him more than a second to process what she had told him. "Old owners?"

"Yep," she popped the 'p', holding back a smirk as she watched Eddie. "Just spent my savings on this place so she's all mine."

At this point, Eddie was impressed and reeling. His eyes finally moved from her arms to look at her face, flushing a bright red when he noticed she was watching him as she continued to clean bottles of liquor. "Sorry, your tattoos look sick and I-"

"Not used to girls having tattoos or owning a bar?" She asked with a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Uh, yeah, to both of those." He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. He couldn't believe he was acting like he never talked to a girl before. He took another swig of his beer before continuing, "Not used to it, but definitely not complaining."

She giggled once more, "Good." She placed her rag and bottle down, moving to lean her elbows on the bar, head in her hands as she looked at Eddie. "I'm (Y/N), by the way. And I've got a bit of a proposition for you Eddie."

He cocked his eyebrows, looking at her from down the bottle as he finished his beer with a soft nod to continue.

"Well, your favorite old lady said you were a bit of a handyman. Aaand," she drew as the word, tone sounding as sweet as candy," as you can tell, I'm fixing some things up and trying to turn this place around. I could use some help, aespecially since I don't know many people here yet. Whatcha say? I'll let you continue with your free cheap beers and throw in a few hundred dollars for every job you finish for me."

Eddie chuckled softly himself, smiling a bit, "You had me at free beers, sweetheart."

#eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson cute #stranger things au #stanger things normal au #stranger things x reader #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson ask

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mirrorsblogs · 1 year

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𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞? 𝐥. 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩!! 𝙮𝙚𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜

“Be nice,” her agent whispered on the elevator ride up. Vera glanced half-heartedly at the woman standing next to her, they both knew she would be anything but. She had a more rigid exterior than most of her female contemporaries who preferred to play into the fantasy of female composers.

She respected their choices to do so as it resulted in their own surmountable success but her path differed, her nature would never allow for a hollow choice. Sure it gained her a reputation for being harsh but all that mattered was creating music that mattered, that could be shared.

The elevator dinged to indicate they reached the top floor of the conservatory, right above the theater where the house orchestra was practicing. They played well enough though not to her standards, those in the third and fourth seats slacked far too much for her liking.

“Ms. Shcherbatskaya, it is lovely to meet you.” Vera looked startled that someone without a present Eastern European accent had been able to pronounce her last name. He had thin-rimmed glasses that most young male composers wore to appeal to the masses, the same could be said of his style. This man though verbally different looked to be another nameless composer destined to be lost to time.

“Likewise, Mr…” She replied. The man smirked at her clear jab to his ego but had no look of annoyance or hurt.

“Ackerman. Levi Ackerman.”

“German?”

“Yes, Berlin specifically.” He paused and inspected her face closely. “Russian?”

“Petersburg,” she muttered, more focused on the mosaic painted on the ceiling. It depicted a scene all too familiar in High-Renaissance pieces, biblical iconography splattered all over. What a sight to behold.

“Your English is amazing,” Ackerman said, interrupting her daydreaming.

“So is yours. Did you learn in school?”

“Yes, along with Russian.”

“How good were your lessons?” She asked in her native tongue, the syllables easily rolling off her tongue as they had done for her forefathers for centuries.

“Good enough.”

She smiled, it had been a long while since she had conversed with someone in her own language. Forever subjected to being held back by speaking a language she was only beginning to learn.

“Could we converse in Russian then?”

“Da.” Levi stood there with his hands in his pockets, he was amused but respectful nonetheless.

“Our agents want us to meet so we can collaborate on a piece.”

“Yes, we should hold on to this because I will be in the countryside to help my Mother for a few weeks.”

“And what shall I do in the meantime? Stay here in this god-awful city waiting for you?”

Vera’s agent placed a warning hand on her shoulder signaling for her to dial back on her tone even though she knew none of their conversation. Levi laughed a little at her antics and walked a little closer to her, he rubbed his hands together before dropping them by his side.

It had felt like years since he was this amused, the days seemed so gray before. He wondered at that moment how he had lived in that muteness for so long now that he was confronted with something starkly different.

“London is not that bad, you’ll be fine.”

“Say that to my lungs! This city will give me cancer I swear!”

Her noticeably dark humor that turned away many potential partners made him laugh even harder. Though she remained noticeably neutral she was shocked internally at someone who had a sense of humor. Her face cracked a smile that Levi took to heart, her reputation had preceded her of course.

The man had expected an old hag rather than a lively young woman, he almost wished it was the former as it would have been easier to leave a hag. Now he was almost considering staying in London for a few weeks and put off visiting his mother. The thought of his mother wondering where he was only to be disappointed once again put him off. He had a duty as a son to care for his mother, a duty he would fulfill.

“I do not want to abandon my mother. You’ll have to wait here. Get to know the orchestra better in the meantime.”

“I could join you?” Both were slightly startled at the impulsivity of the statement but neither expressed rejection over it.

“Forward, are you?”

“No. Dedicated.”

The ride to the Schweinfurt consisted of approximately four train rides with a short walk intermittently after the second. Levi talked little in English and mostly in Russian which greatly comforted Vera. She enjoyed the journey, using it to review some works they could base their piece on and things to do in the area.

“It’s mostly new tech shit there but my mother likes the area.”

“There is a Church to visit.”

“Every town in Germany has a church with a niche significance, it isn’t worthwhile.”

“Then why does this brochure mention it?”

“A tourism scam.”

Vera laughs and closes the brochure, finding more comfort in conversing with Levi than reading. The subject shifted but the attention remained the same as words effortlessly flowed between the two. This is how talking should be, he thought.

The train abruptly stopped near Rottendorf, she gasped at the jolt and lurched forward. He grasped her hand without realizing it and caressed it. The feeling of a calloused thumb over her knuckles felt foreign but nice. She blushed at his gesture and chalked it up to fear.

It took him a few more moments to realize his actions, his hand quickly withdrew.

“Sorry.”

“Why do you apologize when I never raised an issue?”

He opened his mouth a few times to retort but each answer was worse than the last. She grasped his hand again to alleviate her own worries about the train, neither complained. It was only for anxiety, to help her anxiety.

“Apologies, we are experiencing technical issues. At the next station please exit shortly with your items whilst we repair the train.”

He cursed at being so close to his mother but far enough that they could not walk. He glanced down at Vera who took to holding his hand even tighter, she was not faring better than him.

“It won’t be too much for a taxi,” Levi muttered.

“We can split the cost.”

She moved to take some money from her purse only for him to stop her with the hand she caressed.

“What kind of person am I if I let you pay?”

“A cheap one.”

“But not a considerate one.”

“Fine then, be considerate.” Vera waved her hand off in the distance, mocking anger at that moment. He caught on quickly and smirked.

“You are a funny woman, Vera.”

“You would be the first to say that.”

They unloaded their backpacks that held all of their items for the trips and began walking to the area for taxis. Some drivers smoked outside their vehicles and leaned against their cars, a clear sign to avoid them. Vera and Levi settled on a Russian man who sat inside his car patiently reading a Turgenev novel.

“How much to Schweinfurt?” Levi asked the man in Russian.

“I will discount for you, my friend.”

She let Levi handle the haggling for a good fare and hopped into the backseat when they reached a happy mid-point. The driver set aside his novel on the passenger seat and turned the engine on. It was an average day in Germany with fairly normal weather.

“Do you like Turgenev?” Vera asked the driver.

“He is too obscure for my liking but his writing is good.”

“Are you a Tolstoy fan then?”

“Who isn’t?” The driver gestured wildly with one of his hands but kept his eyes on the road. “To be an enthusiast of literature is to be an enthusiast of Tolstoy!”

Levi sat back silently and watched how animatedly Vera talked of Russian authors, almost like she knew them personally. Instead of referring to them as Tolstoy or Dostoevsky, it was Leo and Fyodor. He commented on it as they waited for his mother to answer the door.

“I think of all creative Russians as my brothers and sisters. You don’t do the same with Germans?”

“I’m far too critical to act as though I am on a personal level with them.” Levi knocked once more, checking his watch to see how long they were waiting in the heat. “Besides it would be weird to call Nietzche, Friedrich.”

He blushed in embarrassment as his own native accent slipped out when saying the last part.

“Your accent is cute.”

The door opened with Kutchel standing there, curious as to who the delightful woman her son had brought with him.

“Mother, this is Vera. I told you about her over the phone, remember?”

“You didn’t tell me she was so pretty.” Kutchel took Vera by the arm inside to the dining table where food was already set out. “Are you a composer as well, dear?”

“Yes, I work more in Vienna though.”

“Oh, do tell me about life there.”

“It’s rich with history and the people are good enough…” Vera stumbled over her words slightly when speaking in English, she felt like a five-year-old telling her mother about her school day. “The conservatory is far nicer than any London has.”

“I heard that!” Levi yelled from the kitchen, he came into the room balancing three glasses of water. Vera held herself back from gulping the entire glass and instead sipped politely while Kutchel asked her son a thousand questions on his travels.

“How are your new pieces coming along?” The mother knew well enough of her son’s struggle to compose as of late. His motivation dried up just as he got comfortable in finally living in something other than impoverished.

“That’s what Vera is here for, we are meant to compose together.”

“The room upstairs still has everything where you left it. I’m sure music stores in town should have anything you need too.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Vera thought she might feel like an unwelcome outsider in that moment but it was more akin to the feeling of a silent spectator. Neither shunned nor encouraged to participate, choosing instead to delve into the food in front of her. It was a simple dish of rice and a strange gravy substance but it tasted divine.

“Do you like it?” Kutchel asked when Vera had her mouth full. The girl could only smile until she finally got the food down.

“Yes, it’s fantastic.” Her Russian accent slipped slightly out on the last word.

“Where in Russia are you from?”

“Saint Petersburg.”

“You know Levi’s father, god rest his soul, was from there.”

“Mom-” Kutchel shut him up with a wave of her hand.

“How did he find it?”

“Cold. Said that once he learned of German summers he never wanted to return.”

“Understandable though not forgivable.” They all laughed together, it was clear where Levi got his humor from.

They began the attempt to compose a singular piece the next day, each taking a seat next to one another on the piano bench situated on the far side of the room. The window in front of them shined the sun brightly onto them.

Vera’s pinky hit the ‘b’ key, it felt off to her, not the key itself but its place in this piece. She scratched the blank sheet music which up until this point only held that one note.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, only concert audiences are going to hear.”

“You don’t plan on distributing it?”

“Why would we?”

“Isn’t that what music is for?” Levi stopped his reply when he saw the pure vulnerability in Vera’s eyes, this was not a simple spew from her mouth but from the heart. “People learn how to play, then they improve and make it their own. Keeps it fresh and lively.”

“But it's more intimate when enjoyed by a few. A singular meaning holds far more value than thousands of different ones.”

“Why did you learn how to play music? Why did you learn how to compose?”

He sat there silent for a moment, trying to drudge the earliest memory of him behind the piano.

“I was good at it and it earned my mother enough money to focus on getting an education rather than sticking to life as a sex worker.”

“You did it out of necessity, yes?” The simplification, though accurate, felt ingenuine.

“It was more than that. Playing in front of crowds made me feel as though I was more than just a poor boy from the slums of Berlin. I kept composing for more people to understand the life I lived.”

Vera heard in passing stories of a young German prodigy coming from nowhere and was soon to be heard everywhere. His pieces were an experience, a mutual friend, Hange, shared. He never published his compositions and kept them close, collecting the sheet music from musicians after each performance. Forcing each to sign a non-disclosure agreement to never share his intellectual property.

“I was similar in my reasoning then.” She splayed her fingers on the piano, playing the part to a familiar Spanish allegro. Levi pushed one of her hands aside and began to play the piece alongside her. “The only reason to learn music is…to share it with others.”

She stopped playing abruptly and walked away from the piano to fetch a glass of water. Levi continued where she had left off, the piece flawlessly transitioning into a somber part. Granados had always been a favorite of his, though the feelings of passion Granados tried to convey always fell short of him as a boy. Now, it was different.

His fingers strummed against the keys perfectly at poco andante, the thought of her forced his fingers to play at a faster pace. He moved to play at an allegro pace, the noise from the piano strengthened in volume. The man failed to see Vera leaning against the doorframe, taking big gulps of the water in her hand.

The last note played at fortississimo caused her to jump slightly, Levi panted in exhaustion from rushing the piece. He rested his fingers on the keys but not with enough pressure to push them, energy flowed out from him.

“We should end the piece in a fortississimo,” Vera said, walking up to sketch something in the last line of the sheet.

fff

Levi glanced over her arms, he took the paper from her hands and sketched a couple more notes out for the end. He played it on the piano and she nodded.

“Work our way backwards, then?”

The next few days were spent either in the composing room or the dining table where Kutchel asked them profusely about their progress. She looked to be happier when hearing of their substantial progress in finishing.

“When you do play the piece, could I come to listen?” Kutchel asked. “I know you don’t like to publish your pieces but I want to hear this one.”

“Of course, mom. I’ll save a seat for you in one of the boxes, and invite whoever you want.” Levi ate another piece of his food, Vera was somewhat shocked by how easy he made it all sound. Compared to the conservatories where she worked, trying to get a seat for family members was nearly impossible. Maybe it was different in London.

“It’ll be nice to see you play Vera since I assume Levi will be playing next to you?”

“Yes, I look forward to it.” Her smile was stiff, he noticed the change in her posture as well. Levi asked about it right before she headed into her bedroom.

“You seemed uncomfortable at dinner. Everything alright?”

Vera contemplated for a moment, she jutted her head into her room, and he followed dutifully behind her. It seemed barely lived in despite them being here for more than three weeks. He saw her clothes in some drawers though no toiletries were even unpacked on the vanity or the sink.

“We still haven’t talked about distribution.” She sat on the windowsill, faintly illuminated by the moonlight.

“I prefer to keep it private.”

“Music is meant to be shared. It is meant for children to clamber over and for young adults to froth at. I think we have a masterpiece on our hands. I don't want it to rot somewhere on your shelves.”

“If we keep it private, it’ll be intimate, draw in more crowds.”

“You care too much about the money and not the people.”

“That’s all music has been about for me, appeal to the most and go from there.”

“But what do you want?”

Levi took the seat next to her on the window sill, his hand fell on top of hers. His mind felt clearer than it had in years.

“I want…” Vera perked up at his drawl. “I want to keep it private.”

“I don’t want to fight you right now.”

Her thumb caressed his knuckles in slow circles like it had on the train, it was more intimate now. They were alone, only the moon was a witness to their actions.

“Then we don’t fight.” Levi tilted her chin away from the window and to his eyes, he neared closer to her face. She subconsciously leaned in closer.

“What should we do instead?”

The calloused fingers she had seen so often playing the piano pressed against her hips and effortlessly lifted her figure onto his lap. She let out a small moan when his lips kissed against her jaw and neck, sucking at her pulse point.

“Levi,” she muttered, angling her head down to finally kiss him. It was less consuming than her past lovers and intoxicating if anything. He knew her weak points and exploited them to the full extent, she almost wished he was bad at this. It would be easier to forget him once the night finished but with the way his lips pressed against her sternum, there would be no forgetting.

“You alright, liebling ?” The German accent strengthened the growing feeling between her legs, pelvis rutting against Levi.

“Da.” Forgetting nearly all of her prior knowledge of any other language she could only compute her one objective: Levi. “Take off my shift.”

“No bra?” If his fingers against her hands were enough then his fingers grazing along her bare body was to die for. He pressed kisses along her nude body that men prior had ignored. Sex was average, this was more.

“You complaining?”

Levi shook his head and bit lightly at the skin along her neck, making sure to leave as many marks as possible. She palmed at his shirt, he discarded it on the ground shortly thereafter. Levi brought her in for another kiss, not letting it go this time. The rutting from her hips stalled as his hands gripped her hips, forcing her to stay stationary. She whined against his lips, and he smirked.

“Something wrong?”

“Hurry up and fuck me already.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Vera kissed him again. She took some control, resuming her stimulation against his thigh. Her head fell against his shoulder when he lifted his leg slightly to match the pace of her hips dragging.

“Feels good, liebling? ” he cooed, biting lightly at her earlobe.

“Levi, please,” she rasped.

His hands traveled down to the bottom of her backside, he gripped the skin he could.

“Jump.”

She followed his command, deepening the kiss in the process. He easily supported her weight and laid her across the bed, using the time to admire her and shed the last of his clothing. She was left in her panties which he happily took and threw to the ground.

“Are you good so far?”

“Very good.” Vera let her fingernails graze his shoulders, light scratch marks left behind. He groaned at the intense feeling, hand grasping at her chest. The stimulation between both of them causes them to moan.

Levi moved his hand to her slit, inserting one of his fingers. He was the first composer she had slept with, she supposes that this is the reason his fingers reach places no man ever has. Vera cries out at the feeling.

“You’re so tight,” he grunted, adding one more finger to her slit. He worked his way into her for the next few moments, utterly entranced by the sounds she made. When he curled his fingers she whined, and a feeling in his own body grew.

Caught off guard, he barely noticed Vera nearing the edge and eventually climaxing with a loud moan. He tried to commit all the features of her orgasmic face to his mind, to him it was the best picture in the world. Something only a select few had seen.

“Still good?” He purred.

“Hurry up!” She pleaded, wishing that he finished already and became another regrettable one nightstand. Levi did not do that, he focused on his pleasure just as much as hers. He made sure that she would never forget that night.

“There,” he whispered, in pure bliss. Together they were connected.

He took his time to start a slow and punishing pace which inevitably pissed Vera off more who resorted to begging him.

“Please, please, I need more, give me more!”

He relented as his own human instincts took over. The pace was faster now, he leaned down and began pressing kisses around her breasts. She pressed her nails further into his back and dragged them down, Levi groaned from the mix of pleasure and pain.

“You’ll be the death of me. Won’t you?”

“Yes!” Vera gasped, too lost in the throes of passion. When her second climax arrived it came with a newfound force that she had never experienced, it was addicting.

“Vera, fuck!” He moaned, pushing into her one last time. She moaned at the sensation and met him there. They panted in the afterglow, struggling to find their own breath. Levi collapsed next to her and made his way into the bathroom.

She watched as he wiped down the excess cum working its way down her legs and then himself before discarding the rag in the hamper. He sat back down on the bed, pulling her close.

“Have a thing for cleanliness, do you?”

“It’s healthy to clean.”

She missed the way he stared at her sleeping figure, in love with the sight.

They finished the piece shortly thereafter, choosing to take a unique approach to playing. In the beginning, it was a battle for whose notes would make it through but they each had trust in one another to play. The time is used instead to understand the weaknesses of each player and hide them expertly.

Vera left the next week back to London to prepare the conservatory for their event. Tickets had already sold out so now it was the waiting game. She practiced the piece in the upper room she met Levi in, failing to see Hange walk in.

“How was composing with shortie?”

“He’s easy to work with.”

“First time I’ve ever heard someone say that.”

“You’d be surprised.” She put the cover over the keys and turned around to face Hange. “How’s your mother?”

“Still dead.” A beat. “So good.”

They laughed together, Hange took the seat next to Vera.

“That’s lovely to hear.”

“Can I play it?” They asked, glancing over the sheet music and putting the piano cover-up.

“I don’t see an issue, as long as you don’t share it.”

“You relented then? Let Levi’s secrecy dominate?”

“One day he’ll see my side and then we’ll publish it. For now, we can keep it private.”

“But doesn’t that go against your own teachings?” Hange played the first few notes, already loving the tempo and key. “You always tell people that music is meant for sharing.”

“We are sharing but to a smaller audience.”

“To an elite audience. Vera, you love to play your pieces in the streets so even beggars could hear. What changed?”

To play for the rich and poor was a novel concept. Children from all classes had their pick of contemporary pieces like Mozart but access to modern pieces were limited. Composers guarded their pieces in the confines of overpriced sheet music. Vera differed somewhat, maintaining a moral high ground, by posting her pieces publically. Allowing anybody to find and play it.

“If I publish it, then I betray Levi. I don’t want to do that.”

“But to not betray him compromises your values.”

She was left silent as Hange played what was meant to be a happier part in a different manner, it sounded more depressing if anything. Vera leaned her head against Hange’s shoulder, the wool was soft against her head.

“I love him, Hange.” The piano stopped abruptly. “I don’t want to see him hurt by my actions.”

“Levi’s my friend but he is too stubborn to realize his actions are hurting others,” Hange sighed.

Vera left the conservatory and emailed her agent the music, the publishing date was set the day after opening night.

The crowd gathered at the opening night hailed from across Europe, predominantly Eastern and Central. It was comforting to be among crowds who spoke the same language as her. A hand on her shoulder signaled that it was time to head backstage. She caught sight of Kutchel in the box but was only able to wave before being ushered away.

“You ready?” Levi asked, attempting to tie his bowtie in the mirror.

“Of course.” Vera walked over and began focusing on tying his bowtie for him, failing to see the look of admiration he shot her way. “We go out there and prove you’re not washed up and I’m nice.”

“Who would ever believe that last part?” He joked.

“You have. At least I hope.” Vera finished his bowtie and stepped away, not letting her touch linger for even a second. It would risk it all if she did.

“You’re right and if I can believe it then so can they.”

He grasped her hands, sensing the invisible worry in her system. She was good at hiding her anxieties but not to him, never to him. It was Levi who knew when she was mentally exhausted, who knew when she needed a break, who knew when to simply hold her. He knew it all, it frightened her slightly.

“You’re too good for me.”

“No, I’m what you need.”

A stagehand knocked on the door and they both silently followed him to the stage, reveling in the applause from the audience. She heard some hushed whispers but they quieted down when they took their seats at the piano bench.

The piece was simple enough to play with one person but they added so many intricacies when played with two that it required perfect harmony. Complete trust for the other to play their part beautifully, to know when to hit the keys, to know when to reach, and to be patient. You had to truly know the other person to play this.

“Let’s play,” he muttered, starting his hands on the keys.

“Let’s.”

Kutchel had known her son for not much of his adult life, she was a passing face in his grand mission to be the best composer out there. She learned of how he prioritized his own success over others, always focused on his own progress over any other person. She worried for him as any mother would, she worried her son was one of those egotistical musicians they wrote about in the papers.

She was terrified at the possibility of her son being a rich snob.

The man playing on that stage, however, was a different man entirely. She saw even from her seat him waiting patiently for Vera to play at a slower speed while he stormed through his parts. They were opposites but somehow managed to blend. It might have looked chaotic, it was anything but.

Levi did not play like a rich snob, he played like a man in love.

When it ended she anticipated Levi ending on a loud note but his last note was soft, barely audible to those in the higher seats. Vera picked up where he left off and played in the manner Levi had previously, each switching roles effortlessly. She ended harshly, as most loves do.

The crowd roared with applause, it faded into the background. Levi’s hand on the small of her back guided her to the front of the stage. Flowers were thrown, shouts of appreciation. This is what she dreamed of.

Levi bowed first like he had in practice, then she followed. What they had not planned was bowing together which he promptly forced her into. He brought her near after they bowed as most piano partners would.

“I love you.”

Vera recoiled at the suddenness, glancing at the crowd who stared at both of them.

“Not here.”

She left the stage with Levi in tow to the backroom, he pushed the door closed.

“You don’t feel the same?”

“Levi, I do.”

“Then say it.” He took a step closer. “Say it back to me.”

“I-” Vera gulped down a nervous exhale. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Levi, I did something unforgivable.”

“What did you do?” The coldness of his tone sent shivers throughout her body.

“They’re distributing the piece tomorrow across Europe.” Vera took a step back to the door. “We share the profits equally-”

“You think I care about that? You honestly think I care about my side of the profits when you went behind my back and published it?”

“Levi, people deserve to hear this, the music it’s incredible. I don't want it to be only heard in these four walls!”

“And I told you that it was for a reason!”

“A reason that wasn’t good enough!” Levi was shocked at this. “You want it to feel more intimate? What is that? With publishing more kids that grew up like you can experience it. Have you thought about that?”

“Do not bring up my childhood right now when all you are doing is spitting on my legacy!”

“Fine, then I’ll just head back to Vienna. Call me if you want to apologize!”

“What about the rest of the shows?”

“They were doomed anyway. Better no show than a mediocre one.”

She opened the door after already having collected her belongings and rushed out. Some backstage workers tried to stop her for interviews but she turned them away. Her rental car was down the street, she easily made it without looking back.

Vera always failed to see many things about Levi, seeing him rushing out of the conservatory after her would be one of them.

A New Era for Pianist Vera Shcherbatskaya amidst the publishing of her new piece: Friends of Youth

Levi Ackerman publishes his first piece with Vera Shcherbatskaya here’s what we think!

The headlines from small newspaper outlets from across Europe became larger than she anticipated. The two lived in their bubble together when composing and even before but in the aftermath they were exposed to the world.

“The sales on your music books are amazing!” Her agent yelled over the phone. Vera was sweeping her apartment, trying to get rid of the dust that had accumulated in less than a day.

“That’s good. Anything else?” Vera’s voice was as dull as her heart.

“Anything else? Vera, you are the most popular pianist in Europe! This is what we dreamed of!”

“Let me know if Levi or his agent calls.”

She hung up the phone and threw it on the couch. Outside in Vienna was no longer a safe haven as fans swarmed her every move. The only sanctuary was her apartment but even that was a landmine, signs of Levi’s presence were everywhere. The lack of dust in cabinets, organized bookshelves by author's last name, and so much more.

Her next few performances held a significantly darker tone, people theorized it was about a heartbroken lover. Nevertheless, she played with a multitude of partners but each was less satisfying than the last. Nothing matched when they had played in London, critics even noticed.

“You were lovely, Antoine. Just not what I need.” She tried to let the man down gently but he stormed off, writing in the papers that her time with Levi had made her more heartless.

Hange visited when the news started dying down.

“You followed my advice?”

“It was shit advice.”

They shared a bottle of wine while watching old reruns of sitcoms. None of the jokes were remotely funny but it was good background noise.

“You’re still heartbroken that Levi left you.” It was harsh but accurate.

“He hasn’t even tried to call!”

“He talked to me.” Hange chuckled when Vera crawled over to them.

“What did he say?”

“Settle down, I’ll tell you.” They put their glass down and moved closer to the woman. “He said he was sad that he never considered your side but equally mad that you went behind his back.”

“That’s it? I already knew that! Come on, Hange, he had to have told you more!”

“Talk to him to figure it out!”

She did not in fact talk to Levi and instead chose to continue playing their shared music across Europe. His parts were stark silence, leaving it incomplete.

Concert Pianist Vera Shcherbatskaya entering a mournful period

That was spot on. Crowds across the continent noted the far-off look in her eyes in those loud moments of silence. When the last note was played they all clapped the same as that night but with more reproach.

“Ms. Vera!” She turned and found a little girl waving with a marker and paper. “Could you sign this?”

The woman obliged, kneeling to the girl’s level.

“What’s your name?”

“Vera! Like yours!”

“Then you’ll grow up to be a fine piano player, yes?”

“I want to play violin!”

“Then we’ll have to play together one time.”

She finished the message on the sheet and handed it back to the girl, her mother had a tired smile on her face.

“Thank you,” the mother whispered. “I saved up to take her to this concert, thank you for making it special!”

“If you want her career to grow, take her to a conservatory in Budapest. Tell them I sent you and they will give you room and board for free if you work there.” Vera pressed a warm hand into the mother’s shoulders.

“I can’t thank you enough!”

“Thank me when she gets to play on the big stage.”

Playing to massive audiences grew meaningless after a while, people blended together. None resembling who she actually wanted to see in a crowd. Vera left her concert after playing one night in Vienna, choosing to head to a local dive bar. It was packed to the brim for the open-mic night.

They had a piano, it looked out of tune and needed some work but it would do.

“Can I play?”

“You go on in five minutes.”

She stretched her hands out and followed a drunk man who sang a Mariah Carey song, he hit the high notes which surprised the crowd. Performers were meant to introduce themselves but she chose instead to test the keys out.

Most were fine, just the higher ones were a tinge too headache-inducing.

The first part was Levi’s, she never knew how to play it even if she tried. Vera strummed her own slow part in the quiet bar, not nearly drunk enough to not feel the nerves from playing in front of such a judgemental crowd. She paused again.

“Why are you stopping?”

“Keep playing!”

The shouts hurt her slightly but she continued through to the middle, tears fell down her face as feelings of heartbreak came rushing back. A hush fell over the crowd when someone from the audience made their way to the stage. He took the seat next to her, stretching his hands out.

“Let’s start over.” Levi’s familiar voice hummed. She smiled through her tears and leaned closer.

“Let's.”

#aot x reader #aot x yn #attack on titan x you #attack on titan #aot #levi x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x original female character #levi x original female character #levi angst #levi ackerman angst #modern au #aot modern au #attack on titan modern au

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multi-lefaiye · 1 year

Text

✨ wuh oh! emergency commissions!! ✨

hi. i've been putting off making this post for a bit now, lmao.

so! my normal commissions are still open and i have a commissions queue, but tbh doing rendered pieces right now is not something my brain can handle.

BUT! i'd like to take a few commissions to raise a little money to help pay some expenses while my job situation is uncertain as fuck due to factors mostly outside of my control. these are going to all be SKETCH COMMISSIONS so you will not be receiving a full rendered piece. if you'd prefer a rendered piece, you can commission me normally at another time.

there is no limit for slots, and turnaround on these will be 2-3 days at most.

WILL DRAW:

humans

simple scenes

couples

furries

feral animals

simple mecha

non-sexual nudity

simple comic pages

memes/shitposts

WILL NOT DRAW (for this batch):

nsfw/explicit content

fully rendered work

complex comic pages

extremely complex designs (will be determined on a case by case basis)

I RESERVE THE RIGHT TO TURN DOWN A COMMISSION I DO NOT FEEL COMFORTABLE COMPLETING OR AS THOUGH I CANNOT COMPLETE IN A SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME FOR THIS BATCH.

to order a commission, fill out THIS FORM: [link] this is so i can keep track

then, please NOTIFY ME HERE that you filled it out so we can discuss further and confirm payment!! I EXPECT AT LEAST HALF PAYMENT UPFRONT, AND THE REST UPON COMPLETION.

PRICES AND EXAMPLES UNDER THE CUT

FULL-COLOR SKETCH - $15 (+$5 for additional characters (max: 3), +$5 for a background (only can be simple), +$10 for a simple comic) (max price: $35)

(one character, no bg)

(one character, simple bg)

(two characters, simple comic)

MONOCHROMATIC SKETCH - $10 (+$5 for additional characters (max: 3), +$5 for a background, +$10 for a complex background, +$10 for a simple comic) (max price: $25)

monochromatic sketches are sketched scenes colored in shades of the same color--typically red, but you can select whatever color you want.

(two characters, no background)

(two characters, complex background)

(very simple comic and not how a final product would look, but this is an indication of what i mean by *simple comic)

(complex scene, two characters--not quite the same style these will be but ye)

UNCOLORED SKETCH - $5 (+$5 for additional characters (max: 3), +$5 for a simple background, +$5 for a simple comic (with or without dialogue)) (max price: $20)

(two characters)

(one character)

(two characters, simple comic)

(two sketches but this is one character so)

(three characters, no bg)

MS PAINT SKETCH - $5 (+$5 for additional characters (max: 3), +$5 for simple comic) (max price: $15)

(one character)

(two characters)

(one character)

(very old example) (two characters, simple comic)

#commissions #emergency commissions #multi makes text posts #to the folks i owe commissions to: i'm so sorry please please be patient with me #i love u all

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 2 years

Note

I know you've been getting a lot of male reader requests and I'm so sorry to add on to it-

Could I request a fic where Jason is bullying reader about being "Eddie's boy" or something like that and Eddie gets protective and possessive?

Maybe some smut with rough but loving Eddie? Eddie's absolutely wrecking the reader but still being the sweetheart that he is

Hi! I'll be happy to do my best.

I'm building off a continuation of this blurb, "Teach Me How to Love You" and combining it with another request:

Can you do an Eddie x Male Reader smut where the reader teases Eddie all day in school which makes him really horny. Then as soon as school ends Eddie quickly drags the reader to his trailer and things just go from there. (Sub/bottom reader btw). thank you!

The goal is to try and keep myself from burnout and honor the requests that come in at the same time. Thanks for understanding. Reader is 18.

Eddie Munson x Male Reader.

CW: 18+ Content (Smut--Handjobs and blowjobs specifically)

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

____________________

Perhaps it was also naive to think that wearing your tightest jeans was just a coincidence on the day that you and Jason had to present your scene. The entire time, while glancing between your piece of paper and the classroom, you stole glances to Eddie. When you two caught gazes, you'd smile and Eddie would send you a wink. But then his eyes would drop down to the front of your jeans and when you turned to the side, he'd tilt his head just a little to catch a side view of your ass.

At the end, after the class finishes their clapping, you lean a bit of your chair to Eddie's seat, sliding a note onto the corner of his desk. Ms. Barlowe is much too distracted by her praise to notice the pass.

You are being so obvious. Perhaps I should get you a bucket.

Eddie scoffs when he reads it, flipping you bird. You laugh, turning back into your seat to face the front as the next pair goes up to the front to talk about the scene they translated and perform it. But the entire time you're staring at pairs, you can feel Eddie's stare boring in the side of your head.

"My place?" Eddie asks at the end of the day, fingers tracing over your palm.

"I have to get my mom from work. I've got the only working car right now."

Eddie nods, understanding the necessity of your part. "Just call when you get back home, yeah? Wanna make sure you're safe."

"Absolutely." You kiss his cheek, aware of the setting though the parking lot is full, most people are too focused on themselves to quite notice. You don't want to push it though.

Eddie opens your car door and closes it once you're situated inside. You roll down the window, through which Eddie leans in. "Still coming to the show tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't dream of missing it. Not with my man performing."

Eddie grins, head lolling gently to the side. "Oh, say that again."

"In your dreams, Munson. But seriously, I gotta go."

"Yeah, yeah, drive safe," he states, stepping away from the car and letting you back out of the spot. Eddie watches until your headlights are just ghosts of themselves before he climbs into the van and starts towards Gareth for band practice. He'd offered his plan as interim and for post practice originally, hoping to get more than just a kiss on the cheek. And if Eddie had anything to do with it, he would.

You seem to make it your life's mission to find every possible piece of distracting clothing and to wear it for Eddie the entire week. When it's not the jeans, it's the tight muscle tee that you wear, Corroded Coffin's logo etched into the front of it with fabric paint, or the button up shirt that most definitely should've been button up more to hide away your chest, but none of the teachers stopped you, or the cologne that isn't one Eddie's noticed you wearing before but smells absolutely fucking delicious. When it's none of that, it's the rings you unearth from where in your closet. Rings were Eddie's thing. And that he didn't want to sharing things, but he takes notes of the way you purposefully talk with your hands more with the rings, like you want to bring attention to them.

And the entire week, because your mom's car is still down, Eddie can't have you. He can't sit you on his lap, can't tug and pull you to a release in his fist like he wants and while it's literally had him rubbing one out nearly every night in the shower, Eddie can be a patient man when he wants to be.

Because Friday night you are all his. Your mother's car is fixed and returned Thursday evening and though Eddie has Dungeons and Dragons to head, there's nothing else that can get in the way.

That is until Jason's pestering comes to a head. He'd been on your ass since you two got assigned as partners and managed to get cordial enough to actually ace the project. However, the days post the presentation, he'd found every reason to corner you.

Today, a rather dry and crisp morning, Jason finds you leaning against the hood of your car, arms folded over your chest as you wait for Eddie. "Oh, are you missing your master? Sitting here like a lost fucking puppet." A slur follows it and you really and truly only want to turn away from him.

He'd gone from bumping you in the hallways, to openly mocking you when you weren't with Eddie. The less you gave in, the harder he tried to get a reaction. Today wouldn't be any different for you.

"You deaf? You hear me talking to you?" Jason hollers. Spit flies off the end of his lip.

You say nothing, staring at him and the crew that's assembled. It would be four against one and if you managed to get a good hit on two of them, the other two would be on your ass in a heartbeat. You're no fool, even if you can feel the tick of your own jaw.

"I'm talking to you," Jason huffs. "Ain't anybody ever tell you it's rude not to talk when someone's talking to you."

"You're yelling. You're not talking."

"You're a fucking freak who's fucking a freak and it's vile," he spits.

"Did Chrissy not put out? Or is it your time of the month?" you return. You hate to bring her into this--Chrissy's always been nice to you. But you know it's going to crawl under Jason's skin and eat him alive. The two of them had been on the rocks. Everyone could see it.

And like a match only needs gasoline Jason rushes you, hands tightening around the collar of your t-shirt. "The fuck did you say to me?"

"I don't think I need to repeat myself," you laugh.

"Hey!"

The call interrupts Jason's wild gaze and when he looks over, he spots Eddie rushing over. Eddie shoves past Patrick, who truly is the meeker of the group. How Sinclair could ever want to get in with the likes of them is beyond Eddie and though it pissed him off, Sinclair and yet to miss a campaign session so Eddie would let it slide until it became a problem. And Sinclair's not a problem, not someone Eddie thinks could be easily poison but Jason was a toxic cloud and strong enough to take almost anyone under.

Jason's grip loosen around your shirt and you swat at his hands. He steps away as Eddie steps between your body and his. "What kind of problem do we have here?" Eddie asks.

Jason grins. "Looks like we've got a freak problem right now. What do you say boys?"

You push up from the hood of the car. It's four against two, still terrible odds, but Eddie's scrappy, you've seen it. And so are you. These are odds you are willing to take and for a fleeting moment, you think the heavens you wore rings today.

You don't know who threw the first punch. It could've been Josh, maybe it was Chance. All you know is that when the gym teachers get involved to break up the fight, your lip may be busted but Josh's eye has seen better day. You're pretty sure Chance as a broken nose. Jason face seems mostly untouched as if he used the other three to shield himself from most of the damage and Patrick's eye and lip are swollen.

You let Mr. Jenkins haul you away, arms going up in defense before you look to find Eddie, who's not even looking at Mr. Polinsky but looking at you. The brawl lands you and Eddie a week of in-school suspension. Two brave witness came to attest that Jason, Chance, Patrick, and Josh instigated the fight but you know the precious Hawkin's basketball team will only get a slap on the wrist in the end.

As you and Eddie leave the principal's office, you notice how thick the silence is between the two of you. You hadn't spoken a word to each other when Eddie came up to intervene and you couldn't really say much as you took fist to your faces and the occasional foot to your rib.

"A beautiful way to start the day, huh?" you tease, nudging at his elbow with your own.

"How long has Jason been antagonizing you?" Eddie ask instead, pulling you of the direction of the nurses office where the two of you were sent with directions to go immediately to the ISS room.

You shrug. "I wouldn't call it antagonizing as much as I would call Jason pathetic."

"He is pathetic. I hate that Sinclair's going to the dark side, but you were severely outnumbered there. How long as he been on your case?"

"A couple of days."

Eddie stares at you, big eyes pleading as you can see the bruises blossoming his face.

"A week," you sigh, casting your gaze down to the ground. "Ever since we presented in English, he's been up my ass."

Your heart drops when you catch sight of the frown on Eddie's face. He speaks before you can ask about it. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't like he'd threaten to jump me until today," you defend.

"No, but, like, why didn't you tell me when it first started happening? I could've helped."

You laugh. "You helped today."

"I'm being serious." It leaves Eddie's throat in almost a growl and he's fingers wrap around your chin tip of his thumb gingerly grazing where your lip split.

You wince just a little at the touch. "There were so many other things I had to focus on. I just--I didn't think it was a big deal."

"And now you're handsome little face is bruised to all hell," Eddie sighs. He gets that other things were higher priority for you but damn it hurts worse to see you injured.

"I'm tough," you laugh.

"You are. You've always been, but goddamn, I don't want to have to be."

You watch his face, eyes flickering over the injuries you've noticeably sustained. "Don't look at me like that," you sigh. His eyes ooze with regret and a little bit of sadness. He doesn't look at you like you're fragile, but he he does look at you like the whole world might reside in the expanse of your being. "My heart won't be able to take it," you tease.

Eddie grins, it's short lived, his face no doubt sore too. "C'mon," he states gingerly, hands interlacing with yours and pulling you in the direction of the front doors.

"We have nurse passes and then ISS."

"The school can kiss my ass. No doubt she's not done patching up the airhead jocks."

You continue to trail behind Eddie, glancing every couple of seconds to see if the doors will open again. "They're going to go to the ISS room and we're not going to be there."

"I'll call up to the nurse's office. She'll get our work."

"Don't tell me you used the Munson boyish charm on Mrs. Yeates. Poor sweet Yeates subjected to your wilds is unfair. Her late husband's been dead longer than we've been alive."

Eddie snorts at your taunts. "She's one of the few people left at this school that gives a shit about me. She scratches my back, I scratch hers."

"That--but not like that that, you know?"

"Mrs. Yeates very occasionally buys, most of the time I help her out with stuff around the office or her house."

"The school nurse?" you whisper, finding your keys in your pocket. You're thankful now that they didn't fall out or get trashed in the fight. "Buys? From you?"

"She tips well too," Eddie laughs. "Meet me at my place. You can still see, right?"

You nod. "Yeah, but I should be asking you that?"

"If you see Hopper just floor it. The man loves a good speed chase."

You're not shocked that Eddie would know that. So you leave it be and settle yourself in the driver seat before following Eddie out of the parking school lot.

At his trailer, Eddie hoists you up onto the counter. And it's less he does it all himself, you help, but when he pats the side of the sink, hands running under the water, you slip up onto it and his hands hover to make sure you don't fall.

He's gentle as he dabs off the dried blood. His warning that the cleanser is going to sting comes from softly in his chest and you grip the edge of the counter to keep from jerking away too much at the sting. It's soothed by Eddie's hand along your thigh. "You did good," he praises, flipping through the content of the first aid kit.

He fishes out the ointment, finding q-tips to apply it. The cut on your cheek is cleansed and bandaged too before Eddie works on himself in his reflection. All the while you sit and watch. His eye doesn't look nearly as bad as Josh's but it still doesn't look great. You slip down as Eddie moves to get his cuts bandaged up to find the frozen peas you know are still probably haunting the freezer for these exact purposes. Your knuckles are in great shape, but they'll be okay.

You return to the bathroom to hand the bag over to Eddie. "For your eye," you tell him.

Eddie laughs. "I can't exactly suck you off and hold a bag of peas to my face at the same time."

The brashness catches you off guard, your mouth hanging open like a fish for a moment. "What-what are you talking about?"

Eddie hooks a finger into the collar of your shirt bringing your chest firmly against his. "You have been a goddamn tease this entire week. New cologne."

"It's actually old. I only wear it fancy occasions." That isn't a lie, but it's not fully true either.

"Tight jeans."

"I-I hadn't done laundry yet." Absolutely that one is a lie, but those jeans are usually reserved for the bottom of the barrel for that specific reason. It does help that you had a feeling the outline of your bulge would set Eddie off.

"A button up that wasn't even worthy of the title of shirt considering how many buttons you had undone."

"It gets hot in the school," you defend. And that is true. Once the heat is turned on in the school, it is on and it is boiling hot.

"Rings," Eddie continues to list off.

"Okay, that was on purpose." You'll concede that point but not the others as you enjoy the way Eddie walks you out of the bathroom, pausing to get the peas back into the freezer and then continuing back to his room.

"And that goddamn tight muscle t-shirt Tuesday night."

"The bar gets stuffy, Eds." Another piece of the truth tainted in a tiny bit of a lie. You wouldn't be oblivious to the fact that the muscle tee did show off your biceps and you would, and did, use that to your advantage.

Eddie brings you, not by dragging but by stalking so you walk backwards throughout the trailer to his bedroom, kicking the door close with his foot. "Over my dead body," Eddie laughs. He closes in, like he wants to kiss you but he knows it's going to cause too much pain.

"On the bed. Now."

You debate only for a moment what you're going to do but then turn and walk to the edge of his bed before you sit. The last thing you're going to do is deny him or yourself the pleasure of this experience. Though you weren't sure how far it would or could go given your injuries, you'd take the risk of pushing the envelope.

Eddie crouches down into your space, nose gently bumping over yours. "You had and go get punched, which means in order to spare your pain I can't kiss you properly."

"I didn't ask for it," you retort, intent on keeping the story line straight. Jason had started it but you'd finish it.

"I know. I just need to know though. What will you ask for?" The question is paired with Eddie's hands tugging your shirt up and out of your tucked in jeans.

"You." It's one word that falls from your chest in a whisper but it carries with it everything.

Eddie makes quick work of your t-shirt, discarding it haphazardly to the floor. His fingers skate down your chest, teasing your nipple and you hitch up, a groan knocking at your chest at the sensation. You can feel a throbbing--now the dull ache of your sore face and hard cock mingling together as Eddie disrobes you. His touch is gentle and sure, but his pace is quick. He is tender but he is not wasting time.

You reach out for his bicep as you pushes you back further up on the bed, dull fingernails digging into the flesh and muscle. Eddie laughs at the way you moan out his name. It sounds like music, but Eddie finds glee in the way you melt for him.

"I would apologize for how hasty this is, but I think you're too blissed out to even care," Eddie whispers into the skin of your neck.

"I-" you swallow down part of the moan that works up your throat at the suckle of Eddie's plumps lips. "Fuck, I really don't care."

"Figured as much," Eddie laughs. He kisses down your chest, working your jeans and boxers down too. The sight of you, hard and leaking onto your own stomach makes Eddie's mouth salivate and his own cock to twitch in his pants. "Fuck," he whispers before taking you into his mouth.

You throw your head back, and the throbbing that he'd pushed aside for the moment comes rushing back again so you angle your head down again and huff as the work of Eddie's tongue over you. His free hand keeps tight on your pelvis, pressing you down into the mattress as everything in you wants to rut up into the warmth of his mouth. his spongy tongue runs along the underside of your cock and it makes you see stars.

It's lewd--the sounds Eddie ms making but you don't care as you join in, your groans bursting from your chest. You're not going to last long, not with the way Eddie's tongue and hand are working over you.

You teeter right on the edge before Eddie pulls away firmly. "You fucker," you huff, the last tense edge of your impending orgasm floating away.

"I want to watch you when you cum," he states. It's even and measured no hesitation or uncertainty.

Eddie spits into his hand before grasping you again and he watches, every twitch of your face, every time your jaw goes slack--Eddie watches it all and the blinding edge comes back. You can feel it in your toes.

"Shit." It's all you can muster and his name falls broken just behind it.

"That's it," Eddie encourages. "That's what I want," he smiles, when the first hot spurt hits his hand. "Give me all you've got."

His hand keeps an steady stroke over you and you don't have any air to tell Eddie you can't come anymore, that you have given everything and then he lets go and you think you've plummeted back into the stratosphere all the way down back to Eddie's bed.

The frame creaks and then something warm and soft is against you. You realize now, probably a cloth to clean up the mess you've made. It's not until Eddie returns to the bed, how he brings your naked chest up into his chest--now stripped over the t-shirt he'd put on this morning--that you start to regather your thoughts again.

"Give me five and you're next," you mutter into his chest.

"I'll give you ten so I can ice my eye."

"Sounds perfect."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munso x reader #h writes #stranger things

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boxturret · 11 months

Text

Cosmic Archive Label

A while ago I got a Famicom disc, really just as reference for ultimately modelling one, but then I noticed that there were two labels on it. I got really curious so I peeled the first one off. They were for two completely different games. I've since found that some Famicom games came with what look like spare stickers, so that may have been what happened here, rather than some factory mishap.

But in any case, I had removed two of the stickers, and they both came off really easily and in one piece, so I thought why not, I'm half way there, and there's so many things to make from scratch for the Pikmin 2 treasures, why take the needlessly hard way for no reason. So I got all the stickers off(I'll keep them, I still have the original label for the Hanafuda cards), then yesterday I started work on the proper labels for Nazo-no-Murasame-jou.

(Should I start watermarking this sort of thing as a reproduction when I post them? I'd assume bootleggers would just scan an actual sticker rather than go to some obscure blog.)

Looking on ebay real discs are about twice what I paid for this random one, so there was some savings, but I just now realised that I never once thought of just buying one. I wanted to make up in some way for the first attempt, which was responsible for all my Pikmin models getting larger and larger.

See, I thought I was so smart using an old floppy disc I had lying around from like 2001. Never did it even occur to me that a real Famicom disc would be a different size. I also just assumed the front and back labels would be identical, for some reason, just swap out the A for a B.

Took a bit to find this, I couldn't locate the final image because there wasn't one, this was made back when my only tools were MS Paint and MS Word, so I did the basic graphics in Paint and used the transparency feature of word to composite it all together. I was quite close to becoming this guy.

But basically the size of Olimar and the Pikmin, thus everything else, were all made to fit this creation, which lead to everything becoming way too big, as you can see with the comparison to my original Hocotate Ship:

Another Treasure completed, and an old wrong righted. A good day's work.

#pikmin #2d print #treasure #Famicom

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tilly-tilly-2827 · 5 months

Text

Leave it by Degrees #1

Synopsis: Benedict Bridgerton, an upcoming artist, is on a mission. He must finish his painting for the gallery coming up in several months, but how could he concentrate when the memories of the Lady in Silver still trapped him?

Sophie Beckett, an overworking secretary is also on a mission. She must persuade Benedict Bridgerton to sign a contract with the Gunningworth Foundation, to provide them with a portrait for Penwood Park in exchange for financial support. But how could she concentrate when the flirty artist was the very man with whom she had a one-night stand? Who didn't remember her at all?

The unhinged love story loosely based on Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost that I can't get out of my head.

Post in AO3 from here!

“Come on, Ms. Beckett. Woodson is absolutely besotted with Posy, my dear brother is apparently sleeping with your Kate Sharma, and it seems that it is inevitable for us to hook up! The whole universe, the whole fate from God is just waiting for us to bang!”

Sophie rolled her eyes over his dramatic yet crude remarks, wondering why in the world he wouldn’t just leave her alone. Or why wouldn’t he just sign the damn contract?

One arm leaning against the door, Benedict Bridgerton gave her one of his crooked smiles, the ones he plastered to his face when he needed a quick lay. It worked, mostly on everyone, male, female, and non-binary, he knew that just one smirk would drop anyone to their knees. However, Sophie Beckett only gave him an exasperated glare, her face ever so slightly looking up from her laptop.

“Mr. Bridgerton.”

“I thought I told you to call me Benedict.”

Benedict could hear Sophie softly curse under her breath. Ah, the reaction.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I am here strictly on business, not to have an amazing orgasm with you.”

“...Who said anything about amazing orgasms?”

Sophie banged her head on the desk. She knew that her face was on fire, and she could not dare look at Benedict’s face who was surely smirking at her. Such a stupid, stupid girl.

----------------------------------------------------

“You’re going to stay at THE Soneva Fushi?!”

Although it was a crowded night, Kate Sharma’s bewildered voice echoed through the London pub. When she got a text from her closest friend from uni for a small drink on a Friday night, she wasn’t expecting to hear from her that she was going to stay at one of the most luxurious resorts in the world, knowing that Sophie Beckett wasn’t exactly the wealthiest person she knew. Quite the opposite, she thought to herself, remembering that even in her uni days she was always balancing two or three jobs.

“It’s work-related,” Sophie sighed, taking another sip of pine. “And I’m probably going to stay only for a night.”

“I don’t understand, Sophs.” Kate’s beautifully shaped eyebrows were knitted with confusion. “Who would go to the Maldives for business? I’ve always assumed that the place was a resort, not a conference room.”

“My client is staying there, apparently.”

“Who’s your client?”

“...Benedict Bridgerton.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“He’s an artist.” Kate noticed that Sophie’s tired expression softened slightly. “Armintia saw his piece at the Granville Foundation Gala a few months back. Took a great liking to his work, so she wants to have a portrait made for the renovation of Penwood Park. In return, the Gunningworth Foundation will fund his production costs for the next five years.”

“So like a patron?”

“Exactly.”

“Bridgerton…That surname rings a bell. Any relation to the Audrey Cooperation?”

Always the quickest, Sophie smiled over her glass of pine. Kate had been the brightest student in her year, breezing her way through law school and already beginning her practice at the Danbury Associates.

“He’s the second son of the Bridgerton Family. According to my research, he’s not by any means engaged in the family business, but he does attend the galas and the charity balls every season.”

“Hence the B.”

“I’ve never known that the number two was an artist.”

“Benedict is very good, actually,” There was a small smile on Sophie’s lips. His latest work was submitted to the National Gallery, and the reviews she read in the Art Monthly were nothing but lines and lines of praise. An Uprising Sensation in the British Art World; Benedict Bridgerton, the headlines wrote. She had gone to the exhibition at the national gallery featuring his work, and her soul was captivated by his creation. People Watching; a series of works consisting of multiple portraits, a pregnant mother carrying two small twins in her hands, a couple sharing a donut in the corner of the tube, and a tired man looking at a basketball match on the streets. A small boy reading to his sister at the library. A grandmother dancing to herself in a wheelchair. It was nothing abstract, nothing specifically special about his material, but there was so much warmth in his touch and his gaze, and Sophie could understand why his paintings attracted the hearts of the viewers.

It would be lovely to see the world as he sees it , Sophie found herself thinking. Maybe her life would be a little bit better if she could find the small happiness in her ordinary life…

“Hello? Earth to Beckett?”

Sophie jerked from her train of thought, and she saw that Kate had a worried look on her face.

“Are you okay, Sophs? Was there something with your dad again?”

“No, no, I’m all right.” Sophie shook her head, taking a cigarette from her bag. She offered one to Kate wordlessly, but she declined. Sophie looked at her with surprise.

“I’m trying to quit,” Kate replied with a sheepish look. “Eddie’s been complaining about the smell ever since she moved to my flat, and I thought it easier to just quit than to argue.”

“Mmmm.”

“And you know it’s bad for you, Sophs,”

“Mmmm.”

“It’s going to kill you someday,”

“Mmmm.”

Sophie lit up a cigarette, placed it between her fingers, and inhaled the substance deeply into her lungs. Kate looked at her concerningly as they both stared at the smoke fogging their view.

“Tell me what’s going on or I’ll strangle you to death at his very place, Sophie Beckett,” Kate said softly. “On a normal Friday night, if I said that I was going to quit smoking, you would chirp; Oh, that’s lovely, Kate! It is a terrible vice, I know. Maybe I should stop smoking too. What kind of methods are you trying to cope with the loss? Rather than to tempt me with a puff in front of my eyes. This isn’t you, Sophs.”

Sophie smiled weakly. It was a good imitation of her voice.

“I’m sorry Katie Cat.”

“Don’t mind, I knew from the tone of your text that you were in a crappy mood.”

“I’m just weary about the flight.” Sophie mumbled, dropping the cigarette in an ashtray. She knew it was a filthy habit. “It’s ten hours from Heathrow to Velana International.”

“Why do you have to travel such a distance anyway? It’s not 1817. Can’t you send an email or a phone call? If you want to talk directly, you could just make a Zoom meeting from your flat.”

Wouldn’t it be so much easier, if she could just do that.

“Apparently, Benedict Bridgerton is currently in the middle of a cleanse. ”

Kate snorted gin from her nostrils.

“Come again?”

“Benedict Bridgerton is currently in the middle of a cleanse ,” Sophie repeated her words, but she couldn’t help but break into a grin. “With his brother, actually. No phones, No social media, No contact with any associates except their families.”

“Wait. Did you say no phones, no associates? So, it’s kind of like a digital free holiday?”

“Exactly.”

“Sophie, I know you’re not an idiot, but I don’t think nobody wants to be contacted for business in the middle of a cleanse holiday at the beach in Maldives…”

“I know,” Sophie groaned in her pine, “I’ve been trying to tell her that millions of times.”

“Araminta?” Kate asked wearily.

“...Araminta.” 　

Although Sophie hardly talked about her family, Kate knew how demanding and threatening her step-mother could be, currently the substitute chairman of the Gunningworth Foundation, the very place Sophie was currently working at. Employed? More like enslaved. Kate had heard Sophie chuckle darkly a few years back. Kate knew quite well that Sophie wasn’t as insistent as to crash a private holiday. She could remember the time Armintia once stampeded into their shared dormitory in uni, half screaming, half strangling Sophie in the neck, accusing Sophie of theft. I can’t believe you took my Versace bag from the closet, you son of a bitch… Kate had heard her shrieks from the hallway, and frantically peeled them apart. In the end, it was Rosemund who had borrowed the bag from her mother’s collection, not Sophie. Kate softly padded Sophie on the back, knowing that she couldn’t refuse the job.

“But it’s a big case, Sophs.” Kate continued reassuringly. “Several hundred thousand pounds deal with an upcoming artist? I’m surprised that Armitina gave you such a heavy contract matter. I thought Rosemund would love to meet the number two of the Bridgerton family.”

“First she wanted to hand it over to Rosemund, but she had another gala to attend. She already has her marks on Cavender, actually.” Sophie sighed, her fingertips twitching for a smoke. “And Arimintina’s not giving me the case. She gave in to Posy. I’m going there for her assistance.”

“Oh……”

Imagining the rosy-faced cinnamon roll sweetheart in her head and the slightly resigned look on her friend's face, Kate presumed that the whole job was on Sophie’s shoulders.

“Wishing you the best, Sophs.”

“Yes, yes, thank you, Kate…”

To brighten up the mood, Kate rose from her seat to get another round, along with a plate of fish and chips. As Kate took a big bite into the giant cod fish, Sophie only nibbled a chip from the basket.

“By the way, Sophs,” She asked, elegantly wiping off the crumbs with her lilac handkerchief, “By brother, do you mean…”

“Yes. It’s THE Anthony Bridgerton.”

Anthony Bridgerton was the epitome of a royal celebrity. After his father’s sudden death, he took the role of the CEO of the Audrey Cooperation at the age of 26, also inheriting the title of a viscount. With a handsome face and overflowing wealth, Anthony Bridgerton was easy prey to gossip and the paparazzi, making scandalous headlines in social media every time he had a dalliance with another celebrity.

“Why would a CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country be in the middle of an island with his bohemian brother? And with zero contact? Shouldn’t he be working his ass off?”

“Kate, haven’t you read Lady Whitsledown?”

“Why would I read Lady Whistledown?”

Sophie shook head in disbelief, but she couldn’t help but to smile; the absolute indifference her mate showed towards gossip and pop culture was always surprising. But that was one of the things Sophie loved and adored about Kate. She knew what she had to focus on. Sophie took out her mobile from her pocket and opened her Instagram, showing the latest Lady Whistledown post.

Worldwide Pop Singer Sienna Rosso confirms Breakup with Anthony Bridgerton; He was never serious about Our Relationship, She Comments.

#What did I tell you? #The A does it again #He may as well be the A, but he’s scoring an F

Sophie had to smile. Lady Whistledown was also one of her guilty pleasures, and she often found herself cracking up over her snarky sarcastic comments. The news was posted with a photo of Anthony Bridgerton in a black Prada suit with a matching ribbon tie. With beautiful hair (a gorgeous sideburn), wild stubble around his chin, and a seemingly ripped body, Sophie had to admit that he was a very attractive man. Standing authoritatively with a puffed chest and a stern look on his face, a sense of determination on his lips, she noticed that she knew someone who often had the same expression on her face.

“He looks like a fuckboy.” Kate cursed as she took a look at the photo.

“I thought he was your type, Kate. You know, strong-willed, athletic...”

“Not him.” Kate scowled, shoving Sophie’s mobile in her hands. “I don’t like guys who sleep around.”

Sophie smiled softly.

“Okay、 fine. I don’t want to be in a relationship with a man who sleeps around.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.”Clinking their glasses together, Both Kate and Sophie took another shot. The summer wind felt cool on their flushed faces, and the city lights were glittering before them.

“I wish I had the time and the money to go to a beach resort after a bad breakup,” Kate murmured.

Sophie softly curled her arms around Kate’s, tilting her head on Kate’s shoulders. It had been only a month since Kate found out that her fiance was sleeping with his coworker, catching them red-handed in their shared flat. Sophie had dropped everything to comfort her, putting a blanket over her as Kate wept over a bucket of chocolate ice cream.

“I don’t want to cry this much for that dick, Sophie! And I don’t want to waste four months working out because of him!” Kate had croaked between angry sobs as Sophie cooked her mother’s Bolognese in her kitchen.

“ Kate, I know how sad you are. But you’ve been crying for five hours, Kate. You have to eat.”

“Tom was an arsehole, Kate,” Sophie said quietly. “You deserve so much better than him.”

Kate did not reply but she softly leaned against Sophie's arms. Kate truly appreciated these quiet moments with Sophie, when she knew that she didn’t have to fill the silence with words. It was one of the prominent attributions of Sophie Beckett, she could sense a troubled heart and her presence, her silence alone could soothe a troubled heart. It was one of the few moments Kate could forget about being the responsible, reliable older sister.

“Sophie,”

“Mmm?”

“I’m going to swear an oath to this glass of half drunk pine.” Kate suddenly straightened her back, raising her glass to their eye level. “That I’m going to take a break from relationships. For a year from now. No boyfriends. No girlfriends. No romantic relationships whatsoever.”

“Is that going too far over the edge, Kate…?”

“I wasted a whole month in misery, Sophs,” Kate replied nonchalantly, “I’m just going to focus on my career and my job for at least a year. Without any mental distractions.”

Sophie didn’t quite know how to respond to Kate’s sudden declaration. She knew how the breakup damaged her soul, but she also knew that her thick beautiful curls and her long eyelashes and her shimmering legs would always attract the eyes of the other, along with her fierce powerful personality.

But it’s Kate , she thought, she knows what she’s doing.

“I salute to your dedication, Katie Cat,” Sophie grinned, also raising her glass as she gently clinked to hers. “Should I swear an oath as well? As a friend to you in moral support?”

“No, no. no.” Kate shook her head. “I have to do this on my own. Besides, you’re going to the Maldives! You should seize the opportunity to hook up with some random money! You only live once, Sophs!”

Sophie laughed wholeheartedly, wheezing at her obscene comment.

“I’m not planning to be some hooker to a group of toffs, Kate.”

“Whatever you say,” Kate replied in a singalong voice as she took another chip, “ But come to think of it, why are you so depressed about this job? Yes, you’re probably invading the privacy of some celebrity, but you’re going to stay at the best hotel resort in the world! A chance to meet the richest and hottest guy in the world! Why be so stressed out about that?”

Probably because I had a one night stand with his little brother? Who happens to be my client?

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benophie #benophie fics #sophie beckett #benedict x sophie #an offer from a gentleman #bridgerton fanfiction #modern au #love's labour's lost

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neos-nero · 6 months

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“Hi! Hi!”

Shapes!Sans

Your neighbourhood friendly software glitch who really likes his shapes and art apps (so much so, he can turn others into funky lil shape people whenever he’s too excited)

Other stuff about him:

His stats are - 1 HP, 0 ATK, ?? DEF (I doubt anyone cares about this sort of thing, but it’s here anyway)

Though they can’t attack, he can obstruct or trap others with polygons falling from the sky or shooting up from the ground. (Since he has 0 atk, these are harmless and he has terrible aim)

He was created by a child trying to save their Sans fanart on MS Paint during a stormy night. Then a power outage occurred when the kid was about to press save.

Shapes wears leg warmers. He doesn’t like shoes.

His “au” is corrupted data from the kid’s unsaved piece (messes of colour, shapes and random objects are what make his au)

Shapes and his creator don’t know each other.

He likes to eat honey on toast and drink banana milk.

They can come off as hyperactive sometimes. He’s mainly calm and daydreaming for the most part.

Has eaten a battery before (will never do it again)

Is friends with another Sans au of mine called Love Virus (who is a computer virus, who could’ve guessed that? /s)

If you were to look at their soul, you’d see his trait is kindness. (If the eye didn’t give it away)

I HAVEN’T DRAWN MY BOY IN A WHILE AAAAAA

#sans au #sans oc #digital art #art #oc art #silly little guy #utmv #shapes sans #shapes #<3

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dullahandyke · 2 months

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[ID: a picture of a cat lunging itself at a piece of pizza. End ID]

no...... it has been MADE VICTIM TO LIBEL the cat has been TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! here is the real image

[ID: the above image, edited in MS Paint so that it is holding a pizza box and a slice of pizza, wearing a red cap with 'Piza' written on it. A bright arrow pointing to the pizza reads, "Freshly made pizza to be put inbox." Another arrow pointing to the cat's face reads, "Workin-G Man's Focuse-D stare."]

kindly take your buysiness elsewhere if you are going to treat my workers this poorly............................................................

#hello eden lovely 2 see u yayyyyyy #love this cat pic also... its expression so cutes

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leoba · 2 years

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Medieval Self-Insert Fan Art: Two amazing examples

Last night my favorite Discord server had an anniversary party, and we all presented to each other like the nerds we are. Usually when I present at conferences I post the talk to my blog, but this one felt like it would make a great inaugural post for this new Tumblr (which is going to be my personal-official space in the same way my Twitter account is now)

I gave a little presentation on MEDIEVAL SELF-INSERT FAN ART with two examples, and I share the slides and my comments here for you.

The first example: Owner portraits in books of hours, for when you want to hang out with Jesus and the BVM.

First, what are books of hours? Books of hours are...

Books of hours can be personalized in a variety of ways (for much more about personalization check out Kate Rudy’s book Piety in Pieces: How Medieval Readers Customized their Manuscripts, which you can read for free here). Owner portraits are part of the creation of the book of hours, so it might be more correct to call them commissioners portraits (I don’t think I’ve ever seen them called that, though). The person commissioning the book would work with the artist or artists to determine in which scene they would be included. In every case I’m aware of, owners are presented in supplication - kneeling, with hands together in prayer - and on the edge of the picture, present and part of the story, but not central to it.

Following are many examples of owner portraits from several different manuscripts in Philadelphia (all of which were digitized through the Bibliotheca Philadelphiensis project).

Some portraits, like this one from PMA 1945-65-14, show the book’s original owner. This is Étienne Thirion, in his own frame, kneeling at prayer, in a page facing the Annunciation - as though he’s watching, or perhaps considering the story, but not part of it.

More commonly, the owner is painted into the frame. Here, in this example from FLP Lewis E 112, he joins a couple of angels visiting with Mary and Baby Jesus. Unlike the previous example, we don’t know the name of the original owner.

Owners didn’t only include themselves in happy scenes. In this example, from UPenn Ms. Codex 1056, the owner (in traditional 15th century dress and a black coif) joins the women grieving for the recently deceased Jesus.

Here’s another happy one, from FLP Lewis E 123.

The original owner of PMA 1924-19-1 includes two owner portraits, one with Mary and a nursing Baby Jesus and one with the deceased Jesus laying in God’s the Father’s lap.

One more! Another woman (yes, women owned books of hours and other books, and had them made), and like the first one we looked at, she’s in her own frame, looking at or contemplating Mary and Jesus on the facing page.

That’s the first example of self-insert in medieval art. The next example is a single manuscript, rather than a genre, and although it is religious it isn’t only religious:

U. Glasgow MS Hunter 231 is a collection of devotional and philosophical works, copied in the 14th century (here’s a blog post about it, and this post includes photos from the blog). It includes a lot of texts by the 1st century Roman philosopher and rhetorician Seneca, which I find incredibly amusing for some reason. I guess I don’t think of Seneca as being terribly popular? But there’s a lot of him here.

Here’s a photo of the book from when it was featured on Coffee With A Codex (I forgot to hit record until 10 minutes in, oops). That’s Seneca there between Plato and Aristotle, with gray hair and a pink hat. We’ll take a closer look at this illustration later.

More details about the contents of MS Hunter 231.

Animation works better in PowerPoint but I’m doing my best to give you the experience. I love this manuscript for a lot of reasons but one thing that strikes me (aside from the self-insert fan art) is how oddly it contrasts with itself.

First, it has some really fantastic illuminations made by an identifiable artist (“Master of the Taymouth Hours” - so called because he is also responsible for illustrating a book of hours called the Taymouth Hours, now London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 13). They are detailed and colorful and the gold has been incised with designs (seriously, look at the gold in the photos, it’s so well done). So whoever had this manuscript made wanted premium art.

Second, in contrast, the script isn’t great. It’s an informal gothic cursive script. That’s it on the right; on the left, another manuscript, also written in England at about the same time, written in a more formal gothic textualis quadrata script (it’s FLP Lewis E 84, a theological miscellany). The cursive would write more quickly, take less time to write, and would thus have been less expensive. So while the texts are important to the commissioner, the writing of that text appears to be less important than the artwork.

Third - the parchment. It’s not great! There are a lot of uncut edges (this photo is from a different manuscript, UPenn LJS 24, but this is the kind of thing you’ll see in MS Hunter 231), holes, and visible hair follicles.

Again, this means that great parchment wasn’t the commissioner’s priority. Not great parchment, not a great script, but really fucking great art.

And who is this commissioner? Here he is with Mary and Baby Jesus and a couple of angels - he’s pictured very much like the owners in the owner portraits, kneeling, hands held out in prayer.

His name is ROGER OF WALTHAM and we know a bit about him! We even have an idea of what he looked like: wavy gray hair, long on the sides and back but cut with a tonsure around his head, and a gray beard. He’s pretty distinctive-looking.

This is just to give you a sense of size. It’s not a really huge book (see my hands in the screenshot further up), so that illuminated initial isn’t big. But it’s so well done!

Here’s a close-up! Again, it’s the same style as an owner portrait (I mean... it is one, really, just in this purpose-made book and not in a book of hours). That’s Roger at the bottom, dressed in red.

And here he is again, watching the Blessed Virgin Mary be assumed into heaven after her death.

And again! Waiting patiently for Eucharist.

And with Mary and Jesus! (You can really see the design in the gold in this photo)

With Mary and Jesus again.

... and again. (I love that patch of gray on his forehead)

Here’s a larger illustration, Jesus crowning Mary... and there’s Roger kneeling at the bottom, yet again.

And here he is at the Crucifixion.

Here’s a fantastic full-page illustration. That’s the head of God at the top, with some angels, and in the middle is Saint Benedict and Saint Paul. And there? At the bottom? Who’s that?

Let’s take a closer look.

squints

It looks like Roger. And Roger! (I’m not 100% certain that is two Rogers, the fellow on the right could be someone else, but I wouldn’t exactly be surprised if it was two Rogers)

Finally, Seneca. Here’s Roger hanging out with his favorite philosopher! (No beard but maybe this is young!Roger?) That’s Seneca on the left, slightly higher in the frame, with Roger below, in the position of teacher and student. This is a pretty typical artistic trope that you see a lot (I’ve included another example from FLP Lewis E 37 just below).

And finally, the pièce de résistance: We return to this photo of Plato, Seneca, and Aristotle (we know who these are because they are labeled).

Seneca - in the middle, facing the reader head-on, an indication of his importance - looks familiar. Take a closer look. Closer. Closer!

The wavy gray hair? The beard? I’m not the first person to note that Seneca looks an awful lot like Roger of Waltham. His final self-insert: literally making himself into his favorite philosopher.

Thanks to Julie Gardham, Senior Librarian at the University of Glasgow who introduced me to MS Hunter 231 and Roger of Waltham’s place in it.

#medieval #manuscript #medieval manuscripts #roger of waltham #university of glasgow #ms hunter 231 #self insert fan art

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