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five-miles-over · 11 months

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Tom Hiddleston Characters Masterlist

updated January 26, 2024

Multiple Character Headcanons/Listicles

• Tom Hiddleston Characters as Desserts

• How Tom Hiddleston Characters Would Spend the Winter Holidays

• Tom Hiddleston Characters: How They Act When They Have a Crush (on You)

• Tom Hiddleston Characters on Their Wedding Day (to You)

• Tom Hiddleston Characters: How They Would Propose (to You)

• Tom Hiddleston Characters Celebrating the New Year (With You)

Bill Hazeldine from Suburban Shootout

• She’s a Lady and I am Just a Boy: On the first day of taking ‘Fundamentals of Shakespeare’ at university, Bill Hazeldine finds himself developing a serious crush on you, his drama professor.

• Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends: A first-year medical student at the University of Surrey, you move into a uni house and meet your new flatmates Bill Hazeldine and Rory Slippery (College AU, crossover with Rory Slippery from Fortysomething)

Caius Marcius Coriolanus from Coriolanus

I’ve Decided, I Will Not Let Your Shadow Separate From Me: After being elected the consul, Coriolanus receives many things - sleepless nights, pointless riots from the lower-class citizens, and you, his new personal slave. While the sleep deprivation and the noise from the plebeians annoy him to no end, he finds himself obsessed with you. (Yandere)

The One That I Desire: A general must always be in control, according to General Caius Marcius Coriolanus . But there often comes a time when even the most powerful general falls to temptation. And for Coriolanus, that temptation is you.

Henry V/Prince Hal from The Hollow Crown

• Fairytale: While riding upon your horse in the woods, you come across a stranger with a silver tongue and golden curls. And he calls himself “Hal”. (Basically a meet-cute with fluff.)

• You Will Be Mine : The prince of England quickly becomes obsessed with you, a servant brought to his chambers to serve him breakfast. And there is nothing that will stop him from claiming you as his. (Yandere)

• First Time In London: Three days into your new life in London, you find yourself in a café after one of the dreariest mornings ever. Standing behind you in line is none other than Henry Plantagenet, a handsome gentleman with a zest for life and a romantic outlook that feels too good to be real. (Modern AU)

Jonathan Pine from The Night Manager

•So Much More: While holidaying in Switzerland at the Hotel Meister, you find yourself constantly being stood up by each and everyone you meet. And each time, the night manager Jonathan Pine is there to comfort you after delivering the bad news. But it’s really just part of the job…right?

• The Forbidden Room: Part One, Part Two : During a late night alone in the lobby of the Hotel Meister, you - a student at the University of Zurich - meet the charming night manager Mr.Jonathan Pine. And what starts out as simply two strangers getting to know each other turns into something more when Pine shows you a secret part of the hotel.

• My Dearest Diamond : After nearly two years of working for MI-6, Jonathan tried to get in touch with you, the girl who stole his heart when he worked at Hotel Meister. For three weeks, the two of you rekindled your love via handwritten letters, until you booked a five-day trip to London to see him.

As he prepares to make this holiday special for you, Jonathan reflects on his relationship with you…and carries out one last errand before you land.

Robert Laing from High-Rise

• Being Married to Robert Laing would Include...

Loki of Asgard from the Marvel Cinematic Universe

• Heaven Help the Fool Who Falls in Love: You, a lady-in-waiting of Asgard’s Queen Frigga, and Prince Loki have been inseparable for years. What started with a mere look becomes something more precious. (Fluff)

• A Better King: While shopping with Thor in Mumbai (to kill time while Tony Stark is busy with a meeting), Loki learns about the “king” of Bollywood…and decides that he himself could be a better king.

• Take All of Me: Loki takes great delight in “ruining” his innocent, shy girlfriend for the first time (corruption kink, smut)

• Dandelions: Having heard stories about the Norse god of mischief, you find yourself falling in love with Loki despite having never met him. Out of devotion, you prepare offerings that you think he would like, and find ways to express the way you feel. Little do you know that your feelings are not unrequited.

• Beauty is Where You Find It: A journalist for a New York magazine in September of 2012, you come across the opportunity to do an interview from an icon in the fashion industry. Your subject? A rising supermodel from Wimbledon with icy blue eyes and jet-black curls named Loki Laufeyson.

• They’ll Call Your Crimes a Work of Art: A journalist for a small magazine in New York, you’ve been assigned to write a piece about the recent attacks led by Loki. So, you have a look at Loki himself to get your own perspective.

• Little Darling: Living with the God of Mischief in London comes with finding many surprises, and one of those surprises happens to be a four-year-old named Tom Hiddleston.

THE PHANTOM OF ASGARD (THOR: THE DARK WORLD LOKI X READER)

Rumors say that a phantom haunts the darkest hall in the royal palace of Asgard, but is he truly as dangerous as the people of Asgard claim he is?

Part One

Part Two

FOR ALL TIME, IT WAS ALWAYS YOU (TVA LOKI X WIFE!READER)

Imagine waking up in an alternate reality where you and Loki are a newlywed couple living in the suburbs...and everything seems a little too good to be true. (inspired by Wandavision)

Part One

Part Two: Mrs. Laufeyson

Part Three: Happy to Keep His Dinner Warm

Part Four: Kitty Makes Three

THE AGE OF LOKI (LOKI X READER X PROFESSOR HIDDLESTON)

For his second year teaching at Oxford’s English department, Professor Hiddleston hires you to be his first-ever teaching assistant. One night while working late, he shows you the newest addition to his poetry class’s syllabus: the Lokasenna, a poem centered on the Norse god of mischief…and accidentally summons the trickster god himself.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

IF YOU LET ME, I CAN MAKE ANOTHER WORLD FOR US (LOKI x POWERFUL!READER)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Jaguar Villain Hiddleston from the Good to Be Bad Campaign

• All I Worship and Adore: For a long time, Tom has admired you, an innocent woman, from afar...until one day, he makes his affections known to you. And this time, he won’t take no for an answer (Yandere)

• Your Remedy - He may be one of the most powerful and feared man in London, a terrifying villain to the outside world, but when you’re sick with a cold, your paramour Thomas spends the entire evening by your side taking care of you.

• SFW Alphabet - Jaguar Villain!Tom Hiddleston

YOU'RE NEVER LEAVING (JAGUAR!HIDDLESTON X READER)

You, a budding journalist, have the opportunity of a lifetime to interview the feared and revered Mr. Hiddleston, the CEO of Imperial Pharmaceuticals, Britain’s leading drug manufacturing company. What happens when a few mistakes lead you into the jaws of the wolf, working for the man himself?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Miscellaneous Hiddleston AUs

• AU: Tom Hiddleston as the Prince of Scotland

• Lessons from the Viscount (Viscount!Hiddleston x Reader, Reader x William Buxton, Reader x John Plumptre): As a debutante in the Regency era, you attend your first etiquette class, along with the other boys and girls of London’s upper crust. Heading the class is the charismatic Viscount Hiddleston, rumored to be a former Shakespearean actor who returned to London to look after his familal estate. And it isn’t long before he takes a liking to you.

301 notes · View notes

photmath · 2 years

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Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: First Impressions

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: cursing

Note: At the end, happy readings! (:

“For how long?” Kylian’s eyes shoot between the team’s psychologist, Dr. Minic, and his coach. Both of their faces are unyielding to the reluctance of Kylian’s voice.

“A month.”

“You want me to uproot my entire life for a month? At someone’s random house?” Kylian is quick to his feet, despite the ache that runs through his sore thigh. He shifts his entire weight onto his crutches and uninjured leg.

“Sit down,” Galtier reprimands, beckoning him to take a seat with an outstretched arm. Kylian lets out a scoff before he takes a seat back in the chair. “You’ve had a blow to your calf. One that you got for being careless! If you had just kept your head leveled and never went for that tackle, you wouldn’t have wound up in this situation.”

Kylian stares out the window behind Galtier’s head, knowing the words were true. Kylian had played reckless; not caring for the fouls he was committing and being frustrated that none of his teammates' passes were connecting. He had committed a dirty tackle early on, him and the other player then continuing to butt heads throughout the game.

And then finally, Kylian got a breakaway, but he was so selfishly aware of his inability to execute the ball that he forced himself through traffic when he should’ve passed the ball to an open Messi. After one too many sloppy touches trying to regain the ball, he felt a searing pain rip through his calf. He was quick to blame the Marseille player, immediately rising to his feet and pushing him. Once the Marseille player got up to shove an off-balanced Kylian, he fell to the floor harshly, only clutching onto his leg.

He wanted to argue to Galtier that his calf deciding to strain was not because of the opposing team and the foul attitude they put him in throughout the game, but it was. He was trying to prove to himself and the team that he could tie up the match if he was just given one more chance. It was something he had been doing since the World Cup; trying to prove to everyone that he still had it in him despite the sour taste of finishing in second place. And after another failed season at PSG, the last way he wanted to end the season was with a loss at home. No Coupe de France. No UCL. And now no Ligue 1 title.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to get out of the city, but not be too far,” Dr. Minic inquires. “A change in environment. Somewhere calm.”

“I can do that at my apartment,” Kylian replies. “Or in Switzerland—anywhere, really.”

Noé Martin, the team’s main physiotherapist, shakes his head, “Somewhere preferably that is one floor and where I can visit regularly.”

Kylian tuts, groaning at the idea of being sent away to the ‘middle of nowhere’ for the next month of his break. His injury was still a day old and they already had an outrageous recovery plan.

“Will you be there to facilitate my recovery?”

Martin nods, “I’ll visit. But you’ll be in good hands, I taught her everything she knows, a bright student of mine.”

“I don’t know her.”

Martin waves Kylian’s worries away, “She’s the best. Quick with her thinking and has dealt with these kinds of textbook injuries. She has a nice yard for you to do some running once you get to that point. Oh, and a good cook.”

“Why doesn’t she work with us if she’s the best?”

“She denied my offer.”

Kylian raises his eyebrows with interest, “Why?”

“I guess you’ll just have to ask her yourself.”

Kylian quiets down as he thinks about it. He didn’t have much of a choice now that everyone sided against him. He could try to tell Galtier that it wasn’t a smart idea but if both the physiotherapist and psychologist recommended it for him, there was no reason to continue discussing.

It was just going to be a month. Living with a complete stranger and her healing hands as Martin put it. Somewhere secluded without the presence of fans and overly eager journalists. He hoped that he could invite some of his friends and family to this place at the minimum.

Kylian leans back into his seat, his fingers running along the metal of his crutches, “When do I start?”

“Today,” Galtier advises. “If you want to be fit for the rest of your break and the next season, what are we waiting for?”

Kylian nods absentmindedly, “Fine, let’s get the month started then, and then I’m coming back to Paris.”

------

“This isn’t exactly a one floor house,” Kylian comments as the view of the wooden house comes into view. It was taller than it was wide. The brown was rich because of the previous downpour that the area had gotten. Despite the windows being closed, the smell of the wet grass was enough to make him sneeze.

Martin looks back at Kylian from the passenger seat, “You’ll be staying on the first floor.”

“Perfect,” Kylian whispers.

The van bounces on the rocky surface as it roars up the driveway. As he looked through the lit up windows, he could make out what seemed to be books on shelves in the first room beside the front door. The upstairs blinds had been drawn up, not minding anyone who viewed the inside. It wasn’t like they could see much anyway because he sure couldn’t. And she certainly didn’t have to worry about peeping neighbors because the last house he saw was over five kilometers away.

Martin and Dr. Minic hop out of the car, quick to aid Kylian onto the ramp that led him to the front door. They then grab his duffel bags and suitcases from the trunk.

“Try not to be sour,” Martin warns. “She’s also finding out about this arrangement just now, too.” Kylian can only muster up an unenthused smile as he comes into contact with the owner, but it quickly morphs into a strained cough.

She wasn't what he had in mind. He thought someone older, perhaps in their forties—knowing that Martin had taught at a university many years ago—so that meant whoever she was had to be older, but she isn’t. She’s around his age. That single piece of information has his irritation dissipating out of his throat and the etched scowl leaves his face immediately.

“This is Kylian,” Martin motions, his palm squeezing around Kylian’s shoulder.

Kylian gives her a timid wave, his crutch swinging with him, “Hi.”

“Hi!” She beams, her gaze glancing down at his boot. “I’m Aurèle, but you can just call me Aurie.” He doesn’t realize his own eyes are traveling down to her smile until he chokes, getting lost in the way her cheeks rose. He never thought a pair of cheeks and the crinkle beside her eyes could make his breathing so difficult to control. Not even the most back and forth game he’s played in had him jutting his mouth open for oxygen like this. “It’s nice to meet you, come on in.”

The three of them follow closely behind her, Martin’s strict glare towards Kylian doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Kylian soaks in his new surroundings for the time being. The small area to the right, the one he was able to see from the car, was a small library. A little circled table with two chairs filled the room, floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the walls of them. Towards the side seemed to be a small closet and restroom. The kitchen is pretty spacious despite a wall covering it from the living room. The dining room and living room seemed to be the main focus of the first floor, and a room hidden behind the kitchen that he couldn’t make out. But what caught his eye the most were the abundance of plants that cluttered walls and ceiling. Some were hanging down like vines while other pots were just held by a rope.

He scoffs.

“Take a seat, I’m sorry everything is a bit cluttered,” she apologizes, pointing to a stack of textbooks on the living room table. Besides that, it wasn’t messy at all, very clean and smelled of rustic leather. “I’ve been in and out of the house, trying to have everything perfect.”

Aurie lets out a nervous chuckle and Kylian’s eyes dart towards her, already feeling light on his feet from the rhythmic sound of her giggle. She isn’t looking at him though, instead looking at her mentor, Martin. For a second there, he almost wants to slap his hand across his face for thinking that sweet laugh was directed towards him.

“Anyway, I know you guys have to get back to Paris, so we can start off quickly with any instructions.”

Dr. Minic nods, pulling out the journal he kept in his back pocket, “I want you to start with monitoring his mood closely.” Kylian rolls his eyes now remembering why he was here in the first place. He decides to focus on the many photos and artwork that hang on the walls. “Kylian has a natural tendency to be easily irritable, but if anything seems too over that line, you note it.”

She nods her head, listening to his instructions despite Kylian sitting next to them. It was a bit unusual to discuss the procedures in front of the patient, but everything needed to be as transparent as possible when it came to the seriousness of Kylian’s injury.

Martin chimes, “You know the obvious protocol, but I want to view your treatment plan before you start. We’re going to go ahead and start recovery in two days, that way some of the swelling can go down. But if his swelling hasn’t gone down to a decent amount, wait one more day. He already knows that he shouldn’t be up and moving around.”

Dr. Minic agrees, closing his journal, “I think that was my only concern. I look forward to seeing you next weekend with an update.”

He suddenly stands and Martin follows suit, directing their attention to Kylian to tell him their goodbyes before she walks them out of the house.

It was an awkward and sudden shift for her too. Just yesterday she was setting up the weekly bingo event for the retirement home she worked at, to having a very animated phone call from Martin. He had to persuade her to open up her home for Kylian, having used her home for previous patients but this one was of course different. She wasn’t harboring the star of the world a couple of days ago.

Kylian on the other hand, is busy on his phone, groaning at the slow service. He was trying to find the address, knowing he was somewhere in the outskirts of Paris but couldn’t pin the exact location.

Entering the living room, she greets him again, a little hesitant on what to do with him, “So um, the downstairs doesn’t necessarily have a bedroom. The couch you sit on turns into a bed, so I’ll have to set it up for you each night until you can do it yourself. Restroom is right over there and everything in the fridge and house, you are welcome to have. Your bags, for the moment, will be in this room over here behind the kitchen—it used to be a bedroom but we had to turn it into a little gym and rehab room.”

Kylian slowly nods his head, too focused on his phone to listen to every word she says. The address had finally loaded; he was only an hour away, not all that far from his drivers.

“Next week, you should be able to go up the stairs more comfortably and you’ll have a bedroom up there. So for the meantime, I apologize that you won’t have much privacy,” she says meekly.

What finally pulls him out of his trance is Aurie reaching down in front of him, he looks up, startled to see her this close.

“Go ahead and rest your leg up on the table,” she pats on the wood. He does it reluctantly. “I’m going to take off the brace and get you on ice, we won’t be doing anything today anyway. Any pain?”

He nods, his eyes pinching closed as she unstraps the boot, “Yeah, a lot. It feels sore.”

“It’s a lot more than sore,” she mutters, a smile forming on her face. Her witty remark has him suddenly on edge, it was her first and it definitely took him by surprise. Aurie had attempted to break the tension, but instead, the corners of his eyebrows were drawn down.

“Who even are you?” He sits up, leaning closer to her. His hand lands right on top of hers to stop her from unbuckling the straps. She tugs her hand away from his contact quickly. It was too warm and soft, way beyond the lines of professionalism, but so was her comment, she realizes.

And his harsh gaze caught her off guard. She knew he was going to be upset because of the change and recent injury, but she didn’t expect his eyes to darken the longer she stared at him.

“I’m a physiotherapist and am going to be in charge of your recovery for the time being.”

His hand wraps around the buckle of his boot, clasping it closed, “Are you sure you're qualified?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t look a day older than me,” he spits.

She’s completely taken aback now. Martin certainly didn’t warn her about this, but she assumed this is what ‘easily irritable’ meant. She sits back, her hands clasping onto her thighs, “I’m sorry, it seems we got off the wrong foot so how about we just restart? I’m Aurie, I’m only a couple of months older than you, not that my age matters, but like what Martin told you, he taught me everything I need to know.”

Kylian bites onto his tongue, his eyes transfixed on her hands fidgeting against her thighs. She was just some months older than him and that seemed to make him lower his walls an inch or two. She was trying, while he certainly wasn’t. Maybe he should start. He rolls his eyes at his thoughts, “Martin seems to trust you, but after taking a glimpse at the books you keep on your bookshelf, I don’t think he was right.”

“Do you want me to call him for you?” She pulls her phone out of her pocket, quickly searching for Martin’s number.

This causes a rise out of Kylian, he sits up further, grimacing as he bangs his leg onto the coffee table. “No.”

“Okay then,” she says, forcing a polite smile towards him. Shoving the stack of textbooks to the other corner of the table, she sits down, his leg still in front of her. “I’m in charge of minimizing the swelling for the moment, can you let me do that? Trust me, the faster you cooperate, the quicker I can be done and out of your hair.”

He watches her hands hover over his leg again, pausing to look up at him, waiting for his permission to continue. He silently exhales, giving her a small nod and she unstraps his boot. Before she takes the brace off entirely, she gets up to retrieve an ice pack to minimize some of the pain he was feeling.

Kylian watches her every step, still stunned at how she held her ground. He had felt a bit guilty for his sudden outburst when Aurie was in the same position he was, and the shooting pain he had down his leg settled him back into his senses, knowing that she was the only one able to take the pain away.

“Are you comfortable this way? You’ll have to be seated like this for at least fifteen minutes,” she asks, crouching down at his leg. He silently nods, letting her do her work.

She slides the brace from underneath his leg while he bites onto his lip to stifle any pain he expected but none came. The only thing he felt were her fingers as they maneuvered the ice pack underneath him. His eyes don’t stray from scanning her crouched frame. The simple task of taking off the boot seemed so easy for her to do, and she did it without causing pain in just a few stealthy moves. Maybe Martin was right, but Kylian wasn’t going to admit that anytime soon.

“I’m going to go ahead and start dinner until the timer goes off,” she glances at him.

“Okay.” He’s completely entranced with the way her hands held onto the timer to set it. She tosses it up before catching it, and then walks towards the kitchen.

“I hope you like stew,” she teases. She looks over her shoulder with a grin and his mouth opens, but then shuts closed. His eyes end up giving away his amusement.

------

“Why don’t you work at PSG if you’re as good as they say?” Kylian asks after too many minutes of silence. He was sitting across from her and she could feel his eyes on her the entire time he ate. He didn’t even seem to care when she caught his stares, just continuing to stare right through her.

The spoon clanks against the glass bowl as she sets it down, “It was just too much of a drastic change. I was there for a month before I refused an extension from Martin.”

“You were there with us?”

“Yes, but I only worked during training, never on the sidelines.”

He nods, it makes sense. He would have definitely remembered her face if he had seen her before because she would’ve stood out like a sore thumb in a group full of men. “Did Martin get on your nerves so much that you decided to leave?”

She smiles, taking in the kind light that glowed on his features. He didn’t seem as upset as before. Once she had taken the ice pack off of him, he took a nap on the couch and that seemed to have awakened a different man than the one before.

“Not necessarily. I was used to chronic injuries and chronic problems, that being around acute injuries was different. I’ve worked with older people extensively, so you know, they’ve lived their lives and dreams and everything they wanted to do—or they didn’t—but are still focused on the positives of their life,” she says. Kylian’s eyes don’t waver away from the smile that sweeps across her face.

She shrugs, “And then I was met with Neymar.” She chuckles and Kylian’s shoulders roll forward as he laughs. “I had seen the poor guy everyday. The more I was with him, the more stories he told me, and how he hated not playing. And then he would return to play, but then boom, be back in the room that same day.

“I got too emotional, too sad to know that whatever kind of precautions he took, sudden injuries were possible. Or in his case, because of the playstyle he has, his ankles were always going to be a problem for defenders. I disliked seeing how heartbroken he was and the others alongside him that it made me sad. How some players fight so hard for something and then it can just be gone that quickly or never comes…”

Her voice gradually fades away into a sobering tone and Kylian has to pry his eyes away from hers. He didn’t want to think of his own injury like that, and he certainly didn’t want to reminisce about lost opportunities.

“I would get too upset at seeing him in that room. He became a great friend, but god, did I dislike seeing him under those circumstances. It was like everything we worked on for weeks, anything new I tried on him, was for nothing,” she shudders and glances at Kylian’s wide eyes. Her words had startled him. “Anyway, I’m sorry about going on a tangent, I didn’t think it would get to that—”

“It’s okay, I had asked,” he waves her off, knowing that she sensed the sudden shift of the room.

“I don’t know how Martin does it,” she retreats. “Being the first on the field in a loud stadium like that, I did it once and froze up on the spot.”

He chuckles, enjoying the way her voice changed to being lively. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

She groans, “It isn’t all that much entertaining. It was a simple cramped up muscle, but I just froze up trying to take out the right bottle so I ended up spraying him with water, having grabbed a water bottle by accident.”

Kylian smirks, “But Martin said you were bright and a quick thinker.”

“I usually am, but that was a bad moment—a rookie mistake. After that, I immediately knew I didn’t belong on the field.”

His eyes trail down to her lips, his own heart suddenly soothing at the sight of it. The bubbling feeling rising in his chest is so unfamiliar that he presses his fingers to his chest to stop it.

“I should probably start washing the dishes so we can wind down, we have a big day tomorrow.” She stands up and grabs his dish, walking both of their bowls to the sink.

“I thought I was on bedrest?”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go out to the retirement home with me,” she offers. Aurie’s back is facing him so she doesn’t see the confusion that grows on his face. “We have a bingo match to host.”

“Bingo?”

“Bright and early tomorrow.”

“You can’t be serious,” he deflates. “Martin said I needed to stay out of the public, that’s the whole reason why I’m here.”

She faces him, picking up the sleeves of her long sweater, “They’re in their seventies, they aren’t going to recognize you. It isn’t what you think it is.”

He tilts his head, “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You’re thinking it’s some giant hospital or charity event,” she guesses, and he blinks rapidly. She had guessed right. Shaking her head, she turns away from him and starts washing the dishes, “It isn’t like that. Just a little building that’s about a ten minute drive from here.”

Kylian chews on his lip, knowing that he wouldn’t mind leaving to see what this side has to offer. Feeling the need to help her out despite his injury, he gets up quietly and hobbles towards her with his crutches. He stops beside her, grabbing a kitchen towel to dry off the dishes.

“Kylian!” She scolds, looking down at his leg. “You shouldn’t be standing right now.”

“Let me just help you with this,” he shrugs, his arm grazing hers in the process. “I won’t do it again.”

She fights the smile that wants to break through her lips. It was a kind gesture and it made her feel better. She washes the dishes in comfortable silence, Kylian drying each of them as she hands them over.

As she washes the last pot, she faces Kylian as she hands it to him and he’s already staring back at her. His eyes are glued onto her nose and lips; she turns away, her cheeks burning.

He wants her attention back on him, just another moment to savor the feeling of whatever was brewing in his chest. He grimaces, “Your plant is dying.”

“Which one?” she chuckles, flashing her smile towards Kylian and he loses his balance, immediately clutching onto his crutch. She grabs a hold of bicep, her hand is still wet but neither of them care. Her other soapy hand grabs a fistful of his hoodie, “Are you okay?”

He nods, his ears burning with embarrassment. Never did he think someone’s smile would have him losing balance. “Yeah. And erm—the plant on the table.”

She frowns, “Ah, that one is my niece’s. Her dad, my brother-in-law, got her a plant last Valentine’s and she went on vacation, so it dried while she was gone. She was very upset about it and I promised her I’d revive it, but it might be a goner. I’m planning on just getting her a new one. I hate seeing her sad eyes.”

He smiles to himself, thinking about his own nephew and niece. He needed to call them whenever he got the chance. “You don’t think she’d notice?”

Aurie shakes her head, “Well she’s four, so I hope not. I’m just going to repot the new one because if that pot with pink hearts goes missing, that will certainly cause a stir.”

She leans over Kylian to put away the dried dishes that he had already dried on the dishrack. The scent of her hair engulfs Kylian’s nose and he gulps it down. He steps backwards to give her a little more space, “I think you can do it. Revive the plant.”

She walks in front of him to place the pots in the bottom cabinet, “I don’t know, I’ve been trying for a week. At this point, it’s up to the plant.”

He grins, his lips mocking hers, “It’s up to the plant…”

------

Muffled groans wake her up in the middle of the night. She had left her bedroom door ajar in case something happened to Kylian while he slept downstairs.

The groans only grow louder and she sighs, knowing that Kylian was probably in a grave amount of pain by now. His pain medications had to have worn off some hours ago, given that it was two in the morning. She grabs the box of his medicine and makes her way downstairs. The lamp by the couch was turned on, and it could have only been turned on if Kylian had walked to it—but he shouldn’t be walking at all.

She picks up her pace, rushing down the stairs, and once she comes into view with the bed, she almost shrieks in terror at the sight. Kylian had his head buried in his arms as he laid on his stomach, a girl near his legs massaging both of his calves.

“Who are you?!”

Kylian’s head shoots up from the couch and the girl freezes with her hands on his calves. The stark discoloration of Kylian’s calf just continued to angrily scream back at Aurie.

“What the hell is going on?”

Kylian can only gape in shock as he looks at Aurie. Her shirt had risen up while she slept and the joggers that she had worn earlier were stripped into a tiny pair of shorts that his sudden ability to think was lost, too entranced by the sudden view of her legs.

The weight of the bed shifting causes Kylian to snap back into reality as the girl stands up, “I’m sorry—”

“Who even are you?” Aurie stands about a meter in front of them, her eyes glued to the girl.

“I was just giving him a massage, he was in pain—”

“A massage?” She yells, her fists gripping onto her shorts trying to hold in the anger that rose through her. “Massaging a not even two-day-old strain? Are you trying to ruin his career?”

“What?” She gasps, looking back at Kylian and then Aurie, “No!”

“Then what did you think you were doing?”

Her mouth falls open and then closed, Aurie grows impatient with her lack of response.

“Get out of my house.”

Kylian shifts his weight onto his elbows, “Aurie, wait, she was just trying to help.”

Aurie takes a deep breath, and then pinches herself to make sure her sleep wasn’t deceiving her. As if that girl hadn’t just impeded Kylian’s healing process by days. Another pinch to her thigh to hope that she was hallucinating, that Kylian hadn’t actually invited an entire stranger to her home.

Kylian watches Aurie as she tries to calm down, and heat creeps onto his back as he realizes his own mistake. It slowly dawns on him, “Lucette didn’t know.”

Lucette turns, her brown hair swinging towards him, “We didn’t know.”

Kylian gulps, “We thought it was okay—I was in a lot of pain and it wasn’t going away. It felt like a knot…like it just needed to be kneaded out.”

She runs her hand down her face while her thumbs press into her eyes. She was baffled at their carelessness. Especially at Kylian, he should’ve known better.

Not just with his calf, but also for disregarding the basic communication of bringing someone over while she slept upstairs. He had never asked for permission nor even mentioned it as a heads up. It was one thing if it was in the afternoon to be met with a surprise visitor, but at two in the morning?

She was absolutely livid.

Lucette swallows, grabbing her jacket, “I think I’m just going to go.”

“Please do,” Aurie responds, too upset to be nice and beyond the time to be professional.

Kylian’s eyes grow wide, “Aurie.” Lucette walks towards him, bending down to kiss him and Aurie turns away.

Of course he brought his girlfriend to her place and she wanted to be the savior. The story could write itself. Aurie tries to calm down her breathing.

Lucette beelines towards the front door and Aurie doesn’t shy away from eyeing her down. Kylian was going to get mouthful and she was going to have to tell Martin and Dr. Minic in the morning.

She locks the door after Lucette leaves and lets out a slow exhale while closing her eyes.

“You didn’t have to be so rude to her,” Kylian grits, rolling around to lay on his back. “It’s two in the morning and you really kicked her out? C’mon now.”

She stares at him in silence, still debating what she should say first.

“I needed help and you were sleeping.”

She shakes her head, “So you called someone with no kind of medical background?”

His eyebrows crease, “We had read a bunch of articles on Google.”

“Oh my god, Kylian. You can’t be this stupid. You can’t have made it this far and be this stupid. You have a Grade 2 muscle strain! If it was a Grade 1, yeah, sure you can massage it, but are you kidding? A Grade 2?” Her voice is still hoarse from the night as she places her hands on her hips.

Kylian leans forward, wincing at his leg, “Don’t call me stupid. You were nowhere to be found and I was in a lot of pain.”

“My door was wide open, you idiot! I would have heard you if you were calling out to me.”

“You didn’t hear the front door open,” he taunts.

“Because that was the last thing I expected to happen!” She retorts, “I woke up because I heard you grunting in what sounded like pain, so I got up to bring you your medicine.”

Kylian’s eyes grow as he looks at the box in her hand. After having spent the past hour gnawing his teeth, he didn’t realize she carried the very solution to end it.

“I can’t believe you,” she palms her forehead. “I can’t believe you brought a total stranger to this house. I’m just—”

He doesn’t like the way Aurie’s irritation had turned into utter disappointment, it felt too much like the scoldings he would get when he was in school or ruined a perfect pass. He turns away, his eyes instead focusing on her legs—or on anything else for that matter.

Her vision was still blurred from the grogginess of her sudden wake and the dismay of events that transpired. Her head started to pound.

“You know what, I refuse to deal with this,” she rubs her eyes. “I’m not about to sit here and make a detailed plan and timeline of your recovery while you could care less about it. Quite frankly, I’m not getting paid enough for this.”

She starts pacing towards the kitchen, searching for a glass. She fills it with water and walks where he lay. “You’re only making yourself worse and I am not a therapist for a reason. If you don’t want to do your recovery here, then fine, I don’t care. This was a favor for Martin, not you. So you know what, you can go home tomorrow. And here’s your fucking medicine.”

She rips open the bottle cap and sets a capsule beside his water.

Finished and done with the game he was playing.

“And put a damn pillow underneath your leg when you sleep,” she sneers.

Kylian watches her in complete silence. Too awestriken with what just occurred. First she was kicking Lucette out, and now she was giving him the greenlight to leave. He should’ve felt relieved, that he wouldn’t have to put up with whatever this sudden arrangement was, but he didn’t. He felt guilty again.

He knew that he had messed up and knew that he should have asked her before he let Lucette massage him, but he didn’t think much of it at the time. He especially didn’t think it would cause him further injury.

------

Kylian had woken up in a gross amount of pain the next morning. It had rendered him speechless, afraid that if he moved it would radiate through him worse. He breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down but he couldn’t. He wanted to call for Aurie but his mind was still repeating the events from the previous night. How willing was Aurie to still help him despite what she said last night and what he had done?

But there she was. He heard the creak of the wooden stairs as she came to him quickly.

“Hey,” she greets. His eyes are screwed shut and his arms are splayed on top of his face. She touches his arm gingerly and he wants to melt at the sound of her voice and touch, wanting to just inch towards her in hopes that the pain drowns away. It seemed to work because it had subsided by a fraction, but it was enough to have him slowly opening his eyes. “Sit up to take your medicine.”

“I don’t want to move,” he stresses.

Her lips tug into a frown, and he stares at the feature, wanting to somehow wipe away the worry. She stands before he can continue thinking of ways to erase her frown, “I’ll help you.”

Kylian hadn’t noticed that he was profusely sweating through his clothes until she tugged at his waist, his shirt feeling grossly stuck to his body. He cringes as he wills himself up. She adjusts a pillow behind him, her eyes already fixed onto his calf.

He swallows the pill and gulps the rest of the water with haste. Her hands are busy unwrapping the compression bandage he wore. His leg had swelled more, and the bandage being tight was what caused him the pain because as soon as she loosened it, he let out a groan of satisfaction.

She takes a moment to examine his leg. Lucette’s massage had done an extensive amount of damage through the night and Aurie’s job to fix it just slowly got delayed. His swelling and purple bruises only seemed to grow, already putting him two more days behind schedule. Martin certainly wasn’t going to be happy.

“Did she massage your thigh by any chance?” Aurie asks, watching Kylian’s chest heave up and down, sweat dripping down his temples.

Kylian nods, wiping the sweat away from his face, “Yeah.”

Aurie stares back at his thigh, trying to peek at his hamstrings to see if there's any discoloration, but she knows she doesn’t have to look to know her answer.

His month-long stay would now have to be a month and a half. Something that neither her or Martin had discussed. She promised her job that she would be back within a month and that Kylian would be all Martin’s responsibility afterward.

But that was no longer her problem, he was going home today anyway.

She lets out an unnoticeable sigh, grabbing the black compression wrap and starts wrapping his leg back up, making sure it isn’t too tight for him.

“Thank you,” he exhausts, his eyes fluttering closed.

Her shoulders only fell back at the sight of him: sweaty and exhausted, his eyebrows creased and his lips parted open. His hands are clenching onto the shorts he wore, trying to distract himself until the meds kicked in. Even if she wanted him to be gone already, to get rid of the fever dream she and him had both experienced last night, she would have to help him in the shower first.

That was going to take a while.

Note: I wasn’t sure to add the people from my other main taglist that I had for my other fics since this is a whole series so uh yeah haha. Just let me know! AHH first chapter, I think I was more excited to finally just get this out here so I could stop looking back at the chapter and trying to add anymore edits--especially after the disappointing loss to Bayern. Anyway, how are we feeling? Any first chapter thoughts? I’ll most likely stay between 6k-10k words for each chapter.

Taglist: @kylianswifey @darlingmbappe

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe fanfiction #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe x oc #kylian mbappe drabble #kylian x reader #mbappe x reader #em.writes #comme les fleurs

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eldritch-bf · 4 months

Text

Herbert West identity related headcanons:

ftm (obviously) gay and demi

if he’s 24 in 1985 then he was born in 1961 oof

I’m also using some info from the novelization as canon so he is Canadian and his parents died in a chemical fire in the house when he was 12-13

was forced to take ballet when be was 5-10 (something Jeffry Combs joked about in the commentary from Bride)

his parents were neglectful of him and didn’t really care about him wanting to have short hair or boy clothes plus they chalked it up to his presumably undiagnosed autism

realized he felt weird about the older boy in the foster home (13-18) but didn’t really understand it; mostly he is jealous when girls take away the boy’s attention; closest friend he ever had as they were alone together but Herbert knew he could never act on it so he kept those feelings to himself

he wants sex but only from someone he’s emotionally connected with which itself is rare and at the same time intellectually he considers sex to be debasing, while also being curious about the sensation and knowing the benefits of the chemicals produced during orgasm

this is coupled with the fact that at least before starting T any thought of sex or masturbation made him extremely dysphoric and repulsed so his whole relationship with sex is very complicated

he is deeply repulsed by femininity bc it reminds him of his childhood spend as his agab and the stupid gender norms his parents thrust upon him including dismissing him being a scientist just because he had the wrong parts

he is canonically annoyed by pretty much all sounds and I suspect higher pitched sounds including women’s voices are worse; lower register sounds like thunder and men’s voices can be calming to him

upon moving from Canada to the U.S. as a student at NYU he used his new name on everything and making a clean break from his old identity was a big reason why he picked a different country to study in

hated NYU and the only good thing was it was easy to synthesize testosterone

T made him so fucking horny and also eviscerated his dysphoria; man was cranking it fucking constantly for a year straight and did some of his best work before moving to Switzerland for 3 years

Dr Gruber immediately figured out what his deal was but didn’t say anything and just treated him normal and for that Herbert was extremely devoted to him; Dr Gruber also did his top surgery in Switzerland despite having never done such an operation before

Dr Gruber was the one and only member of his support system the only person who knew everything about him and understood him and accepted him, losing him was a devastating blow and Herbert decided he would keep himself closed off

Also Dr Gruber didn’t have anyone either and adored Herbert and according to the book fucking left Herbert his money when he died which paid for his tuition and moving costs etc

if I didn’t genuinely like the father/son dynamic they have, I would absolutely say he was fucking that old man

So he was cool and clipped to Dan when he first met him and when he moved in trying to keep Dan at arm’s length away but he saw how smart and hardworking Dan was and he knew how difficult it was to conduct this research alone and he desperately wanted the company

and Dan reminded him a lot of the first boy he ever had a crush on and it would give him a certain satisfaction to vicariously have his first crush through Dan yet also knowing that Dan is way better than the idiot teen boy he was in the foster home with who never gave him the time of day; he’s also pleased with the idea of dragging Dan (normal, supposedly heterosexual, law-abiding) down with him; he’s pulling the brightest kindest handsomest hardest working med student out of Miskatonic into his orbit and making Dan’s life revolve around him

literally “look at the bad bitch I pulled by being a little freak” absolute nightmare Herbert West takes personal pleasure in ruining sweaterboy Daniel Cain’s life

the chaos of everything they do is so much more important that when Dan finds out Herbert is trans and gay it doesn’t even phase him.

(Daniel Cain is bisexual and basically decided it was just easier to be pretend to be straight and get a girlfriend so he ignored his feelings for men. But now with Herbert he doesn’t have to.)

he is completely shocked by sex with Dan however despite knowing that Dan is experienced he was not prepared nor was Dan prepared for how awkward yet demanding the virginal Herbert West would be, yelling at him one moment before becoming cock stupid the next

#herbert west #daniel cain #danbert #ALL I WANTED TO SAY!#was that he’s demi but sex gives him dysphoria before he starts T #and that he thinks sex is beneath him but knows the chemicals are good #re animator

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possibilistfanfiction · 2 years

Note

Wn prompt: buttons

[for @unicyclehippo as part of our little series for ea other — outside switzerland era pov, or: the kind, amused things a vintage shopkeeper & her wife in switzerland think of ava & beatrice. also on ao3.]

one hot afternoon the door rings and a girl rushes through, a little bit of a hurricane, and another follows, calm in the eye of a storm she seems both exasperated by and fond of at once.

you’re used to an influx of university students during the summer months. many are passing through, on their way from zurich to berlin or munich; some are just relaxing here, passing time before they’re inevitably swept back into their everyday lives. you’ve lived here for a long time, since you yourself stumbled on this town just after you finished a degree in marketing that could have been of use but sparked so little joy you decided to give yourself a year, or two, or maybe five, to figure out something better, something happier. you’d worked at the vintage store before it was yours, with its previous owner, clara, taking a shine to you, even though, in those days, you were quieter, reserved, kept mostly to yourself. when she had wanted to retire, she sold the shop to you for much less than you knew it was worth — you buy her groceries and weed her lawn and fix anything in her house; you have her over for dinner every sunday.

it’s a good life, especially when it’s quiet in the morning, just before the shop opens, and you spin the pretty ring around aleyna’s finger and kiss her while she laughs and tastes like coffee. in those moments, with her black hair and the wrinkles that have gotten deeper around the edges of her mouth, under her eyes — from smiling, from your small home and the blue eggs the chickens in your yard lay, from her books and her records in this store that she sells with care and fondness, the way she does everything — that you love. in those moments, and in so many others, too — there is no better a life that you can imagine.

‘hello,’ you say in german. ‘welcome. i’m lena. is there anything i can help you with?’

‘i’m ava,’ one says, enthusiastic and rocking on her heels once, trying to keep her excitement in; she’s beautiful in a pretty way, in a young way, with messy, tangled light hair and a t-shirt with a hole in the sleeve. ‘and this is beatrice.’ she gestures to the girl beside her, a little older, stoic and straight backed, although she offers a smile, almost apologetic. she has on a black jumpsuit and her hair is in a neat bun at the back of her head. she waves. ‘we both use she/her pronouns, i don’t really care, though. and we’re staying here for the summer!’ ava continues, in perfect german, a happy smile on her face. ‘at least that long, i guess. we’re on sabbatical. anyway, we need stuff!’

‘clothes,’ beatrice clarifies. ‘our apartment is already furnished, ava.’

ava doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest. 'we need fun things too.’ ava takes beatrice’s hand and squeezes, which makes beatrice’s eyes go wide and you want to laugh, just a little. ‘but, yes, clothes.’

‘clothes can be fun,’ you say. ava grins; beatrice grimaces at you, a small warning not to encourage ava too much, it seems. you lead them over to some of your more casual shirts and summer tank tops, which ava seems immediately delighted by.

‘is it okay if i try things on?’

‘of course.’ you point toward one of the small dressing rooms near the back, with heavy curtains.

‘by the way,’ ava says, while beatrice carefully looks through tanks and t-shirts with a frown, ‘your suit is gorgeous. i would think it would be hot, but what is that — linen?’

‘yes,’ you say, and you don’t miss beatrice’s curious gaze at your slim pants, your loafers, the way your jacket sits perfectly on your shoulders. ‘it’s quite comfortable, even when it’s warm.’

‘i love that for you.’ ava already has a whole armful of cropped tanks and a few patterned overshirts, two pairs of denim shorts, and a pair of jeans the color of wild roses that aleyna had loved when she found them at a market two towns over. ‘bea, i’m gonna go try these on! fashion show!’

beatrice blushes but she nods. ‘stay within budget, please. i don’t think you can get all of what you’ve picked.’

‘yeah, obviously. don’t worry, i’ll find my favorites.’

ava scampers off and you don’t miss that beatrice hasn’t picked up anything to try on; you remember a feeling, back when your hair was too long and your pants were too tight against your hips, when you fought yourself into dresses, and the way she touches the same kind of tank ava had been thrilled to put in her arms reminds you, a little, of yourself.

‘i like to tailor,’ you tell her, and she looks at you carefully as you walk over to a clothing rack with — if you do say so yourself, and also aleyna says so, which is more important — beautiful slacks on it. some are formal, could pair well with a jacket, and some are more casual and comfortable. beatrice follows you, a little reluctantly but with measured, sure steps, solemn, exacting posture in her neat jumpsuit. you pick up a pair of navy slacks you genuinely do love, an exaggerated wide leg, and a grey pair that sits high on the waist. there’s a collarless button down you’d found a month or so ago, and you hand it to her as well. ‘what do you think?’

she takes them almost reverently, and sometimes you forget: you have lived here in the mountains and woken up to your wife and her sleepy grumbling for so many years, now — what it felt like to understand yourself for the first time. ‘they’re …’ she shakes her head, at a loss, it seems. ‘i’d like to try them on, if that’s okay.’

‘of course.’

ava bursts out of the dressing room not soon after beatrice is in the one next to her, and when she notices beatrice isn’t still standing outside, she grins.

‘well, lena, thoughts?’

you’re ultimately and immediately charmed by ava — her grin and genuine delight over a tank and a pair of cutoffs. ‘do you feel happy?’

‘god,’ ava says, ‘so fucking happy! i had — honestly, it’s a long story, but i haven’t gotten to pick out much stuff for myself, at least not in a long time. it’s so fun.’

you smile. ‘i told you so.’

she laughs. ‘but, while bea is in there —‘ she hooks a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the dressing room — ‘let me look at some knickknacks or something. she’s so serious but i can wear her down, i’m sure of it.’

you’re pretty sure ava could wear anyone down, but you don’t say that. ‘well, we have some records; my wife enjoys curating a collection so it’s fairly eclectic, but there will probably be something you’d like.’

‘sick,’ ava says, in english, and then laughs at herself. she starts looking through the few crates of records you have, pulls out blue by joni mitchell with a sad smile. ‘my mom loved this album.’

‘if you put it at the bottom of your pile of clothes, i’ll make sure it makes it into your bag.’ you wink when ava looks up at you and she smiles.

‘that’s very kind. thank you.’

it’s so sincere, ava immediately calmed and quiet, but then she perks up again when she hears the curtain of the dressing room open and beatrice steps out in the grey slacks and white button up you’d handed her. she’s a little awkward but her shoulders have relaxed and ava is about to drool next to you, you’re pretty sure, based on her complete lack of words; beatrice has to fight for a few seconds to look away from both ava’s thighs and her chest, but she does, eventually.

‘good?’

‘yes.’ beatrice offers you a real smile, not out of politeness but because she means it. ‘i think i need a belt?’

‘bea,’ ava says, rebooting and hurrying over to her, the record set carefully on the counter first. ‘you look so cool! like, whoa. conversely, also hot.’

‘ava.’

‘what?’ ava says, without any hint of an apology. ‘you do!’

you hand beatrice a simple black belt and find a few more button downs for her to try, a pair of loose levi’s, cuffed at the ankles, for lazy saturdays, and hand them to her too. she cradles them to her chest for a moment, and ava notices too.

‘thank you, lena,’ beatrice says. ‘i’ll finish trying everything on and then, if ava’s done, we’ll be out of your hair.’

you hair is perfect, thank you very much, and ava laughs when you primp it. ‘no rush, i’m just glad you liked some of the clothes.’

‘i do,’ beatrice says, then walks back into the dressing room.

‘whew,’ ava whispers. ‘am i right?’

it makes you laugh, her genuine distress. ‘i know the feeling.’

ava smiles. ‘well, bea wants to, like, get groceries, and clean, and go on a run, blah blah. but i’ll be back! i want to hear about your wife.’

‘she’s here most mornings, in fact.’

‘incredible.’ ava fist pumps. ‘i love mornings.’

you charge them far less, when beatrice brings two pairs of slacks, two button ups, and a pair of jeans so neatly folded you’re both a little concerned and a lot impressed, and places them on the counter, along with ava’s pile of tank tops and shorts and pants, and of course the album.

‘ava,’ beatrice says, ‘we don’t need that.’

ava pouts, but before she can argue, you say, ‘don’t worry about it. my wife will be thrilled it’s in good hands.’

beatrice looks torn; sometimes, kindness is difficult. but ava bounces on the balls of her feet and puts both of her hands on one of beatrice’s shoulders, practically begs. ‘fine,’ beatrice says. ‘thank you again, lena.’

‘sure thing,’ you say, accept beatrice’s neatly stored cash from her simple leather wallet, and send them on their way with a few bags. ava’s already trying to convince, you hear as they walk out, beatrice to skip their run and eat gelato by the lake instead. which, honestly, sounds like a good plan for the afternoon; you text aleyna and she comes by half an hour later, leaving the library a bit early, and kisses you in the golden sun.

ava comes in a few days later with a bag of pastries and three coffees and a giant smile.

‘hi!’ she says, delighted when she sees you and aleyna both sorting through a new box of books.

‘hello, ava,’ you say, stand and smile. aleyna stands too and steps forward to offer her hand. ‘this is aleyna, my wife.’

‘yes!’ ava puts the coffees down on the counter and then steps forward to shake her hand with enthusiasm. ‘i’m ava, it’s nice to meet you.’

‘i heard you’re a joni mitchell fan,’ aleyna says, with her black curls streaked with silver, her bright smile, her deep accented voice, her brown skin particularly gorgeous against the yellow of her summer slip dress, and you want to laugh at how ava’s eyes widen, how she seems to go a little weak at the knees.

‘i — uh — yes.’ she fumbles with the bag of pastries and then holds them out. ‘these are — thanks for the record. and for bea’s pants.’

you do laugh, then, but you take the bag from ava’s clumsy hands. ’thank you, ava. that’s very thoughtful. and i’m glad beatrice likes her pants.’

‘she does.’ ava sighs. ‘and i love her pants.’

aleyna smiles into her cup of coffee. ‘i heard from hans you both got jobs at the bar?’

‘yeah! it’s fun. i’m kind of terrible at it but i love to learn. bea is, of course, perfect.’ she rolls her eyes. ‘but i get to meet so many people. they’re really nice when i mess up their drinks.’

you take in ava’s tiny shorts and the way she’s tied an overshirt over a bralette, leaving just a sliver of her stomach exposed, and her soft, pretty features, her bright smile. ‘enthusiasm goes a long way.’

ava grins. ‘exactly!’

‘do you want to help us sort through some books?’ aleyna asks.

‘really?’

‘sure.’

ava sits down on the floor, crossed legs and scuffed converse and bright eyes. ‘i love to read; i’d love to see what you have. bea is still asleep; maybe i could surprise her with something.’

you let aleyna and ava go through a few boxes together while you work on a suit in your back workroom, but you can hear ava laughing brightly and eventually she pops her head through the doorway.

‘bea and i are gonna go swimming,’ she says, ‘but i’ll be back soon, i’m sure. aleyna is wonderful, you’re really lucky.’

‘i am,’ you agree. ‘what book did you get?’

it’s tucked under her arm carefully. she smiles. ‘the spring flowers own. i don’t know it yet.’

it’s tender, the way she means that she will know it; she’ll read it with care and meaning. ‘ah, etel adnan. one of aleyna’s favorites.’

‘that’s what she said; i’m excited.’

‘it’s very beautiful.’ you don’t add that it’s sad, that adnan’s bright paintings have brought your wife to tears on more than one occasion.

ava might understand; she is so young and pretty and bright but there’s an ache that’s hard to miss — a displacement, a longing.

‘enjoy the lake, ava. and tell beatrice hello from us.’

ava knocks twice on the doorframe. ‘i will.’

it’s a rainy, damp afternoon, nowhere in town terribly busy, when beatrice ducks into your store.

‘apologies,’ she says in form of greeting, looking a little lost without a jacket or umbrella. ‘i made the mistake of not checking the weather this morning.’

‘not a problem at all, beatrice. you’re always welcome here.’ beatrice smiles, gracious. ‘my wife was just making tea, if you’d like some? jasmine green tea.’

‘that sounds wonderful,’ she says.

‘hello!’ aleyna calls from the small back kitchen.

you gesture for beatrice to follow you. there’s a small table and four mis-matched chairs, carefully chosen, and aleyna smiles.

‘aleyna,’ she says, offers a hand.

‘beatrice.’ you know her handshake is firm and serious but she swallows once and you don’t miss the rise of pink on her cheeks. ‘pleasure.’

‘you’re british,’ aleyna says.

‘yes, from london, originally.’

aleyna smiles. ‘finally, someone to enjoy my good tea with.’ aleyna kisses your cheek to soften the upcoming blow: ‘lena is wonderful, and so handsome, but has awful taste in tea. she’s happy with just an over-steeped bag.’

beatrice grimaces around a laugh. ‘ava can’t make tea if her life depended on it. i’ve shown her many times, and she seems to get lost about halfway through.’

you suspect that might be because of beatrice’s careful hands and the serious set of her jaw, but you don’t mention it.

‘ah, ava,’ aleyna says. ‘she’s wonderful.’

‘she is,’ beatrice says. ‘exhausting, annoying… full.’

‘is she enjoying her book?’

‘she is,’ beatrice says, ‘very much. she’s been reading to me at night sometimes, so i’ve been enjoying it too.’

you share as quick a glance with aleyna as you can.

‘adnan is beautiful,’ beatrice continues. ‘you’re lebanese?’

‘yes,’ aleyna says. ‘you know her work?’

‘her paintings, mostly. i would love to read her work in arabic, though. ava’s fluent in a few languages, but all of them romance.’

you laugh — as if this is, somehow, a shortcoming beatrice would love to remedy — as aleyna perks up. ‘you know arabic?’

beatrice nods. ‘not as well as i’d like. i’m better with it spoken than written. but i’d love to improve; it’s beautiful.’

aleyna smiles, then says, in arabic, ‘i would love to speak with you, whenever you want.’

beatrice blushes down into her mug, then looks up. ‘your tea is excellent,’ she responds, a little slow, with an accent much more careful than aleyna’s lyrical and gravely lilt over the words, but perfectly. ‘i do know how to say more than that, also,’ beatrice says, and aleyna laughs, ‘but it really is wonderful.’

‘i appreciate it.’

‘lena.’ beatrice turns all her attention to you. ‘i was wondering if you had a sweater or two? ava continues to take my jacket when it’s cool. i’m sure she’ll enjoy taking my sweater too, but it would be helpful to have more than one.’

‘that would be,’ you grant her and spare her the embarrassment of clearly ducking into your shop because she’d gotten caught in a rainstorm with no jacket which is, apparently, ava’s fault. ‘want to come look at a few?’

‘sure.’ beatrice carefully rinses out her mug in the sink before following. ‘thank you,’ she says to aleyna, in arabic, ‘for the poems, and for the tea.’

‘come around anytime.’

beatrice smiles and follows you out, and you show her a soft green cotton crewneck you’d just gotten in. she holds it to her chest for a moment in the mirror, considering, and you wonder if ava ever gets beatrice to do anything without carefully thinking about it first. ‘this is perfect, thank you.’ she pulls it on immediately, definitely a little cold still, and you’re glad for her: that she has ava; that ava has her — in whatever capacity that is right now, the capacity you hope it’ll be eventually — and for her quiet, persistent kindness.

‘of course, i’m glad you like it.’

beatrice touches one of the suit jackets you’d finished recently, a little reverent. ‘i love a lot of the clothes you have, honestly. i — i’m not sure if i know, yet, how to be who i want to be.’

‘you’re young,’ you say. ‘not as a platitude, i promise.’ she nods. ‘but i didn’t figure out that i loved suits until i was years older than you.’

her shoulders relax a little, at the small out, the gentle understanding. she smiles, indulgent, and meets your eyes. ‘i can’t imagine you were ever anything other than very handsome.’

‘well, that is true.’ she laughs. ‘but impeccably dressed? that’s a journey. and you’re on your own.’

‘was it scary?’

‘terrifying.’

she touches one of the gorgeous opal buttons on the suit.

‘but very, very beautiful too.’

she tucks her hands into her pockets. ‘i’m sorry, i have to get going. ava thinks she can cook but we cannot afford another grease fire.’

‘better avoid that.’

‘how much is the sweater?’

you charge her a few euro; she eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t argue. she calls goodbye to aleyna, says a soft farewell to you, wanders back out — warmer, now — into the rain to make her way home.

ava bounces in on a sunny, hot morning, her hair sweaty and now short, cut to her chin, and you laugh when she gives you a high five.

‘your hair looks great,’ aleyna says, and you voice the same. ava preens, which aleyna happily laughs at.

‘bea cut it for me!’ she smiles and then looks at a few bracelets. ‘well, i tried to do it myself, but it’s, like, impossible. i had no idea. but, you live and you learn. bea fixed it, though, and then i convinced her to let me give her highlights! they’re so cute.’

‘how long have you been together?’

‘just a few months,’ ava says, trying on a little cap, and you raise your brows — you’d had a little ongoing wager with aleyna, after you’d run into the two of them at a summer festival in the city center, market lights and food and music; they’d been holding hands and ava had kissed beatrice’s cheek on multiple occasions. ‘but it feels like i’ve known her forever.’

‘young love,’ aleyna says, looks to you fondly. ‘remember when we felt like that.’

ava freezes, still looking at herself in the mirror.

‘i still feel like that, my dear.’

aleyna rolls her eyes fondly and kisses you on the temple. ava is still stock still in the corner, with the cap crooked.

‘i’m bisexual,’ she says, then puts her head in her hands, definitely embarrassed and you just laugh. but one thing about ava: she soldiers on: ‘i just mean, i like girls, and, anyway — is it — hypothetically, if someone wasn’t together with their best friend because of … prior commitments, but you’re pretty sure there’s, like, reciprocal feelings, and those commitments are… a little less strict now, and i know bea is — well — is it — should i kiss her?’

you wait for her to take a few breaths and steady herself. ‘so… you’re not dating?’

ava groans. ‘i wish.’

aleyna owes you twenty euro; you knew they were too jittery to have made that jump. you’ll remind her later. ‘do you think beatrice is ready for that?’ you’d seen the way her hands shook when she bypassed a row of dresses for a pair of men’s pants you’d hemmed for her; the way she blushed around aleyna when they spoke arabic together over tea some afternoons; the way she grinned when you’d handed her your favorite bronkski beat record and said, ‘my parents never let me listen to them, but i always wanted to.’

ava frowns; you think she might legitimately be about to cry. ‘i don’t know.’

‘well, it’s clear to me that you love each other, and you have your whole lives,’ aleyna offers. ‘you’ll sort it out.’

ava does cry then, and you thought that was going to be soothing response, but you wait a beat and then hug ava: small, slight — scared, clearly, of something you don’t understand.

‘you’re right,’ she says, after a few moments, and dries her tears. ‘we’ll — there’s time.’ she fiddles with the cap, runs a hand through her hair and then can’t help but smile, just slightly, as she tucks it behind her ears. ‘we’ll have time.’

‘you will,’ aleyna says, looks to you and you know she means it as a promise, the same one you made to each other years and years ago.

ava sniffles and nods and then laughs. ‘wow, sorry! crying in front of my two favorite lesbians. other than bea, obviously, but — fuck.’ she looks a little panicked but then, ‘oh well, you already knew, right?’

‘yes,’ you say, and aleyna laughs.

‘well, you’re tied for number two on the list, sorry.’

‘an honor.’

ava bows with a flourish and giggles at herself. ‘anyway, now my hair is always in my face, something i did not think through. so i’m gonna get this hat.’

you ring her up and she puts it on backward with a little grin and waves on her way out.

‘hello,’ beatrice says, wandering as you’re near closing, without ava in tow. ‘if it’s too late, i’m happy to come back another time.’

‘not at all.’

she smooths her already perfectly neat bun. ‘i was wondering —‘ she takes a deep breath and settles herself, like she’s about to shoot a gun— ‘can i try on a suit?’

‘of course,’ you say calmly, and it works: she nods in thanks and lets the air out of her lungs. you find her a beautiful, light linen suit — a little oversized, still a little feminine, and a pair of loafers you love, a collarless button down to go under the jacket. she takes her time in the dressing room, but when she steps out, her hair out of its bun, swept over her shoulder, her shirt tucked in neatly, she looks in the mirror and bites her bottom lip.

‘this is beautiful.’ it’s wistful, and sad.

‘you look handsome.’

she looks up at the ceiling, then tries to wipe tears of her cheeks as discreetly as possible. ‘you love being who you are.’

‘i do,’ you say. ‘i love being butch; i love that people know who i am, and how i want to be.’ you bring her some elegant cufflinks and she lets you put them on.

‘i love this suit.’

‘you’re more than allowed.’ you squeeze her wrist, just once. ‘it is a great suit.’

she smiles, grateful for the levity, and then lets out a big breath. ‘it’s quite a gift, to be in your own skin.’

‘it is.’

she tells you that she can’t get it — not yet, she says, a promise more to herself — and after she’s changed and meticulously hung the suit back up, she gives you a hug. you put your hand to the back of her head, as protective as you can. you had had an older dyke who had given you your own suit, had taught you careful stitches to tailor a waistband and how to comb your hair back neatly.

‘i do have something for you,’ you say, and hand her a small necklace, an opal drop on a black cord; aleyna had found it at a market in geneva and given it to you for the express purpose of giving it to beatrice. it’s meddling, but you think, in this scenario, maybe a little push is kind.

‘i can’t — this is too generous.’

‘it’s not.’ you put it in a small velvet bag for her. ‘i’m old, and have a beautiful wife. you get to go be yourself. and i think there’s a girl who cares a great deal for you.’

beatrice nods. ‘thank you. ava will love it, i’m sure.’

when you get to the shop a few weeks later, there’s a note shoved under the door; you open it and see what you’re sure is beatrice’s careful handwriting:

Dear Lena and Aleyna,

We are deeply sorry to leave without saying a proper goodbye; we’ve had a family emergency and have to get there as quickly as possible. Your generosity — your tea, and books, and music, and the beautiful suit I’ll think of for years to come — has changed my life. Your love is somewhat of a holy thing, I think. Ava also says that she appreciates all the crop tops you had for her because it made flirting more fun (she made me write this). In any case, we’ll miss you greatly; hopefully, we will be back eventually to visit again. I hope my Arabic improves, and Ava would like to make you drinks one day.

All our love, Beatrice + Ava

it’s a warm morning in may, spring giving way into the purple blooms of summer, when the door opens and you almost drop your coffee because you hear laughter you could never really forget, and then ava and beatrice walk in. you haven’t seen them in two years, and they both look older, a little tired, but they’re holding hands and ava is just as bright as you remember, a cap still backward on her head, short hair tucked behind her ears, an exuberance in her steps; beatrice’s hair is long and blonde and she smiles with a lightness in her eyes you’d never seen before. aleyna walks out of the back, absolutely delighted.

‘what are you two doing here?’

ava smiles. ‘we were visiting some friends in berlin, then heading to andalusia for a few weeks. we live in los angeles now.’

‘california!’ aleyna grins.

‘right on the beach,’ ava says. ‘but, well, we wanted to stop by, say proper goodbyes and then a new hello!’

beatrice laughs, free and open, and the hand that sneaks its way across the back of ava’s shoulders seems second-nature at this point. ‘i, um, actually — we have a wedding soon.’

‘not ours,’ ava says, but then looks to beatrice, ‘but one day, right.’

beatrice flushes red, but her smile doesn’t falter at all. ‘one day, yes.’ she turns to you and sets her shoulders. ‘could you help me with a suit?’

you give her a hug; you can’t help it, and no one mentions it when she lets ava wipe a few tears when she backs up. ‘it would bring me immense joy to do so.’

and you do — ava sits with aleyna and whistles at everything beatrice tries on, and beatrice puts on a slim navy suit — without a shirt underneath; she had smirked at ava when she walked out — and then looks at herself in the mirror. she meets your eyes in the reflection and nods, just once.

‘that’s the one, then?’

she nods. ‘i think so.’

‘this isn’t fair,’ ava pouts, ‘bea’s gonna look so much hotter than me. she’s gonna upstage the bride and the groom at this point.’

aleyna laughs. ‘terrible problem to have.’

ava rolls her eyes, joyful all the same. ‘you would know.’

aleyna smiles in your direction — a lifetime, a whole lifetime; your heart still swells like it did the first time you ever saw her. ‘i would.’

#wn fic #wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #anyway i love being a soft butch lesbian it is such a joy #thanks wn for never making beatrice be femme love u forever for that

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fanficfish · 4 months

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explaining Hetalia character badly: highschool edition

Honestly this is prob just gonna be "if Hetlaia was MHA" but bigger and mixed with some American archtypes lol....just imagine they're in some weird highschool anime!

this is the same format as my Family Reunion explaining post. i'm just make this a tag.

again- ALL HEADCANON CRACK! FOR FUN! :D

also not affiliated with W Academy!

Germany: Class Prez. Who you watched struggle with the milk carton from the cafeteria. And the vending machine dispenser.

N. Italy: The class idiot. Every good class has one, you don't know how they're here but OH GOSH WHEN DID HE LEARN TO USE A SCYTHE LIKE THAT-

S. Italy: The one in the back of the class that gets surprisingly decent grades but also has a potty mouth. You know who I'm talking about.

America: Thinks he's the main character.

Canada: Knows he's not the main character.

Estonia: Is the main character and doesn't realize it until he realizes he's in a love triangle, keeps adopting random animals off the street, has an archnemesis that actively tries to murder him, and somehow survives things he definitely shouldn't have survived.

Lithuania: The one with the highest GPA but everyone thought he was a delinquent.

Latvia: The one with the second-highest GPA that everyone knows is a delinquent. Mostly because he was selling test answers out of the janitor's closet.

Russia: The school bully every good school has.

Belarus: The popular girl every school has that can't decide if she likes the "main character" or not.

China: The guy that acts like he's actually 70 and not 17.

Japan: The quiet kid that knows everyone's dark secrets.

France: Of course he's the obligatory French dude in the Japanese anime. Actually what's up with that? Seriously, all the big amines have either a French guy or a super short person (the best ones have both)....

Lichenstein: She's the short one.

Switzerland: Aaaaaand there's the one in the corrner of the cafeteria scheming how to make the most out of the Job Fair.

Austria: That one weird kid that's got a full ride to Juliard and is the reason why your underfunded school has a MUSIC ROOM, HUH-

England: The guy that somehow got himself class monitor, and does a mostly decent job. Unless you ask him about That Clique.

The Clique: aka, the jocks who miiiight also bully the class monitor by flaunting popularity points a little. Just a little. -Denmark: Clique ringleader, acts friendly with everyone so he's popular but you KNOW you're not getting in on the real action unless he invites you to one of his legendary house parties.

-Norway: Clique leader's second in command who's some introvert the clique leader got attached to. Y'know, as extroverts are required to do. Usually has his face in his phone.

-Finland: Popular on his own, the one person in the clique who doesn't understand that in a clique you generally don't socialize outside the clique. Is the reason the main character gets character development through a house party halfway through the series.

-Sweden: That one jock in the group who looks like a jock, talks like a jock, sometimes acts like a jock, but has the highest GPA out of all of the jocks. He's the one that knows Genovia's official fruit but not the name of the fictional kingdom, if you've seen the meme.

-Iceland: Someone's brother who got absorbed into the clique.

Hungary: The girl campaigning that everyone should do the same kind of pushups, that girls can compete with guys and making presentations on the gender gaps in atheltics. Ofc she's the jock that falls in love with the nerd (Austria).

Ukraine: Bakes everyone treats

Netherlands: Bakes everyone treats but makes everyone pay for them

Luxenberg: Your obligatory rich kid., riding to school in Gucci glasses, a Mercedez-Benz, and a jacket with a high-end brand splashed across the pocket. Also has the latest iPhone.

Belgium: Student council rep, joined fifty clubs.

Greece: He shows up, but usually late, with Starbucks, and sleeps through class.

Romania: He shows up every other day, and bribes the class monitor to mark him present. Does show up for Halloween though.

Bulgaria: You show up?

Spain: Complains about the cafeteria food to anyone who will listen.

Australia: Resident jock #1

Cameron: Resident jock #2

Cuba: Resident jock #3

Portugal: Don't mind him he's in a goth phase. The skulls lining his locker will pass. Probably.

Seychelles: The one that secretly brought all the girls flowers from the fundraiser during Valentine's Week despite not knowing what the fundraiser was for.

Poland: The one on the student council who is the reason everyone is wearing couple outfits for School Spirit Week and the theatre club is doing Legally Blonde.

India: The guy who everyone asks to copy his homework because he sure isn't the most popular but damn does he actually know what's going on.

Turkey: The guy that tried to punch a guy, got punched, then turned around and punched the other guy's bullies. Basically he's That Kid That Got Detention For Trying To Be Helpful, though he did start the fight sooooooo

Egypt: Recorded the fight. For historic purposes of course.

idk i ran out of ideas i'm gonna sleep and fix this if i remember who i was gonna put where lol

#hetalia #hetalia headcanons #hetalia hc #aph #hws #hetalia world stars #explaining badly

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studynxiety · 2 months

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17 July, 2024

Random life update ig. My family moved countries and am currently in Switzerland until my uni starts.

The change is pretty big, in all honesty. I am used to having school at 8 am, hanging out with friends at 4 pm, doing everything under the sun that counts as productive between 8 pm and 3 am. Now, time doesn’t really feel real because it looks different - quite literally. The sky would be a glitter of oranges and pinks by 6 pm in my country, but here, there is broad daylight until 9:30 pm. I enjoy that, but it makes it difficult to perceive time.

Another thing about Switzerland is that it is distractingly beautiful. I want to get things done, but I constantly want to spend time by the lake and nature. The air smells nice, and the architecture is so pretty. The arched roofs, colorful buildings with large windows, old castles with towers, and pretty churches. There is so much beauty just ... existing. It's hard not to be consumed by it.

The language barrier also makes it difficult to fit in. I want to talk to people, but I don’t know how to say half the things I want to say with my intermediate french. It also makes getting a summer job a daunting task.

However, all things considered, I really want to get back into the groove and chase my goals. Here are some things I want to achieve by the time uni starts:

Learn programming

Finish writing an original novel

Find an apartment /student housing near my university

Start reading up on my major

Here's to hoping for more productive and meaningful days going forward!

#studyblr #spilled thoughts #student life #online diary #studyspo #study blog #study motivation

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doctorobrt · 1 year

Note

haii !! could u do maybe william n reader(maybe gn reader ?:3) have a sleepover even tho theyre adults ? like they do silly sleepover activities like building a fort, watching movies, face masks, etc :3

Hey! I can absolutely do that for you lovely, I might add my own kind of twist onto it if that's alright with you! I'll keep both Will and the reader at around 20 years old, it's kind of that age where you still enjoy silly things meant for teenagers but also get embarrassed by them so you prefer to call sleepovers 'hangouts'..

This is quite long I believe, so sorry in advance.

College Student William Afton x College Student GN Reader

Being an adult had its perks, going to concerts or buying a house - if you really felt the need. There wasn't a huge amount of things to do compared to that of being a teenager, and to be frank, life just seemed all a bit more serious now.

Given the bigger responsibilities and need to pay for yourself, the joy seemed to be sucked from all of the things you used to find amusing as a careless teenager. College wasn't dreadful though, you got to see your friends and spend time away from the house and your parents. The subject you chose however... if there was one thing that could bore you into a coma, it would be maths.

The day had dragged and Mr. Wilson seemed more stringent than ever. He had requested the floors be redone in his classroom after the incident earlier in the year which left him toppled over, face first on the floor. Since that day, he had taken strict action by adding heaps of oil to the hinges of the door and making sure he arrived an hour earlier in mind of rush hour traffic.

This had clearly taken a toll on him as he lay slouched in his drab leather chair, snoring sonorously whilst armies of heavy raindrops tapped against the windows.

After a long, long wait for the clock to hit 4pm, you bundled all of the pens and paper from the desk into your bag before making an anticipated beeline for the college doors. It was short lived relief however, as the bus wasn't in it's normal parking spot. Due to the weather, and state of the poor old vehicle, it was going to take another 25 minutes for it to fight through the dismal downpour.

Home was too far of a walk in this weather and the thought of calling your parents home from work to pick you up was just as threatening.

The world seemed unnaturally dark, as if the light had been drained from the sky replaced by dark, gloomy clouds massing above your head. Rain tumbled down a great deal heavier than earlier, the small bus shelter was beginning to feel over crowded and the pungent smell of sweat had become rather noxious to inhale.

Huffing audibly to yourself and accepting the nauseating fate, you stood in the cramped bus shelter and tolerated it. That was until an obnoxiously loud blare of a car horn and beckoned you over. It was William, he had stayed on longer to discuss a project he'd been working on with the technicians teacher. What a little life saver!

Rapidly checking both sides of the road, you bolted over to his cherry red Ford Consul Capri, very classy if you do say so yourself, and slammed the door shut before the pelting rain could ruin the polished leather seats.

"Bloody hell you are a god send mate" You panted whilst wiping strands of soggy hair from your forehead.

"I wasn't beeping for you to come over love." He responded as his brows furrowed at your presence.

Oh. No. How utterly embarrassing. Your jaw hung open in disbelief as rose pigment stung your cheeks.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry, I'll wait for the bus." You stammered in humiliation. His gaze was scrutinising, you couldn't bare to return the eye contact.

"Nah I'm pulling your leg mate." He goaded whilst grinning mischievously, "The look on your face though, class."

"Knobhead"

"Right. If you're free we can head back to mine, Mum and Dad went to Switzerland yesterday so the house is completely empty."

"Alright ace, I'll come and keep you from being lonely you little man child." You teased back, "Joking! Joking. Please don't leave me out in the rain like a little sodden mouse."

He sighed and rolled his eyes before starting up the pristine car to head back home.

William lived in a posh area of the village, although his house wasn't overly showy or obnoxious like the others. His parents were owners of a large mechanics dealership in London so he was loaded, but he wouldn't gloat his wealth.

A few more turns, after a very much appreciated twenty minute drive, and you pulled up on a gravel driveway. The pair of you grabbed your bags and sprinted to the front door as the rain picked up and cracks of thunder boomed in the gloomy horizon.

"Hurry up and open that door!" You shrieked just as the crooked gutter snapped and drenched you head to toe in grimy rain water - Not Will though, he hogged the porch.

As soon as the heavy wooden door swung open, you lunged into the front room. It'd be the respectful deed to compliment the house, albeit overridden by organised clutter, but the sludge dripping into your eye was truly the top of your concerns.

"Don't laugh, I can literally see you snickering."

William was wide eyed and speechless, the urge to laugh was becoming overwhelming at this point. He signalled to the room at the bottom of the lengthy hallway and welcomed you to use the bath, the offer was too good to resist, so you grabbed your dripping wet bag and shivered all the way down the corridor, slamming the door shut and immediately twisting the hot tap onto full power.

"I've got some tea here waiting," William announced faintly, "Oh, and I got scrabble out too if you want to play?"

"Alright then, I'll hop out when I finish washing my hair."

"I left some of my old pyjamas outside for you too." He replied hesitantly, "I'll be in the lounge."

Climbing out of the lukewarm water, you grabbed a towel from the radiator and patted yourself down. The door creaked open slightly as you turned the handle, allowing space for your hand to slip through and take the white button down pjs from the mat outside.

"I'll be over now," You called down the hall, "Give me a second!"

You snatched a pair of navy slippers from the shoe rack and made your way into the dimly lit living room.

"Cor it's nice and warm in here."

"Your tea's going cold mind." He nodded to the sofa opposite of him, "Sit on that one over there if we're playing scrabble."

Perching on the edge of the leather settee, you picked out seven tiles from the green drawstring pouch and set them onto the wooden stand.

"Are you kidding me?" William leant back in his chair and scoffed, "Right, you first."

Squinting at the seven letters before you, you reorganised them into many different sequences. D, I, Z, O, I, X, E. Doze... no, Doe.. too short, iodize..? Suddenly, you visualised a word which used all of the tiles and scrambled them into place.

"Oh mate get ready for this." You slid the stand onto the board with a smirk spread across your face. Slowly, you arranged the word 'Oxidize' onto the beginning squares. "Twenty one, twenty two... only twenty four points for that, but add on the fifty for the seven letters and that takes it up to... 74!"

"You cheater you have a dictionary." He accused in envy of the high score whilst jotting it down on a scrap of paper.

"Do not! Your turn now, lets see your scrabble skill."

Rolling his eyes and picking up a single tile from the stand in front of him, he placed a measly O beneath the D.

"Oh dear..." You chuckled into your fist, "Vowels?"

He shot you a cruel glare and confirmed your query with a quick nod. The game continued on for half an hour until the competitive nature became increasingly tiring, especially since William kept placing an S after all of your words, so you got up and clambered into the space beside him.

"We haven't eaten yet."

"I think there's a pot of beef stew in the fridge." He answered defeatedly, "Or we can listen to my dad's vinyl instead?"

Food sounded perfect, but knowing William's family he probably owned some of the latest LPs released by the biggest artists around right now.

"Alright then you lazy cow, how about we listen to some vinyl then?" You returned a grin and made your way over to the fancy box of LPs adjacent to the shiny, high tech record player.

The selection inside was truly magnificent, The Supremes album 'Meet The Supremes', The Rolling Stones debut record, 'Surfin' USA' from the Beach Boys followed by a dozen Chuck Berry sleeves. This was like a dream come true.

After a brief while of overthinking your choice, you picked out The Beatles' latest album 'A Hard Day's Night' and carefully placed it atop the platter, mindful of its mint condition, and flicked the plug socket on. Soon enough the record began spinning around, so, you picked up the needle and gently positioned it onto the lead in groove.

It crackled faintly before crashing into the first song, the fast paced melody was joyfully upbeat - perfect for dancing. You smiled to yourself, overjoyed with emotions, before turning your attention back to William. He watched on fondly as you tapped your foot to the tune, occasionally out of time but nonetheless you were enjoying yourself.

"Come on then!" You desperately encouraged him to join in, tugging the sleeve of his shirt.

He latched his hands into the warm hold of yours and moved them hastily up and down, over and over in an attempt of dancing until the song faded out. As the next began to play, a dreadful clatter reverberated around the room.

"Oh dear, it's never done that before." Tilting his head at the needle, he took a cloth from the side table to clean the end of the cartridge. Carefully placing it onto the following track, he rose onto his feet and stepped backwards. The soft crackle returned and a delicate symphony of voices and instruments chimed from the speakers.

'If I fell in love with you Would you promise to be true'

"Suiting song." You jested and prodded his chest with a finger.

Chuckling at your playful gesture, he took a hold of your hands once more - this time, however, he moved them rather languidly. The storm outside worsened and the crashing bolts of lightning echoed through the town formidably. Swaying in each others arms, the soothing rhythm lulled the both of you into a state of bliss.

'And I found that love was more, than just holding hands.'

He rose his arm above your head, motioning you to twirl around whilst humming along to the song. Melting back into his frame, you followed his steps and chortled as he tripped over the carpet. The both of you smiled at one another as the chorus of instruments soothed to an end.

'When she learns we are two If I fell in love with you...'

A/N - Oh my gosh... This took way too long. It definitely isn't my favourite fic ever but I always put a lot of effort into researching the year I write about so it doubled the time it should've taken by like a million years ugh. If you didn't know, I tried to set it in late July 1964 hence A Hard Day's Night being the latest record Will has - He's totally a Rolling Stones over The Beatles kind of guy though. I hope you enjoyed this xxx oh and thank you for being so patient holy moly

#fnaf william afton #fnaf x reader #fnaf fanfic #william afton x reader #william afton #william afton x you #x reader #x you

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motsimages · 9 months

Text

Since that article about physical contact vs non-physical contact in different countries, here are some experiences I've had about it:

Usamericans are, by far, the most different from my experience. They are the only ones that get physically tense if you unexpectedly touch them, the only ones that would make a step back if you get to close so as to keep their personal space safe. The first time I met a Usamerican, he was my age (17 at the time), and he was staying in my house for a week as part of an exchange program. My mother felt that he was always very tense, that he needed to relax and so she did what every Spanish mother in her place would do: hug him, hold him, touch him and feed him. He would only get tenser, to my mother's frustration. Nobody explained us or him that the reason he was so tense in our house was the incredible amount of physical contact he was seeing and experiencing all the time by everyone. I have also met very huggy and physically affectionate usamericans and I wonder in which circles they usually move or where are they from because they are an exception. It was on the internet that I first saw "PDA" (public displays of affection) as something negative that people shouldn't do. I guess it comes from the US, it may also be a UK thing?? I don't know. It was confusing because people seem to get angry at it and I am like "what are you supposed to do then? How do people know you like them?" Also, learning that teachers are NOT (never ever) supposed to touch their students, I was in shock. What do you do with toddlers? They need physical affection and they will come up to you for it. What if a 12 year-old is crying? Aren't you going to at least confort them? How do you confort someone without touching them? Now that I know more about US culture, I wonder if white people are more distant than black people, or if religion plays a role.

Chinese and Japanese people I've met tend to keep their distance and may feel uncomfortable but, the ones I've had more contact with, soon get used to it and even enjoy it. I guess many won't or will find it invasive, but I have met some who went all in the moment they saw a world where you could hug people just because. I particularly remember two Chinese girls who, upon meeting a lot of Spanish people in France and seeing we were always hugging and touching, started to do it *way too much*, touching body parts you are not supposed to touch (like ass or boobs) because I guess for them it was all equally accessible/non-accessible, so we had to teach them to control themselves a bit. There was also a Japanese young man, a friend of a friend, who was shocked at first but then travelled around Europe and came back like "nobody was touching me :((((". He thought it was a European thing. He told me that back home in Japan, nobody would hug him, not even his mom.

Northern Europeans always keep their distance and won't hug you unless there is a need for it (and depending on the country/person, maybe not even then). Any other physical contact that is frequent in Spain, like grabbing someone's shoulder, is weird and could be interpreted as flirting. I have seen hugs and physical closeness in Sweedish series in situations that US series won't do, but I still had to tell my Northern European friends in Russia that, now that we were friends, I expected hugs and would ask for hugs frequently. Even with that, I once asked a Swiss friend for a hug and he went "why?". I was in shock. "What do you mean "why"? Because I want a hug? You shouldn't question hugs!". A Spanish friend in Switzerland told me that when she broke up with her boyfriend, her Swiss friend was there listening and giving company but not once did she got close enough to touch her. Not even for a hug. A Sweedish girl who couchsurfed at my place for a couple of weeks said that Madrid was the city of love because people were always hugging, snogging, kissing and touching each other everywhere (particularly couples).

A UK friend once told me about a girl he knew was feeling sad and he left her crying in her room and I was like "what the fuck. why would you leave her crying" and he said "that's what you do, if she wants to cry, you give her space" and I was like "listen to me: if a Spanish, and I would go as far as saying a Mediterranean, is crying, you better stay around. You keep an eye on them, you hug them, hold their hand, give them food. You do not leave someone who is crying and having a bad time alone unless they ask for it, and even then, you keep watch and check on them later on". He told me that you should leave English people alone when they are feeling blue (I can't promise I would do that but fair enough, I'll keep it in mind).

The UK is the only place where I don't know what is it that I do that people think not only that I'm flirting, but that things are happening between us, when I'm just there. I'm usually very good to know when I'm flirting and when I'm not but somebody may be interested. In the UK, it has happend a couple of times that we were having a normal conversation and then suddenly there was a certain complicity and I was there like "whaaaaat.... oh shit, I got in too close, didn't I? I may have touched their elbow on my way to the toilet or something".

Russians are surprisingly similar to Spanish, culturally and in character. There wasn't that much cultural shock there. They are not as touchy as Spanish people are, but they enjoy it, they hug people easily and they like physical closeness. Particularly, young girl-friends are very tactile, they often hold hands in the street, hug, etc. I have seen teenagers sitting on each other in public parks, I have seen couples hugging and kissing in the street. When travelling by train with my Spanish friend who lives in Switzerland, we chatted with some 50 year-old men in our wagon. She joked to one of them (in Spanish, I translated) and touched his arm to help drive the joke (he mentioned weaponry and she said "are these the Russian guns?"), and he didnt' bat an eye, he laughed and nodded. "Oh, they don't mind being touched" she pointed out.

Latin Americans seem to me just like Spanish, but they feel Spanish are cold and distant.

I think, amongst the Mediterraneans, we are all more or less the same, whether it's Europeans, Maghrebians, Balkans... I have a feeling that some Asian countries and some African countries might be similar too, but I don't have much experience with them.

I'd say the way it works in Spain is this: we touch people to communicate with them. It serves the purpose of showing we are there, we like your company, we are listening. If you paid attention, you could see who gets along with whom, who are closer friends or family by how they stand next to each other and how they touch each other.

I will end with an anecdote. I am currently interpreting psychological sessions for Russian refugees. We were in a session and the psychologist received a phone call, she excused herself saying that it was the doctor and maybe something had happened at school with her daughter. She apologised herself, she was only picking up in case there was an emergency. It wasn't the doctor so she asked to be called later but she was quickly given some good news before hanging up. She said "I apologise, but I need to share this with you." She shared the news with us, crying because she got emotional. My first instinct (that I noticed only because there was a Russian person there who may not be familiar with Spanish ways) was to touch her arm so she knew we were there. I asked her "do you want a hug?" and she said yes. So we hugged and the patient came to hug her as well, copying us. We stopped a professional work environment to hug a person who was celebrating some happy news, to help her regain composure and feel accompanied.

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cosmicgrapevine · 6 months

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So I'm about 60% done with the draft of this manuscript, and have more or less figured out how the endgame is gonna go. At this point, Melanie is attending, with several teammates (and several others, including Tabby and Lynd, staying home) a spring-break gathering for magic users and supernaturalists at the country house of a veteran Warden family in east Tennessee. There, she'll learn a lot more about her family history and what Marksteppers really are--that I've got pretty much planned out. What I wouldn't mind some ideas on is that there are going to be three other student delegations, all from private academies devoted to the magical arts, one in the New Orleans area, one somewhere on the East Coast, and one in Switzerland or maybe France.

These other schools are, metatextually, the sort of blueblooded, centuries-old, gothic institutions that normally take center stage in books like mine, whereas the Lost Kids are stapled onto a normie-ass American public high school founded by the very new-money and future-focused Florentino Cervantes, and I'm not sure how I want the culture clash to work there. I want to avoid the sort of 'ew, commoners' reaction, because I think that's hacky and predictable (although it will probably bubble up at some point), and I think it would be more interesting just for the groups to be curious about each other. In a "Wait, you don't do x? Our school does that all the time" way. Part of my purposes with setting this book in the late 90s was to evoke the bigness of a world without Google or smartphones, so I wanna get this right.

Anyway, if any of you have any ideas I'd love to hear them, particularly of the 'I always wanted to see someone take the piss out of such-and-such Magic School trope' kind.

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blmed · 5 months

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LOCATION. JOHANN'S PRIMARY OFFICE. Eugen-Leopold Platz 1, berlin.

Johann works in undisclosed subsidiary security company from Switzerland &. the company's headquarter is located in Eugen-Leopold Platz 1, outside of hackescher markt, berlin. it is one of most recognizable buildings amongst of commercials buildings on the corner of the market as it was meant to be built for an advertisement company by its completion in 2011, however after four years of operation, the advertisement company had gone bankrupt &. the security company chose its new headquarter place in berlin.

Designed by Hermann Schultz, this 8,800 m² building was an actualization of the previous company's vision: Orchestra of Ideas. The building was designed to mimic a modern orchestra house &. its interwoven instrumental imagery. The work surfaces are arranged around the central stage, with an atrium connecting all of the floors &. work spaces. the ground floor has reception, lobby, restaurant &. urban space. the company chose this building as a perfect cover-up of security services dealings that go through the company; an orchestra of safety.

As general counsel of the company, Johann's office is located on the sixth floor of this eight stories building. The whole floor is floor is for the legal department. the office is a combination of closed but transparent office cells with open areas that create a spatial continuum that enables informal encounters &. concentrated work at the same time.

Upon walking from the escalator / lift, the visitor will be welcomed by the front office where johann's secretary resides &. a guest meeting room as an extension of the front office. within the front office, there's a modern designed sofa for the visitor to sit whilst waiting for the meeting. because of the transparent window/door that divide the front room &. the meeting room, a person can see the meeting takes place.

furthermore, when a person walks through the lobby on the left side of the front office, soon they will be welcomed by a bigger meeting room, of which people call it as a conference room. within this place, it can hold about twenty to twenty five people thus accommodating larger discussions / meetings than the front office. on the right side of the conference room, there's a couple of paralegals &. legal assistants offices. the senior legal counsels &. legal counsels offices are the left side as an extension from the press conference room which eventually make a box shaped floor.

johann's office is situated between the conference room &. legal counsels' offices. upon walking to his office, a person will be welcomed by modern abstract painting that matches the modern facade of the building alongside of several black &. white industrial photographs captured by johann's friends. there's also modern black sofa in between before johann's personal desk. johann's personal desk is a modern oak table with dark green deskmat &. trinkets such as steel globe, industrial desk lamp, personal photos on the corner of the desk &. a laptop that he carries than using computer. behind the desk, there's a small storage that keeps documents &. books he reads &. a safe box beside of it. there's not much that can describe his personality, however he keeps personal photos such as a picture of him &. his mother on his first day as a law student, a picture of him &. his cousin, nina, &. pictures of nina's triplets as well as one of triplets' drawing he keeps as a reminder of the family he barely connects despite being in germany.

johann continuously goes back & forth between his office in bern, new york, london, &. others however he sees the berlin office as his primary office.

#* meta. berlin office.#* graphics. berlin office.#* locations. berlin office.

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nachoaveragejoe234 · 2 years

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Barbie movies settings (including mentioned places that aren't the setting of the movie)

Nutcracker and Swan Lake - Russia. Based on Russian ballets, Tchaikovsky can be seen in a picture in Clara's house, Ivan has a Russian name and accent

Rapunzel - Germany

12 Dancing Princesses - Germany. Based on a Brothers Grimm story

Princess and the Pauper - England. Based on The Prince and the Pauper, which was set in England

Magic of Pegasus - Netherlands during winter. Annika is a Dutch name and several characters, including her, wear vaguely Dutch clothing. Other places that have been theorized are Scandinavia and Russia.

Fairytopia trilogy - Portugal. Elina mentions knowing Mariposa, who's from Spain, and is "cut off from Flutterfield".

Barbie Diaries - Malibu, California

Island Princess - Italy. Names such as Rosella, Antonio, Luciana, and Ariana already tell us a lot, but the sunny weather, the characters all having tans, and some of the architecture also indicate this.

Christmas Carol - London, England

Three Musketeers - Paris, France

Diamond Castle - Europe, likely Germany/France, and/or Greece. Liana and Alexa wear stereotypically European dresses, the house looks like a traditional French cottage, but the Muses wear togas and the Diamond Castle itself looks vaguely Greek temple-ish on the inside.

Thumbelina - United States. Updated the setting and time period to the 2000s, clearly not in Denmark.

Fashion Fairytale - Paris, France

Mermaid Tale - Malibu, California

Mariposa - Spain. Also because of the accents.

Mermaid Tale 2 - Australia (the Ambassadors are however coded as Korean, African, Brazilian, and Russian), maybe New Zealand (Aquellia is implied to be near it)

Fairy Secret - Malibu, California (Gloss Angeles is another dimension)

Princess Charm School - Europe. No indication as to where "Gardania" is. However, most speaking Charm School students are from other places (Hadley is from South America, Isla is from Japan, Portia is from Scotland, and Josette is from Africa)

Princess and the Popstar - Monaco. Meribella looks like Monaco, with it's small status and how rich it is. Also Amelia mentions her grandma knowing the King of Spain.

Mariposa and the Fairy Princess - Malta. Shimmervale is "across Fairytopia", and the British accents of many people, as well as several dark haired background fairies, some with light skin, some with dark skin, a common feature of Maltese people.

Pink Shoes - United States, France, Russia (The ballet world uses Giselle, a French ballet, and Swan Lake)

Pony Tale - Switzerland

Pearl Princess - Denmark. A mermid story with some similarities to The Little Mermaid.

Secret Door - Europe (Zinnia is another dimension)

Princess Power - Europe or an alternate reality America, or somehwere in the near distant future

Starlight Adventure - Space, in the future

Great Puppy Adventure - Willows, Wisconsin

Puppy Chase - Hawaii

Rock N Royals - Europe (with campers from other European places: Sloane from Scotland, maybe her two friends are American as they resemble Dua Lipa and Halle Bailey vaguely, Aubray from Ireland, Genevieve from England, Svetlana Petranova from Russia)

Spy Squad - Los Angeles, California

Video Game Hero - United States, "Japan". Her video game is heavily Japanese inspired, with animesque characters and Nintendoesque visuals.

Dolphin Magic - Malibu, California

Princess Adventure - Europe

Lost Birthday - United States

Big City Big Dreams - New York

Mermaid Power - Malibu, California

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lennies-blog · 1 year

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youtube

Sky Sport Interview Special - "Hardenacke meets.. Episode 3" with Mick Schumacher

English Translation below the cut 😊

Peter Hardenacke: „‘Hardenacke meets…‘ Episode 3 and from a very special place at that! We are in Kerpen, at the Michael Schumacher Kart Centre, and are meeting his son, Mick Schumacher. We’re excited!”

PH: “Mick! I’m glad we found the time to talk! A very special place, Kerpen, hometown of your dad, Michael. I think the name ‘Kerpen’ is immediately connected to the Schumacher family! What does it mean to you?”

Mick: “Ehm.. childhood is the best word I believe I can use. Because I was here very often as a child, I drove karts here – well not here exclusively, also at the track in Kerpen-Manheim – and it was a very lovely time, a time where you didn’t think too much and just had fun.”

PH: “So Kerpen is a piece of home for you in a way? You’re on the road a lot with Formula 1, the US is a location for you, Switzerland.. Where would you say is home for you?”

Mick: “Switzerland, really. Just because I grew up there and we have our house there. Therefore, it’s home. But I definitely see this as my second home and have my friends here, so I love to be in this part of Germany.”

PH: “What were you like as a child? As a student in particular?”

Mick: “What I was like as a child? Well, someone who has been very distracted, because he had something really nice and that was karting. That’s where my thoughts have always been, even in school. And I always went here or to another kart track near straight away and was allowed to drive races and I knew from a very young age that I only wanted to race and luckily it went in that direction.”

PH: “We’re going to come back to that later – but staying at that, your time at school..”

Mick: *laughs* “I’d rather forget about that!”

PH: “I’d love to see that in front of me! How was Mick as a student?”

Mick: “Ah! How was I as a student? Well, I really liked German and English, because I was better at that than most of the others, ehm, but my absolute favourite subject was sports! It was always quite nice, school, of course, but my favourite was being at the racetrack or at home.”

PH: “And karting, when did that start?”

Mick: “Well, I had my first kart at 2 ½ years old, 2 years old and drove around the yard with it and a bit later at 4 years old it got cross tyres, a chain saw engine (I have no clue if it’s the right translation, never heard of it) and I got a quad on top of that, the motorbike at 5 years old.. I then had a nice arsenal to choose from, but always used the kart. At home we had a little hill, where I always came at with verve and jumped over it with the kart! I loved that! And a bit later the kart grew and with it the urge to drive. I started my first race at 8 in Spain, if I’m not mistaken and.. yeah, I never stopped racing since.”

PH: “And when have you known ‘That��s going to be it!’ regarding the direction you want to go to.. Because I think Michael never really wanted that for you both? I watched the documentary about you in the intro he said, ‘Oh well, if possible, it would be great if they would do something else!’, right?”

Mick: “Yeah, but I never wanted to do anything else! *grins* My dad asked me when I was 11 years old if I’d rather come here to play football, to hang out with friends and my answer was very clear that I wanted to do it, to do it properly, and decided the following year to drive international or to start at bigger national races and then also race internationally, Europe Championship, World Championship, ESK and what else they had back then. And that was basically the start to ‘professional racing’.”

PH: “And the decision was made here, right? Where you discussed it?”

Mick: “In Kerpen, in the KS Imbus.“

PH: „And what were the changes for you then? You already said it all got a bit bigger, also with all journeys, but regarding what you invested or were allowed to invest yourself, was that a big change?”

Mick: “Yeah, along the lines of not taking your helmet off and going off to play again, but rather think about it, what you can change to get faster, think about the driving itself, what I can do better – of course, at that time I was around 11, 12 and you don’t really think about (physical) training as it is way too early for such a small body – but just simple thoughts afterward and not running off, talking to the mechanic about what to do with the kart to get faster.”

PH: “How big was the influence of Michael at that time already? Could you learn something about how he works, which approach he had to some things?”

Mick: “I think at that age you don’t really perceive what happens around you. Of course, I knew that Papa was a racing driver, but what all that entailed wasn’t that clear, yet. And.. I always knew that I wanted to do it, but I didn’t know how hard it was actually going to be. So, I know what Papa meant by saying ‘Rather do something else!’, but in the end, I am incredibly proud to have taken this path and seen it through until the end. And without his support, his tips, and everything I wouldn’t have ended up where I did.”

PH: “What kind of feedback was it? You know about the dads who are always there at football practice, cheering and talking at them during the matches.. Was there a kind of exchange.. when you drove..?”

Mick: “Not at all. The exchange was always that he tried different tactics. Sometimes he tried to be very strict, sometimes not at all, always tried to see ‘what does Mick react to?’ and there were always a few moments where I actually had to think about ‘Okay, what did I do wrong now?’, but those were always moments that brought me forward, so I really liked this up and down, this inconsistency in a way, because it’s not that different in motorsport. You meet people who are giving you everything, who support you 100%, and some you are not behind you 100% and you still must deliver the performance.”

PH: “So he had a really good feeling about you-“

Mick: “Very good”

PH: “-what you need at that time, if you need a bit more pressure, or a hand steadying you.. so that was mainly where he had a good feeling about you.”

Mick: “Exactly”

PH: “So not like with Max Verstappen, where he - do you know that story? (*Mick nods*) - Where he (Jos) left him (Max) at a gas station?”

Mick: “And he had to walk.”

PH: “And he had him collected by the mum an hour later because the result wasn’t good?” *laughs*

Mick: *With a very neutral voice and expression* “No, we didn’t have that, no.”

PH: “How was it for you in general with the pressure? I mean it’s always there anyway and you also put it on yourself, to win races, to get better, but also to get a foot in with that name in the karting scene? Was there ever someone, or didn’t everyone say, ‘Now here comes the son of Michael’ and was that a special burden?”

Mick: “No, not at all, because Papa never gave me that pressure. So it was super easy to just do what I wanted to do, in a sense of how hard I wanted to push myself or not, and as I said Papa had an amazing feeling for it ‘Don’t think about it too hard, we’ll do the best that we can’ and it was clear from the very beginning of what Papa said and also Mama that if I don’t want to do it then I don’t have to. And that has taken a lot of pressure off me.”

PH: “What was your biggest talent?”

Mick: “The first lap. These one-on-one battles, the first laps, let’s say when I didn’t start from pole to always fight my way up to the front when the field was very compact, making the right decisions, which line to take, or when I started from the front to have a kind of calmness and to not take on the pressure but to start the race relaxed.”

PH: “Timo is also saying that about you, Timo Glock (former F1 pilot and current fellow Sky Germany host) because I talked to him about you before I talked to you. He said what had always been impressive about Mick was his racing intelligence. To know when to do what, he said that is really distinctive with you. Would you agree?”

Mick: “Yeah, I would agree. It’s a lot of fun for me, so it might be a bit easier for me.”

PH: “You started your Formula career via karting, with Van Amersfoort, which memories do you have of that time?”

Mick: “My first year in Formula 4… (I remember) That those were the first 2 weekends that I had, so the first 6 races in my career and they were an absolute rollercoaster. From an average race to win to a crash to a broken thumb, it was all within those first 6 races that I had, but it was still a very nice time. I learned a lot from Van Amersfoort and definitely took it with me to my second season that I then did with Prema and yeah, where it went relatively well.”

PH: “Fritz van Amersfoort said that you above all always tried to improve, looked at where those possibilities were, such a meticulousness that you have taken with you from how you learned it.”

Mick: “Yes, I think so, too. I had it in me then and it guided me throughout my whole career, this ‘always try to improve and always trying to get the best out of the package that you had’.”

PH: “Then you went on to Prema, Formula 3, Formula 2, and particularly in the second seasons always taking the big leaps. Why was that do you think? That you always needed the first year to settle in? Was that normal?”

Mick: “No, we had some difficulties in the first year with technical problems that you can’t really see. We were always well off regarding the speed, ehm.. so we could’ve been further up in the championship, but that’s all history in the end. We won in the second year and that’s what counts.”

PH: “When was it clear to you that the step up to Formula 1 was happening?”

Mick: “With the Formula 3 victory.”

PH: “In Spa?” (Referring to Mick’s first race win in F3)

Mick: “No, with the championship”

PH: “Ah okay, I thought. But the first race win was in Spa?”

Mick: “Yes, the first win was in Spa, with the first pole position and the first win. But to win the championship was the first moment for me when I thought ‘I can do it’ and that I do have a little talent to be able to make it.”

PH: “When you said ‘Phew, I can do it!’ – were there doubts along the way?”

Mick: “Doubts? I think if you don’t drive without any then you would never try to achieve the 100%. And I think it’s very important as a racing driver but also a person to doubt yourself – of course to a certain degree – but, to always try to get better, and to get the best out of yourself. If you’re too self-assured, then you’ll say ‘Oh well, I achieved everything’ and you lean back and then.. it starts going backward.”

PH: “How was the transition then? I remember when we met in 2019 at Nürburgring when you were supposed to drive for Alfa (Romeo), the first free practice, and it rained too hard that it didn’t work out. Many believed back then it could work out with Alfa and in the end it was Haas, take us with you again on this journey.”

Mick: “Ehm.. I mean the Formula 2 season was that you had the last race in Europe in Monza and then you had this big break before the last race in Abu Dhabi. Ehh, Bahrain, sorry. And in between was (F1) Nürburgring, for example, where we were supposed to drive the FP1, but didn’t due to the weather. And then it was clear that for the last race of Formula 1 in Abu Dhabi I was supposed to drive the last FP1 for Haas. What went quite well for me. I was feeling well very quickly and yeah, it became clear pretty quickly that that would be the next step for me for the next year. And I then won the championship, which was my first goal before getting into Formula 1, the first goal I then reached, the second goal still being open, which is to become World Champion, so.. I’m still working on that.”

PH: “Which I’m sure is going to work out. Mick, regarding the decision, when that happened, how was it to reach this milestone for you?”

Mick: “You can only be 100% sure when it’s signed by both parties. And when that was the case I was really happy, that I got this chance. But when I was really, really happy was when I drove the first race.”

PH: “How was that first meeting with Günther Steiner, do you still remember it?”

Mick: “Pfft.. Ehh.. In Bahrain when I did the seat fit. That was the first time when I met Günther.”

PH: “What was your first impression back then?”

Mick: “Well, back then ‘Drive to Survive’ was already out, so I had an impression of Günther, already, but yeah, it was like you would imagine.”

PH: “That first year in Formula 1 was under hard circumstances anyway, I believe, with Haas practically knocked off, basically driving the race for oneself. And what you had to do, to beat your teammate Nikita Mazepin at the time, you did. What did you take with you in this first year?”

Mick: “Yeah, we had our highs two or three times, with a Q2 appearance, which wasn’t thinkable at that time, but we did it and that was really nice. The first one was in Turkey, the second one was in Paul Ricard. But if you drive a car that is soo inferior, I mean our highest downforce setup, the Monaco downforce, was even higher than the downforce setup for Ferrari. So that’s how you can imagine that it had nothing to do with it (the 2021 Haas). And even if I drive the cars now, from Mercedes for example, the 2021 car that I drove at Goodwood, which I was allowed to test prior at Silverstone, that has nothing to do with it (the 2021 Haas). So it makes sense why Lewis and Valterri were able to drive those times when we really had to fight for, but I personally think that it’s good that I also achieved something with the car that I had at that time. Of course, it was a bit different in the season after that, but you couldn’t really learn a lot when you’ve only ever taken a look at your own data and didn’t really have a comparison and the team expects you to develop the car but we didn’t have any experience from Formula 2 how to develop a car, so those are all processes that you learn from a teammate of course, who might have some experience, or needs the time to learn it himself. In that case, I sadly didn’t have the time to really learn that myself.”

PH: “And in the second year, Nikita Mazepin had to leave after testing, Kevin Magnussen came – who came back from pre-retirement in a way – as your teammate. How was the dynamic within the team before the season started in Bahrain?”

Mick: “The dynamic was positive, of course everyone was happy that Kevin was back, and had placed their bets on him in that case. It was the first time for me to be able to collect experience from a teammate. Sadly, because we had such difficulties within the first year, we adopted some habits, that fit that (2021) car really well, but not to the new one. Which we then tried to change with new setups and whatnot and Kevin simply drove, which we probably should’ve done, too. Because those are such minor details, which when you have too few people who are looking after two cars will of course get difficult. But yeah, we made the best out of what we got and still had some few successes throughout that whole year that were positive.”

PH: “You have pressured yourself a bit too, then, with the crash that you had in Saudi Arabia, in Monaco was another one, the situation with Sebastian Vettel, where you had the duel where you could’ve driven into the points where it didn’t work out in the end – how did you experience it back then for yourself? Also what came then, from your team principle, from Günther Steiner, from your team principle? Would you have needed something different to be able to show the bets you’ve got?”

Mick: “I mean I don’t want to justify myself there, but there is more about the crash and the situations than meets the eye. Because there were things there that were depicted way worse – about the crashes and about me – than they actually were. And of course, if you then have a person that is very active in the media who is taking this thing with them and is building this thing up in a way that it didn’t have to be built up in. Of course, it wasn’t ideal, it was not ideal. Because everyone crashes. And in that situation in Saudi Arabia, I was relatively happy that I was okay and certain people then started talking about something else that was unnecessary and.. just tried to.. to make a complicated situation out of a situation. Didn’t really like that, and yeah, I’m with you there, I could’ve needed something different, especially when I’m looking at how it’s actually supposed to be when I’m at my new role at Mercedes with Toto Wolff, but also with different team principles, for example at McLaren or Williams, then the two 2 years had nothing to do with it. You can’t expect your drivers to be able to show their best when they’re not supported in the right kind of way. So much about that. But I learned a lot, I learned a lot as a person and in the end, no one will ever give you flowers, you have to pick them yourself, I know that now. And I feel ready to fight again and to show what I can actually do because I think a lot of people don’t actually know what I can do.”

PH: “Mick, what I have always found very admirably, which I think I’ve always told you, is the calmness that you had. You were never rattled by anyone, were always in balance, and were able to free yourself from that pressured situation, by driving into the points, in Austria, in Silverstone, the curve went upwards, and that despite the little experience that you have. When you now look back at that situation, would you still say that you would’ve done something differently, that you should’ve stepped back at one point and said ‘Until here and no further’? Or are you at peace with yourself and would say everything was okay the way it went for myself and for my part?”

Mick: “In the end, you are always wiser. I always say ‘Woulda shoulda coulda’, it is how it is, I experienced the situation how I did and handled it how I did, and looking back, sure, you can always do something differently. Would you want to do something differently? Maybe. But all in all, I am the person I am today because of those experiences. If I tried to undo all my mistakes retrospectively or to improve them, I would not have the desire now to improve myself. I am the person I am today because of the experience I have had, and I know what I am able to do and what I am worth and can, hopefully when I get the next chance, do it better accordingly.”

PH: “You have already described it a bit how it is with Toto Wolff, for example, who is looking after you – how would assess the next year? All of the German Formula and motorsport community is hoping for you for you to drive in Formula 1 again. What do you think is happening now? Which options do you have?”

Mick: “Well there is not a lot moving at the moment, a lot of the drivers are set, a lot of the drivers have a set long term contract, of which many end at the end of next year, so we have to see. The season is still long. I am in touch with Toto a lot, we think about what we can do daily. But in the end the decision is not mine to make, sadly. I can only present myself and say ‘This is what you can get, this is what you can expect’. I know that I have yet a lot to give, that I want to show a lot more, can show more, and that’s what I fight for now.”

PH: “What you can also see with Alex Albon, who also made it back to Formula 1 with a little detour. Is there a Plan B for next year, in case it’s not working out with Formula 1?”

Mick: “Sadly, I have to say yes, there is a Plan B, but I have to talk about that a little later on. Yes, there is a Plan B.”

PH: “What do you wish for, for the future?”

Mick: “Well hopefully another chance in Formula 1, that is my goal, that is what I want to do, where I see myself. That is my life. I have worked 15 years of my life towards it and won’t settle for being out after 2 years. Therefore, that’s my goal, that’s what I want to do, that’s what I fight for now and will do my best.”

PH: “Our fingers are crossed! Mick, thank you!”

#mick schumacher #mick translations #oh wow a lot to unpack here!😶#this felt like i was watching mick attending a therapy session #but loved the way he slandered in a perfect media trained way #the 'you can only be 100% sure when it’s signed by both parties.' sounded a lot like what went down at the end of 2022 tbh and i hate it!#and someone give that man a self picked bouqet of flowers!! 😭😭#some strong miley cyrus quotation happening here #and it sadly also sounds like mick knows he prob has to and will go through with a plan b next season #as he said there are just not enough seats this year #pls enjoy my fingers definitnely need a break now 🥲#(posting this again cause it didnt appear in the tags)

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