Making some transparent Ricks and… Uh… Well, leave no Rick not included I suppose. Although… This is just getting weird now. Justin and Dan really outdone themselves, huh? You ever think they’ll make an episode? Mr. Needful’s revenge, maybe (yes, I know he’s not a Rick, but you can’t make a nice looking picture set with seven pictures, it’s impossible!).
Feel free to use if you want to for whatever nefarious purposes you like.
Spring is approaching here and as I’m taking some of my art classes, I had some major inspiration to write something subtle and sweet. Let me know if you’d be interested in me continuing this into a part 2 or something.
You’d been working for the one and only Alfie Solomons for some time now. You were the organization and routine that he desperately needed. You were great with keeping his messy thoughts together, dictating his meetings and the issues he attempted to sort out in the open. It was difficult to sit through his constant grunts and swearing, but there weren’t too many people who could decipher him as well as you could. He’d open up his door, look at you sitting at the small desk you’d been given and grunt with a slight nod, disappearing back into his office. This was your cue to pick up a pen and pad and to make your way through his door for what he deemed an urgent matter.
You weren’t given work that took up your whole day, and some of the men around took notice of this. They, of course, weren’t going to say anything about this to Mr. Solomons but they envied your shorter, easier hours. He didn’t often make you work late, letting you go easy, so you weren’t walking home in the pitch black.
“ain’ a place for a proper lady ta be walkin’ alone now, issit?”
That was his reasoning every time.
There were muttered rumors pointing out how much of a soft spot he’d grown just for you, and although you’d heard them once or twice, you didn’t pay them much attention. You knew better than to get any hopes up about a man like Alfie. He was so cryptic sometimes, and although he undoubtedly cared to keep you safe at night, you were the victim of a few grunts that had brushed you the wrong way. There wasn’t much security in that little language of his.
When nights grew slow, you’d find your pen drawing the curving lines of sunflowers, their leaves stretching to an imaginary sun and their petals full of warmth. Your mind slipped elsewhere as each loop of every petal made you more focused on filling the paper in front of you. Daisies and clouds filled the border of the paper, and a wild jungle of flora stretched to every open space you could cover on that page. You had let your mind slip so far off that you hadn’t heard the slight click of Alfie’s office door being pulled open. You hadn’t heard the soft thud of his footsteps approaching your desk. You hadn’t even felt his looming presence as he looked down at your little scribbling hands, a bit astonished that you hadn’t responded to his grunt a few moments earlier.
“you’ve got a real talent for scribbling there, love.”
His voice interrupted your moment of dazing and you dropped your pen to the pad, looking up in immediate embarrassment.
“Oh, I… yeah, I…”
Why were you being such an idiot? You couldn’t even muster the right words to say, never having had someone look so intently on the doodles that you usually threw away at the end of the night.
He grunted and nodded. Typical.
It was within the week that he called you to his office, using your full name, complete with a ‘Miss’ right in the front. You brought your pen and pad, the same one he’d caught you drawing all over just a few days ago.
“There’s a project I need ya to get a work on, right,” he said, each low grumble of every word ringing in your ears. You nodded, listening intently as he’d never given you a project before.
“This project is of great importance, s’ you’ll need ta be usin’ these pretty soon, love,” he said and sat a pair of beautiful wooden paint brushes right there on his sizable desk. Your eyes sat there on them for a minute before your mouth opened only for a split second before closing again. You didn’t understand. These were beautiful but didn’t explain what he was asking of you.
“now yer flowers were rather lovely, miss y/n, and my walls are looking a bit empty. S’ I’ve gone out an’ gottenya some paints and canvas. I’m expectin’ a real masterpiece up on my wall pretty soon, right?”
You were holding back one of your bright smiles halfway through his little explanation, and you were nodding along to his words before then. Your fingers found their way to the brushes, feeling the smooth handles under your fingertips as you picked up the bundle of them. He continued to blame how empty his place was looking and continued to talk about this project as if it were a business proposition. There was a slight stammer in his voice though, something you hadn’t heard before. It sounded like a hint of awkwardness, unsure of how to approach this particular situation.
Your hours at your desk became shorter and shorter after a key had appeared on your desk and he’d let you leave earlier each time you grew closer to completing the vast artwork. You couldn’t see it, but he was starting to enjoy seeing you when he came home. You were usually half asleep, your eyelids drooping as you focused hard on getting more done. You were set on finishing this painting promptly, still amazed that he’d given you the opportunity to paint on a scale like this.
“Love,” he’d chuckle when he would come in, seeing small paint splatters on your cheeks and watching you yawn every few seconds. “yer half sleep, I can’t be lettin’ you walk yourself home in this kind of condition.”
That’s the moment that he started to make room for a spare dress in his closet. Then two. Then three.
He found you asleep, and he’d bring you a pillow and blanket and make sure you were as comfortable as could be.
You forgot about your desk outside his office and were in his spare room from noon to midnight, painting your little heart away.
You were even forgetting about the plants you had to water in your own flat, your bedroom becoming a place you saw very little of.
Alfie came home one night, a bit earlier than usual, and you weren’t asleep for once. He stood at the doorway of your impromptu studio, arms folded over his broad chest as he grunted, catching your attention. You turned to him with a smile on your face, and you could tell he was in a good mood.
"turned out to be a real masterpiece, innit?“ He asks, rewarding a bigger smile on your face.
"you really like it?” you ask, nervous about finally finishing something you’d been working on for so long. Afterall, Alfie was still your boss, and he’d issued this project as a part of business.
But there was something new about you two. Something unspoken, a slight change that you could feel in the air between the two of you. Afterall, you’d been sleeping and waking up nearly every night in the same household as this man. He’d made sure you had clothes in his closet, so you didn’t have to worry about wearing the same things over and over again. He’d created an impromptu bed for you in that spare room, though he complained about you not sleeping on a proper mattress and being around all those paints all the time.
He nodded at your question, the two of you looking at each other for a moment. “nearly as lovely as the painter herself,” he says, straight-faced.
Your stomach nearly did a flip on itself, and your eyes were twinkling with Alfie’s comment. Your cheeks blushed a soft pink, and you opened your mouth to speak though there were no words. The two of you knew what this unspoken change was between you though. You were two very bright people who knew that through this process, you’d grown more than comfortable with each other. You didn’t want the finish of this painting to warrant the finish of the relationship you two now had.
Jeremy is an only child, he always received everything he ever wanted or needed throughout his childhood.
His parents have always taught him to stand up for himself and what he believes in. They’ve taught him to always be himself, no matter what.
When he tells them about Spring Awakening, and his role of Ernst, they’re incredibly supportive.
Jeremy has never labeled himself. All he knows is that when he’s around Simon, his heart does this little flip. And it’s different. But he doesn’t run from it because his family have always taught him that different isn’t always bad, and that different needs to be embraced.
He is very close with his mother. He always feels that he can tell her anything. She being the only person he tells about Simon and about the feelings he gets whenever he’s with him.
After he tells her that he and Simon have a secret relationship and that Simon isn’t ready for people to know yet, she is understanding and supportive.
Simon spends most of his time at the Travers household. Jeremy’s mom is an amazing cook and Simon often stays for dinner and ends up staying late most nights.
Simon often tells Jeremy how much he envies him. Mrs Travers knows about Simon’s situation at home and makes it clear to him that he can come over, anytime, day or night, whenever he needs.
She’s a real hugger. Her hugs are warm and she always smells sweet and Simon always loves being welcomed with a hug from her whenever he enters their home.
Jeremy’s life at home is what Simon only dreams of, he loves his family a lot but he wishes he could be himself at home like Jeremy can. It helps that he gets to spend a lot of his time there.
Jeremy is a huge dog person so every time Simon comes over to the Travers household, he’s greeted by 3 dogs; Daisy, Luna and Toby. Simon has a soft spot for Luna. He and Emma have always wanted a dog but they were never allowed to get one.
The Travers often have movie nights. Family time is really important to Jeremy, especially after hearing all about Simon’s life at home, he is grateful to have the family he does and tries to show his parents his appreciation as often as he can.
a collection of things maria cosway said about angelica schuyler to thomas jefferson
“Have you seen yet the lovely Mrs. Church? You Must have seen her by this time: what do you think of her? She Colls’ me her Sister. I coll’ her My dearest Sister. If I did not love her so Much I should fear her rivalship, but no I give you free permission to love her with all your heart, and I shall feel happy if I think you keep me in a little corner of it, when you admit her even to reing Queen.” (emphasis mine)
“Our friend Mr: de la Luzerne is here, Mrs. Church, we should go to see Many beautifull villas, enjoy all the best England can afford and make the rest up with our own Society.”
“Where do you think I am at present? and with whom? How Much we wish for you and think of you and speak of you, it is the amiable Mrs: Church, you know her, that is enough, and you are Capable of feeling the value of this lovely woman.”
“Mrs. Church has told me to say many things to you; I reccomand My self to be admitted to half she deserves of affection from you, t’will be a good share but never so much as I have for you—adiu.”
“you shall share my envy between Mrs: Church and you, for I envy both excessively for the reciprocal pleasure you will have in one anothers Company; and your return when is it to be?”
“My Angelica has been the greatest joy on my return. She has flatterd me much by telling me my name was mentiond in most of the letters which come from America.”
“Now this will Come accompanied by One from the Most charming of woman, My Angelica, I love her so much that I think and am persuaded she must be beloved by every One who know her, therefore give value to every thing which Comes from her Or she Notices with her regard. I will think she has Some attachment for me and I value it much. My great fear is that soon I shall loos her, I even thought I should not find her in England, but have been fortunate to meet this pleasure On my arrival, and certainly she was a great consolation to me. “
“You will soon have the pleasure of seeing the Charming Anjelica. I loose her with Much regret she is the woman I love Most, and feel Most happy with in this Country.”
‘Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone
Is where you go when you’re alone
Is where you go to rest your bones
It’s not just where you lay your head
It’s not just where you make your bed
As long as we’re together, does it matter where we go?
- Gabrielle Aplin “Home”
By the end of the war, Roy makes Captain. It does not hold any particular significance, as there are no longer actively fighting and he won’t be in military anymore, but he is given this rank as an award for “countless successful missions”, “unusual acts of bravery on the battlefield” and for “ wit and strategic thinking of truly unique kind- at least that’s what the official letter from general command states. All of his superiors agree that he well deserved it and all of his colleagues congratulate him, loudly demand a celebratory round of drinks and then jokingly call him “sir” for a day or two.
And Roy… well.
It feels very wrong somehow, to be given promotions for dropping bombs on the cities.
He boards the train home along with Maes, leaving Breda and Fuery on the crowded station in London and parting with Falman and Havoc a few stops later. They pass small towns and forests and fields on their way and as Maes falls asleep with Gracia’s letter laying on his knees, Roy stares out of the window and thinks about coming back home.
Braden grows up a lot more than he expected on a cross-country road trip with his family… - Written by myself and @aardvarkia.
“Remember, guys, we gotta eat fast,” Maurice Pataki said aloud as
he piloted the family minivan into a parking space. “We need to make good time
so that we-”
“-don’t hit St. Louis at rush hour,” said every other occupant of
the car in unison.
Maurice hopped out of the car and slammed the door shut. Behind
him, in the backseat, his sons Vince and Braden were fighting over who would
open their door. Just like they fought over everything. Braden had reached for
the handle but Vince had knocked his hand away and opened the door himself,
before Braden pushed it shut again from the inside and made an ill-advised
attempt at wrestling Vince, who was three years older and had the size to
“Guys,” Maurice said, wrenching the door open himself, causing
both boys to spill out. “Chill. I know you’ve been stuck back there a while but
“He started it!” Braden whined.
“Don’t care. You want Burger King?”
“I dunno,” Braden shrugged, keeping a few steps behind his family
as they trudged into the state welcome center.
“Well, they’ve got Burger King, Starbucks, Sbarro, or Panda
Express. And you’re not having Starbucks again,” Shoshannah informed
him. They all remembered what had happened the last time Braden had had
Starbucks. Vince snickered. Braden elbowed him, and was shoved for his trouble.
“Vincent Michael, if you do that to your brother again, I swear to God you will
spend the rest of the trip in the hotel room.”
“You can’t do that!”
“I can, and your father will back me up.” Maurice, for his
part, decided to simply look away and gesture to the Panda Express.
“Hey, buddy, they got your favorite over at Panda, I think,” he
Braden perked up at that. “Shanghai Angus?” He smiled at the $10
bill his father handed him, said a quick thanks, and bounded over to the line.
Vince, wanting to get something at least reasonably healthy to stay in shape
for college wrestling, followed. He was still fuming.
“Y’know, when mom and dad find out what a little fag you really
are, then they’ll kick you out,” he muttered.
Braden smiled sweetly at his brother. “If I’m the fag, then why
was the daddy porn in your search history?”