#shes a draft thoma | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 months

Text

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Neil. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Neil and Rob which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’ but both Neil and Rob were ‘so lovely and very generous with their time’ and they were showing it to them and in the intermission Neil said ‘I wish Terry could have seen this.’ (see here :))

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different, they were worried about it but Neil said, ‘I totally understand, the ending of the TV series is different, because I had something that was book-shaped and I needed to make it TV-shaped. And you had something that was book-shaped and you needed to make it stage-shaped.’

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there.

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

#good omens #good omens musical #musical #masterposts #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #fun fact #:)

2K notes · View notes

tojivu · 1 year

Text

one bed + morning after ⋆ genshin men

an. clearijg up drafts (that i like), expect more soon

cw. genshin men & one bed trope, includes zhongli diluc childe thoma. f!reader implied. sfw.

playing. nothing revealed / everything denied by the 1975

DILUC’s face is almost as red as his hair. he hoped to get this trip over and done with; considering how the friend group had just dragged him on this adventure when he had better things to do. however, he found the silver lining he didn’t expect; you.

he had always found you attractive, sometimes stealing glances at you when you’re talking to his friends or secretly hoping you would ask him to hang out (without your annoying friends tagging along, as they had always done)—so when he finds out he’s stuck with you for the night, he has mixed feelings. he sticks himself to the wall, feeling too awkward to even sit down, and you’re combing your hair in the mirror.

“i’m gonna go to bed soon. you gonna stand there all night, luc?”

god, the way you said his name. “no, i’ll be on the couch.”

“don’t be silly.” you put the comb down and turn off the bathroom lights, then getting on the bed to make yourself comfortable. you pat the empty space next to you to signal that it’s okay, that he could sleep next to you if he wanted. “don’t be scared. it’s not that big of a deal.”

of course it wasn’t, to you.

diluc reluctantly gets on the bed, and he’s as stiff as a wood plank. you turn and look at him, on your side, and he fights his urge to look back at you; he knows he’ll just make a fool of himself. “goodnight, luc.”

you expected diluc to be sleeping, facing the ceiling—as if he didn’t move from the night before. but your eyes flutter open and you see diluc facing you, his face only inches away; sleeping peacefully. the sunlight is seeping in through the curtain gaps, and the air is cold.

diluc wakes and he doesn’t jump in surprise, instead he opens his eyes and stares lazily at you—as if you were a sight he saw every morning; natural, like you were meant to be there with him. his morning voice is rough as he speaks, “good morning, y/n.”

your heart is merciless that morning, diluc swore he could hear your heartbeat pounding.

CHILDE doesn’t realise how troublesome it is to have such a tiny bed to two people. he had always slept alone, in a queen, his sleeping positions almost always bizarre as he had space to spare. your friend group didn’t think to consider whether making him sleep in a small hotel room with only one bed would trouble him— but as soon as he was told that he was sharing a room with you, his face lit up. childe didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, though, but it would be a lie if he said he didn’t want to be stuck with you for a whole 8 hours.

“did you hear?” he leans against the counter at the reception desk, on one arm, looking at you with a smirk on his face. you’re guessing what it could be—what prank he’d be pulling on you this time.

“we’re sharing a room?” you guess, voice monotone and bored; it was 12 in the morning and all you wanted to do was sleep—entertaining childe’s nonsense was not going to be a part of your nightly routine. you expect a big “no!” from him, but he keeps quiet instead.

after a few seconds of awkward silence, he reaches for the keycard in your hand and grabs hold of it. “i guess i’ll unpack first, then.”

there wasn’t any point in fighting the receptionist for your own room, since she told you they were packed for the week and reservations had already been made.

you’re on the far end of the bed while childe is comfortable. the pillows smell like his shampoo. you can’t sleep, and he notices that. childe snickers at how you’re trying so hard not to fall off the bed.

“c’mere.” he offers, “there’s space.”

“there isn’t.”

“trust me, i don’t like this either.” what a liar, he thought to himself.

you reluctantly shift closer to him, yet thankful he offered—you were close to moving anyway. “this is so stupid.”

when you wake, you find yourself facing the wall—childe’s arms are wrapped around your waist, his chest pressing against your back. he’s still asleep, his light snores being the only thing you can hear. you tell yourself this is not what you wished to wake up to, but the blush creeping up on your face says everything.

ZHONGLI finds it completely normal. he cannot take a hint. it was just a business trip, and he didn’t want you (his secretary) to sleep uncomfortably. you had much to do the morning after and a sore back would do you no good—he was just being a responsible boss. just that, nothing else. he doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks when he tells you to get in bed with him, and when he tells you goodnight when his face is only inches away from yours. it seems like you don’t notice how he gets a little nervous when you move closer—or accidentally brush your hands against his under the sheets, either.

zhongli takes off his slippers, then throwing the towel on his neck onto the chair next to the nightstand. you’re already in bed, laying down like a mummy—afraid to make a bad impression.

“busy day tomorrow.” he says. “goodnight, y/n.”

you muster the courage to say it back, but the heartbeat pulsing in your ears make it hard. “goodnight.”

“why are you laying down like that?” he suddenly says, just moments after you close your eyes. you jolt awake, surprised he would ask.

“i don’t want to make you uncomfortable, mr. zhongli–“

“don’t be ridiculous. come.” this is not normal. superiors are not supposed to be in the same bed as their secretaries. you’re not supposed to be in the same bed as your superior. nevertheless, he’s your boss. if he wants you to come closer, who are you to disobey?

you move closer to him, letting out a sigh of relief because theres much more space on his side of the bed. you hope it won’t be awkward at tomorrow morning’s meeting, and you hope no one catches you leaving his hotel room as soon as the sun rises.

your eyes open and the sun is rising. the sky is a pink-orange colour—the air is warm, but not too warm. you turn your gaze to your side and see zhongli, sleeping peacefully, and it hits you that you’ve never seen your boss like this. you’d just assumed that he never slept; such a workaholic he is. with his position, who has time to get shuteye?

you don’t realise he’s awake until he says something. you’ve been staring at him for a few minutes now.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer, miss y/n.”

you’re too tired to feel embarrassed, but the red on your cheeks show it anyway. “good morning, mr zhongli.”

“first time i’ve slept so soundly,” he smiles, “we should do this more often.”

zhongli was always blunt and straightforward, though it never bothered you. in fact, you admired that about him—something about the morning air and your boss waking up next to you stirs something in your chest.

THOMA was the shy classmate you always wanted to befriend. he was often seen reading books in the corner of the classroom, his head down and his eyes scanning pages. you were the popular kid, always being approached by those who are interested in you—but thoma was the only one who could catch your attention. you end up making friends with him, and spontaneously invite him on a trip outside the city. a small hostel was all you two could find, and even then, the prices were… outrageous.

“i could pay for two rooms, if you’re not comfortable.” you offered him, but knowing thoma, he’d probably decline and say—

“no, that’s a lot of money.” he shakes his head, “we came all this way. we still need money to head home.” of course, thoma was too sweet to make you do such a thing for him.

when you enter the room, you’re surprised to see only one bed. you’d just sleep on the floor, you thought—you dragged thoma out here, it would only be polite to do such a thing for him.

“so you wanna face the wall or..”

“what?”

“oh, you’re not sleeping on the floor, are you?” he questions, and you think he must be going crazy. what kind of guy asks a question like that? “we walked a lot today.”

your confidence is nowhere to be found now—with thoma, it’s hard for you to find the right words to say because you’re always so nervous; it’s a curse, especially during times like these. you decide to just suck it up for the night. thoma was a deep sleeper; and you knew this because of the train ride here—he was snoring so loud the whole cabin could hear him, and your pokes and shoves did nothing to wake him. it wouldn’t be much of an issue to sleep next to him, you hope.

it’s surprisingly easy to fall asleep next to thoma, his body warms the bed up and you find yourself inching closer to him as the hours pass—it’s comfortable, regrettably, but you can’t help yourself. it’s 4 in the morning when your head is buried into thoma’s shoulder, warmth encapsulating you; and the air is quiet until he speaks.

“it’s so cold tonight,” he’s complaining, though his tone sounds awfully happy, and you feel him hold your hand under the covers. “this hostel is so shitty.”

“isn’t it?” you’re smiling so hard you swear your cheeks are going to fall off. thank the stars it’s pitch dark in the room.

you wake hours later, thoma’s arm under your neck and holding you close. it’s no longer cold, you realise. you hear snoring in your right ear, and you’re once again thankful he can’t see your expression—a bright red.

4K notes · View notes

calmcoldevening · 10 months

Text

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

#slashers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelsire x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair

2K notes · View notes

rzyraffek · 1 year

Text

Slashers with housewife s/o

(She/her)(swf) I was writing it for hour and it didnt save tnere is a lot of dialogue this color is slasher talking and this one is s/o. Its mostly written for fun Request open

Thomas Hewitt

P r o t e c t

He is triple cousious with his victims now! He would not forgive himself if one of them hurt her! And I dont thinl s/o likes gore so dont go near basement hon pls

*tommy vibing outside* "Uhhh Tommy? Theres some guy in livingroom" 🤨😨

Even tho she is hausewife he is hausehusband so yall Just vibe while cooking and cleaning

The Micheal Myers

"Micheal make sure to wear something under this jumpsuit, its cold outside!"

S/o getting him a phone and texting him every second he's out

Please Micheal stop killing people in our livingroom, this carpet costs more that my kidney

Once he gave her a knife he stole from some girl that tried to Defend herself

I can imagine s/o texting him stuff like "at 5pm u better be home, i made your favorite food" he will speedrun to home, he loves food

Collector

*phone rings at 3am* "Honey why you calling me, im at work?" "ASA THERE IS HUGE SPOODER IN BATHROOM HELP I CANT PEE" "omygod not again"

Due to s/o being often home alone (he is busy man) she will probably find some sort of hobby?(obviolusly) I can see her learning how to do crocheting. LIKE IMAGINE: "Asa i made you this cute sweater Look!" (There are to ways he will answer that) option1: "yeaah thanks that suuuper cute will wear it for sure"(never wears it) option 2: "what kind of abomination is that"(will wear it at work)

Bonus points if the oomgomgomg IF SHE MAKES SWEATER WITH MOTHS ON IT OR COCKROACHES (you know the funny gif with spining cockroach?yep this one) HE WILL LOVE IT(secretly) He would love to wear it to work but Hes afraid of destorying it (No, because imagine Arkin living in hell and the guy that tortures him for months just cames in cute sweater with cockroaches on it)

Yaujta

"??? Mate u mean u want to stay here and take care of nest while I go out??? I mean sure? Eem take care??" Confused af, like in his culutre both partners Hunt and tbh theres non long lasting relationships, only to make babis so it is weird.

He wants her to stay by his side 24/7 so he will be grumpy

But idea of her making amazing food while he is out just for him is too good to pass

Especally if its made of foods that he hunt, brings him pride

Imagine learning him how to use fork "nono honey u grab it like that and stab the food. Nono gently nonoo oh noo *break plate* "why use that when im litteraly apex predator hon imma-*eats whole plate of food with plate*

Billy lenz

F o o d

He loves food she makes

She hangs out in house so its win-win.

He will hug her alot and try to take her attencion from whatever she does to him!!

"Billy go help me chop carrorts for dinner!" *billy speedruning from upstairs* "🥺whar are carrots?"

Brahms Heelshie

"Mmm :) " "Brahms stop staring at me and help me clean kitchen' "yes honey :("

He does not rule in this relationship

He may act intimitading but He is just a shy bean

He does not know how to food, he will try to eat uncooked potato while shes not looking mmm forbiden apples

Hush man

Hes into that, prefers his wife to be like that

He loves picking her up and runinning arond hause

No matter how long yall are into relaionship he will be nervous before any dinner u eat together or be so happy everytime he sees her after he comesback home

Found it in my drafts!

6K notes · View notes

sarahsartistportfolio · 4 months

Text

SAGAU: A Rumor Spreads

Forewarns: Female reader, real self indulgent shit, not cult au or imposter au, reader is a virgin, reader is soft and feminine, ok honestly this is straight up virginity kink I'm going call it what it is lol, Kazuha having a bittt of a corruption kink, Wanderer's section turned out really romantic? lol, this bit isn't 18+ but future chapters might be, Cyno on his knees for us👀, Xiao yearning hard,

AO3

Kazuha - Cyno - Xiao - Heizou - Zhongli - Childe - Wanderer - Maybeeee Lyney and Albedo

“Ei I’m thinking of planning a girls only getaway at an Inazuma hot springs? Would you and Yae Miko like to help me out?”

The two are immediately beaming and receptive to the idea. Any chance for you to spend more time in Inazuma is quickly snatched up. As you sit with the two lovely ladies, planning out who to invite, where to host the outing, you explain to them that you’d rather keep this event private. If word got around(especially to the other nations) that you were holding an exclusive get together in Inazuma(at an hot springs no less) you’re afraid some nosy guests might try to peep in on the conversation. The two swear to you they’ll keep their lips shut but as your invites go out rumors just tend to spread. Now every woman in the nation of eternity would love to attend this private get away, just to get an opportunity to speak to you their goddess one on one. And of course there are those with a little more devious intentions of seeing their beloved goddess in such an exposed state.

Oh and of course once the word gets around to the boys, the absolute disappointment on their faces plus the swirling curiosity. A trip with just the girls? What will you speak about that you don't want any male ears to hear? Is it about them? Are you going to speak about them in private?

(Heizou not so subtly asking Sara what was said on this trip. Thoma sneakily listens in to conversations any of the women have on the estate that even mention your name. Itto loudly and desperately begging Shinobu to tell him where you are holding this outing so he can just, you know, not subtly spy on your conversations.)

Despite the rumors still floating around, you follow through with this little getaway plan. With extra reassurance from Yae Miko that if she catches any peeping toms she'll be sure to zap them.

And despite some of the girls being more nervous to be so up close and personal with you, others are just jumping at the chance to see you so laid back and vulnerable. And the steam from the hot springs just seems to melt away your walls, as the night goes on you find the conversation drifting to…romance. You tell Yae Miko how you love to write sappy cheesy romance novels and she’s more than happy to give some of your rough drafts a read. You playfully start to run your hands through Kirara’s damp hair just to hear her purr and now suddenly Yoimiya is asking “Me next! Me next!”

It isn't until you sheepishly say “Ah well despite writing about romance a lot I’ve never actually been in love or slept with anybody.” that an audible pause washes over the group. The deer scare making a loud echoing “clink”.

Now they all begin to coo and question you.

“There’s no way no one hasn’t fallen head over heels for your Grace yet?! You must be like thousands of years old, surely you’ve stolen someone’s heart” Yomiya loudly proclaims.

“Aww so you’re saving yourself for your one true love, how cute.” Yae Miko insinuated.

“When you say it out loud its embarrassing-”

“Has anyone caught your eye yet your Grace?” Sara asks a bit too calmly as she and Ei eye you down with anticipation.

The girls continue to grill you with nosy questions “What’s your ideal type?” “Do you prefer men or women more?”

And you answer them with giddiness, happy to spill your life long dreams of getting married and having a family of your own one day.

“Ah, so you desire to get married and become a mother?...” Yae Miko vocalized aloud, wondering what this would mean for the whole of Tayvet.

“I know it's a silly little dream of mine…”

“It's not silly at all, your Grace!” Yomiya cheerfully chimes in. “If you have your heart set on someone let me know and maybe I can set up a huge fireworks display that spells out I love you.” She giggles and Kirara nods in agreement.

Thanks but I don't really want anyone to play matchmaker…

The rest of the night goes on with laughter and drinks. The women feeling blessed to see this vulnerable side of you. You assume the conversations you had with the ladies will remain private but…it seems like someone has loose lips.

Soon days after the trip, rumors start to pop up.

“Ah didn't you hear our dear goddess is still a virgin, as pure as a lily kissing the sun’s rays for the first time.” “I aspire to have the same chastity as her.” “I heard she’s specifically looking for a husband because she wants to have kids.” “Surely if she chooses a man from our nation that means she’ll permanently reside here right?”

When you meet up with Venti again he’s a little more gleeful than usual. And when you part to say goodbye he leans in, eyes close but you abruptly stop him with a hand covering his mouth.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to kiss you before anyone else does.” He says with disappointed eyes, voice still muffled by your hand. When you allow him to speak more it's then that you know. Somebody in at that hot springs squealed.

And there’s no stopping these nosy rumors once they start going. What happens when they reach the ear of...?

524 notes · View notes