#carmen soares

[elizaleclerc]

intertwined, sewn together 🌊

lando norris x reader

summary: fem reader & lando share a sweet day w friends on a yacht <3

song: not a lot, just forever by adrianne lenker

author’s note: love this sm my heart ugh!! fluff & cute summer vibes. kinda grumpy x sunshine ; allusions to a bad childhood <\3

word count: 1.8k

You reclined on the plush deck of the yacht, basking in the warm rays of the sun as they caressed your stomach. The smell of sunscreen and tanning oil lingered in the air, leaving a sticky sheen on your skin. You relished these lazy days on the yacht, surrounded by your friends Lily and Carmen who chatted animatedly next to you.

Lost in the pages of your book, you barely registered their conversation as you lay with one elbow propped on the ground and the other hand holding the book, using it as a shield against the bright sun. However, your peaceful reading was interrupted by the rowdy boys behind you. Alex, George, Charles, and Lando were engaged in a game of cornhole, their shouts and cheers growing louder with each round. Their competitive banter blended with the sound of the cornhole sacks hitting the wooden board, making it difficult for you to concentrate on your book.

With a deep sigh of frustration, you carefully placed the book down and turned to your friend Lily, who was sitting next to you on the deck of the yacht. The sound of raucous laughter and shouting from the boys had grown increasingly louder, making it difficult for anyone else to carry on a conversation.

"Could they be any louder?" Carmen asked, her voice barely audible over the noise.

You nodded in agreement, “I know right, it’s like they are the only ones on the damn yacht.” You turned over, and, now laying on your stomach, you propped yourself up on your elbows and watched the boys play.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to Lando, his intense focus on the game evident in the way his brow furrowed and his arms swung the sandbag with ease. You couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he moved, his muscles flexing with each throw. His fingers ran through his messy summer curls, adding to his charming and carefree appearance. He was perfect in every way, and just knowing he was yours made your heart soar with happiness.

Lily and Carmen resumed their conversation, still reclining on their backs. You found yourself growing quiet, a natural state for you. Your introverted nature preferred observing to actively participating in conversations.

As a child, this led to struggles in making friends. Some labeled you as mean, but the truth was that you simply had little patience for most individuals. Your shyness was often viewed as a weakness and your silence as threatening, but slowly you emerged from your shell. Childhood experiences had left you with deep scars, ones that most people could never imagine. For a long time, you kept these memories buried deep within, trying to forget they were real. But then Lando came into your life, and he helped unravel all the pieces of you that had been hidden away. He didn't run away or judge you; instead, he loved every part of you as if you were made just for him. And because of him, you met others who saw and appreciated the real you as well.

That’s why you loved these people on the yacht. Not just Lando, who you’ve been dating for three years now, but even his friends and their girlfriends. They were lively at times, but they could be calm and relaxing too, having real and deep conversations. When you started dating Lando, they welcomed you with open arms, and the group quickly felt like a newfound family, one that you desperately needed. 

Lando was sunshine personified. His deep, rich laugh was infectious, bringing out the same pure happiness in everyone around him, including you. You couldn't help but notice how his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he laughed so hard that tears formed in his eyes. And with his perfectly tanned skin and light brown hair, he looked as if he had been sent down from the Sun itself just for you to love and for him to love you back even more fiercely. His genuine empathy and understanding towards your struggles made it feel like he could see right into your soul, and his persistent effort to get to know you only further solidified your growing feelings for him.

The two of you truly seemed like opposites, but everyone around you saw how much love was between you and Lando. As you watched him play cornhole, a small smile spread on your lips. It was inevitable, Lando seemed to just have that effect on you. 

“Lando, looks like you’ve got an admirer,” Charles shouted to him as he must have caught you staring. Your face flushed, even more so with the sun beating down. Lando caught your eye, shooting you a wink. 

“Good, I’m on fire! Best game I’ve played yet.” Lando proudly proclaimed, which made you grin even more. 

Carmen turned on her stomach now to watch along with you. “George, baby, how are you doing?” She asked him. 

Lando was the one to respond though, “Oh, he’s playing like shit. You better take his place.” Everyone bursted out into laughs, everyone except George, who always got slightly offended at jokes made at his expense. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” George sighed with a wave of his hand. “Let’s play another game, I’ll beat you this time.” 

“That’s what you said five games ago,” Alex laughed, which caused the guys to break into another fit of chuckles.

You were enjoying watching them play, but as the sun beat down on your skin and sweat began to form on your brow, you knew it was time to take a break. Walking over to the cooler, you grabbed a cold bottle of water and some freshly cut strawberries. The icy liquid provided instant relief as it cascaded down your throat, while the juicy sweetness of the strawberries left a refreshing aftertaste. 

Feeling rejuvenated, you made your way to the edge of the yacht and settled into the welcoming shade. As you gazed out at the vast expanse of ocean before you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of tranquility wash over you. The rhythmic lapping of waves against the boat and the gentle breeze caressing your skin were soothing in a way that only being on the ocean could provide.

Lost in your thoughts, you reached for your book and lost yourself in its pages. The sound of laughter and splashing from your friends faded into the background as you immersed yourself in the fictional world within. Time seemed to pass quickly as you turned one page after another, until you noticed the sky beginning to change color. A soft orange glow now painted the horizon, signaling that sunset was near.

You moved from your spot on the yacht and went back out to see what everyone else was doing. Lando was laying out on a large sunbed, clearly exhausted from his hours of playing cornhole. As you looked around, all of the boys were laying out too. You couldn’t find Carmen or Lily, but you assumed they were still trying to soak up the last bit of sun they could for the day. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” Lando smiled as you approached him. You stood beside his sunbed as he kissed the top of your hand. “Where did you run off to?” 

“I went to read for a bit. It was kinda distracting earlier when you and the guys were playing.” You explained. He motioned for you to cuddle up next to him on the bed. As you tucked yourself by his side, he smirked. 

“Distracting because I was so good looking?” He bantered and you rolled your eyes. 

“No, because you guys were being so loud.” You joked and he faked a frown. You smiled, “But you’re also very good looking.” 

He tilted your chin up so he could kiss you softly, taking in every bit of you and the strawberry taste still on your lips. As you laid your head back on his chest, he ran his fingers through your hair, playing with it lazily. “I love you a lot you know”

You traced your fingers along his torso and grinned to yourself, “Yeah, I know.”

“Good. Just making sure you don’t forget it.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his warm breath mingling with the soft breeze. As the sun began its descent towards the horizon, you both sat on the sunbed, watching the stunning display of colors in the sky. The vibrant oranges and deep blues blended together like a masterpiece, filling you with a sense of awe and wonder. Despite all the pain and suffering in the world, moments like this reminded you of the beauty and magic that still existed. You could feel the warmth of the cooling sun on your skin, leaving a subtle tan as it slowly made its way towards the horizon. The peacefulness of the moment was enough to lull you into a blissful sleep.

~

Charles propped himself up on his cushioned chair, and saw you asleep on Lando’s chest. “She knocked out, huh?” He smiled at Lando.

“Yeah, guess so. The sun makes her tired sometimes.” Lando replied in a low voice to try and not to wake you up. 

“You know, I never heard her say she loved you back earlier.” George remarked from the other side of Lando. 

“She doesn’t have to, I know she does.” Lando replied, which confused the guys. He saw their perplexed expressions. “You know it took her a long time to say it in the first place but…I’ve known her long enough to where I know it without her having to say it.” 

“I still don’t understand.” Alex piped up next to George. 

“I mean, cmon, what’s so hard to understand? You saw the way she watched me earlier. Her eyes said it all. And the other day when she peeled oranges for me without me asking? And yesterday, when we got home, she rambled to me about the book she was reading. You could just see the light and love in her eyes. She never used to be that way, not when I first met her.” Lando knew the other guys still might not get the full picture, but he remembered how you were before you guys started dating. He remembered how you would shut out the world and not let anyone in. He knew that you used to not express how much you liked things or even smile when you ate your favorite foods.

He knew you loved him, he knew it went without saying. You were his everything, and simply being nestled next to him, feeling the gentle rhythm of your breath against his side, was enough to make his heart swell with love. No amount of conversation could match the pure joy of watching you smile or hearing the sweet melody of your voice. The two of you were intertwined, sewn together as the perfect pair.          

[wannabeschyulersister]

sleepy berzatto

Part of you didn’t want to wake him up. He looked so peaceful as he slept. For once, the anxieties of the day couldn’t mess with him.

He was still in his work clothes. You could tell that he meant to just rest his eyes for a few minutes before he fell into a deeper sleep. He was supposed to pick you up from the airport when your flight got in.

You touched his head lightly brushing his hair away from his face. It stirred him awake.

“(Y/n)?” He mumbled. He felt like he was in a dream.

“Yeah, it’s me, Carmy.”

When the realization hit, Carmen quickly stood up from the couch stumbling a bit. He was clearly still half asleep, “Fuck! I fell asleep. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Baby. I didn’t mean to-“

You reached out to steady him, “Carmen, relax. Michelle sent a car for me. They didn’t want to wake you.”

He took a deep breath and pulled you closer to him, “I’m sorry.” It felt so nice to be in his arms after weeks of not seeing him.

“Don’t be. I made it safely. We’re together again. That’s all that matters.” You rubbed your hand soothingly on his back. You didn’t want him stressing at all during your visit.

“How was your flight?” He asked as you took your coat off.

“It was fine. I read for most of it. I had the whole row to myself.”

He grabbed your coat and went to set it on the hook near the door. When he joined you on the couch, he quickly captured your lips with his. Now that he was fully awake, he could show you how much he missed you.

“Three weeks is too long for us to be apart, Berzatto.” You said before he kissed you again.

“I’ve been goin’ crazy wishing you were here with me.” Carmen confessed.

“I have too. Sugar is probably tired of hearing how much I’ve missed you everyday.”

Carmen chuckled, “She told me that she’s always happy to have you around. You’re the sister that she’s always wanted.”

Your heart soared at his comment. It meant a lot that Sugar enjoyed your company.

“Mikey invited me to dinner at The Beef two days ago. I went and spent some time with him. Richie and Tina ate with us also.”

Carmen was a little quiet, “That’s-that’s nice”

“It was nice, Bear. I enjoy hearing his stories.”

He nodded, “I’m glad you had a good time.”

You touched his face gently, “When is the last time you spoke to him?”

He shrugged his shoulders a little, “I think three weeks or somethin’.”

“He told me that he’s really proud of you. I am too. I’ve always been proud but when I get photos of the stuff you’re creating, it’s a whole new level.”

Carmen smiled sheepishly. Before you, he wasn’t great at receiving compliments. He could hand them out easily but when it was reversed, he just didn’t know how to handle it. The longer the two of you were together, he was getting better at it.

“I couldn’t do any of this without you, (Y/n).” Carmen said softly.

“I’m so happy to be cheering you on. I wish I could come visit more but work has been insane and I barely got the time to come for a few days now.”

Carmen placed his hand on your thigh and rubbed his thumb against it soothingly, “I feel bad that you’ve been doin’ all of the traveling to make sure that we see each other.”

“There will be a time when you’re the one having to come to me. I don’t mind it right now.”

Carmen kissed your forehead, “I don’t deserve you.”

It tore your heart piece by piece every time he confessed that. You hated that it was a thought in his mind.

“Yes, you do, Bear. I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you. Until that day comes, I will continue to tell you until you finally believe me.”

You wrapped your arm around his midsection and rested your head on his chest. His hand automatically went to your hair. It was moments like this that he cherished the most. All of the stress and headaches were worth it for the moment to be sitting with the love of his life.

[thebearer]

Carmen finding out his partner didn’t tell him about an important milestone/achievement they achieved. It can be some academic/job performance they didn’t think to tell him due to being conditioned (family issues) to not celebrate their own achievements and not wanting to bother Carmy with unnecessary things. I imagine he isn’t pleased to find this out.

"Where are the flowers from?" Carmen hummed, finger trailing across the soft petals of the small bouquet on the kitchen table.

"Oh," You turned, watching him push the card attached open gently. "My coworker got them for me."

"Coworker?" Carmen's brow lifted, eyeing you carefully. "Should I be worried?"

"No," You blushed shaking your head. "No, I, uh, one of my projects got chosen to be in the big expo thingy, so she was just congratulating me."

Carmen paused, his body stilling, mind racing through the different things you told him- nothing about this. "Wait, you-you... That's amazing." Carmen grinned, hugging you tightly.

You blushed, shaking your head, trying to hide in Carmen's chest. "It's nothing, Carm..." You mutter.

"No, it's-it's amazing, baby. That's so great. Why..." Carmen almost didn't say it. He didn't want to. He wanted to let you have your moment and not ruin this, but he couldn't ignore that nagging in his head. The same question on a loop.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You cringed, body going rigid in his touch. "It's-It's nothin', Carm. I was just doin' my job." You mutter, pulling back but still refusing to look at him.

"Yeah, but you-you did better than everyone, and... Why are you bein'- hey, look at me- Why are you bein' like this, hm? What's goin' on?" Carmen's voice was gentle, eyes searching your features while his hands cradled your jaw, lifting your gaze to his.

You couldn't look at him, eyes darting away and down, anywhere but those blue eyes that begged for you to look at him. You couldn't. You felt entirely too vulnerable. That wasn't how things like this worked. You were supposed to get things like this. You didn't celebrate something that should be done, only criticized if you didn't get there. Or at least that's what was always hammered into your head.

"It's just... It's not a big deal, Carmen, it's my job-"

"-It is a big deal." Carmen's tone was firm, hands cradling your jaw. "It's a very big deal. Your project's being used at the expo? You worked so hard on it, and you deserve it, baby. Why aren't you excited?"

"I am." You huffed, the burn of tears swelling in your chest.

"Are you?" Carmen pressed, tilting his head to the side lightly. "Because you're not actin' like you are."

"I just- I-I am excited." You admitted with a shaky breath. "I'm actually really excited."

"You should be." Carmen pressed a kiss to your forehead, thumbs gliding over your cheeks soothingly. "I'm so proud of you. You worked hard. You deserve it, y'know."

Your chest filled with warmth, hiding your face in Carmen's shirt, inhaling the familiar scent of his spicy cologne, faint smells of herbs and spices mixed with the smoke from his spirits. It was overwhelming to your senses but it was Carmen. Carmen was proud of you. It made your hear soar hearing the words you never got to from the ones you wanted most.

The next day, an even bigger bouquet was on your desk. Obnoxiously large with a note attached.

Congratulations. You amaze me every day. I'm so proud of you.

Love, Carmen

[daysofyellowroses]

beef

carmen berzatto x reader | 900 words | based on this very lovely request | no real warnings, just pretty damn cute if i do say so myself 🫶🏻💗🌼

In the sanctuary of your own thoughts, you can admit that when you were first getting ready to plan your wedding with Carmy, you were..nervous. 

Not because you didn't want to get married, you were over the moon when Carm proposed. It felt like the perfect next step in your relationship, and being engaged was such a wonderful feeling. 

But of course, you had to begin wedding plans eventually. Suffice to say, when you have a fiancé who's prone to stress and panic attacks, planning the biggest day of your lives is never going to be easy.

Except..it was?

Okay, it wasn't entirely 100% smooth sailing but for the most part..it was actually enjoyable. 

Maybe it was something to do with you and Carm not wanting a typical huge wedding, maybe it was that everyone in your lives sensed the stress that could happen and stepped in to help. You liked to think it was a little from column A, a little from column B.

You were determined to keep things as close as possible to what you and Carm wanted, the plans you'd casually talk about while making dinner or relaxing on the couch watching TV.

Of course having your friends and family be involved was incredible, and you and Carm appreciated their support and ideas, but there were some nights you had to turn your phone on silent, unable to look at another suggestion for a venue, or dress, or a cake, or a DJ. 

As it turned out, you found the perfect location when you weren't even trying. It was a random weekday that you and Carm had decided to take off, wanting to switch off from everything for a while and just enjoy each other's company. At someone's suggestion, you couldn't remember which of you had said it, you ended up at the botanic garden. It was so peaceful and beautiful, and walking around hand in hand with the love of your life, surrounded by colorful flowers and laughing at stupid jokes and stealing kisses made your heart soar. That evening, when another venue was suggested, you and Carm both looked at each other before you replied that you'd already found the perfect one.

Food was obviously a big part of your wedding plans, and you weren't sure why you were surprised that Carm and the bear crew insisted they could take care of it. You had hoped you'd at least have Syd on your side, but you were forced to take a stand on your own. It wasn't that you didn't want them all making the food, obviously it would be delicious, it was more a case of..you wanted them to be involved in the wedding in a different way, not just to be working as they always did. 

You wanted them to be bridesmaids and ushers, to read poems and be in your wedding pictures. You wanted to dance with them all night, take shots, and stuff yourself with desserts. What you didn't want was for them all to be too exhausted to do any of that. In the end, you agreed that Carm could choose what would be on the menu, he just couldn't make it. One day off wouldn't kill him. 

The guest list was surprisingly one of the easiest parts of the wedding plans. You and Carm both agreed you didn't want to invite great aunts you'd met once as a toddler or your entire kindergarten class, so you settled on family and friends who you were actually close to and wanted to celebrate with. You ended up with under hundred invites, just, but it felt like a little victory.

The dress..was not your favorite part, if you were honest. The dream of walking into a store, finding a dress, buying it and putting it aside for the wedding was dashed quickly when you were dragged into several bridal stores. It was am experience, sure, but standing in your underwear while an old woman squinted at you before hauling a dress over you was not ideal. You didn't want some huge Disney princess gown, and you weren't going to spend thousands on a dress you would wear once. In the end, you found a dress on a random website one night, sending the link to Syd and immediately buying it when she said she loved it. $150 and with some sneaky tailoring it could be worn again, that was definitely a victory.

By the time you'd got your dress, the wedding seemed to be closer than ever. Spring had seemed so far away when you'd gotten engaged, but when the air felt warmer and the leaves were coming back onto the trees, you felt an excitement that it was really happening, you would wear the dress and stand in a beautiful garden in front of everyone you loved and tell Carm you would always be by his side. 

Because that was what it was all for. 

When you woke up at two in the morning in a panic that you'd forgotten to book a photographer/DJ/makeup artist, Carm was there to reassure you it was all okay, everything was under control. When you would be sitting on the counter listening to him tell you about his day, watching him smile to himself, when you would be laying on the couch watching TV and his hand would just gently stroke your arm or your waist or your hair. 

There was never a doubt in your mind about marrying him, and through all the planning, that was what you focused on. 

And when the big day finally came, you knew you couldn't have planned it any better when you were standing side by side with the man of your dreams, ready to take the next step.

[revivingcarmen]

This is my first post on this blog, hi! I am the author of "their latest encounter proves to be different" on ao3, and i want to revive this ship. Without further ado, this is a small one shot to get you all hyped :)

Carmen sat on the dumpy couch in Julia’s apartment, opening up her scarlet red laptop as they began to work with Player on their next caper. It looked like they were about to crack the code when the owner of the flat- Julia -sat promptly next to her, thighs touching as she quietly sipped her coffee as she watched a movie playing softly on the TV. Julia had no idea what she was doing to her. It took her VILE training and her innate resolve to not drag her hand away from her mug and place it onto her thigh. It was unbelievable that just sitting next to her made Carmen’s brain turn off like this, higher functions effectively non existent.

Internally, the super thief’s heart soared. She’d always had an interest in the agent, but never fully trusted her, like Zack or Ivy. But she was Carmen’s only hope as she lay slumped on her front door two days ago, battered from a scuffle with Tigress and precious vase in hand as she rested on Julia’s couch. Player had insisted that she stay there until her next caper, and Julia had opened her home to the thief. Because of that, Carmen’s interest only grew into something Ivy would call a crush. They watched Julia as she bustled around the kitchen, cleaning up after a meal they had shared together. Listened to the shorter woman’s rant on Roman concrete, and always paid her attention instead of dismissing her, like she had seen Devineaux do, too many times. Carmen finally regained function after a minute staring into her monitor and Julia glancing at her subtly. She placed a sun tanned hand on Julia's bare thigh and her eyes went minutely wider at the action. Carmen wasn’t ready to confess, but if she could keep doing this, she would hold her tongue forever.

[garadinervi]

Irene Abello, Soplo, (digital printing on fabric, iron sections), 2024, Unique [Photo: © Grégory Copitet. Courtesy the artist and Air de Paris, Romainville|Grand Paris]

Group Exhibition: Une mer de petites flammes: Irene Abello, Carmen Alves, Isadora Soares Belletti, Fernanda Morgan, Línea Recta, Joshua Merchan Rodriguez, Daniela Stubbs-Leví, Facundo Cerain Vazquez, Curated by Sebastián Quevedo Ramirez, Air de Paris, Romainville|Grand Paris, June 29 – July 20, 2024

[grahamcracklewho]

00. RED ROGUE.

a Carmen Sandiego (2019) rewrite.

tw (for the entire series): murder, death, mild gore, angst, obsession, ableism. i will add onto this as i go on. this series is DEEPLY redcrackle but includes ocs and reworked versions of characters, canon events, and etc.

my version of Black Sheep is deeply inspired by this beautiful art piece :)

posted this bc I want this fandom to be alive again. i love cs and hopefully this’ll make others love it too.

this is the prologue. ask/comment to be tagged for ch1 and more.

YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW CARMEN SANDIEGO TO READ THIS.

(I made this as understandable as possible to newcomers).

current (prolouge). next.

The smell of sea salt made Black Sheep scrunch up her nose as she took her hiding place crouched behind a large rock positioned by the island’s only dock, occasionally peering around it to check on incoming visitors. Though the golden sands and crystalline waters of the isle of VILE would’ve charmed any other, the sense of wonder it had brought her had long since faded, replaced by a perpetual sense of boredom.

The faint whirring of the engine of a boar caught her attention, and she cast the dock another glance. Black Sheep could just barely make out the silhouette of a boat on the horizon, the riding sun casting an orange glow onto VILE’s trademark black and green color scheme.

She grinned, glancing down at what she held in her hand: a red water balloon, filled to the brim. Someone was in for a nasty surprise, with that someone being VILE’s very own bookkeeper and number-cruncher: Cookie Booker. Black Sheep had gotten well-acquainted with her fury over the last couple years.

The sharp click of Cookie’s heels against the wooden dock made Black Sheep snap out of her reminiscing. She reared her arm back, taking aim. This was the only enjoyable part of her year, and she wasn’t about to mess it up.

Wait. Cookie was getting closer. Wait…

Now!

Black Sheep swung her arm forward, grinning widely as she watched it soar through the air and meet its target with quite the splash—Cookie’s luxury-brand coat, now soaking wet. Cookie took one look at her coat and her face grew as red as the water balloon.

“Black Sheep!”

Black Sheep giggled as she ran away from the docks (and the victim of her unruly prank), only to suddenly collide into a heavy figure. “Ow!” She cried, rubbing her face, though as she looked up, a smile quickly formed. “Coach Brunt!” The woman was large and tall, with cropped green hair and fists that could’ve very well been made of iron. The coach was like a mother to her.

Coach Brunt didn’t waste a second, immediately enveloping Black Sheep in a sturdy hug.

“Morning, lambkins,” Coach Brunt said as she squeezed Black Sheep tightly, to the point of making her both smile and gasp for sir. “What’d you do this time, hm?” I can see that look of mischief on your face.”

Black Sheep managed a sheepish smile and glanced off to the side, seeing Cookie in her peripheral. Coach Brunt followed her line of sight and laughed when she saw the bookkeeper in wet garments.

“Ah, soaked Cookie again, did you?” Coach Brunt mused. “Well, I’d tell you to stop, but you’re just too darn cute to say no to. And, Cookie’s got it coming, anyways. She’s so damn snobbish.”

The coach rolled her eyes before grinning down at Black Sheep. “Up for a game of dodgeball? I’ve got a fresh batch of kiddos to break in this year.” She released Black Sheep, who wheezed as she was set back down. “You wanna help your mama out, lambkins?”

Black Sheep clutched her chest, rubbing a sore spot, but smiled. “Are you kidding me? Let’s do it!”

Aside from pulling pranks on Cookie, her other favorite pastime was watching VILE’s students train. They were taught to be master thieves, the very best of the best, able to simply take whatever shiny trinkets caught their attention. Black Sheep wanted to be just like them. But also?

She wanted to make Coach Brunt proud.

“Damn.” Black Sheep looked around the vast gymnasium, currently filled with people that were a mess of flailing limbs and stumbling feet. “They’re not very good at this.”

Coach Brunt patted her back. “This is what most newbies are like, hon. They’ll have improved by the end of the year, and any who don’t get booted out. But, you’re not fully wrong, either. I think Bellum is accepting whatever idiots sign up at this point, because she wants more lab rats for those wacky experiments of hers.”

Black Sheep hummed noncommittally in response, thinking about how she was already so much better than the fumbling fools that VILE had taken in.

If only she could learn to be a thief already… but VILE only accepted students at a minimum age of eighteen. She was sixteen. Could she even last two more years without dying of boredom? Or… worse yet, being forgotten, if more skilled and experienced students came?

She gave the gymnasium another look over. It was no more impressive than it was before, and she felt a little sick this time.

“I’m gonna go real quick,” she said quietly. “Be right back.”

Coach Brunt gave her a quizzical look but didn’t question her as she ran off.

Black Sheep slowed down to a stop once she could no longer hear the chatter in the gym, but scowled to herself as silence flooded in instead.

VILE’s halls were cold, hard and empty. Its students were what breathed life into it. She hoped to be one of those students one day, but with each passing hour, her patience was slowly being whittled away. She wasn’t sure she could wait anymore.

As she dragged herself down another long, white corridor, she noticed how shiny the floors were. That was a clear sign that Vlad and Boris, VILE’s janitors, were nearby. Her face lit up. They were always fun to talk to, mainly because they were too exhausted to get annoyed at the pranks she tended to pull on them.

“Vlad? Boris?” She called as she rounded a corner.

Instead of seeing the familiar pale-skinned, dark-haired janitors, however, Black Sheep came face-to-face with a stranger. It was a young boy, around her age, with ghastly pale skin and stark white hair.

Startled, she jumped back, frowning as she scrutinized him. “Who are you?” She demanded, eyes fixed on this odd new person. A piece of cloth was tied around his eyes, acting as a blindfold. He held his hands up, the motion stiff and defensive.

“My name is Zircon,” he said carefully. “My uncles work here. Please, don’t be rash. You can identify me with staff. I have clearance.”

She squinted at this so-called Zicron. “Are you a student here?”

“No.” Slowly, he lowered his hands. “But I hope to be. I’m applying next year.”

“How old are you?” She pushed.

“I—“ he looked slightly offended, but caved. “Sixteen.” Holy cow, he was the same age as her! “Like I said, my uncles work here. I have a good word in with the faculty.”

Black Sheep suddenly had a lightbulb moment. Surely, if the faculty was considering having this random as a student, they’d also consider her, right? After all, she had lived on this island all her life, and had proven to be a skilled pickpocket already. She had the right to cultivate her talent.

“Hey,” she said. “How’re you gonna, like, convince them that you’re a good pick for next year’s class?”

“…Well, I’ve already pitched my case to faculty. It’s in their hands, now.” Zicron shifted a little, looking uncomfortable. “Is that enough information for you? Frankly, I don’t appreciate being interrogated.”

Slowly, she straightened herself. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Yeah, it is.”

Zicron relaxed. “Alright, then. Nice meeting you, uh…?”

“Black Sheep,” she supplied. “That’s my name. Coach Brunt gave it to me. You know, the faculty member.” She probably didn’t need to boast, but she was in a good mood. “You’ve heard of her?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said. “You’re the one that was found as a baby on the side of a road in Argentina. You’re practically famous in these halls.”

Doesn’t ever feel like it. Still, she managed a smile. “Thanks. Guess I’ll see you some other time, then.”

“Guess so. Bye, Black Sheep.”

She smiled to herself, brushing past him as she walked away. “Bye-bye, Zicron.”

Black Sheep strolled to the library and made sure that no one was in the vicinity before she raised her hand, glancing at the stolen ID she held between her fingers, Zicron’s name glimmering in silver letters. She brought it up to the light, peering at it closely.

“Vlad and Boris’s nephew, huh?” She murmured. “Interesting.” Another word caught her attention.

Medical Issues: albinism; blind.

Blind.

She scoffed under her breath. How would anyone disabled, much less blind, ever make for a good thief?

A shame. She slid the ID into her pocket. I won’t be seeing him again next year.

[lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber]

I’ll see you in the stars

——————————————-

pairing -> carmen berzatto x m!oc

trope -> oh so much angst. angst. Devon has a panic attack. hurt/comfort, maybe some ooc Carmen?? but mostly ANGST

word count -> 2,220 (writer’s block kicked my ass on this one)

warnings -> panic attacks

part one -> here

——————————————-

The Uber from Carmen’s apartment was the longest car ride Devon had ever been on. It wasn't that he didn’t like Carmen, he just didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know what he felt at this point. He didn’t know why he grabbed Carmen’s hands so suddenly. There was just something about the chef that had taken hold of him. He needed to do something. There was something about Carmen that made him feel. The thing was, he had never thought these thoughts, felt these feelings. This mix of colors, this mix of numbers, this constant sound of Carmen making the dinner that had made Devon feel sick. Maybe he should have told him that he was allergic to pecans. 

Leaning his dark curls against the window, he silently wished he had asked Carmen to take him home. That would have meant that he could have had more time to pick apart every detail of his face, every detail of his hair, everything about him was fascinating. Everything about him had pulled Devon into loving a man who would never love him back. He had looked so uncomfortable back in his apartment. Maybe he had overstepped? Maybe he had done something wrong. Devon started to play with his fingers as he spiraled. He had taken it too far. He had misread the signs. Maybe Carmen was just being nice. Maybe he had done something completely wrong. Oh god, did Carmen hate him? Was he going to be fired? He couldn’t lose this job. He just couldn’t. He’d call in sick tomorrow, he’d call Sydney, Sydney knew how he felt about the head chef. Sydney would tell him if Carmen was mad at him. He never had the nerve to actually get into confrontations. He shifted in the Uber. Everything smelled like Carmen. Oh no. He ran his thumb along the edge of his coat. Oh no. He had been one hundred percent sure that this was his coat. That’s why everything smelled like the elusive Berzatto. It was his. It was his coat. It was his scraps of paper in the pockets. It was his discarded used tissues at the bottom of the inside pockets. He cringed at the thought but he sunk his head down into the collar of the coat and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the man he wished he could call his lover. Somehow, even with Carmen so intimately close to him, he was even farther. Devon needed to either get away or do something big. As he mulled it over in his brain, he found himself at a problem. He couldn’t take the chance for fear that he might lose the man he had learned to love over the months, that he had learned to care for, that he needed to give his heart and soul for or else he felt he hadn’t done enough. He needed to give his all or else he felt that he was unfulfilled. Somehow, it felt unhealthy but something about it was perfect. Like they needed each other. Devon needed to give his all or else and Carmen was convinced that no one could love him the way he needed to be loved.

Now on opposite sides of town, two men’s minds were one. One was hurriedly cropping vegetables and putting them in sealed containers and one was sketching his lover for the twentieth time. Carmen was trying to get his mind away from the British boy but every whiff of cinnamon reminded him of that laugh, of that chocolate hair, of that soft looking skin. At this point, Devon didn’t know what to think. Carmen didn’t seem like boys, but sometimes people fly under the radar. He hadn’t reacted to any of Devon’s signals so maybe he wasn’t, but he had seemed much more comfortable around him than really anyone else. Devon’s heart soared but like Icarus, flew a little too close to the sun and came crashing down when he realized that Carmen might just see him as a best friend, or worse, family.

Not that being someone’s chosen family was bad, it was just bad for his chances. He had gotten this treatment too many times. Devon was sitting on my kitchen island in his small apartment that he had bought with the money he got because he had gotten a scholarship to culinary school so that meant he had some money left over and that meant splurging on getting a kitchen island. His parents had thought of all of the wonderful things he would cook on that kitchen island but all Devon saw was a really hard, cold place to sit and draw. Perfect. His parents had never wanted him to be an artist, but he was pretty ok at it after practicing in his free time. He was not one of those amazing people you see on the internet but he had gotten good at drawing specifically one thing. Carmen Berzatto. His sketchbook that he had bought with his first paycheck from the Beef was filled up with sketches of the blonde chef. One after another. Pages filling up. By next week he would need a new sketchbook and this one would go in his pile of sketchbooks that held his love. Each devoted to the man who would never love him back.

Somehow this made Devon feel worse. He needed to do something. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, but that could just be propped up to his anxiety induced insomnia. He kept needing to ask someone how one would pick up a prescription in America, but he felt like he’d be a burden to actually ask. He picked at his fingernails as moonlight streamed in through the window of his apartment. He hated the word apartment. It just sounded so janky. It sounded so industrial. Like it was a shipping container that cost too much money. Flat will always be a better word for this box he lived in. He wondered if he would ever start thinking about an apartment as not just, house but home. Maybe that only happens when you’re in love. Being in love sucks. Especially when it’s with a straight boy.

The Beef always smelled good in the mornings. There was a golden zone of time where Devon could slip through the packed area and smell all of the good, savory, delicious food cooking and then he was proverbially locked away in the bakery section with Marcus. Not that he didn’t like Marcus, Marcus was his man. Marcus knew about who Devon was and why Devon never ever called out sick, never showed up late, always went above and beyond, never wanting to be on Carmy’s bad side to the point that the British man would just blend into the wallpaper so well that no one ever noticed that he was leaving the conversation. This particular day, Devon was quieter than he normally is. Holding Carmen’s coat with one hand, he maneuvered like a master. He slipped past everyone and dropped his bag and the coat inside a little nook he had made a while ago. Almost everyone knew how Devon looked at Carmen. Today, Marcus was having none of it. 

“Alright. If you’re not going to tell him, I will.” His voice was hard and full of frustration. Everyone had seen how Devon burned his heart alive like a martyr. Putting himself up on a pier for all to see how he felt and the only person not paying attention was Carmen. The only person who ignored the flames. The only person who couldn’t smell the smoke. Somehow oblivious to heat coming off in waves from the blaze that was fueled by seemingly unrequited feelings. Something in Devon wanted to be braver. To actually tell Carmen how he felt. 

During his break, he would usually sit and smoke but today he was scaling a fire escape close to the Beef and thinking about Carmy. Today’s spiral was thinking about how Carmen would hold him. He knew that it would never happen if he never said anything and even if he said something, there was still that overwhelming possibility of Carmen not liking him in the same way. Oh but just to dream of waking up to a mess of blonde hair peppering kisses to his body. Oh just to be able to wrap his arms around his lover and hear that laugh that Carmen only gave him. Oh to be the object of Carmen’s desires. He dangled his feet until Sydney hit his foot with a stray orange. No one needed oranges, so this was Sydney’s wake up call for Devon. 

That meant that he would have to go back inside. He felt like he was about to crumple. Like something inside him couldn’t go back. Nothing bad would happen but he just couldn’t. His vision started to get darker around the edges. His breath started to quicken. He needed to not be here. Oh god did Carmen hate him? Would their friendship be ruined if Devon told Carmen that he loved him? Devon clutched at the door frame, trying to stay a float as his mind was tugging him ever downwards. He couldn’t drown. He needed to live. He needed to survive. If only just to see Carmen be happy. No matter what it took. He could tell he wasn’t ok but right now all he was focused on was not making a scene. It felt different than usual panic. Like his chest was imploding and his hands were going numb. He was slowly having a panic attack. He hated these. With a burning passion, but there was no way of solving this one. Too risky. If only it was all simpler. If only he could find solace. Right now though, all he needed was solitude. He looked on edge as he slipped past everyone. Every person he passed gave him that look that asked if he was alright and his quickening pace was making it painfully obvious he was not alright in any sense of the word. All the same thoughts kept repeating in his head. It was agony. It needed to stop. 

Little did he know, Carmen wasn’t having the best time either. He is pacing and thinking aggressively about where his jacket is. He knew he had it on him when he was with Devon the night before, but he had gotten swept up in Devon’s perfect brown curls and Devon’s perfect amber eyes, all the freckles that smattered across Devon’s face. Everything about him was adorable and Carmen just couldn’t deal with it. Carmen didn’t even know that right now, Devon was curled up in a ball, hiding from every fluorescent light that was just too bright. He hugged Carmen’s jacket close in a moment of weakness. It smelled like Carmen and that’s what he needed. He didn’t even process Carmy’s footsteps that were getting closer and closer. Another thing that Devon hadn’t noticed was that he had started crying. Carmen could hear the small sobs and made a B-line for it. No one else was here but he knew Devon usually promised to clean everything up for a bit more money so he knew who was crying immediately. He found Devon and dropped to his haunches. 

“Dev, you ok? What’s goin’ on? What do you need?” Carmen’s voice was soft. Strange but not bad. Carmy let one of his hands tilt Devon’s chin as the other tugged the edge of his apron up to wipe off Devon’s tear stained cheeks. He looks so miserable and scared. Carmen sat on the floor with Devon. They didn’t say a word but Carmy tried something. He let his hand fall, palm up. An open invitation. An invitation for Devon to do something. After Devon laced their fingers together. He started to tear up worse. 

Carmen pulled Devon’s head onto his chest and let Devon cry into the white material of Carmen’s white t-shirt. Usually he never let anything stain this but right now, his usual ball of british sunshine was not shining the same, and he cared about that more. 

“I- I’m so sorry, mate. I-I’m making a big deal out of ev-everything.”

“You’re not. This is probably a very good reason and I will let you cry into my shirt for-“ He held Devon’s face, catching some of Dev’s tears on his palm.

 “-as long as you want.” Devon was close enough for Carmen to kiss Devon’s forehead. He couldn’t. He might be overstepping boundaries. He needed something to break. Something to burst. He took Devon’s face in his hands. His usually rough lips planted a small, gentle kiss on Devon’s forehead. 

Their foreheads touched and in an instant. Everything was sweet. Soft and warm. Comforting.

Right.

It was like a flash bang. If anyone asked, neither of them would have known you started it, but after the metaphorical flash of light, their lips were connected. It wasn’t hard and needy like regular lovers who had pined over each other for months on end but no. It was easy. There was no need for extra pressure. It was a kiss of reassurance. There was something calming to it. Something perfect. Something that both of them badly needed right now.

——————————————-

a/n: holy shit. this took me too long. please reblog and comment and like as it helps me know you like what i’m doin :]

@red-write-hand @birminghamshelbyboys @pinguwrites @forgottenpeakywriter @atsv-enthusiast @hanawrites404 @runnning-outof-time @no-fooking-fighting @no-1peakyfan @hllywdwhre @floralcyanide @cilldistilled @stridingseer @darlingsfandom @mrkdvidal1989 @lunavelha @aphroditeslover11 @henrywintersdearestgirl @thatwitchybitch420 @classicsandfantasy @marilynmonroefanfics @ninja-potato-shelby-solomons @scorpinelle @chellyrps @maxwell-demon @atrwriting @cassius-casim @atsv-enthusiast @answer2jeff

[currymanganese]

Psst! Hey kids, wanna read a fluffy 'early days of an established relationship' Sydcarmy fic? I wrote a prequel/continuation of my first fic.

AO3 Link here:

Carmy hovered above Syd, gingerly resting on his forearms, his hands flat on the bed and bracketing her face on both sides. He hummed in satisfaction while they kissed, and came up for air after gently releasing her bottom lip from between his lips with a soft popping sound.

He leaned his head in close to hers and whispered right beside her ear, "Syd, when were you gonna tell me you taste so good?"

Syd cringed, looked halfway between deeply happy and deeply disturbed at his comment, half-heartedly swatted at his chest, and squeaked out between giggles, "Shut the fuck up! Get off of me, get off of me right now!"

"No."

Carmy smiled and ducked his head down and noisily kissed her left clavicle three times as he gently trailed the skin over her ribcage with his fingers. Eyes aglow with love and lust, he looked up at her and almost crowed in a voice thick with emotion, "Syd you are so fucking pretty, how do you do it?"

"What like, do you want skin care tips? 'Cause I think giving up cigarettes would be like winning half the battle for you...." Carmy and Syd held each other's gaze for a moment as he shook his head slightly, before Carmy sighed wistfully and murmured softly, "You know I really love it when you call me a dumbass, I'm almost there again, so keep going please."

Syd's eyebrows leapt up towards her hairline and she could no longer smother back her laughter, "Naw, Carmy you need to get up off of me, I'm serious! I can't take this, it's too much!" They both fell into a loud fit of wheezing, tittering laughter and Carmy reluctantly obeyed, easing off of her and moving to the side.

"But seriously though," he continued, "that first week you were staging was one of the longest weeks of my life. Uh, I kept telling myself Carmen, you're already broke as fuck, you can't get a C rating and risk HR violations at the same time."

Sydney smiled and wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively and baited him, "HR violations you say, do tell!"

He groaned, "Sydney..."

"Car-men," she replied in a sing-song voice, "I wanna know. I'm serious, tell me what was happening with you that week. If you do I'll tell you what it was like for me, I promise."

Carmy glanced at her shyly and drew up his memories of that terrible, awesome, week at The Original Beef of Chicagoland.

"You know when you first walked in...It took me a sec before I caught what you were actually saying, I just couldn't stop staring at you. You looked like a fucking angel."

"Okay, wow....." Sydney interjected.

Syd smirked at him, "So that's why you forgot about UPS? Or is it that you're more of a FedEx type o' guy?"

"Fuck! Syd, you have to let me live that down please, like just rib me for it for at least like a decade max..."

"No can do, my guy. My ego is soaring over this; it's doing wonders for my mental health, now continue your story." Syd grinned.

Carmy groaned and laughed, whispered, "Fuck!" under his breath, and kept on going.

“Between the way you look, the way you called Richie out for being a fucking asshole...The business assessment and COGS breakdown you did and everything else...I had such a hard time not reaching out and-and, I dunno, holding your hand..Or telling you I liked your scarves, and that I loved your eyes...Or could I get to lick them sometime, they look sweet, you know?"

Syd's jaw hung open widely, a look of shock and terror on her face. Carmy bit back a smile and said, "Oh shit I said that last part out loud didn't I?" Syd tittered nervously in a frantic staccato, "Uh you know what Carm? I, uh, think-it's a time to for me go home, catchyoutomorrowm'kay?" and then she made as if to bolt from the bed before Carmy clutched at her wrist.

His laughter sounded just as nervous as hers, such a frank admission of his own horniness towards her threw him almost as off-kilter as it did Syd. "Shit, Syd, I'm sorry, I don't wanna scare you. I'll dial back the TMI okay?"

Syd paused and apologized, "Um, I'm sorry..You don't need to do that..You just.....Had my fight or flight response hella confused for a sec.....Uh, I can still feel the adrenaline surging through my veins actually."

They looked at each other as they valiantly tried to stifle back their laughter, to no avail. They probably had the neighbours incensed with the racket they made as their cackling ricocheted off the walls.

Syd eased herself back into bed and laid beside Carmy again. After a moment of contented silence, she held his hand and sighed. "I dunno about fiending to lick your eyes and shit, but I was crushing on you too back then actually.."

"Awwww, baby!" Carmy clasped his hand to his chest and somehow managed to flush a deeper shade of scarlet than all the laughing and lasciviousness already had him.

"I know right?" Syd shook her head, "You know I looked up to you even before we met, I read magazine write-ups on you when you won an award etc. To me you were a role model, how I wanted to be seen in this industry. You know, young, brilliant- like a fucking prodigy."

"Syd.."

"Okay, I know I'm laying it on thick, I'll stop. Relax!" As Syd smiled at him shyly, Carmy wondered to himself, "How is she so fucking beautiful and how the fuck do I keep her?"

"Uh, Carmy? You there?"

"Um, I'm sorry what did you say?"

"Nothing...Nothing, I dunno you just looked lost in the sauce for a bit there. Not that anything's wrong with that, given the context. I know this is a lot for you to take in, you've successfully snagged the eyeballs of your dreams after all-"

Carmy facepalmed himself and chuckled, "Syd, no! Fuck! I have got to stop giving you ammo!"

"You won't though. You can't help yourself around me. Keep it up though, I kinda dig all these unsolicited tidbits, they kinda make me feel more normal about myself."

Carmy's head darted up from his hand, "Syd, what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. So, um, anyways-"

“SYD!”

"Carmy! Let me finish talking about that week!"

"Syd, how can you just let something like that slip and move on? After giving me so much grief?"

"Uh, I dunno, watch me!"

"I hate you so much." Carmy grumbled.

"No you do not. You fucking liar." Syd punctuated her remark with an open and wet kiss sloppily applied to Carmy's lips. Carmy was mollified instantly and sagged against her, blushing and laying his cheek against hers.

"I'm sorry. Um. I don't hate you.."

Syd nuzzled her cheek against his and gloated, "Um, You think? Well, no shit Sherlock. Welcome to the club."

Syd cleared her throat awkwardly at the silent mutual admission of love and continued, "So yeah, I was already stoked at the possibility of working with you and then when I actually came in...Let me just say, you look better in person.."

"Awww, Syd! Is that a compliment?"

"Shut-up! I mean, don't get me wrong, you looked good in those magazine features, wearing your chef whites. But I dunno, something about you that week just did it for me." Syd's voice fell lower and lower until it was almost a whisper, and Carmy felt as if he could hear his brain frying away in a shallow pan-

"Your hair was all mussed," Syd continued softly. "You looked like sleep was a long lost relative to you, but you were fucking hot, you know what I mean? I don't know how you do it, but you really made the depression/bankruptcy/stress-glam work for you. I'm saying you're a fucking 10, and I'm not just saying that because I wanna fuck you a lot, again..."

There was a pregnant pause.

Carmy blushed and struggled to make eye contact with Syd, he could feel the weight of her stare and her affections, and frissions of wonder danced along his scalp and down his neck.

"Uh...thanks Syd." He finally choked the words out, no one had heaped so much praise on him in a given moment in his entire life, much less for his appearance – with a body which still made him feel as self-conscious in his 30s as he felt as a scrawny teenager who got shoved against lockers in school. He was at serious risk of crying there and then, he assayed to joke his way out of the tenderness of feeling instead.

"Uh..I'm glad you like what you see," he peered at her, "but, uh, if you need to see an ophthalmologist there's this guy that comes in regularly, we might get a nice discount-"

"Carmy shut up and let me kiss you."

"Okay..Alright.."

They did not get to sleep much that night. And in the morning, they split a slightly jazzed up pack of instant ramen for breakfast before they headed in to work.

___________________________

They had agreed to keep things professional at work and to not tip off the staff about their relationship too soon, not that they minded them knowing..They were like family after all, but they foresaw the way that the team would mercilessly clown them for leaping into a romantic relationship together. Before they came clean with each other and started dating, they kept up a diaphanous 'she's/he's just a friend' song and dance routine concerning each other for 2 years after they started The Bear, trotting that answer out anytime a team member commented that they'd make a nice couple, or that they'd be good for each other. They weren't dumb, none of them were, they all knew there was something unspoken between them eagerly waiting to flare up and out, blazing like the sun.

And so it was, that the promise that Syd and Carmy made to each other to keep their relationship status a secret at work died on the shift following their relationship's consummation. They just did not have the composure, the chill, to do what needed to be done when sworn to secrecy. When they passed each other something in the kitchen and their hands brushed against each other they grinned idiotically with their eyes shining. Carmy was blushing and blinking when Syd spoke to him, more than usual anyways...And Syd, gorgeous Sydney Eleanora Adamu was unbelievably relaxed and smug, so smug that Drake after the Toronto Raptors won the 2019 NBA championship had nothing on her.

She caught Carmy's eye during a lull and winked at him and Carmy hissed out, "Syd! Fuck!" before he waddled away seeking refuge in the walk-in. Marcus looked up at her and said, "Wait a minute..Did you two??" He motioned with his index finger between Syd and the direction of the walk-in. Everyone paused and listened at rapt attention to hear her reply...Carmy was quietly counting down from 100 in the walk-in, and hoping he'd look a little less red than veal, and felt a lot less aroused by the time he went back out.

And Sydney, Sydney, Sydney, smiled and said, "Wellllllllll." in a musical tone, she might have been imitating Brandy fucking Norwood, as she shrugged her shoulders. Chaos erupted, exclamations of, "I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT!" broke out across the kitchen before Syd shushed them. "Shut the fuck up, there's a few people still out front."

Carmy glided back out of the walk-in and stood a little aways from her, looking happily defeated. He heard the shouts of 'I knew it!' and knew that they could've only been talking about them. He was glad in a way, he had precious little guile in him anyways, not enough to keep up any pretence of acting like Syd wanting him back wasn't the best thing to happen to him in his life. Marcus shook his head smiling and said, "Aww congrats you two, I know how down bad your were for each other.." The kitchen team broke into sputtering laughter and buzzed with excitement. Tina went off to the office to summon Nat. Ebra had already fetched Richie.

Syd rolled her eyes and said, "Man, shut up!" while Carmy simultaneously thanked him. Syd looked at Carmy and said, "We are not on the same page right now, huh?"

"Well..He wasn't exactly lying you know." Carmy was starting to look a little smug himself. Syd shook her head at him and walked away. Sweeps congratulated her and dapped her up. Richie piped up, "It was about fucking time cousin! Too bad we didn't have a bet going."

"Richie! Ew, shut up!" Nat elbowed him aside as she breezed into the kitchen with Tina. Ebra asked how long they were together for, Tina and Nat gave Syd two crushing hugs, while Manny and Angel gave Carmy mock military salutes. The rest of the team smiled and nodded at Syd and Carmy. Nat gently squeezed Carmy in a hug and softly said, "I'm really happy for you Bear.." Carmy could only reply, "Me too, Nat. Me too."

All in all, things were not wildly upset by the rest of the staff being aware of their relationship. However, they did make hash out of cracking jokes at their expense for the next few weeks. Ebra spotted them eyeing each other with a particularly tender look once during service and said, to their mortification, "Remember, children, this is still a kitchen so no bodily fluids on the counters eh?" Carmy forgot himself once and told Syd, "Angel, can you pass that verbena for me?" Tina pounced on them during family later that day and slung her arms over their shoulders as they sat next to each other. She then played a snippet of Jon Secada's "Angel" on her phone whilst she sang along, dipping back and forth between the English lyrics and the Spanish version. Syd groaned and hid her face in her hands, "T! Please leave us alone!" as raucous laughter broke out along the table.

Carmy smiled and looked thoughtful though, he interrupted Tina, "T, you have an amazing voice, can we get you to sing at the wedding?" Tina shut up abruptly, paused the music and looked excitedly between Syd and Carmy, "Sure! When's it gonna be!?" Syd narrowed her eyes at Carmy and said, "Carm, you and me in the office, now." Wolf whistles and laughter trailed Syd as she stalked out of the room and Carmy told Tina, "I'll let you know as soon as I find out, if she doesn't kill me first."

When he entered the office Syd swung around to face him. She'd been leaning over his desk glancing at his phone that he'd left behind. A notification came in on it and had temporarily lit up the screen, Syd saw that he'd changed his lockscreen/wallpaper to a candid photo he'd snapped of her on their second date. She had an unguarded expression on in the image, her fork was raised to her mouth, her mouth hovered open mid-bite as she enjoyed a massive slice of cake they'd split for dessert. Facing Carmy, she crouched down slightly and feinted as if she was going to jab him in the side as he stepped up to her. Since she couldn't stay mad at him for long though, she clasped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. "You're really serious about this, huh?"

"Yes, I wanna marry you if that's alright." Syd sighed and hummed contentedly before looking up at him. "Well we might as well figure this out now, kids or nah?" A smile started to twitch on Carmy's lips, "Well, I always thought-"

At Carmy's clear enthusiasm on the subject Syd felt her entire body flush with heat and pushed away from him. "Um you know what, maybe this isn't the best time to talk about this, I'm sorry for bringing it up now-"

Carmy's face started to fall a bit before she rattled out a, "No! Carmy, I just mean let's talk about it when we get home tonight, okay?" Carmy nodded at her reassurance, "Good point, will do Chef." Syd swatted him on the arm and giggled and paused in alarm, as if she was seeing her lovey-dovey behaviour with Carm from a third party perspective. "Oh my God..I think I'm gonna make myself sick!"

Carmy folded Syd into his arms and mumbled into her shoulder, "No you're not, Chef. Don't get squeamish on me now, that ship has already sailed."

Pre-relationship prequel here:

[lenskij]

My cello teacher told me I should start listening to opera. He recommended I start with Puccini or Verdi. Are there any particular operas you'd recommend to start with?

Welcome to opera! There's drama, there's blood, there's crossdressing, vengeance, rivalries, love, and more drama!

There are as many opera opinions as there are opera listeners, and there is so much variety in opera. The most played operas are always a safe bet - there's a reason they're popular! - and it's a good place to start, pick something that tickles your fancy, maybe an intriguing synopsis or a composer you like.

If you want to start with Verdi, I recommend La Traviata and Rigoletto - both are beautiful and devastating in their tragedy. I like to listen to them when I want something familiar to bawl my eyes out at :) I think that's maybe the best place to start!

Another great "starter" opera is Bizet's Carmen. It's full of banger arias and tunes that are well-known even outside of the opera world.

If you want to check out Puccini, I'd recommend La Boheme or Tosca (with the caveat that I don't personally like Puccini operas hehe, they're just not for me).

And of course I cannot not recommend the best opera of all time (as judged by yours truly): Eugene Onegin by the one and only Tchaikovsky. I love it so much I can't even articulate why I love it. It's the inevitable tragedy caused by the characters' own actions, not from malice, but from who they are as people. It's how Tchaikovsky's music beautifully makes the drama soar. It will break your heart and you'll thank Piotr Ilyich for it!

Good luck on your opera journey! There's lots to explore. I mean, the operas listed above are all from the second half of the 19th century, which is just a narrow band of all opera history!

[dr-giggle-touche]

MY CARMEN SANDIEGO ESSAYYY/BIOGRAPHY note that this is just the base, I'MMA turn this to my teacher then she'll let us actually make it to an essay

Introduction Statement: The life of Carmen Sandiego, a glamorous life, the greatest chase.

Thesis Statement: Carmen herself had countless obstacles in her life, only benefitting the person she grew to be.

First Supporting Idea: The beginning of Carmen, a true mystery.

Born & found in Buenos Aires, Argentina, possibly in the 90’s.

She lived on an island, being carousel-cared for by 5 crime masters.

She started at the island’s crime school, VILE, while nearly graduating at the age of 16.

Second Supporting Idea: The life of a worldwide thief, “La Femme Rouge”.

In her early days, she gained her current crew of Zach, Ivy & Player.

She spent her life running from a worldwide anti-crime organization called ACME, soon even joining them for a short while.

Eventually, being kidnapped by her ex-caretakers to be made back into the criminal she studied to be

Third Supporting Idea: A world of red, hearts and minds changed by a coat and fedora.

Carmen’s known talent was to be a sneaky thief, yet using such quirk to benefit the world for good

She touched hearts to “fight the good fight” and changed, come of her ex-classmates/criminals, to leave that life of crime behind and be better

Her legacy remains as being a mystery, yet doing so much for her world by keeping valuable history safe

Closing Statement: My own opinion stands that, she is a true legend, a person to aspire to be, an inspiration

Reworded Thesis: Despite various hardships in her life, she’s stood her ground, her obstacles only assisting in her soaring life

[werdlewrites]

Those Two Words (Dean Winchester x OC)

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summary: He watched her, too. The way she floats through the home with a now sleeping baby in her arms, head just on her shoulder. She doesn’t make a sound, and even if she had, Eric was known to be a heavy sleeper. But it’s effortless - like she was made for this, despite never picturing her future with a child. Until it happened. And then it didn’t. warnings: small amount of dialogue, hurt/comfort/depression, miscarriage, Dean is a family man, AU? mentions of two OC's. This might be triggering for some wc: 4,075

There’s a light that flickers inside. A bundle of life to soar within your chest like thousands of butterflies to kiss your skin. It loves, forgives, and guides through this short journey left on Earth. It’s filled with beauty - something to never know pain or darkness, and yet it comes. Heartache penetrates this shimmer - wounds left behind as violent claws reach through your soul to tear it in two. There’s no peace, not even in grieving for the loss of someone you loved - or the loss of a piece of yourself. Time is the only ally, yet enemy all the same. Time brings distance from the pain, allowing wounds to stitch together with the hope of becoming whole again. Then the guilt comes - fallen from the tongue of someone unseen, yet buried in your mind. It calls you “selfish” and “unloving” as you move - not on, but forward. You allow fingers to pry their way through a healing light, and rip it open to bleed and create an ugly scar. A reminder of the hurt - the suffering.

The light heals but is weaker than it once had been. Tired from the time spent in recovery, yet strong enough to carry on - for you to carry on. It quivers and shakes as the memories come flooding in, yet you remain strong on two feet. Sometimes it falters - flickering in and out to leave its person in a daze, fighting to catch their breath or understand their surroundings. Like now, a mere two words rang out like a church bell in her ears. Yet, not of something to celebrate and praise, but rather, a time of mourning. Two words to lock her in place, mouth hung agape as she tried to understand..if she heard correctly. They trickle in like the start of summer's rainfall, until the pressure builds and breaks through the dam, dousing the light.

“I’m pregnant,”

She’s stuck in the dining room chair, hands splayed out over her knees - squeezing, though she doesn’t know it. All senses die as her life flutters and falls to the polished wood beneath her bare feet. Her best friend of a decade was pregnant - someone so beautiful, carrying a frail, tiny creature to call her mother. “Please say something,” Allison begs, voice warm and filled with sorrow for her friend - the color drained from the woman's face. She doesn’t seek a “congratulations” to come spilling out in the heavy quiet - more so forgiveness, for carrying a reminder inside of her belly, something her friend once dreamed of. The solemn eyes of the dying woman shift to intertwined hands to rest over her stomach, shielding this new spark from the cruel world it would soon face. She finds tears reaching just the corner of Allison’s eyes - weighed down by uncertainty and confusion. It’s then that her once darkened soul sparks with light again - in and out, sputtering until it brings her to stand from the chair, with Allison soon wrapped in a tight embrace. “I’m so happy for you,” she mumbles in the crook of the girl's neck - the only acknowledgment being a frantic nod of the head, untrusting of herself to speak.

Two words were all it took to remind Carmen of what she had lost.

Allison grew, and so did the threat against Carmen’s stability. She wore genuine smiles, though they wavered the moment curious eyes looked her way. “It’s not about me,” she tells him. Folding up the laundry with the help of her husband, who asks almost daily how she is doing with a little Winchester on the way. One that hadn’t been hers. “They’re bringing a baby into the world. It’s a beautiful thing,” she continues, packing away their neatly done clothes - a trait adopted after dating Dean for so long. All military and structure. “It doesn’t mean you can’t feel a certain way about it, y’know?” She hated these conversations - she hated the way it forced her to look inside at the damage done, to feel the pain as life slipped from her grasp. She lets go in the quiet moments, a bleeding heart spilling out into her partner's hands. He doesn’t try to push it all back in - to stop the flow with a firm hand on her fragile heart. Instead, he lets himself float within her misery - a moment of suspension for the two of them. To feel, see, and accept this reality. Dean holds her in the mornings, afternoons, and nights - never allowing her to feel lonely. Other times, she holds him. Fingers tangled through freshly washed hair as he lay over her emptiness, thumb soothing across the bare skin that once held life. She apologizes for failing him - for failing their baby, and he holds onto her tighter. “You could never fail me.” But soft words are buried beneath self-loathing. Carmen gives into his comfort, letting it wash over her to cleanse a tortured spirit. But it’s tainted, and beyond the help of sweet words.

Family dinners and game nights are hosted by none other than the expecting couple themselves. Meals were cooked with love and the table was cleared by the guests once dinner was finished. They would play board games from their childhood - or rather, from Camen and Allison’s childhood. The women would exchange sly glances with one another across the table, hidden smiles behind their hands as their partners sat in silence, plotting a course of action like they have for their entire lives. “What’re you lookin’ at?” Dean would spit out - a look of annoyance in his eyes. “Nothing,” she sighs out, a shit-eating grin still shining brightly beneath the dim lights. “You’re just..so pretty.” He scoffs, a light smirk seen just at the corner of his lips - doing all he can to not smile - to not give in to her. “I’m going t’be the God damn Pretty Pretty Princess if it’s the last thing I do.” “Not with that ring you’re not,” she gestures towards the black, plastic ring. It sits snug around his pinky finger, barely hanging on and ready to snap should he make a fist. While his brother adorns purple earrings, a child-sized ring, and a bracelet - nearly a winner of the game. “This is a damn joke,” Dean mutters to himself, finger flicking at the numbered board for his next move. The games go on for hours, it seems. Leaving everyone sleepy-eyed in the living room while they talk about nonsense. Dean catches sight of his wife leaning into her palm, pretending to listen to his brother while a hand lays idle over her abdomen - a silent admiration of Allison, and what it must all feel like. He laughs at his brother's jokes - a distraction to keep attention off of Carmen, while a strong hand slips its way through. Fingers tangle to pry her focus away from the loss, giving a squeeze of reassurance - and she returns the gesture with a softened sigh.

Eric Winchester is born at 1:10 AM, weighing seven and a half pounds - crying and screaming until he is bundled up in his cocoon of warm blankets. The tears are unavoidable - cradling his tiny body against her chest with eyes full of wonder and adoration. "He's perfect," she offers in a hushed tone, letting the boy continue to bask in his peaceful dreams. Dean watches with a softened smile, heart warming until it’s agonizingly hot - boiling and damn near killing him on the spot. His vision flashes white from the ache, thoughts, and words left scrambled and lost on his tongue. But Sam is with him - a comforting hand on his shoulder to let him know he is there for support should his brother need to fall. But he remains steady for her; his wife, who offers the newborn to his uncle with trembling hands. He doesn’t realize at the moment that he is shaking just as much, dismissing the kind touch to his hand as he accepts the infant with a dazzling grin. For a moment, it’s as if the bliss had been their own. Leaving the hospital in the early morning to find something to eat, and catch up on long lost sleep. Together, they swoon in the car - faces lit by the oncoming sunrise, skin kissed by the vibrant orange. The couple smile together, filled with love and happiness as they talk about this new baby to enter the world. How small his hands were and the puffiness of his cheeks. When the quiet comes, he finds Carmen’s gaze cast out the window, unfocused on their surroundings but doing all she can to bury the creeping ache. She wipes at the corners of her eyes with the back of her sleeve, and he steals away her hand to lay a kiss across the surface.

Nearly nine months have been spent in healing for the two of them since his birth. He becomes a focus - a beacon of light to drown out their sorrows. It’s when three words reach her ears that suddenly shift the tides, fighting against the familiar current. “Will you babysit?” It’s just like before - a disembodied moment, a disconnection. Her knees weaken and he doesn’t notice the way her fingers tighten over the edge of the counter. Instead, his gaze drifts away - flickering to take in the sight of anything that wasn’t her lifeless eyes. “I’m sorry, I just-” “It’s fine, Sam.” Her voice is enough to surprise her, crawling over the barricade lodged in the woman’s throat. “Allison’s parents are out of town, and..she really needs some fresh air,” he finishes with a nervous laugh, which in turn pulls her dull expression into something joyous. “She definitely does. Of course, we’ll babysit.” Hazel eyes fill with light, grateful, and understanding of what his sister-in-law has agreed to, knowing it may not be an easy task. And then, the day comes. It washes in like a dark, threatening cloud seen just over the horizon the night prior. It inches closer as time passes, waiting to douse her in its heavy burden. It casts a shadow just over her shoulder, while Dean’s carries a little less shade - a sign of healing, but unforgetting. Carmen gives in to the pull as she moves down the hallway, pushing a once forever sealed doorway open to reveal shades of forest green and plush carpet. Who knew a lively space could feel so hollow? A place meant to overflow with laughter left eerily quiet since the last photograph was hung. It shines in the daylight - rays streaming in from thinned curtains, not once feeling the breeze dance along its threads. So alive in the day. And as the sun fell, it took the light with it, stripping vibrance away to let the darkness in. Stuffed animals sat upright in their places - on the chair and shelving. Books collect dust - childhood favorites left untouched. The crib was still - no imprints or rustle of fabric to show it had been lived in. To show that it had loved, and warmed someone once upon a time.

The deer and other small wildlife stare outwards from the wallpaper, never having the chance to protect someone - but always seeking the opportunity. She remembers how much of a pain in the ass it all had been. Choosing decor to leave both soon-to-be parents happy, but especially the wallpaper. Sights had been set on the pattern, and she spent an entire day convincing a Hunter that it would be beneficial for the imagination. Dean caves with a kiss to the lips, proceeding to help apply it before an argument fueled by hormones ceases the process. Carmen spends her day in bed, surrendering the project to the brothers who take care of not laughing too loudly, fearful of the woman. She cries in the doorway, thankful for all they’ve done, and apologizes for being so emotional. And as Dean cradles her tired body, he studies the finished wall and confesses his newfound love for it. That was nearly two years ago, time flew by before she’d even had the chance to catch it. Spending hours, weeks, and months in mourning. He calls for her, voice booming from the living room as he slips on his shoes. It all happens so fast. She blinks, and suddenly she’s walking through her friend's doorway - ignoring the cloud to now hover just above. “Our movie starts at six,” Allison begins, nearly out of breath as she becomes frantic with organization and the lists she’s prepared. “And this is the name of the restaurant we’re going to after, and-” “Okay, okay,” Carmen cuts in with a laugh, grabbing at her friend's shoulders to spin her around, pushing the girl closer to the front entrance. “I’ve got it taken care of. I’m a big girl, y’know?” “I know,” her friend responds with a sigh. “I just - it never gets easier. Leaving. I feel guilty for-” There’s a heavy pause, meeting her friend's eyes as a hard swallow chokes her on the spot. “I - I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t-” Carmen leans in a little closer, expression unreadable until her lips twitch into a sly smile. “Get out of here. Go have some fun, momma.” Allison embraces her words, though with great reluctance before wrapping herself up in the other’s arms. “Thank you,” she mutters, slipping away into her husband's hold as they both move into the evening. “Don’t you dare let that woman come home within the next few hours,” she warns, pulling a hearty laugh from Sam’s chest. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

The littlest Winchester is already swept up in the adoration of the eldest. Barely speaking a word to his brother as he moved with purpose, finding the boy slouched as tiny hands slapped carelessly against the buttons. A cluster of sounds emitting from the plastic table, until they suddenly stop as Dean towers above him. Gleeful cries follow only seconds after, making attempts to pick himself up to pull at his uncle's jeans. But just as he tumbles onto all fours, Dean kneels down to his level, a pointed finger holding all of Eric’s attention. He watches in wonder as he reaches for the table, pressing down on a vibrant pink button to release a bright tune in the silence. Again, more delight shines on in sweet eyes. His joy was heard through squeals and giggles. “You’re too easy,” Dean states with a prideful look on his face. “C’mere, squirt,” he grunts, swiftly plucking the boy up from the ground to hold against his side. “We’re gettin’ up t’no good today, aren’t we?” Carmen has only just seen the other couple leave, locking up for the night until their return. She can hear the coos and plotting buried in hushed whispers just around the corner. “We’re stayin’ up late. We’re watching movies-” “Excuse me?” Carmen interrupts, finding her partner with a guilt-ridden expression, though he fights past it to appear confident - maybe even a little offended by her playful prodding. “Nothin’,” He blurts out, tucking the boy deeper into comfort. “We’re talkin’ business, okay? Big boy stuff.” Her face contorted, amused and disbelieving of his defense before reaching across the way to wiggle her hands between the two. “You’re not forcing him to watch Poltergeist,” Carmen chuckles, successfully stealing away the infant to kiss soft cheeks. “It’s a classic!”

The hours passed with ease, filled with vibrance, laughter, and some delicate moments where the other was simply too afraid to break the spell. Some of those moments being when Carmen overhead her husband encouraging the infant to speak. “Can you say, ‘Best uncle in the world?’” Eric would spit and babble in response, gnawing on his tiny fingers as his shimmering eyes looked elsewhere. “Well, that sucks. Because I’m your only uncle.” Or, when he watched her dance along the slick tile of the kitchen floor, all for the boy's entertainment as he sat on the other side of the baby gate. Eyes were wide, watching with amazement and sloppily clapping his hands together every time she did a dramatic spin. Other times, she would study him from the couch as he read the boy a story. Thick pages nearly blocked from view as Eric laid his palms across the pictures and words with every flip. Dean would laugh, “I can’t see, bud,” as if the child could understand. She soaks in these gentle moments. A spotlight filled with a warm, summer glow cast down upon the two. His rough hands and angered spirit were now watered down. A dying garden filled with rotten weeds and poison now thriving with delicate flowers and joy. He watched her, too. The way she floats through the home with a now sleeping baby in her arms, head just on her shoulder. She doesn’t make a sound, and even if she had, Eric was known to be a heavy sleeper. But it’s effortless - like she was made for this, despite never picturing her future with a child. Until it happened.

And then it didn’t.

Carmen lays him with care in the crib - a rich mahogany to match the changing table. The color compliments pewter walls and perfectly white accents. It had always been clear, that this was no hollow place. A soft rug held a singular stain at the edge, having experienced an accident as the new parents struggled to adjust to new life. Toys were littered across the floor, though hastily pushed aside as they were left with no time to clean before their night out. The ear of Eric’s favorite dog was crumbled and permanently disfigured as he gums it. Colored blocks were stacked to the side, with other loved items frantically tucked into storage with arms still hanging out from the box. This room sang a joyous chorus in the day as sunlight poured in, and a velvety lullaby as the moon took its place. You could hear the adoration bleed out from the walls even in the quietest of moments, and it was heard throughout the home as Eric’s door was always left open. Even now, as his caretaker slips from the crib with ghostly steps, slipping back out into the hallway to meet her partner. “Down for the count,” she sighs, allowing a tired body to rest against the wall just at his door. The woman waits in the silence - waiting for his deep voice to cut through and warm her flesh. To make a sarcastic comment or joke that lights a smile on her face. Instead, she lingers under his stare. Green eyes sparkled beneath the dim lights, alluring and filled with something she couldn't place in the moment.

It was yearning.

Plump lips twitch into a smile, a sensation of butterflies bursting within his chest - sickening, yet warm and encouraging goosebumps to the surface of freckled skin. Dean averts his gaze, feeling as though her curious stare was ripping through him to pull out unspoken thoughts not yet ready to reach his tongue. "What is it?" She questions, watching as he licks at his lips before shrugging away her invisible touch. Just before confessions spill to the floor, revealing all he’s dreamed of as Carmen lives out a life once lost to them. “Nothin’,” a strong hand reaches and tangles with delicate fingers, tugging her along until they settle on the cream-colored couch. She doesn’t buy it - not after having known this man for just over a decade. His wife can do more than simply read through his hazy shield. She predicts, understands, and reasons - while her past self had spent energy she couldn’t waste on fighting a stubborn, arrogant, man-child. “Sam says they’ll be home soon. I guess Allison started crying.” The imagery brings unexpected laughter as she settles into his side, fingers fanned out over a denim-clad thigh. “She lasted longer than I thought.” It’s a deflection. Dean Winchester has grown and shifted with the tides. Swimming with them, rather than against as they seek to pull him under with violence. There’s a storm at his back and it holds reality - turmoil and emotions he struggles to express. So, despite the bliss in their hearts and laughter in their chests, he’s lost somewhere in that sea. Eyes carved from jade staring out into nothingness, swimming faster from the heavy cloud. “What is it really, Dean?” His resolve shatters from her kind voice, gripping at her fingers as they work to pry them from her flesh. Words act like water caught in his throat, choking and suffocating until he finally forces them out, and with it comes a new light to cast out the shadowy sky.

“We got dealt a shitty hand,” he begins, not yet brave enough to face her, instead electing to watch as her thumb soothes circles over his skin. He refers to more than just their loss as a joined family. But to the loss of Carmen’s sister, before they had ever met. He means the sacrifice of his father's life, the murder of his mother, and each painful journey they fought through up until this moment. “Doesn’t mean we have t’stop playin’ the game.” Confused by his words, her brow knits together as she tries to make sense of it all. Lips parting to ask what he means, though silenced as he shifts his body to face her directly. “I’m tired of our girl’s room being shut.” Her breath hitches as Dean tears down that dam to keep her own storm at bay. Angry, grey waters crash and grip until she’s fighting for air. She could die here in his arms from sheer pain. From a broken heart. “I see you and Eric, and I - I just can’t stop it, y’know?” He can see the glisten in her eyes - sorrow climbing to the top and threatening to wipe the woman out like a plague. He inches closer, pulling her legs to drape over his lap, a comforting hand against her cheek. “I think about you. I think about us, and what it was like. T’have her, and-” Mentions of her loss leave him sick and gagging on foul words, but he manages to choke them out as a tear spills down her cheek. “She lived, Carmen. She lived, and she was perfect.” Another tear on tinted cheeks and she surrenders to his touch, a thumb brushing them aside. “Yeah, she was,” is her mumbled reply, followed by a sniffle and an aggressive swipe just beneath her nose. “We can walk away from it. We can leave that dream behind, just say the word. Whatever you want, I’m with you. I just-" He doesn't finish, watching as those waves crash within tearful eyes. It's familiar territory, she doesn't need to hear the rest as she fights against the current. Her only focus was to keep her head above the waves.

A strong hand falls to her hip, all too close to a once full belly - a home provided now echoing with the haunting cry of a ghost. He hopes to let it sing again, if she only reaches for his hand for guidance in the murky waters. The shoreline awaits in the distance, beckoning them in closer to taste its warm security. But it’s not a journey to take on alone. And though painful, they would come out of it together - so she takes hold of him. She has long been dreaming of that empty crib, whether it be in nightmares or something rare like a dream she couldn’t pull herself from. Had it been the trick of a Djinn, she would have died if only to see her daughter grow. And as Eric’s gentle breaths and grumbles of sleep slip through the baby monitor, sadness shifts into hope and longing. “I don’t want to keep it closed, either,” She whispers, untrusting of her own voice to carry the following words filled with power. But there’s strength as she meets his stare. “Let’s try again.” They’ve touched land - brilliant sunlight stripping the weight of water from their clothes, so they may walk freely across the sand without burden. A sunrise dances across his skin as excitement sinks in. Beauty and love are seen shimmering like crystals in his eyes. That flickering light in their chests fighting for survival now glows with radiance. “Yeah? You want to?” She can only nod, a faint chuckle from nerves slipping through painted lips that are captured in his kiss. “I love you, so damn much.”

[wannabeschyulersister]

Carmy x reader meet at a tattoo parlor

“I take it this is your first.”

Your current state of mild panic was interrupted by the guy sitting on the other end of the couch. “Excuse me?”

“Your first tattoo.” He clarified.

“Uh, yeah it’s my first.” You answered, “What gave it away?”

The guy with the prettiest blue eyes you’d ever seen in your entire life chuckled, “You look nervous. Also, you-uh haven’t stopped bouncing your leg since you sat down.”

You immediately stopped moving your leg. It was a habit that you didn’t even realize you were doing half the time. “Sorry.”

“You know you don’t have to do it right? I don’t think anyone here is holding you hostage.”

“No, I have to.”

“Did you lose a bet or something?” Normally Carmen wouldn’t bother starting conversations with random strangers. He was against it most of the time. He didn’t know what was making him continue to get answers from you in that moment.

You smiled a little, “No, I didn’t lose a bet. I pass by this shop every day when I go to work and I always say that I’m going to come in here and get a tattoo. Today, I finally made it inside.”

“What are you planning on getting?”

“Uh just a small rose on my forearm. You?” You looked down and saw that he had quite the collection of tattoos already.

Carmen felt a little self-conscious in that moment. He didn’t know if you were judging him or not. “I’m uh-I’m getting something on my back.”

“Can I ask you a stupid question?”

“I doubt your question is going to be stupid.”

You leaned over and asked him quietly, “Is it going to hurt like hell?”

Carmen couldn’t help but smile a little, “Yeah, it’s uh, it’s going to hurt but I think you’re going to be okay.”

The tattoo artist came from out the back at that moment and called your name, “(Y/n), I’m ready for you.”

You grabbed your small backpack and stood up. The nerves hit you like a wave all over again.

“You alright?” The beautiful blue-eyed man asked you.

“Would it be weird if I asked you to come back there with me and hold my hand? You can say no. I mean, I don’t even know your name and I’m asking you to be there with me so I don’t freak the fuck out.”

Carmen stood up beside you and held his hand out for you to shake, “I’m Carmen.”

You shook his hand and instantly thought about how nice his hand felt on yours. You also wondered how it would feel on other parts of you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Carmen.”

“Likewise.”

A few minutes later, you were ready for the ordeal to begin. Carmen sat on a small stool to your left. His hand still firmly holding yours.

When the buzzing started, Carmen distracted you by asking you random questions. Your favorite movie. Your favorite song. The best place you’d ever been. It was a great trick that got your mind off of the pain.

“Okay, you’re all finished.” The tattoo artist cleaned you up and then you admired their work.

“It’s amazing. Thank you so much.”

“You know they say tattoos are addicting. Once you get one, you don’t stop.” Carmen gestured to his arms proving his point.

“Well, next time I hope there’s a willing stranger here that’ll hold my hand for ten minutes.”

“Or uh-or I could- we could exchange numbers and I can be that willing stranger.”

Your heart soared but you tried to play it cool, “Yeah, I’d like that. I hope that by the time I figure out what tattoo I want next, we won’t still be strangers by then.”

[thebearer]

You were having a bad day and Carmy tries his best to get a laugh out of you to cheer you up

"What's wrong?" Carmen frowned, looking at your solemn looking expression, downturned lips and brows pinched together lightly.

"Nothin'." You mutter, looking back down at the cook book on the counter.

"Nothin'?" Carmen repeated, his tone lilting in that soft playfulness he always did when you were in a bad mood. When he was trying to coax you to talk, or smile, or anything- he couldn't stand when you got sad like this and wouldn't tell him.

Still, your lips didn't twitch fighting back a smile. No, instead you just sighed, heavy through your nostrils, flipping another page.

Carmen frowned this time, face falling, eyes skittering over your features nervously. Fuck, did he do something wrong? Say something? Forget something? His heart lurched with panic.

"Hey, c'mon. Look at me, baby." Carmen moved his hand, gently cupping your face. "What's wrong?"

Your eyes meet his, dull and tired looking. "Just had a really long day." You mutter.

"Yeah? What happened?" Carmen pressed, thumb gliding over your cheek bone, heart skipping when you snuggled into his hand.

"I don't even want to think about it." You groan, sighing dramatically, turning so your forehead rested in his palm. "Just want to not think for the rest of the day. I don't want another thought, or my brain will actually explode."

"Yeah?" Carmen hummed. "Think I got an idea for that. Lay back f'me, I'll help you out."

You glared at him lightly, rolling your eyes. "You're so funny, Berzatto."

Carmen grinned lightly, pushing you gently so you were propped on the arm of the couch. He draped your leg into his lap, snaking off your socks, his thumbs working into the arches of your feet. "Let me know if you have a thought, alright?"

You snort lightly, rolling your eyes, the tiniest smile playing across your lips. It had Carmen's heart soaring.

[pencopanko]

☆ൠ cousins abel and rosa

ANON TE QUIERO THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK EVEN THO I ANSWERED THIS LITERALLY YEARS LATE AAAA

From this headcanon meme!

☆ Happy headcanons!

Having music in the household is obviously a happy memory. Now that music is in the house, Abel and Rosa are now free to explore the once-forbidden realm.

Abel found joy in learning the accordion after Abuelito showed him Norteño music, and VERY quickly realized that he had a beautiful and rich voice thanks to some impromptu lessons from Miguel. He might or might not had used these skills to woo Doña Castillo's granddaughter, much to the her delight (and Miguel's dismay, but Abel promised to take over with shoe-shining for a day so it was worth it). The shoes technique was good and it did work in getting him closer to her, but nothing made his heart soar with delight than when Valéria sang along with him from her balcony before coming down to kiss him. He would look back to that day and wondered whether that was what Papá Héctor felt whenever he would sing and play music for Mamá Imelda.

Rosa also found joy in music, but for her it was the violin, harmonica, and dancing. Her discovering Olga Breeskin Torres, Elena Makhnev, and Máiréad Nesbitt greatly inspired her to learn how to play the violin and dance at the same time. Not wanting to stick to just one specific genre, however, she channeled her inner Óscar y Felipe and experimented with different genres and came up with her own unique style.

ൠ Random headcanons!

Abel is surprisingly rather protective of his younger siblings and cousin, despite his goofy personality and sweet nature. He IS Berto Rivera's son, after allーa lot of his papá's protective nature is passed down to him. He once even got into a fight when he was eight because his family's name was made fun of. He has mellowed quite a bit as he grows up but when push comes to shove he won't hesitate to throw his footwear at his target or fly in a punch or two to any cabrón deserving of it (though he would much rather not). He is also very similar to Papá Julio and Tía Rosita in such a way.

Rosa, on the other hand, isn't the most random person in the familyーthe perfect mix of Mamá Imelda's stubborn nature and self-efficiency, Tía Victoria's intelligence and sass, and Carmen's kindness. Outside of her unexpected love for chapulines and her infatuation with the boy next door named Marco, her no-nonsense and sassy nature doesn't make too much room for randomness. Nearly everything is well-calculated in Rosa Rivera's life, as to be expected from the future matriarch of the Rivera family once she is of age.

[gayf1hoe]

Part 12

I stand waiting in the lobby of the hotel waiting for the shuttle to take us to the airport. I stand by myself for a while before there is any sign of other drivers. The first to emerge is George alongside Carmen. “Morning” they both say, however Carmen's tone is more joyful and happy and George maintains a monotone voice indicating he's still half asleep. “Morning” I reply, trying to match Carmen's enthusiasm. “How are things between you and Chalres?” George asks, “how did you even hear about that?” I reposed back inquisitively. “Pierre” he bluntly answers. Of course. That little shit. He has one big mouth. “We are all good now, we just had to talk things out”.

Moments later Charles emerges, he had stayed behind to have a shower, “Morning all” he says whilst pushing his slightly wet hair back, he walks over to me an hugs me, the smell of his freshly applied cologne making its way up and infecting my nostrils with a sense of pure bliss.

Whilst we stand talking it doesn't take long for an array of drivers to come flooding in, and soon after we are told the shuttle has arrived to take us to the small airport where our plane would be waiting. On the shuttle I am sat next to Charles and it doesn't take long for us to become immersed in conversation. Halfway into the journey he asks me “So when are you going to tell Mercedes you are not with them next year?”, “Soon” I reply, emitting as much detail as possible.

I open my phone to look at the schedule for the next 2 weeks. I see that there is time set aside for interviews for ‘Drive to Survive’ and a lot of training and practice. The journey goes by fast and I feel a sense of repetitiveness in my life, enduring the same cycle again and again has become a banal and mundane part of my life.

Before I become too intrinsically confined by my thoughts, we pull into the secluded small private airport just outside the heart of Las Vegas. I pull my suitcase to the plane and hand it off to one of the boarding staff and step up onto the plane and take a seat next to the window with Charles sitting next to me and Lando and Carlos sitting opposite.

The surge of the plane as we soar down the runway always sends a little rush of adrenaline down my body. I know I drive at high speeds for a living but there's something about going 200 mph up into the air that never fails to make me feel a little sense of childlike excitement.

For the majority of the flight I sleep since it's still the early hours of the morning, I feel like cold drips on my face and don't think much of it until I feel a massive gush of water and open my eyes to see a slightly drunk Max and Daniel standing above me, with Charles next to me laughing hysterically.

I stand up and heading to the toilet whilst whispering under my breath “fucking cunts” loud enough for them to hear and as I say that I hear all laughter stop, which tells me they comprehend how pissed off I am. It's kind of well known that the thing I love most in the world is sleep. I finish wiping my face and head back to my seat and see Max still standing there and as I approach he says “M/N I'm sorry” before I can say thank you he cuts me off by continuing “sorry you can't take a joke” this sends me over the edge “No I can take a fucking joke but I don't find pissing other people off funny nor entertaining now take your child like self back to your seat and shut the fuck up to keep me sane” as I say this he edges closer and Danny pulls him back and Charles pulls me back and Valtteri who had been sitting next to all of this stands in the middle of us and say “both of you need to cool down and get back to your own seats” Daniel let's Max go and he returns to his seat and Charles guides me but essentially pushes me back in my seat.

I slump back into my seat and just turn back over to try and get some sleep and it ends up working because the next thing I knew Charles was gently tapping my shoulder calling my name and saying my name. I open my eyes and the once dark cabin was filled by the rising sun of Italy.

I groan before becoming more aware of my surroundings and immediately stand up to collect my carry on bag and head for the door. As I step down onto the tarmac the warm Italian morning heat embraces me, as I wait for Charles I see Max approaching me. Thinking he's longing for a confrontation I turn around and head towards Yuki but he runs up behind me lightly lays his hand on my shoulder. “M/N” he said in his usual tone “I just want to say sorry for pissing you off earlier”, “and I'm sorry too Max, I shouldn't of spoken to you like that” I say back to him, “it's fine I know I can be a cunt sometimes” he says as he embraces me into a bro hug.

We part as Charles approaches us and we have to part ways as our teams have organised separate rides as we are heading straight to the track and our luggage will be taken to the hotel and put in our rooms.

Me and George sit in the very aptly picked Mercedes car and sit in silence towards the track. I really like George but this is why I'm leaving the team. I don't feel any connection with any of them and I know I'm partly to blame for not making the effort but I can't force something that isn't there.

We arrive at the track and it's full of cameras as they are filming a lot of content for Drive to Survive. We step out and head into the Mercedes garage which had the AC on which is a cool embrace from the increasing temperature of the area surrounding the Imola track.

We are greeted by our engineers and Toto who guides us around the garage giving us his regular little tour and he shows us to our drivers rooms and instructs us to get ready for media photos but I ask if I can talk to him for a moment.

As he closes my door I come out clean, “there's no easy way to say this but I'm going to a new team next year, and this isn't your fault or anyone else's fault it's just I want to explore other avenues”, he stands in silence for a whole and says “I respect your decision and I will always be here for you, we will make a media announcement today, may I ask what team you are going to?” He enquires, “Aston Martin” I say and he smiles and says “It could be worse you could be going to red bull he chuckles”. “If you want you can go to the Aston Martin garage and tell them you have told me and inform them they can do a press release after we have done ours”, “okay” I say whilst heading for the door.

I wander down the paddock passing all the other garages and walk into the Aston Martin garage and in my white Mercedes T Shirt I stick out amongst the emerald green staple of Aston Martin. I somehow bypass the media Camera interviewing Lance and make my way to Mike's office and this time knock assertively. After a few seconds he bellows “enter” and I open the door to Mike who is fixing his shirt collar in the mirror, “ah M/N what can I do for you?”, “I thought I would come by and tell you I have told Toto I'm leaving Mercedes and that he said you can release any press statements after they have”, he smiles at my answer and says “i'll get the media team on it now”.

I leave the garage and head back to mine and see Toto and my media manager Luca standing right in front of me, Luca hugs me and says he's sad I'm leaving so soon. Then Toto informs me they have made their media statement and he asks if it's alright if they post it and I say yes.

They made an Instagram post with a post of me on my first day with a caption announcing my departure.

Caption : “ TEAM ANNOUNCEMENT: We are saddened to announce that at the end of this season @M/N_L/N will depart ways with Mercedes AMG PETRONAS F1 Team.

We will be sad to see him go but wish him the best in the future”

As soon as they press the post button, I can't lie a certain sense of regret goes through my body. Maybe I did rush into things and maybe I should have given the team more time but I stay somewhere where I don't feel 100% comfortable.

And then I see a post notification from Aston Martin pop up and they had almost immediately announced I will be joining the team.

They had put a picture of me and Lance where we were laughing together in the Paddock.

CAPTION: “TEAM ANNOUNCEMENT: We are delighted to announce @M/N_L/N will race for Aston Martin next season, filling in the shoes of Fernando Alonso.

We can't wait for a success together”

I begin to read all the comments and see that most of them follow the structure of “Didn't see that coming” and a lot of people are speculating why?.

So I decide to write a more detailed post:

“Hello all,

I just wanted to hop on and confirm that I am leaving Mercedes for Aston Martin next season.

Whilst I understand this has come out of the blue and quite early on in the season it has been a long process and the decision was not made overnight. I understand the shoes I have to fill, replacing Fernando Alonso one of the best F1 Drivers will not be easy and I wouldn't of accepted the seat if I wasn't 100% up for the challenge and I can't wait to work with @LanceStroll, as we are already great friends and I'm sure we will become even closer.

I want to reiterate that my decision to leave Mercedes is not due to any conflict or arguments, I have so far enjoyed my tenure with the team and can't wait to make the most of the rest of the season.

I am thankful for their support so far, that has allowed me to win 4 out of 4 Grand Prix's so far in my rookie year and I can't wait for more wins.

I would ask that everyone focuses on the present season and focus on next season when it arrives.

Thank you,

M/N”

After a while of sitting down scrolling through Instagram comments seeing news articles on me, I am called by Toto who informs me the Drive to Survive crew wants to ask some questions.

I make my way over to their studio and take a seat in front of the camera and she begins to ask me questions:

Interviewer: How are you M/N?

M/N: Very well, slightly hot

Interviewer: So just introduce yourself, say what team you drive for and then clap the board.

M/N: I'm M/N L/N Driver for Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team

Interviewer: So we will begin by asking you how has the season been so far? And how have you coped with adjusting to Formula 1?

M/N: Well so far this season has been really strong, I think the entire Mercedes team has done really well. We are top of the constructors Championship, I am P1 in standings and George is P3. In terms of adjustment it's been relatively okay.

Interviewer: So we just recently heard you are leaving Mercedes for Aston Martin next season, so what made you want to leave the team so early on?

M/N: I just think I need to explore other avenues of racing and find somewhere where I feel I can perform 100% at my best.

Interviewer: looking back at the past 4 races is there anything you would change?

M/N: My performance of course.

Interviewer: Since you won all 4 races could you elaborate?

M/N: Well most of my race wins have been close with gaps as close as 0.3 seconds and I need to work on being completely ahead of the driver behind, and I feel I need more work on my pit exits as they always throw me off track, quite literally sometimes.

Interviewer: Has there been a driver you haven't gotten on with obviously we saw that with Charles at the start but you two have made up now.

M/N: Obviously all drivers will argue or get into some sort of conflict at some point we spend most of our time together. Sometimes we get sick of each other's personalities.

Interviewer: What do you think of your car this year and how well does it perform?

M/N: ermm… it's really fast is the best way to describe it, there's not too many oversteer or understeer issues and has handled every track very well so far

Interviewer: Lastly, what's your goal for when we speak again at the end of the season?

M/N: To be a rookie World Champion.

Interviewer: Thank You M/N

M/N: Thanks

I stand up and walk back outside into the direct sunlight and feel my skin start to warm immediately, as I walk through the paddock it's eerily quiet which is unusual and it isn't until I walk past catering I see why. All the drivers are in there talking at a normal level over each other so it's incoherent. I open the door and they all stop and then one by one they are all coming at me asking a plethora of questions such as “Why didn't you tell me you are leaving? When did you decide? Why not Ferrari”, “SHUT UP” I shout feeling overwhelmed “I will answer your questions if you come to me quietly and one at a time” as I say that I walk back out and head to my drivers room to put on my Race suit for the Media shoot.

I put on the suit and heard a knock at my door and it's the photographer telling me she is ready for my shoot. They just have me pull a few poses with and without the car in and outside the garage and have me pose with my helmet.

After half an hour she proudly presents her work to me but I'm not fussed about photos, they don't mean that much to me. I spent the rest of the day signing merch and drivers cards bypassing a huge amount of time.

When it approaches the end of the day me and George head back to the hotel and head to our rooms a lot of the other drivers left earlier, when I enter mine and Charles’ room I see a note on the sideboard that reads “Meet me by the beach at 8, Love Charles” I quickly get changed and run out the room to head to the beach. When I arrive I see a picnic set up with lights set around it and in the centre of it all is a smiling Charles.

“Well what do we have here?” I say approaching him, “well I thought we could celebrate you joining a new team together” I smile at his heartwarming gesture and hug him tightly and he guides me to sit down.

We indulge in lots of delicious food that Charles brought, how do I know?, it's edible if Charles had cooked it then I wouldn't have been able to eat it. We stare gazing at the sunset with the sound of the lapping waves echoing around us.

After some time we make it back to the hotel where we head straight out to the pool for a swim, most of the drivers have gone out for food or are in the hotel using the facilities. The only people out by the pool are Esteban, Logan and George.

We stand in the pool with the sound of the water feature creating a light splashing sound, the lights around the pool illuminate everything. As I stand with my back against the wall, we make eye contact and Charles begins to lean in and places his lip on mine, his tongue pushing forward on my lips. As we become more passionate Logan and Esteban jump in the pool causing a seismic wave of water to engulf our faces and cause us to split apart. Me and Charles death stare at the men before heading up to bed.

Today's race day and the pre race nerves are present like always. After a horrific qualifying session I am in P3 and Charles P2 and Max is on Pole. The pressure is on me, I know the Tifosi want Ferrari to win and that encouragement provides an immense sense of duty on Carlos and Charles to do their absolute best.

David Croft: And it's lights out and away we go for the Imola Grand Prix, and Charles Lecerc gets an excellent start maintaining P1, whilst behind him Verstappen and L/N fight for P2. They go wheel to wheel into turn 1 but L/N manages to brake later than Verstappen, shooting him up to P2.

As we enter lap 36 we have Ocon, L/N, Stroll and Russell boxing for inters as this light rain has caused less grip, is this really smart of them or is it a mistake?

Onto the last lap and Leclerc is struggling to maintain his grip with L/N behind him it will be an interesting outcome.

I'm sat behind Charles and despite the fact I could easily overtake him I didn't. I know how much this win would mean for him and I know if I get P2 in one race it won't destroy my chance of winning the WDC.

“M/N you are clear for an overtake” my engineer informs me “copy” I reply as we enter the last turn I purposefully understeer causing me to create a gap between me and Charles.

David Croft: And that mistake will cost M/N L/N. As Charles Lecerc crosses the line and wins the Imola Grand Prix, that is exactly what Ferrari needed.

“Chequered Flag, Chequered Flag, that's P2, P2, mode slow on” my engineer's tone not his usual excited tone but one that sounds disappointed.

“M/N what happened?” My engineer asks “Sorry, understeer”.

As I pull into the number 2 spot of parc ferme I must say I had forgotten what it felt like to come second but seeing how happy Charles was as he enthusiastically jumped out of his car, it felt like it was worth it.

I emerge from my car and Charles immediately hugs me and I congratulate him on his win, Verstappen who once again comes P3 looks incredibly pissed off. We enter the cool down room soaked from the rain but hot from the Italian humidity. With the re-play of the race on the TV Charles approaches me and begins to whisper. “Didn't you understeer on purpose to let me win?”, “of course not” I replied wanting him to feel like he won purely because he is an incredible driver I didn't want to beat him all because Ferrari once again fucked up on their strategies.

We are called to the podium ceremony and seeing Charles on the number one spot made me smile with pure joy. After we have finished getting sprayed with champagne I head to my drivers room to get changed out of my champagne and sweat covered clothes and get ready for my interview.

I am guided out by my media manager and guided to Will Buxton who is waiting to interview me, along the way I sign the odd fan merch before I reach him.

Will: Good evening M/N

M/N: Evening Will

Will: So what do you think of today's P2 result?

M/N: Well of course P2 isn't P1 which I had hoped for but P2 is still a good result and only reinforces Mercedes’ power.

Will: What do you make of the comments saying you let Charles win because of your relationship?

M/N: Well I didn't let him win, he won because of his driving and my stupidity on the corner. My relationship with him doesn't change how I race on the track. He is the same as all 18 other drivers on track.

After my interview I receive a message from Lando informing me that I am invited to a party. I head and look for Charles who is waiting for me in my room and we both leave together to head to the party as we walk through the paddock hand in hand we have a lot of fans asking us to sign things and take photos with them.

The club is not far from the track and is brightly coloured, and has music emitting from it which can be heard as I stand outside of it. We enter and it's almost clear to see where the other guys are given Lando and Carlos are standing on the table.

We make our way over to them and they all cheer at us. They make us sit down as they go over to get some shots and a glass of Coke for me knowing that no celebration could force me into drinking alcohol.

The whole evening Charles is constantly approached by Ferrari fans, most of which are Italian congratulating him as Ferrari is essentially a way of life in Italy.

Me and George sit next to each other and he turns to me and says “So today, I know what you did”, “What?” I question, “letting him win” he retorts, “I didn't” I say pleading my case. “M/N I'm not stupid you have excelled in every testing session and simulator and Wonersh the first 4 races and suddenly when your boyfriend has a chance of winning you cock up, coincidence, I think not”, “so what are you going to do? Tell Toto?” "Relax, I'm not telling anyone” he says laughing at my panic.

The whole evening Charles is up and down from the bar celebrating by pouring alcohol down his throat and by 4 AM I am dragging him to bed.