#congratulations! you deserve it all! bravo!!!

[percicosoftcore]

Percy: People say I’m a fool for turning down the chance of being a god and remaining mortal instead. But as a demigod I can keep myself close, flesh and pale bones, and every time he doesn’t push me away like this, that’s the closest I ever got to Elysium.

HI ITS ME AND MY PERCICO ART AGAIN

[edwardslvrr]

FUTURE REPLACEMENT 𐙚 carlos sainz

౨ৎ carlos sainz x singlemum!reader

the one where reader is a single mum who’s son got into karting when she catches carlos his attention on instagram after her son says he wants to be just like carlos sainz when he grows up

taglist if you'd like to be added to my taglist, message me privately or comment on this post

warning this is all fake and just for fun, no hate to any of the people mentioned. Just a reminder that this is pure for entertainment хохо

main masterlist 𐙚 carlos masterlist

౨ৎ yourinstagram madrid, spain

liked by yourbestfriend and 527 others

yourinstagram karting on saturdays, watching f1 on sundays is the way we go 🏎️

view all 53 comments

username wish that was my life

yourbestfriend little matteo next f1 world champion

yourinstagram stop he’s still my little boy, already missing his first ever karting days 😣

yourbestfriend his little giggles when he saw his first ever kart, oh my heart

username best mum award goes to you

username our future world champion 🗣️‼️

username you look so amazing omg

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

viewed by yourbestfriend, username and 621 others

replies to your story

yourbestfriend the sunglasses, pls this kid 😅

yourinstagram said the sun was too bright haha

yourbestfriend sassy king

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

view by yourbestfriend, username and 737 others

replies to your story

yourfriend and how happy was he after that race?

yourinstagram he was jumping around the living room the entire race, even yelled at the tv when carlos needed to box haha

yourfriend how cute, was watching for a bit and noticed carlos in front and was immediately thinking about how happy matteo would be

yourinstagram was even happier this race than singapore😅 probably missed him a lot last race back when he was praying for just a little glimpse of carlos

yourfriend could imagine that, he deserved this race!

౨ৎ yourinstagram madrid, spain

liked by carlossainz55 and 701 others

yourinstagram Matteo wanted a new red kart because he said he wanted to be like Carlos Sainz when he grows up 🥹🩷

view all 159 comments

username aw my heart, that’s the cutest thing i’ve read! Carlos will have some competition!!

username omg carlossainz55 you need to see this 😍

yourbestfriend our future carlos sainz, ferrari hold open that spot for when little matteo is older ❤️

yourinstagram our future ferrari driver

username carlossainz55 SEE THIS

username omg carlos liked this post!!

username holy shit carlos in the likes

carlossainz55 my future replacement in the making?

yourinstagram wish you could hear matteo screaming right now

username carlos !!!!

౨ৎ f1wagscontent twitter

౨ৎ instagram DM carlossainz55/yourinstagram

౨ৎ carlossainz55 albert park circuit, melbourne

liked by landonorris and 1.979.792 others

carlossainz55 P1!! What a rollercoaster🎢!! Let’s keep it up in Japan!

view all 15.279 comments

username drove like a man with no job and no appendix!!

yourinstagram matteo was full on crying and cheering! amazing race 🫶🏼

liked by carlossainz55

username came back from surgery and had to remind everyone what kind of driver he actually is

username BRAVO CARLOS 👏

landonorris gonna go get my appendix removed

liked by carlossainz55

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

view by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55 and 2.118 others

replies to your story

yourbestfriend so happy for Matteo! send me loads of photos

yourinstagram will do for sure!!!! 🤍

carlossainz55 can’t wait to meet Matteo, hope to catch you two later today! enjoy the race

yourinstagram thank you so much, I’ve never seen him happier.

carlossainz55 preparing him for the future ;)

౨ৎ cxrlxndo twitter

౨ৎ yourinstagram suzuka international circuit

liked by carlossainz55 and 5.783 others

yourinstagram Matteo met his idol today, we had the best experience ever. Congratulations on your P3 carlossainz55 and thank you so much for inviting us and making Matteo the happiest boy on the planet.

view all 1.089 comments

username so adorable omg

yourbestfriend his dream came true, so happy for him!!!

yourinstagram just sent you bunch of photos and videos!!🥹🤍

username this is the best thing i’ve ever seen

username matteo’s taking Carlos’ seat next year

carlossainz55 so amazing to meet you both, thank you for coming ❤️

yourinstagram i think we’re suppose to thank you here!

username omggg!!!!

username why do i kinda ship?

username matteo’s the luckiest kid ever

username scuderiaferrari hire this kid

౨ৎ messages lando/carlos

౨ৎ messages carlos/yourname

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

view by yourbestfriend, landonorris and 3.878 others

replies to your story

username omg a date with carlos?

yourbestfriend matteo says goodnight, and to say hi to carlos😅

yourinstagram ah i already miss him so much, tell him Carlos says hi back!!

yourbestfriend putting him in bed rn, enjoy the rest of your evening babe! 🤍

username the view looks so good

username that’s looks amazing wow

౨ৎ f1wagscontent twitter

౨ৎ yourinstagram no location

liked by carlossainz55 and 19.793 others

yourinstagram when i was first met with the fact i’d be a single mum i was scared and not ready for it, I thought I’d be the worst mum ever but then Matteo came into the world and he became the light of my life. I set an entire part of my life aside for him, and I’ve never regretted that decision for a second. I never expected to love someone new again after everything that happened, I wanted to raise my son alone. Never thought I’d fall in love again, and you made it possible for me to do that on my own time. thank you for loving Matteo and me the way you do.

view all 2.989 comments

username never expected i’d cry bcs of a hard launch.

yourbestfriend matteo is so lucky to have you, remember that!! he’s definitely so thankful for everything you did for him

yourinstagram iloveyou, thank you for being his second mum whenever needed🤍

yourbestfriend always will be here for both of you!

username the first picture omg🥹

username goodbye i can’t do this today

carlossainz55 oh honey, you’re making me tear up here. So thankful for you and Matteo, love you both! will be your biggest supporter through everything, Matteo is lucky with a mum like you❤️

yourinstagram we love you loads! 🫶🏼

username matteo will be ferrari’s next world champion‼️

scuderiaferrari holding open that seat for 2037!

username please do! matteo yln you will be world champion in 2037

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

view by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 22.683 others

replies to your story

username GOOD LUCKKK

username our world champion!

charles_leclerc good luck to matteo❤️

yourinstagram he says thank you!!

yourbestfriend can’t wait to see my little man win!🏎️🤍‼️

yourinstagram carlos is already fixing the kart for the 6th time😭

yourbestfriend of course he is, no suprise there

yourinstagram it’s adorable to see how stressed he is, matteo is reassuring him.. think it’s supposed to be the other way around haahah

౨ৎ f1wagscontent twitter

taglist - @louvrepool @italyrryx @buendiabebeta @janeholt3 @lightdragonrayne @namgification @aquangxl @sammyam @americanbluebirdrb @poppyflower-22 @c-losur3 @nxrrislando @haikyuen @evie-119 @raevyng @urfavsgf

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

09 — I'M HIGHER THAN THE HOPES THAT YOU BROUGHT DOWN

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

When you had taken down the organisation by Shepherd’s side, it was the beginning of everything.

The first time you had drawn someone else’s blood was with a rifle in your hand and a vengeance burning in your veins. A single order from your General – your only support – to kill anyone with the organisation’s uniform. Anyone who raised a scope to you.

It’s difficult, usually, to remember what had happened. 

Sometimes, in your deepest of sleeps, the nightmares of your past came to haunt you. Flashes of blood on your skin, corpses underneath your feet, the crackle of a radio sounding in an empty room.

A congratulations from your General.

Congratulations for seeking revenge, and executing it like a soldier well-trained. Another cog in the military’s rusting machine. A weapon for them, more than a human with free will and determination.

You’d thrown up, after it all.

Heaving, sweating, crying, the endless guilt of what you’d just done. Were you no better than them? Sure, they’d killed your mother, but you had just carried out the same in turn. Tenfold. They had families that they’d never report back to. Families that they’d never get to say goodbye to. Dinner left untouched.

Shepherd had pat your back – then, he’d been in service, active duty. You hadn’t known it, but taking down the organisation was his last mission.

You never even learnt the name of the organisation. Shepherd had said that it was better that way, to detach yourself, not get yourself muddled with the logistics of it all. You weren’t meant for that. You were meant for weaponry and death and destruction.

That night, when you laid awake in the small camp set-up just a few klicks out from the organisation's site, you determined that you wouldn’t take another’s life without certainty. Unless it was for defence.

That night, you’d known that you would ask to be trained for field medicine.

Oh, how naive you had been. Young, aching for a chance to get revenge, to get what you felt you deserved.

Ten days later, you met one Phillip Graves.

A day after that, he offered you a place within the beginning of his mercenary company.

Half an hour after you signed the contract, General Shepherd announced that he was no longer suitable for active duty.

How naive indeed.

*

You think, in the very back of your mind, with the smallest grip you have on thought, that you’ve been carried to safety by men more than you have in your life, these past few days.

In and out, your mind wavers, senses completely gone, consciousness an impossible thing.

Minutes, hours, days. You’re not sure. How does time even work? What is time? Are you alive? Is this death? Another third, universally unknown state, an in between?

These past few days, the utter mess your life has become, has it finally worn you out? Destroyed you from the inside, shrapnel embedded into your flesh? A direct hit, a ticking time bomb gone wrong? A suicide mission with no preparation, no warning, no hope?

If you could, you’d cry.

Let tears fall down your cheeks, crystalline and pure against your dirtied and sinful skin. A mocking of all things good and right and beautiful.

Oh to be beautiful. To be right. To be good.

Heaven would taste like fairy floss melting against your tongue, you think. Sweet and pink and soft. It would furl around your tongue, season your mouth with the feeling of cotton and freedom.

White.

White blinds every inch of your body, the darkness of your eyelids lit with the shade. Chemicals fill the air, a stagnant, all too damning smell. Beeping, too, a constant background noise as you slowly come to.

Hospital – or, at the very least, a Med Bay. It’s something quite familiar, but the feeling of being a patient in one is a very rare instance for you.

That feeling of blood, sticky against your face and arm, has gone. Instead, the itch of fabric and bandage replaces it, an IV drip attached to your inner arm an annoying sting. Your hair feels as if it’s been carefully spread over the pillow underneath your head, a blanket wrapped over your form.

If your spatial awareness is at all correct, you think you can sense a few other people in the room, too. Soft murmuring chimes in over the beeping, now, as you return to full consciousness.

“Can’t believe all three of ‘em are down.”

Gaz – that honey-esque, smooth voice instantly has you recognising the Sergeant. From where his voice is coming from, he seems to be sat beside your bed. 

“It’s not your fault, Kyle.”

Price. Captain. He sounds… softer than you’ve ever heard him. Lost, maybe, upset. Disappointed? It’s hard to place, his tone, but it seems almost forlorn.

“Had a whole fuckin’ team of Marines and we couldn’t make it to ‘im in time. If it wasn’t for her–”

“I know, Sergeant,” Price snaps, shutting down the younger man’s nervous, distressed rambling. A scrape of a chair sounds, the sound of pacing footfalls a moment later. “There wasn’t anything we could do – and it’s not like any of ‘em are dying, now are they?”

“Don’t act like this didn’t affect you either, Captain,” Gaz bites back in return, his chair, too, scraping against the linoleum floor. “I heard your yell clear as day.”

“I can and will write you up for insubordination, Garrick,” Price warns, stern and cold.

Gaz’s responding laugh is biting, grating. “No, you won’t, Price. Because if you do that, you’ll have to report the others too. You really wanna risk losing us all?”

“Don’t test me.”

“Thought you liked that about me, Cap.”

“Kyle –”

“Good morning to you, too.”

Both men turn, then, to look at you with wide eyes. With a small groan, you move to sit up, eyes burning with the sudden overhead lights. Your shoulder aches, your cheek, too, but not as badly as they had before.

“Be careful, don’t –” Gaz goes to say, moving towards you, before you show him your palm.

“I’m fine. I know my limits, Gaz,” you say, a small reprimand as you shift into a comfortable position. “I’ll be out of this bed within the hour if I can help it.”

“You dislocated your shoulder,” Price says, insistent, brows furrowed as he looks down at you, arms folded over his chest. “It’s in a wrap. You’re lucky, Colonel, that they could perform the surgery here.”

Your brows raise.

“Surgery? How long was I out?” You frantically ask, sitting up straighter, wincing when you bump your shoulder. Your mind races with theories, fear trickling down your spine like a cold vice. There was so much you had to do – had to investigate, now.

“Only about a day. You were under anaesthesia – and your body near shut down,” Gaz leans forward as he sits, elbows on his knees. “You were awake, under high-intensity stress, for nearly four days.”

Four days? Had it really been that long? What had only felt like a day – it had been four?

You must show your inner panic on your face, because Price takes a step closer, hand moving to rest comfortably on your shoulder. He has a calming, understanding tilt to his lips that you appreciate. His eyes examine your body, before his blue eyes meet yours.

“Graves is already planning his next movement,” he says, gruff and true. His hand squeezes. “We were playing checkers, seems like he wants to play chess.”

The beep of the machines sat beside your bed and the overall feeling of hospital and gauze and injury has you realising something. A flash in the back of your mind, a bell ringing for you like a dog on a leash.

“Where’s Soap and Ghost?”

Price and Gaz share a look, before Gaz flits a nervous grimace to you. “Ghost… refused to be treated unless he was put in the same room as Soap. Soap, is, well…”

“Get yer bloody hands off me, aye am fine, let me see ‘er–”

Soap’s voice carries down the hallway, the standard-issues curtains surrounding your small area doing nothing to block the sound. Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, Gaz buries his face in his hands, and Price heaves a long-suffering sigh, muttering something under his breath about decorum.

“Sergeant, the doctor’s –”

“Tell Sarah tha’ aye can bloody well handle maself!”

A crashing noise follows the last statement, along with the sound of confused yelling, before the curtain surrounding you gets ripped open by none other than Soap MacTavish.

His grown-out faux-mohawk is messy, obviously having been laid on for a fair bit, his eyes wide and chest pounding in sweeping movements. Fist clenched in the scratchy fabric of the curtain, his frantic eyes focus on Price and Gaz, respectively, before landing on you. His shoulders loosen, and he lets go of the curtain as he trails down your form, analysing for any injuries or a single hair out of place.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, sounding all too like that single nickname is a lifeline, “Yer alright.”

You softly shake your head, disbelieving and confused and shocked and. 

And maybe slightly grateful. Lucky, even, to have someone care for you enough to act like your very presence is their saviour. Like your blood is as worthy as their own, your lungs virtually theirs, too.

“I’m not the one that nearly fell to my death,” you exasperate, voice as soft and vulnerable as you’ve heard it. At the very least, the most open you’ve sounded since your mother was around. “Did you just kill one of the nurses to get here?”

Soap’s creeping smile turns into a full, toothy grin as he shakes his head. “Nah. That’d be Lt.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price mutters from beside you, along with Gaz’s choked off laugh. You can’t help your own private smirk.

“And here I was, thinking you were the dog, Soap,” you tease, except for the first time, it isn’t with the intention of goading. Of poking the beast. You’re… teasing just for fun. Because it feels natural and right and.

Oh.

Oh.

Soap scoffs. “Aye, ye did say that, didn’t ya? Ye haven’t seen a guard dog like Mr. Lt, lass,” He taunts, freckles dusting his nose, the hospital lights doing nothing to wash his tan skin out.

He says, as if your world hasn’t been flipped over, shaken about, and sat down on your shoulders like a snowglobe.

He says, as if everything is fine and normal and not cataclysmic.

“The nurse is fine.” 

Everyone, including Price, jolts where they are situated, eyes darting to where Ghost leans against the wall opposite your bed, picking at his nails.

He’s.

Unlike the balaclava, of which is all you’ve known of the bulky man, the only thing covering his features is a standard black medical mask, covering his mouth and nose. No ink stains the upper half of his face, either, and for the first time – you see his hair.

Dirty blond.

It oddly suits him, the shortly cut mess, the strands hanging over his forehead and ears. What strikes you is the lack of scars from the skin you can see, the unmarred skin, the softness of it. 

He’s pretty, in a rugged, unabashed way, and what a realisation that is.

With just a black compression shirt, sleeves cut to the mid-section of his upper arms, sleeves of talented ink cover his pale skin. A snake, intricately designed, covers his left, curving around the muscle. On his right, what looks to be a Greek god, its depth shadowed with blacks and greys.

“Good to see you in one piece, too, Lieutenant,” you say, and if it was at all possible, you’d swear that sparks shoot up your spine when his deep brown eyes catch onto yours. 

He raises an uncovered brow – pale and soft. “I meant what I said,” he threatens, a glint in his eye.

So, you suppose, not all has been forgiven. Your memories are shaky at best, but a few words stand out from your confrontation – kill, belonging, rank. A promise of death, but a vow of protection, too.

“What’re you talking about?” Gaz asks, looking between the two of you with a confused expression.

Neither you, nor Ghost, break eye contact as you simultaneously say; “Nothing, Gaz.”

Both Sergeants share a look, a cheeky one, the type that no one else in the room can decipher. You had seen the way that the two shared comments, winks, hits up the back of their heads. Joking and full of life, but with an unbreakable bond between them.

Yearning was becoming too familiar of a concept for you, you were finding.

“Laswell found a hit on some intel,” Price breaks the tension of the room, hands bracing on his knees as he looks to the four of you. A grim expression settles on his face when he looks to you. “It’s in the home of one of your Lieutenants.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as you swallow around a dry mouth. “What kind of intel?”

Everyone seems to collectively move in closer – Ghost’s hand rests at his belt, Soap’s at his back pocket, Gaz’s on the chain adorning his neck, a guitar pick attached to the gold.

“Intel on an ‘organisation’,” Price says. “A group of people wanting to overtake the military, one with a rising number of members.”

It’s as if you can feel nothing but the beat of your heart, the sensation of your fingers, the pain in your chest. The organisation. They were. You and Shepherd, you hadn’t eradicated them. Maybe stumped their growth, for a while, but you hadn’t.

You hadn’t realised they were still around. Growing, even, thriving.

The urge to just cry, pour out your emotions and weep is the strongest it’s been since your mother’s funeral. To just pull up the covers over your head and let tears fall down your cheeks, mourn in your misery, scream and claw at your skin and feel.

If only you could be that woman. Just for a day.

Instead, you reply.

“When are we going?”

Soap is, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, the first one to speak up. His hands land on his hips as he studies you with a narrowed gaze. “Ye need to rest, lass. Yer broken.”

You throw your unwrapped hand in the air, waving in their general direction. “Have you guys seen yourselves? How the fuck you’re out of your gowns is almost crazier than you storming into here gunsablazing!”

“We didn’t get a concussion, a wound on our cheek, a dislocated bloody shoulder,” Ghost challenges, and your hackles rise in turn. When he gives, you return. The moon and the sun – the two of you, always taunting the other with a bone just to see if the other will bite.

“I saved your ass,” you seethe back, and with only a small wince, you pull the IV drip from your arm. If Price or Gaz debate that move, you ignore it. “And his. I don’t seem to recall hearing a single thank you, either.” You rise on shaky legs, pushing through the ache, pushing through the thunderstorm in your chest. You turn to Soap, “So don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” you turn to Ghost, “And you don’t tell me what injuries deem me weaker! I’ve survived this long without the lot of you, and you don’t need to start babying me now.”

The silence in the room should dispel your nerves, but it only serves to increase them tenfold.

“We’ll scope out the area and decide what to do after. Five days ‘til we perform an undercover mission, I suspect.”

With a small tilt of your head, you look to Price, who rubs at his jaw, scratching at the hair lining it. He looks deep in thought – ever the calculating leader.

You sigh, quiet enough to not be heard. “Thank you, Captain.”

The wrapping around your set shoulder seems recently done, and when you move the ligament in small circles, the pain is nothing more than a dull ache. Your cheek, too, has been bandaged, but the sting is nothing if not prevalent.

Someone had spent the time putting socks on your feet, so you’re grateful for the small mercy as you move to the side table and swallow down mouthfuls of water from the plastic bottle placed there.

A thought comes to mind then.

“Where do I sleep? Or should I, um…” You trail off, because the idea of finding a shoddy motel in the middle of nowhere is definitely not a pleasant one.

Silence.

Slowly turning around, bottle in hand, your brows furrow when you see that none of them are meeting your eyes. Even Ghost, which is most definitely a first.

“Are you banishing me? Worried I have cooties?” You tease, bouncing on the soles of your feet. When no one responds again, you truly start to worry. “That was a joke,” you confirm, as if they didn’t know that.

“There’s no spare rooms,” Gaz blurts out, and your eyes go wide.

Of all the things that had briefly crossed your mind, a lack of space was most certainly not one of them. The consequences of that fact is the next thing to be brought to the forefront of your muddled ideas.

“Right,” Soap nods, as if this is a newly found concept. He gestures to Gaz, a smile creeping onto his face. “Thanks for offering to let ‘er crash with ya, lad.”

“I didn’t say that –” Gaz starts, expression slowly creeping into one of exasperation as Price interrupts with a slap to the Sergeant’s shoulder.

“Real generous, Garrick,” Price commends, moving to stand from his chair and leave the room. Ghost follows closely behind him, shooting a look between you and Kyle, simply saying, “Thanks, Sergeant.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Gaz groans, head falling against the chair backing as he slides down the wood. Soap is quick to bound away from the room, too, with a cheerful, ‘See you tomorrow!’.

Gaz, eyes squeezed shut, seeming to try and melt into the floor, flutters one eye open to look at you where you stand. He grimaces, before slowly getting to his feet, too.

“Sorry for,” you bite at your lip, looking everywhere but at the man who seems to want to die more than host you, “Being a nuisance. Really, I’m fine sleeping at a motel, or whatever. Seriously.”

His hand grasps your chin, moving it so you’re forced to look up at him, his analysing gaze searching your own. The brown of his eyes glisten in the bright light, his features shining with it, and you’re hit with an overwhelming want to be cherished by this man. 

How bad had your concussion really been, to be making you think this way? You should really talk to Sarah about it, ask what kind of side effects came with one.

Oddly enough, you don’t think that this realisation is as sudden as you’re forcing yourself to believe.

“I didn’t,” Gaz begins, quickly looking away and setting his jaw before meeting your eyes once more, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just. Embarrassing, y’know?”

“How? Got a secret collection of pornos you don’t want me finding?” You quip back, a soft tilt to your lips.

He chuckles, a soft, girthy thing, shaking his head. “Nah. Nothin’ like that. Just… havin’ a girl in my room on such short notice is a bit scary. Gonna kill them all when I see ‘em tomorrow,” he mutters the last few words under his breath.

“I really am sorry,” you promise, “I didn’t realise that I’d have to impose on you like this.”

“You’re not imposing,” Gaz says, stern, thumb brushing along your jawline. “My bed should be big enough, anyways.”

Your cheeks heat at the implication, mouth opening and closing around nothing. “Your – Your bed? I can just sleep on the floor –”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking your head side to side softly. “If anything, I’ll crash on the floor if you’re uncomfortable. I won’t let you sleep on anything but my bed.”

“Such a gentleman,” you lean in, whispering the words over his lips, a smirk forming on your face as you pull back. Heading for the door, you miss the way his fingers raise to hover over his mouth, gaze flitting to you before he follows behind.

“Do I need to see Sarah? The only reason I was really in there was ‘cause I was passed out, right?” You ask, turning around as Gaz meets you, opening the door for you to walk through. His hand falls to the small of your back as he directs you down the hallways.

He shakes his head. “Nah, Price messaged ‘er. If your pain starts up again, just take some pain meds or see her.”

“I like the way you run things here,” you hum, looking around at the concrete walls and linoleum floors, barren of personality. “No wasting time or resources.”

A draft carries down the hall, and you find yourself rubbing your arm, biting at your lower lip from the cold. Gaz’s hand wraps around your waist, pulling you into his body heat subtly, and you’re silently grateful. “I’ll give you some of my spare clothes to sleep in,” he says, thumb rubbing against where his hand sits in tight circles.

Your stomach growls, then, and you can hardly find the energy to be embarrassed when you haven’t eaten in four days. Yikes.

“Sorry –”

“I made you. Um.” Gaz looks away, bringing up his other hand to rub at the nape of his neck nervously. “I made you some wraps to eat, because the guys love ‘em, and Price kept getting pulled into meetings. So.”

The smile that pulls at your cheeks burns as you softly say, “Thank you.”

His grip around your waist tightens, the smallest amount.

You don’t comment.

“While you change, I’ll go get them from the fridge,” he says, as the two of you pause outside a standard door. The barracks look the same as every other corridor in this base, you’ve found, three other doors sitting close to this one. The 141’s rooms.

Unlocking the door, he switches on the light, and as you step in, you look around at the small room.

A double bed, narrow but long, sits in the corner next to a small window. Next to it, a wooden bedside table, with photos atop it, and a few random medals and gum wrappers. A single poster is stuck to the wall – and as soon as you see it, a laugh bubbles up in your chest.

“What?” Gaz asks, looking through his chest of drawers, looking to you with flushed cheeks. “It isn’t that bad.”

Your laughs continue, racking your body with each inhale as you point to the poster, eyes watery as you look at the man. “Didn’t realise you were into the Spice Girls, Garrick.”

He shoves his clothes into your face, only making you double over with laughter. 

“It was from my mum,” he grumbles, and you grab for his cheeks, squeezing them as your eyes near-shut with the manic laughter bubbling from you.

“Mama’s boy,” you tease, pulling at his cheeks until he’s face level. He huffs, pushing you away with a hand to your jaw, making more giggles erupt from your chest. “It’s cute, Gaz, I’m not being mean, pinky promise.”

“I’m getting the wraps, you twat,” he tries to sound accusatory, but his dimples deepen in his cheeks, his mouth pulling into a stubborn smile as he shoves you onto the bed, slamming the door shut behind him as he goes.

The fondness in your chest aches, and as you pull on his clothes, taking off the medical robe, you realise something. A niggling, in the back of your mind, one you can’t seem to shake as you tie off the oversized grey sweatpants around your waist.

A singular realisation, but a damning one, nonetheless.

Your smile doesn’t fade.

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @oreo-cream @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19

[ambeauty]

Ok ok since these two cuties won’t leave me alone with their friendship 🤭 fic preview under the cut👩🏾‍🍳🧑🏼‍🍳

“Chef de Cuisine, Sydney Adamu of The Bear, has been nominated for the James Beard Award for Best New Chef, Casual Fine Dining, Midwest. As well as Executive Chef, Carmen Berzatto. Okay, it doesn’t read like that exactly, but you fucking get it.” Richie reads over the expo so the whole crew is in on what just happened.

Sydney just stands in place and Carmy wraps his arm across her shoulder for stability. Afraid she may crack into pieces or drop in shock. “You deserve it Chef,” Carmy beamed next to her.

“I couldn’t have done it without-“

“No no we are not starting that shit again. We are proud of you Syd!” He lets go so the others can give their congratulations properly.

She lifts her hands up to hide her face.

“We are mami! Bravo!” Tina reaches up for another hug and Syd tries her best not to breakdown again in her sous chef’s arms this time, but hugging Tina almost feels like hugging her mother and if she thinks to hard about it she might lose it again.

“I gotta hand it to you kid. I always knew you had it in you to get this shithole together.” Richie punches her shoulder lightly before she rolls her eyes back at him and accepts his pat on the back.

“Shit Syd, I always knew you had it in you!” Marcus daps her up then shakes her shoulder encouragingly. She can’t but share a big smile with him.

“You next Marcus! For real.” She looks up at him with assurance.

“Man that’s you and Carm all pressed for the awards and shit. As long as y’all keep letting me make whatever I want. And Carmy stops being a little bitch. We good.”

“I wish y’all would let that shit go already.” Carmy shakes his head.

“So when’s the big day?” Marcus asks them both.

“In a month.” Sydney responds rubbing her hands on her apron, ready to get back to her prep. She was not built to receive this much praise at once. Like yeah, she wanted a star and she wanted the awards, but that almost meant that she would have to be perceived more and praised more and the only person’s attention she craved she finally has… for the most part.

“We gotta get you right Syd! But we got plenty of time. Can not represent the bear in your baggy sweaters and overalls.” Marcus ribs her in a playful way.

“Dude shut up! Let’s get back to work Chefs!” Sydney calls out to the kitchen so they can get the dinner prep done before their booked night.

Yes Chef!

Carmy taps his spoon against the back of his hand as his mind starts flooding with ideas, but instead of meat, sauce, and herbs, it’s fabrics, patterns, and stitch variations. It’s long limbs but tailored to perfection around soft curves. It’s bright colors that compliment deep brown skintones.

“Carm, hey.” Sydney snaps at his face quickly. “Where’d you go? Can you pass me the strainer?”

“Yeah, sorry chef. Um just thinking.”

[colapointo]

franco's radio after his first f1 points at baku 2024. transcription below the cut

Gaëtan Jego: Keep it positive, just take the flag.

GJ [cheers in bg]: Okay, that's checkered flag, checkered flag.

Franco Colapinto: Wooow, guys. Wow. Bravo, bravo.

GJ: P8, P8. Go in, go in, pick up rubber, please, pick up rubber.

FC: Oh my god. Oh, this is an amazing result for us, oh my god. Well done. Well done in keeping Hamilton behind as well, it was tough but, nice job. Nice job when we woke up those front tires, they started to work much, much better, mate. Lovely job, lovely job.

GJ: Yeah, that was good. Congratulation [sic]. Hell of a first weekend, hell of a last weekend: Monza, Azerbaijan. Was amazing. You've been everything and more, and you're getting what you deserve. You're proving your seat in Formula 1, to be honest. Amazing, past two race weekend [sic]. Stellar job throughout this weekend on a track you didn't know, where the tires are not easy, where everybody got caught and a lot of guys crash or make mistakes in this low-grip, dirty condition, and you did amazing. Taking in every session, improving. Stellar job on Saturday, stellar job today. P8, mate. First points in Formula 1. Congrats.

FC: Haha, bravo, bravo! I'm really happy, mate. Thank you so much. We did a great job together. It's a nice weekend, very good, very very good points for the team. I'm really proud of you guys. Thank you again for fixing the car on Friday.

James Vowles: Vamos, Franco, vamos! Well done! Just really, really proud of you. [Franco laughing] That's a weekend you executed perfectly, really from start to finish. You finished just behind Alex on a different strategy, you managed tires again that were in a difficult situation, and you're now a Williams Grand Prix driver with points to your name. That will never change, no one can take that away from you. Well done.

FC: Thank you, James. Thank you so much, mate. I am so, so happy for these points, for giving the team a little bit back of what you guys gave me and all the trust, so yeah, it's just…I'm so, so happy. Let's keep going in Singapore. Another nice challenge, but I'm sure we can do a good job there as well.

JV: Yeah, we definitely can. When you go into the factory, you're gonna see a sign that we put up that has your name on it and add points to it. Yeah, well done. Can't wait to see how we move forward together.

FC: Yeah, yeah, me too. [laugh] I've seen, I've seen the sign last week and I was like…I think that was the biggest motivation for points this weekend. I wanted my name there, not only Alex's.

JV [laughing]: Done.

(aided by Williams' own transcript, i left a lot more of the "organic" stuff in)

[popcornforone]

Bromance or Romance Part 1

A Dieter Bravo Fan Fic

Day 2 of Pedrotober

Masterlist

Day 2 & I thought Dieter would be the best person to have a Bromance as suggested in the story but as Dieter has a day coming up this is a part 1 of 2 (possibly 3 haven’t drafted that far yet) for them to get up to.

As always @norththelemon @alyssamariag thanks for the prompt list

Synopsis:- Dieter is an award Winner & you are tryign to get a few words for your interview but things don’t go to plan.

Word Count:- 500

Warnings over & above:- swearing, teasing, rudeness.

Thanks for the read peoples see you tomorrow for day 3

Dieter stands in front of you. He’s holding his award & you are ready to interview him. But it’s not going anywhere. You knew if he won the world plus more, would want to talk to him about his victory & how he’s the toast of town at the moment. Well for tonight anyhow. Most years Dieter would have easily have won most of the award, but it’s been tough. He’s won two before tonight & there’s only 1 more to go the biggie the one everyone wants.

Finally as people stop congratulating him you can start your interview. You have 2 minutes of air time to fill & as much as you just want to hug & cry on his shoulder, you’ve got to be professional. He beams at you, a secret smile just for you. You know what that smile usually means. You cough & start your interview.

“Dieter Bravo another award for the piano, congratulations”

“Just another day being fabulous me”

“Does this take pride of place in the middle or is that reserved for…”

“No no no” he interrupts “let’s not tempt fate before next week” he says with a wink. He knows you’ve got a job to do but he can still have fun. Plus you’ve both been superstitious as to what you both Don& say after each awards night, to see if that brings him more luck.

“I understand” you say “so your speech was…”

“Dieter!!!!!” & 2 arms fling around him from behind. It’s Kieran. He’s a really good friend of Dieters & they have been up against each other all awards season. Kieran has won the majority of the awards which he does deserve after 4 years of character development. Dieter only has 2 seasons under his belt.

“Kieran!!!” Dieter screams back & they hug & start joking. It’s a cute friendly bromance reaction they have to each other. Just picking up where they both left off earlier. It’s adorable to watch & all the while the camera & microphone are still getting all of this interaction, you know he will be moved on soon. So you decide to break it up.

“So Kieran no hard feelings that you lost?” Kieran knows what’s going down between you both so he knows he can have some fun.

“You fucking kidding me? My boy won! If I can’t win he can”

“& if I can’t win it’s probably because he has” Dieter jokes back & you see the woman stand behind Dieter to move him along meaning you have about 15 seconds left.

“One last question Dieter, will it be vodka tonight in the hotel room or just kitkats”

“Hahahahahaha” he laughs & then leans in as he’s about to be moved on. “We’re sharing a room baby, I think you know what we will be up to no matter how professional you try to be” his voice is low enough so that the microphone can’t pick him up, but the blushing on your face as he waves & moves onto the next interview, gives it away that you & Dieter are a lot more than just professional.

Part 2

[mochie85]

Why does he have to look LIKE THAT

UGH

I want to slap him across the face and kiss him after *crosses arms*

And I just know my attempt at hurting him would just make him laugh 😒

…

He’d look down at you with a that annoying smirk of his “yes my dove?”

*looks straight into the camera* Shit I’ve dug my own grave again here haven’t I…

“Nothing. I just..”

What? Can’t think of a solid reason as to why you just slapped a god in the face? Lying is off the table that’s for sure…

“A lot of thinking going on in that tiny head of yours” he looked you right in the eyes as if trying to figure you out. “I can’t say I didn’t have that one coming being who I am” he said as he looked you up and down slowly closing the distance between you two.

Just escape and deal with the repercussions later!

“Um, sorry I was acting on a dare… and impulse” you muttered those last two words as you turned on your heels towards the opposite direction as you tried to make a break for it. He grabbed onto your wrist and spun you around. “Hold on there little bird” he pulled you closer to him, face plastered with a devilish smile. You felt your heart beating in your chest, your face felt hot. His other hand came up to cradled your neck, you felt his pinky on your pulse.

“I think…” he said slowly, his face only inches from yours. “Sweetheart…that you should” his nose soft trailed along your cheek, you could feel his breath tickle your ear, “follow your impulse..” alarms were blaring in your head but you were distracted by the hand the slowly making its way from the small of your back to the curve of your bottom. “more often” you could hear the smile in his voice.

All you could do was close your eyes and lean your head back as his mouth made contact with your neck. You couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped your mouth as one hand pulled lightly on your hair and the other caressed your ass.

…

Yeah um.

I uh..

I don’t know where that came from

It’s 12:51 am and I start a new job tomorrow and I’m kinda nervous

I have to wake up at 6am to catch the bus 😩

😱😱😱MISS MA'AM!!! 😱😱😱

Where have you been hiding this talent of yours and why aren't you sharing it more often?!

This was so delicious. I was smiling the whole time!

I love his cheekiness. His confidence, his overall, "I caught you, birdy. What will you do now?" attitude!!!

That picture doesn't help either. With his smirk and Mango on full display 😆😋

I know you'll do well on your first day tomorrow! And a belated Congratulations on acquiring the job! 🥳. Get some well-deserved rest and let me know how your first day went!! Love you Loops! We'll be cheering you on.

Bravo!

@lokisgoodgirl @michelleleewise @gigglingtigger @coldnique @sarahscribbles @ladyofthestayingpower @fictive-sl0th @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @sailorholly @the-lady-amphitrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @give-me-a-moose @joyful-enchantress @muddyorbsblr

[psychedelic-ink]

Congratulations on 4.5k! that's amazing and very well deserved! I would love a drabble with "I can't pretend anymore" with Dieter, because, ya know, pretends for a living and all that - all-the-way-down-here

thank you so much, love 💜 I really loved writing this, I hope you enjoy!

𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐬

**gif by the amazing @pedrorascal ♡♡

pairing: dieter bravo x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort-ish, fluff, romance, friends to lovers

word count: 936

summary: Dieter enjoys his life, but he would enjoy it so much more if you were a part of it.

warnings: alcohol consumption, established friendship

𝑺𝑰𝑳'𝑺 4.5𝑲 𝑭𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑰 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 (open)

Dieter enjoys the fun he has. He’s not going to lie and act like he’s above it all. He enjoys the chaos that pursues unrelated to him, likes the bodies moving and crowding one another as loud music blares from the speakers. He feels two arms snake up his shoulders and around his neck. Looking down he spots manicured, pastel purple nails. A pleasurable tingle rolls up his spine when those same nails gently bite into his chest. 

“Come join us, Dieter,” Lyra whispers into his ear. “I have a friend with me, I’ve been telling them all about you,” 

His cock twitches at the thought and he’s about to get up, that is until he spots you. You’re mingling, your clothes more than modest compared to the rest but you still seem you belong. You smile and laugh and he recognizes the person across from you as being a model. Someone he never talked to before but recognized from magazine covers. He looks up to Lyra who’s looking down at him with expectant eyes. 

“Sorry but I spot a friend. Maybe next time,” 

“Your friend can join,” she purrs. 

Dieter slowly rises from the couch, he touches the underside of Lyra’s chin and forces her gaze up with a smile. “Next time, sweetheart. Promise.” 

She sighs and smiles before moving away. 

Now that Lyra is out of the way, Dieter makes his way to you. You meet his gaze when he’s halfway there, your eyebrows lifting with surprise. He notices a smile tugging at your lips and he finds himself starting to smile as well. 

“Dieter!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “How are you?” 

His hand moves to your waist on instinct, slightly moving lower when you don’t release him. He buries his face in your neck and takes a whiff of your smell; strawberries. 

You introduce him to your model friend, and he learns that her name is Jessica. A polite, albeit slightly forced, conversation proceeds. Dieter finds himself growing impatient, yet what for he’s not sure. Your one arm slides to his waist, holding him close. He’s surprised at how comforting it is. You’re one of those rare people who doesn’t want him to change or ask for anything more of him. 

And that fact alone makes him feel shitty for wanting more from you. 

It’s not hard acting like he doesn’t crave something more intimate, but it is tiring. It feels as if he’s working around the clock, the acting never stops. 

You must’ve noticed his recline from the conversation because you squeeze his hip, drawing his attention back to you. 

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” you ask, your gaze slightly clouded from the alcohol but still worried. When he nods, you turn to Jessica with an apologetic smile. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” 

Jessica nods and waves them off, already starting to speak with someone else before the two are even out of the door. 

The cool night air chills his warm skin. Dieter closes his eyes briefly, focusing on the way the wind caresses his skin. It feels nice. 

“Wanna go get something to eat?” you say, crossing your arm with his. “I’m starving. That party had nothing to eat,” 

“There were chips—” 

“Yeah, chips ain’t enough to soak up all I drank tonight.” you rub your stomach, kicking the pavement. “I feel sick,” 

“Why did you drink so much anyway?” 

“I don’t know,” you say with a small shrug. “I guess I was feeling a bit tense lately. I thought that if I got a bit loose I would feel better, but my calculations were wrong,” 

Dieter lets out a low chuckle, “Don’t worry. We’ll get some food in you and you’ll be good as new.” 

Silence follows, the only noise being your shoes hitting the pavement. Dieter thinks how nice it would be to just lean in and kiss you. He bets he could taste the gin still coating your tongue. 

He’s torn away from his thoughts when you tighten your arm around his. 

“Tell me how you’ve been feeling. You didn’t look so good in there,” 

“I—” he honestly has no idea how to reply to that. He shakes his head. “I don’t know,” 

“Come on, you can tell me anything,” 

“I can’t pretend anymore.” 

You suddenly stop and give him a confused glance, you tilt your head, which he finds incredibly endearing. “What do you mean?” 

“I just— Look, I really enjoy what we have, but I just can’t pretend I don’t want something more. You make me feel good about myself. You make me want to be a better version of myself and every time I see you my heart feels like it might combust.” 

A gust of wind blows. You’re staring at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. His heart aches at the sight, maybe he misread everything from start to finish, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, stealing his arm back. “I just really couldn’t hold it back anymore. It was getting exhausting.” 

He attempts to move away but before you can he feels your fingers pressing into the hallows of his cheeks, you pull him close, your lips finding his under the yellow glow of the street lamps. You kiss him hungrily, and just as he suspected he testes the gin on your tongue. 

You’re the one to break the kiss, panting and lips kiss-swollen. He’s about to dive back in before you press your palm into his chest. 

“Food first,” 

He grins from ear to ear, “Of course.” 

[stopaskingme]

The alternate ending for Star Trek (2009) is to me the American "Mrs.Darcy"-kiss ending for Pride & Prejudice (2005).

Does the film need it? No.

But would it have made me blubber emotionally until I am a puddle of feelings? 1000%.

(Pasting the alternate ending here in case the webpage gets deleted)

—————————

ALTERNATE SCENE B

SPOCK PRIME Then I ask that you do yourself a  favor… put away logic, and do what  feels right. The world you’ve inherited  lives in the shadow of incalculable  devastation… but there’s no reason you  must face it alone. 

And from around his neck, he removes the PENDANT that  until now, we’ve only caught glimpses of. Places it on  the table beside his younger self. The feeling in his  eyes is profound… 

SPOCK PRIME (CONT’D)This was a gift to me. Representing…  a dream. One we were unable to fulfill. (softly) The way you can now.

And moves to the door. Stops. Offers the VULCAN SALUTE:

SPOCK PRIME (CONT’D) As my customary farewell would appear  oddly self serving, I will simply say…  good luck. 

Their eyes hold. Spock turns, disappearing into the  corridor. Young Spock stares at the empty doorway a  beat, his mind a jumble of thoughts. Looks to the  pendant… and realizes it’s a HOLO-EMITTER. After  considering a beat, he hits an activation button and a  MOVING HOLOGRAPHIC MESSAGE materializes before him:

CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK. WILLIAM SHATNER. As always,  brash, wry, confident — and SINGING:

KIRK/ SHATNER Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to  you…  (stops, grins) I know I know, it’s illogical to  celebrate something you had nothing to do  with, but I haven’t had the chance to  congratulate you on your appointment to  the ambassadorship so I thought I’d seize  the occasion… Bravo, Spock — they tell  me your first mission may take you away  for awhile, so I’ll be the first to wish  you luck… and to say… (beat, emotional) I miss you, old friend. 

… and we’re PUSHING IN on Young Spock, taking in the  image of Kirk’s future self, the message, but above all —  the clear, unquestionable friendship these two men had…

INT. CORRIDOR – CONTINUOUS

As Spock Prime walks off down the corridor, he passes  right by a man conferring with a nurse — the man pauses,  turns… it’s SAREK. Suddenly overcome by a feeling that  the stranger who’s just passed him is… oddly familiar.

KIRK/SHATNER (V.O.) I suppose I’d always imagined us…  outgrowing Starfleet together. Watching  life swing us into our Emeritus years… 

INT. STARBASE ONE – HANGAR – ETERNAL NIGHT

MUSIC BUILDING — glass walls reveal THE ENTERPRISE at  dock, UTILITY CRAFTS floating around it, repairing.  Standing at attention in rows, THE ENTERPRISE CREW —  over four hundred of them wearing DRESS UNIFORMS — TRACK  DOWN the faces, all proud: 

KIRK/SHATNER (V.O.) I look around at the new cadets now and  can’t help thinking… has it really been  so long? Wasn’t it only yesterday we  stepped onto the Enterprise as boys?  That I had to prove to the crew I  deserved command… and their respect? 

And we STOP ON YOUNG KIRK. Composed, focused, proud. A  man. And to every fan’s delight, finally wearing his  YELLOW SHIRT. The FEDERATION COMMANDANT stands at a  podium:

COMMANDANT This assembly calls Captain James  Tiberius Kirk…

Kirk breaks from formation, pivots, marches down the  hangar — past UHURA… SULU… CHEKOV… SCOTTY. All  Beaming. Notably absent, is Spock. Kirk ascends the  stairs, snaps to attention:

COMMANDANT (CONT’D)Your inspirational valor and supreme  dedication to your comrades are in  keeping with the highest traditions of  service and reflect utmost credit to  yourself, your crew, and the Federation.  By Starfleet Order 28455, you are hereby  directed to report to Commanding Officer,  USS Enterprise, for duty as his relief.

Kirk turns. Walks to… PIKE. In a wheelchair now,  wearing an ADMIRAL’S UNIFORM. Overnight, his hair’s  turned totally grey — but despite his trauma, his  pride’s overwhelming. They SALUTE each other:

KIRK I relieve you, Sir.  

PIKE … I am relieved.

He opens a BOX in his lap — glorious in repose, a MEDAL: 

PIKE (CONT’D)And as Fleet Admiral, for your… unique  solution to the Kobayashi Maru, it’s my  honor to award you with a commendation  for original thinking.

Pike containing a smirk, pins the medal to Kirk’s  chest…

PIKE (CONT’D) (a touch choked) Congratulations, Captain.

KIRK Thank you, Sir.

Kirk turns to the crowd. Eyes shining. WILD APPLAUSE.  OUR MUSIC SOARS. Bones leans in to Sulu, rolling his  eyes: 

BONES … Same ship, different day.

As Kirk rejoins his crew for hugs and congratulations, we  go to the BACK of the hangar… SPOCK PRIME. Watching.  Moved beyond words. He turns and leaves them to it… as  he goes… 

KIRK/SHATNER (V.O.) I know what you’d say — ‘It’s their turn  now, Jim…’ And of course you’re  right… but it got me thinking: 

INT. STARFLEET HOSPITAL – EARTH – DAY

Our montage comes full circle as we END on Kirk’s  transmission:

KIRK/SHATNER Who’s to say we can’t go one more round?  By the last tally, only twenty five  percent of the galaxy’s been chartered…  I’d call that negligent. Criminal even —  an invitation. You once said being a  starship captain was my first, best  destiny… if that’s true, then yours is  to be by my side. If there’s any true  logic to the universe… we’ll end up on  that bridge again someday. 

Stops, grins. Because this is the part he needs to say  most… 

KIRK/SHATNER Admit it, Spock. For people like us, the  journey itself… is home.

Young Spock’s face. Lost in feelings that flood through  him.

[irrlicht-ghostfront]

Congratulations.

You have officially made tears fall out of my eyes while I finished this magnificent work of art. I am legit crying right now at my workplace (don’t worry, it’s break time). It's so beautiful and you should be proud of yourself for writing this gem of a fic! Bravo!

I still can’t believe you’re going to write a third part and while I’m looking forward to it, I'm glad you're taking that well deserved break after all of this. Have a great day!

P.S. Thank you for writing etched into your bones, it’s such a beautiful heart wrenching story.

Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it! Maybe you should've cried in front of your boss... maybe he would've understood... :p

And the third part might not be so heart-wrenching, but who knows yet :)

[mako-neexu]

[オベぐだ♀︎] “Epilogue” -wip (because obe is a pain in the ass to write so finding an appropriate ending is hard)

-

She starts with a heaving gasp, eyes blown wide as she wakes up.

Darkness was all that she saw. A gaping void that threatened to consume her whole, a familiar sensation akin to seeing a friend on the way home from school.

She clenches her fist atop her chest and swallows even as her lips were dry and her heartbeat cannot be felt.

A dream? It feels way too real to be one. But so were her thousand other dreams when she tried to sleep or even daydream.

She opens her mouth with the intent to call out on someone, anyone---

A thundering applause shatters the silence, and she is forced to cover her ears from the hollers, the claps, the praise, the sneers, and the gazes from all around her.

It was still dark. Yet, she could finally see the light that was aimed down at her figure. A spotlight that made her the target of attention.

She could only tremble and face the void head-on, her eyes darting all around to find any clue on where she is in.

But looking down was a mistake.

“Ah...A-Ah,” Her hands were shaking badly, dyed red gloved hands that hid her crumbling appendage beneath.

She sees a little clearer despite the spots in her vision. She was wearing her mystic code. A dress with white, black, and grey accents and combat boots- a uniform that was given to her not too long ago.

She looks up in horror as the nonexistent crowd continued to give their praises and jeers at her, flowers of all kinds thrown at her before the stage.

A stage.

She was standing in the middle of a stage.

Just when she knew her dread couldn’t sink any lower, this time, it did.

Beside her were props. Bodies- Dolls of- of herself piled up and murdered, a pool of blood flooding the set. And to her left were the people she met and loved- thrown on top of each other in the same fashion as if they were nothing more than dead bodies to deal with.

The world was turning upside down. Her stomach was churning. She wanted nothing more than to wretch and close her eyes, and block out the sound that was beginning to resemble more and more like screams to her ears--

Silence.

Her head whips up as she realizes the sudden lack of noise.

Gone was the void that seemed all-encompassing, but what replaced it were red seats with figures that were too vague to point out.

She swears she saw someone wear a familiar blue cap and pigtails, another one wearing a short braid, another was a woman with an astrolabe as her staff...and another was someone wearing a ponytail... ah, a smile, a smile? Why does it look sad? How can she see them yet not see these people watching he-

A clap. The clap came from a single person, yet she couldn’t see someone moving in their seats. Slow, yet sonorous, she tensed up as she heard the source of it come closer.

“Bravo,” She froze on the spot, her gaze turning into surprise over the familiarity of the voice.

“Bravo!” She sighed. She was tired. She doesn’t want to deal with whatever is happening now.

Oberon stepped out from the darkness and gave her his princely smile. It’s just him. Her body relaxes, eased over seeing a friend.

“Oberon...” She called out and approached him... but it only took her a few steps until something invisible blocked her from closing the distance.

“That was more than well-deserved, don’t you think?” Oberon smiles, his eyes creasing happily. “A grand round of applause to the main character who had fought so dashingly and nobly on the stage!”

She tests the invisible wall again and finds that it was no illusion nor it was something that made her hesitate. Her stomach churned over the growing dread inside her.

She stays silent.

Oberon still doesn’t seem to notice. (No. He knows. He’s simply ignoring it.)“And! It is customary for audiences and supporting characters to give roses to the heroine as congratulations.” With a flourish, a bouquet of said flowers were shoved against her.

She stumbles a bit but nevertheless notices how that invisible wall was something he could phase through...as if he wasn’t affected at all.

She swallows and replies with hesistance, “Thank... you...”

His eyes turn into cresecents and his smile stretches until it was thin, “Mhm! My pleasure!” He leans back with the entirety of his posture that of relaxed. But she knew better. The air was becoming suffocating and dark. Something was closing on her and it wasn’t tangible for her to repel given her circumstances.

“Your role is quite difficult so I just ought to make sure you were praised for destroying seven worlds, vanquishing demon pillars, Beasts, outer gods, and thousands of stories,” He smiles, he smiles, “-each person bearing their own burden, responsibility, emotion, grief, love, hate, hopes, dreams, loved ones, past, present-”

She blinks.

Oberon Vortigern takes his place.

“-but not their future.”

Thousands of questions ran in her mind. What was this? Where were they? Why is Oberon doing this? What sort of metaphor is he trying to convey? Resentment? Why is he acting upon it now? Did she do something earlier? But she- oh. She doesn’t remember what happened before waking up here. What was the purpose of being subjected to a stage with nonexistent audiences clapping and hailing her for the things she had done?

A laugh. A cold laugh breaks her from her inner dilemma as she focuses on the Pretender, “Do you really think you’re deserving of those praises? The respect from achieving such great feats!? Do you really deserve to smile and laugh alongside your companions, eating cake with bloodstained hands!?”

He was shouting now, and she was like a fawn doing its best to stay strong in the face of such onslaught.

“And?” Oberon growls and grips her arm, on the side where her command spells were etched, “When the crowd leaves, the curtains fall, and the supporting cast withdraws, what are you left with?”

No more. She couldn’t bare to look at him. She couldn’t bare to listen to the words that stabbed her entire body like poison-tipped daggers.

And to that brief second of being alone in the stage, she knew what he meant.

All of her breath leaves her lungs when he wrenches the bouquet and crushes the entire thing with his clawed hand.

“You are nothing.”

Trembling and silent, she risked glancing up. His condescending smile as cold as his glowing eyes. “Imagine getting flowers wrapped in sweetness and praise after trampling over the lives reduced to nothing but data and numbers. The irony of it is enough to kill me, you know? Even your so-called friends seemed to bask in destroying those very lives alongside you.”

She opens her mouth and finally, gives voice to what she wanted to say. She looks straight up at him, eyes defiant, “...There’s nothing wrong in wanting to take back our world, our previous lives and everyone else who was in it.”

She takes back her hand by twisting it in his hold, allowing her to break free take a few steps back for herself, “Everyone did their best and fought to the very end, to that normalcy everyone yearned for. They’re happy because they survived. Because they avoided dying from a single blow that would mean the end for them. My friends gave their all to support each other because we were shoved into a that situation without warning. I did my best as well, even if what I did had a kind of responsibility no human can bear.”

Silence once more reigns the atmosphere between them. Dust motes floated about underneath the single spotlight that focused on the both of them.

Oberon’s face was slack, unamused, and she, guarded and tense.

“Even now, you’re still stubborn to a fault, huh?”

There was no time to react. No time to even flinch or use a spell before he’d grabbed her by her jaw.

His glare was scathing, and by now she was used to such looks. She thinks she’s used to such looks. “And you, my fellow liar, if you know so well about what they feel, it is only fair you tell me about yours beyond that horseshit of ‘I’m okay’ and ‘I’m strong because of my dearest friends’.”

“I-...” For once, she is rendered speechless against him. Her hesitation was taken as a cue.

His grip on her tightened, and she had to wince from how much he was hurting her from that alone. “And so they rejoice in saving their skin! They stay in that comfy little ship with only physical support to back you up. But what about your mental state? Do they even bother addressing the damn weight you carry? Do they even ask about what you feel after felling a world? They don’t, do they? Hah! At best, all they have to offer is for you to get an hour of rest, leaving you to your own devices.”

She did her best to glare at him, weak as it was. Because deep down, that ever selfish part of her knew that he was right. That they believed her to be strong because she smiled through it all. That they believed her to be someone who can handle the stress of it alone.

“You know it too, don’t you?” The smile was poisonous, his face so close that it felt as if he was seconds away from biting off her head. “That you’re broken right from the start, able to make hundreds of contracts with sentient weapons and do even the stupidest shit no human would ever dare do.”

His voice was scathing. Oozing like lava and burning everything it touches,it scorches the depths of her heart, yet shes faces it head on. “With the repercussions of the things that made you seem so cool and special, you’re tortured by voices. Voices in the guise of that blond commander, that homunculus inventor, that detective clothed in white wool, and the hundreds who stuck by your side but never called you by your name.”

Name. Her name. She was called by so many names, that her very own was overshadowed by the countless titles she’s gained throughout these years.

Senpai. Kouhai. Contractor. Christine. Lord. Anjin. Piglet. Albrecht. Little Deer. Jokanaan. Accomplice. Mom. Liege. Prince. Student. Retainer. Lover. Daughter. Sister. Prey. Enemy. Friend. Master.

Unable to help herself, she spat out, “They’re names given to me by my friends-”

Oberon clicked his tongue and growled, “-all of whom who’ve never once used your own name. Not even once. But I digress. Those voices you hear were taken by your own head and malformed all of it into a vessel of your self-hatred and insecurity.”

Horror dawns on her as he addressed her pandora’s box she carefully kept hidden away from prying eyes.

Her body trembles, and she tries to pry away from his grasp, but all of that were rendered useless when he smiled cruelly at her.

“Fujimaru Ritsuka, Panhistory’s Last Master yearns to be punished. To finally be absolved of the burden of her sins and responsibility, clinging on to death without realizing it.” He lifts her chin to face him, but she doesn’t dare squeeze her eyes shut. “With a desire like that, are you still truly wishing to go back to that normal everyday life when you have come this far?”

No longer human, not with how many she has made sure to dye each world’s stories in inky black. To the point where her hands were stained with it. Blood and pen ink mixing until no longer discernible. Just like the play she was forced to act in.

notes:

she’s standing at the center of the stage.

[trekkie2819]

Deleted Scene from 2009 Star Trek

We could have had this scene (written by J.J. Abrams, so all credit goes to him) in the 2009 Star Trek:

SPOCK PRIME (talking to YOUNG SPOCK) Then I ask that you do yourself a favor… put away logic, and do what feels right. The world you’ve inherited lives in the shadow of incalculable devastation… but there’s no reason you must face it alone.

And from around his neck, he removes the PENDANT that until now, we’ve only caught glimpses of. Places it on the table beside his younger self. The feeling in his eyes is profound…

SPOCK PRIME (CONT’D) This was a gift to me. Representing… a dream. One we were unable to fulfill. (softly) The way you can now.

And moves to the door. Stops. Offers the VULCAN SALUTE:

SPOCK PRIME (CONT’D) As my customary farewell would appear oddly self serving, I will simply say… good luck.

Their eyes hold. Spock turns, disappearing into the corridor. Young Spock stares at the empty doorway a beat, his mind a jumble of thoughts. Looks to the pendant… and realises it’s a HOLO-EMITTER. After considering a beat, he hits an activation button and a MOVING HOLOGRAPHIC MESSAGE materialises before him:

CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK. WILLIAM SHATNER. As always, brash, wry, confident — and SINGING:

KIRK/ SHATNER Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you… (stops, grins) I know I know, it’s illogical to celebrate something you had nothing to do with, but I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on your appointment to the ambassadorship so I thought I’d seize the occasion… Bravo, Spock — they tell me your first mission may take you away for awhile, so I’ll be the first to wish you luck… and to say… (beat, emotional) I miss you, old friend.

… and we’re PUSHING IN on Young Spock, taking in the image of Kirk’s future self, the message, but above all —the clear, unquestionable friendship these two men had…

INT. CORRIDOR – CONTINUOUS

As Spock Prime walks off down the corridor, he passes right by a man conferring with a nurse — the man pauses, turns… it’s SAREK. Suddenly overcome by a feeling that the stranger who’s just passed him is… oddly familiar.

KIRK/SHATNER (V.O.) I suppose I’d always imagined us… outgrowing Starfleet together. Watching life swing us into our Emeritus years…

INT. STARBASE ONE – HANGAR – ETERNAL NIGHT

MUSIC BUILDING — glass walls reveal THE ENTERPRISE at dock, UTILITY CRAFTS floating around it, repairing. Standing at attention in rows, THE ENTERPRISE CREW — over four hundred of them wearing DRESS UNIFORMS — TRACK DOWN the faces, all proud:

KIRK/SHATNER (V.O.) I look around at the new cadets now and can’t help thinking… has it really been so long? Wasn’t it only yesterday we stepped onto the Enterprise as boys? That I had to prove to the crew I deserved command… and their respect?

And we STOP ON YOUNG KIRK. Composed, focused, proud. A man. And to every fan’s delight, finally wearing his YELLOW SHIRT. The FEDERATION COMMANDANT stands at a podium:

COMMANDANT This assembly calls Captain James Tiberius Kirk… Kirk breaks from formation, pivots, marches down the hangar — past UHURA… SULU… CHEKOV… SCOTTY. All Beaming. Notably absent, is Spock. Kirk ascends the stairs, snaps to attention:

COMMANDANT (CONT’D) Your inspirational valor and supreme dedication to your comrades are in keeping with the highest traditions of service and reflect utmost credit to yourself, your crew, and the Federation. By Starfleet Order 28455, you are hereby directed to report to Commanding Officer, USS Enterprise, for duty as his relief.

Kirk turns. Walks to… PIKE. In a wheelchair now, wearing an ADMIRAL’S UNIFORM. Overnight, his hair’s turned totally grey — but despite his trauma, his pride’s overwhelming. They SALUTE each other:

KIRK I relieve you, Sir.

PIKE … I am relieved.

He opens a BOX in his lap — glorious in repose, a MEDAL:

PIKE (CONT’D) And as Fleet Admiral, for your… unique solution to the Kobayashi Maru, it’s my honor to award you with a commendation for original thinking.

Pike containing a smirk, pins the medal to Kirk’s chest…

PIKE (CONT’D) (a touch choked) Congratulations, Captain.

KIRK Thank you, Sir.

Kirk turns to the crowd. Eyes shining. WILD APPLAUSE. OUR MUSIC SOARS. Bones leans in to Sulu, rolling his eyes:

BONES … Same ship, different day.

As Kirk rejoins his crew for hugs and congratulations, we go to the BACK of the hangar… SPOCK PRIME. Watching. Moved beyond words. He turns and leaves them to it… as he goes…

KIRK/SHATNER (V.O.) I know what you’d say — ‘It’s their turn now, Jim…’ And of course you’re right… but it got me thinking:

INT. STARFLEET HOSPITAL – EARTH – DAY

Our montage comes full circle as we END on Kirk’s transmission:

KIRK/SHATNER Who’s to say we can’t go one more round? By the last tally, only twenty five percent of the galaxy’s been chartered… I’d call that negligent. Criminal even — an invitation. You once said being a starship captain was my first, best destiny… if that’s true, then yours is to be by my side. If there’s any true logic to the universe… we’ll end up on that bridge again someday.

Stops, grins. Because this is the part he needs to say most…

KIRK/SHATNER Admit it, Spock. For people like us, the journey itself… is home.

Young Spock’s face. Lost in feelings that flood through him.

<3

[spilltheteawithme]

The man said himself that he flew back! And she would've baited had she been there and instead of posting a selfie or a pic that he could've sent her or she could have taken if she was there, she reposted a pic that everyone else was using. And she couldn't be bothered to write "congratulations" just a lil heart 🙄. I'm sorry that Ruby has an actual red carpet pic with him whereas all AW has is another awkward photo where they were waiting in line and Seb was stepping on her dress and not even smiling (as usual). 😘/ I thought the same god damn thing on the award, even Michael got a selfie that he posted! Did she not? she had to screen shot the photo from Michaels stories if she got it from Getty it would have had the banner tag on it but she might as well of done that! I find it hilarious even tokyochorus got a picture of the award from Seb. A heart no I am so proud of you! The Sundance was all of them but could have put a little note just for him but nope, bravo well deserved to all of them. And then a yellow heart on a trailer.

[chirpq]

120+ Promotion Wishes for Friend's Big Day

120+ Congratulations & Promotion Wishes for Friend

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[london-taekwondo-warriors]

Greetings, dear readers! Today, we have the absolute pleasure of celebrating an extraordinary achievement by a team of remarkable athletes who have demonstrated true grit and determination in the recently concluded WUMF World Taekwondo Open Championships. Team LTW has risen above all challenges, conquering the competition with exceptional flair and skill, and we cannot help but shower them with heartfelt congratulations for their courageous performances and well-deserved victories. The WUMF World Taekwondo Open Championships is a prestigious event that brings together the finest martial artists from all corners of the globe, and this year's edition was no exception. Competing at such a grand stage is not for the faint-hearted, but Team LTW showcased nerves of steel and unwavering dedication throughout the championship. What makes their triumph even more inspiring is the outstanding performance of the three incredible female athletes who have made their mark by securing the gold, silver, and bronze medals, respectively. These outstanding warriors have shown the world what it means to persevere, push boundaries, and embrace the spirit of sportsmanship. Firstly, let's raise our virtual glasses to the gold medalist! Her breathtaking display of skill, precision, and determination left spectators in awe. She made each move with grace and confidence, commanding the stage and leaving no doubt that she is a force to be reckoned with in the taekwondo world. Bravo! Next, we congratulate the silver medalist for her tenacity and unyielding spirit. The path to success is often lined with obstacles, but she remained undeterred, facing challenges head-on and earning her rightful place among the top contenders. Her resilience is an inspiration to all aspiring athletes out there. And last but certainly not least, we extend our warmest congratulations to the bronze medalist! Her performance was nothing short of spectacular, and she showcased true sportsmanship throughout the championship. Her dedication and hard work have been rewarded, and we are thrilled to witness her stepping onto the podium to claim her well-deserved medal. Beyond the individual victories, Team LTW's overall performance was simply phenomenal. Their relentless pursuit of excellence and their unwavering support for one another undoubtedly contributed to their success in the team events as well. They have shown us that the power of unity and camaraderie knows no bounds. Team LTW's achievements in this championship will undoubtedly inspire the next generation of taekwondo practitioners and instill in them the belief that with hard work, dedication, and the right mindset, anything is possible. They have set the bar high, but they have also shown us that dreams can indeed become a reality with passion and perseverance. As we conclude this celebratory blog post, we raise our voices in unison to cheer for Team LTW. Congratulations on your remarkable victory! Your performances have filled our hearts with pride, and your journey to success will undoubtedly be remembered for years to come. To Team LTW, the courageous warriors who have brought glory to their country and the sport they love: Well done, and thank you for reminding us all that the pursuit of excellence knows no boundaries. You have truly earned your place in the annals of taekwondo history. Let us all join together to applaud their outstanding achievements and wish them continued success in their future endeavors! Go Team LTW! With immense pride and admiration, LODON TAEKWONDO WARRIORS

[tamayosclinic]

Hello, I requested the Muzan x Geisha Reader awhile back. I was wondering if I could request that but with the event prompts? Could you make it a sequel to the one you already wrote me?

The prompts are the following- "The closest thing to love at first sight I've ever experienced happened when I first laid eyes on you.", "I didn't believe in soulmates until I met you.", "If there was ever anybody meant for me, it's you."

Thank you. Congratulations on hitting 100 followers you deserve it.

-Geisha Nonny

"The closest thing to love at first sight I've ever experienced happened when I first laid eyes on you." "I didn't believe in soulmates until I met you." "If there was ever anybody meant for me, it's you." | Muzan x Geisha!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Warning(s): None

Author's Note(s): Nice to see you requesting again, Geisha Nonny. Enjoy.

Word Count: 759

100+ Followers Event [Closed]

“You caught a big fish Muzan-sama,” Douma jabbed at Muzan’s shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows. Muzan balled his hand into a fist. He wanted nothing more than to blow Douma’s brain out but restrained himself. (Y/n) knelt in front of the upper moons—at least the human-looking ones—showcasing her shamisen skills.

“She’s a woman, not a fish,” Muzan muttered only for Douma to hear. Muzan focused on (Y/n)’s angelic tunes, the Upper Two faded into white noise. She may have retired from geisha life, but the passion remained with matching expertise. How could he not show her off?

“It’s not every day a geisha gives up their love of arts to love a person.”

“(Y/n) did not give up anything for me. She is free to sing and dance whenever she wants.”

“Sing and dance, but to no one, unlike when she was a geisha. All those years of practice and study to hone her skill just,” he snapped his fingers, “wasted.”

Muzan balled his fist up, turning his knuckles even paler if possible. Not wanting to face Douma entirely, he kept his gaze forward. His glare caught (Y/n)’s attention and caused her voice to crack in nervousness—presuming she had done something wrong. Still, she fixed herself and finished off the song.

“Oh bravo,” Douma clapped obnoxiously loud, much to the dismay of the other, “that was magnificent (Y/n)-sama. You definitely should perform at my temple whenever you can.”

Muzan was right to warn me. This guy gives me creepy vibes. But so do most of the people here. “I’ll think about it.” (Y/n) excused herself from the room, ignoring Douma replying,

“I sure hope you do. I can’t wait to hear from-”

“Nakime get him out,” Muzan commanded. The biwa demon’s response was immediate. The strum of a biwa echoed, and Douma was gone in a blink, much to Muzan’s relief. Short-lived relief, that is.

The demon may be gone, but his words haunted Muzan). After some internal deliberation, Muzan joined (Y/n) in their shared room. If (Y/n) was not happy, he should know now rather than later.

“(Y/n), my queen. Oh, going to bed?” He inquired, watching as (Y/n) changed into a yukata.

“Soon. I was waiting for you, though.” She wrapped her arms around him, bringing him close, and looked into his eyes. “You were glaring at me earlier on. Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No. It was not you. It was Douma. He has a way of making my mind swirl. Nothing you do could ever be wrong in my eyes, love. Sorry for that.” He gave her an apologetic kiss on the cheek that she accepted. “There is, however, something he brought up that has been weighing on my mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

Muzan pulled away from the hug and cupped (Y/n)’s cheek. “The closest thing to love at first sight I’ve ever experienced happened when I first laid eyes on you.”

“Yeah, that’s my thing,” (Y/n) simpered.

“I’m serious, my queen. I love you very much, so I need you to be honest with me. Did you ever feel forced to give up your job to be with me? I know relationships are forbidden as a geisha. Do you regret retiring? Do you miss performing for crowds? Do-”

“Muzan one question at a-”

“I didn’t believe in soulmates until I met you.”

“You don’t seem like the type to believe it,” (Y/n) grinned.

“(Y/n) be serious. If you aren’t happy, you must tell me because I want what is best for you.” Muzan finally finished.

“Woah. That colleague of yours really messed with your head.” (Y/n) started. “Yes, I’m happy with you, and I don’t regret anything.”

“Are you sure? You-”

(Y/n) placed a finger over Muzan’s lips, “I never intended to remain a geisha for my whole life. I wanted to find love and settle down eventually. Performing for numerous strangers each day felt stagnant until I started performing for you. I have no doubt,” She leaned against his chest, “If there was ever anyone meant for me, it’s you.”

(Y/n) wrapped her arms around Muzan’s neck and pulled him down for a deep kiss that washed away his doubt. He pulled her flush to him by her waist and nicked her bottom lip for entrance, only for (Y/n) to pull away. If she gave him entry, things would escalate.

Muzan nearly huffed until he saw her droopy eyes. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay. Will you stay with me the night?” (Y/n)’s eyes gleamed despite being drowsy.

“Of course, my love.”