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mclqren · 1 day

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WEST END GIRL ★ F1 GRID

PAIRING ✦ alex albon x fem!younger sister!reader ; f1 grid x fem!albon!reader [ implied logan sargeant x fem!reader ]

SUMMARY ✦ your brother and his cohort of friends from the f1 grid come to support you on the first night of your big break in the west end [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ bit of a shorter one :) reader is younger than alex, but it's not specified how old she is. i felt it more fitting to make her perform in the uk, so i made her perform in the west end. reader plays eponine in 'les miserables'. the fc i've used is fah yongwaree, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are closed.

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liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, and 3,001 others

yourusername so...this is my life now?? my first night performing is in two days time, and it still doesnt feel real ❤️

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user1 AHHH LES MIS??

user2 wait who are you playing?? im going to watch!!

yourusername eponine!! hope you enjoy urself, its truly amazing! ❤️

user3 no way she's albon's sister...

user4 i knowww she's so glam

user5 how is alex ur brother

yourusername been asking myself that since birth 🤷‍♀️

alex_albon i was born first??

lilymhe my sister, so proud of you ❤️❤️

yourusername love you lils 💓

alex_albon we'll be there, trust!

yourusername who's we

alex_albon don't worry about it 😉

imessages ( alex )

yourusername

( caption one: getting ready for tonight 💓 | caption two: my first show done ✅ after dark ❤️ )

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, and 355,412 others

tagged yourusername, lilymhe

alex_albon got to watch my sister in action today in the west end and wow, is she incredible. watch les miserables right now YOU WON'T REGRET IT 🫵🫵

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user6 SHE'S STUNNINGGG??

user7 RIGHTTT?

user8 omg i saw her she was so goodddd

user9 the albon siblings are talented beyond relief confirmed

user10 I NEED TO GO ASAPPPP

user11 NO SAME

user12 bad time to be living in america rn :(

yourusername it was so fun to see everyone tonight! ❤️

landonorris you were amazing y/n!!

charles_leclerc ^^

user13 DID WE MISS A CHAPTER

yourusername the flowers were gorgeousss who told logan my favs were tiger lilies 🥺

logansargeant just intuition 🤷‍♂️❤️ i'll have to get you them again next time!

alex_albon yeah yeah she's still my little sister back up sargeant

carmenmmundt y/n was truly breathtaking 💗

georgerussell63 agreed ^

yourusername MAMA Y PAPA love you guys💓💓

georgerussell63 we're not that much older than you?

yourusername boo dont care still my parents 👎

liked by alex_albon, charles_leclerc, and 35,312 others

yourusername and you're singing the songs, thinking this is the life!

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user17 woweeeee that dress was made for youuuu

user18 IS THAT NOT THE PICTURE THAT ALEX POSTED OF YOU ON HIS INSTA

user19 i think it's from a diff angle though hahaha

yourusername ^ yup!!

user20 AMY MCDONALD THIS IS THE LIFE MENTIONED??

user21 the prettiest princess ever

alex_albon photography credits??

yourusername yeah yeah whatever thanks alex

alex_albon no problem!!!!!! 😁😁

logansargeant all those flowers and not a tiger lily in sight

yourusername still waiting for ur tiger lilies mr sargeant!

logansargeant come to miami and i'll give you some 🫡🫡

yourusername might just have to take you up on ur offer!!

alex_albon um guys can we not

yourusername wdym this is purely friendly?!

alex_albon keep the public flirting to a minimum PLEASE

oscarpiastri where are you finding cars with flowers in it

yourusername london babyyyy!

yourusername

( caption one: 🌊🌊 | caption two: crazyyy 😱 )

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, and 44,931 others

tagged logansargeant

yourusername yeah i went to miami but i also got my nails done so what's new really

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user25 miss y/n continues to SERVEEEE

user26 she knows what's up!!

user27 tagging logan on the lilies awww :(

user28 okay but the caption is so real bc the nailsss?? CAN WE HAVE A MINUTE FOR THE NAILS PLEASE

user29 the way we've all decided to just stan alex's sister is everything to me

user30 she IS iconic

lilymhe the way you're wearing my necklace 🥺

yourusername of courseee you gave it to me!!

lilymhe ❤️

landonorris papaya flowers is that a sign or what

yourusername they're TIGER LILIES you idiot and just bc you won doesnt mean im switching sides

landonorris @/oscarpiastri wellll it was worth a try ☹️

logansargeant my flowers made a feature :)

yourusername of course they did i loveee them!

oscarpiastri boo make out already

alex_albon OSCAR I DON'T SUPPORT THAT

alex_albon the red nails im feeling betrayed rn 😔

yourusername switching sides @/scuderiaferrari @/charles_leclerc PLEASE give me a paddock pass thank you!!

scuderiaferrari your wish is our command 🫡

charles_leclerc y/n switching teams 🤣

landonorris oh so you'll switch to ferrari but not mclaren?? okayyy i see

yourusername yeah sorry about that lando 🤷‍♀️

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 day

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congrats on 3000!!! 🎉🍾🎊💖

For the sentence prompt: "I'm just gonna go freak out for a minute first."

Thank you!!!! ♥️

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Steve was holding his hand while the doctor checked his stitches. It wasn’t really that weird for him to be holding his hand, not since he woke up half-dead in the hospital.

It was a little weird that he was rubbing his thumb against the side of his thumb, though.

And probably a little weird that his other hand was resting on his head, a weight that was comforting and confusing all at once.

“Looks great, Eddie. I’d say by the next visit, we’ll be able to get them out and let these finish healing naturally,” the doctor smiled at him as he pulled his shirt back down.

Steve’s hand squeezed his, and he couldn’t help looking over at the sunshine in the seat next to him.

It had to be pretty obvious how he felt about Steve. He’s lucky none of the kids have caught on and started teasing him yet.

Robin has, but at least she knows to do it privately.

“I’ll have the front desk schedule you for two weeks out. You can grab an appointment card on the way out. Keep them all clean and don’t do any heavy lifting or physical activity quite yet,” the doctor reminded as she pulled off her gloves and threw them in the trash. “You boys have a nice day.”

As she left the room, Steve helped Eddie sit up slowly. He didn’t really need the help anymore, but he’d be an idiot to admit it with how much Steve touched him.

“Two more weeks, Eds! That’s better than what they thought last time,” Steve was so excited for him. His smile was lighting up the room and he looked five seconds away from bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Steve’s smile dropped at Eddie’s tone.

“Yeah! Yeah, it’ll be great to have less limits. Might be able to get the guys together for a jam session,” Eddie gave a small smile.

“But…?”

Eddie sighed. “But then you won’t be around anymore, right? Like, other than when we all hang out on movie nights. You only stuck around because no one else could really help me every day. Everyone had work or families that wouldn’t let them out of their sight.”

Steve looked heartbroken, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why.

“Eddie, I’m not gonna leave you just because you don’t technically need me anymore,” Steve shook his head. “We’re- we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course! I mean, I thought so. But I know it could just be that you feel bad and I wouldn’t expect you to stick around because of that.”

Steve grabbed his other hand, his grip tightening on Eddie’s skin almost painfully.

“I wanna stick around for a lot of reasons, Eds.”

Eddie was caught in his gaze, his wide, pleading eyes almost too much.

“Like what?”

“Like because you’re fun to be around. You’re funny and talented and smart. You taught me about Hobbits! Love those guys,” Steve stepped closer. “You’re brave and you care about all of us. You-“ Steve swallowed. “You see me. The real me.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie’s heart was racing as he looked between Steve’s eyes, down to his lips where his tongue had poked out momentarily to wet them.

“You’ve seen me when my parents have come home and made me feel like shit and you just distracted me with singing whatever pop songs are on the radio and helping me cook dinner. You’ve been there when I had a two day long migraine and couldn’t even stand up to go to the bathroom. You made grocery shopping fun! I fucking hate grocery shopping, but you just keep being silly and making me laugh and I had fun.” Steve leaned in so his forehead was touching Eddie’s. “You laugh at my jokes, even when they aren’t that funny. You listen to me when no one else pays attention. You see who I am and you let me be who I am and I don’t feel scared that you’ll run.”

“I’m not running.”

“I know. I love that you aren’t, that you won’t.” Steve closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were watery. “I love you.”

Eddie was certain he was dead. Maybe the last month had all been some coma-induced dream and they finally pulled the plug. Maybe he actually died in the Upside Down and the last month was his final goodbye to everyone in his own head.

He stood up slowly, trying not to push Steve away, but having to guide him away from the table he’d been laying on.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving, right?”

“Nope. I’m just gonna go freak out for a minute first.”

“Um.”

Eddie smiled, leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek, and pulled away.

“Give me a minute. This is either the most realistic dream I’ve ever had or the best day of my life.”

Steve snorted, but let him walk to the door and stand outside of it for a moment.

When Eddie came back in, his cheeks were red, but he looked determined.

He pulled Steve into him by his hips, crushed their lips together, and smiled so hard their teeth clacked against each other. It was a little messy for a first kiss, but they could get better.

“You love me? Really?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Steve laughed as they pulled apart.

“I thought I was obvious!”

“Not really. I was convinced I was imaging things! Robin had to explain to me what the hanky code was before I even believed you liked guys!”

They both laughed so hard they cried, forgetting entirely that they were still in the doctor’s examination room.

Someone knocked on the door and they broke apart quickly, trying to stop the laughter for a moment to deal with whoever was at the door.

A nurse poked her head in. “Sorry, don’t wanna rush you, but just wanted to make sure everything was okay? Did you need to see the doctor again?”

“No, no. Sorry. We’re heading out. He just needed a minute,” Steve said quickly, smiling back at her.

She nodded and left, leaving the door open as a silent reminder that they needed to disinfect the room for the next patient.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to say it just-“

“I’m not. I’m saying it because I love you. I see you, remember? There’s a lot there to love.”

Steve turned a bright red, and Eddie decided then he would do just about anything to see that shade on Steve’s cheeks and neck as often as possible.

“Let’s go home,” Steve finally said when he recovered. “Wanna kiss you more.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #asks #follower celebration #drabbles #getting together #post vecna #cw: mention of injury

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pb524830 · 2 days

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right where you left me

part: 8 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 1.5k c/w: language a/n: sighhhhh i'm not so happy with the way this ended, but i had so much fun writing this series. honestly, though, i'm very excited to start on some new stuff, so please please please stay tuned for that. let me know if you guys have requests, i'm feeling uninspired. thank you all so so much for staying tuned for this series, and while i'm sad it's over, you may be seeing more of paige and maya later on! let me know what you think!

When I wake up the next morning, I try for a moment to fool myself that this is my normal. That I always wake up wrapped in Paige, her hair tickling my nose. That I get to press a soft kiss into the skin of her neck and watch her eyes flutter open every single morning.

But in reality, we've fucked up. Paige’s eyes bore into mine. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she sighs. It’s not a question. It’s the truth. I search her eyes, trying to find some semblance of calm in the baby blue. This morning doesn’t forecast clear skies, as it would seem. Instead, I’m met with a raging storm.

“Do you wish we hadn’t?” I ask. My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. She hesitates. “I should,” she tells me. “But I don’t.” I shut my eyes, exhaling through my nose. She keeps talking. “I got to touch you.”

“I got to kiss you. Got to hold you, get to wake up to you.”

I nod, pursing my lips. “I know.”

“Maya, baby.”

I let myself look at her, opening my eyes to let them rove over her lips and her nose.

“I need to tell you something,” Paige says quietly.

She sits up, clad in one of her own t-shirts she’d grabbed from my closet. My eyes follow her movements, waiting with bated breath to see if she’ll leave.

“It wasn’t you. It was me.”

I sit up cautiously, narrowing my eyes at her. “Are you… re-breaking up with me, right now, Paige?”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head indignantly. “No! No, no, no! Just-just listen, okay?”

I nod, encouraging her to go on.

“I was insecure. I was so worried that everyone else would see what I see in you - how beautiful you are, how smart you are, and kind, and funny, and talented, and-and sexy. How could they not? I mean, you’re all that and-and more.”

“But I should have trusted you, too. It was unfair of me to throw the situation with Nicky back in your face. I’m the one who kissed you. I called you and you came, because you always do, because that’s how good you are. Because you love me. You’ve never done wrong by me, Maya. Ever. Even if I missed a comp, you were always there at my games. Even when I fucked up, you showed up for me, Mai.”

“And I’ve known. That it’s you. Maybe as long as we’ve known each other, I couldn’t tell you. But I don’t want anyone to touch me the way you do. I can’t imagine looking at someone else and-and feeling the things I feel when I look at you, Mai. I can’t even put them into words. I just know that this feeling that I have - right now - waking up to you and knowing that I’m yours and you’re mine… shit, Maya. I want this feeling for fucking life.”

My eyes sting with tears. “Paige,” I whisper.

“And I know you want time. And space. Or whatever the fuck. But I’m telling you I don’t need any of that shit. I just need you. Us. However much you’re willing to give. I’ll take it. Some of you, all of you. I don’t give a fuck. I’ll wait. However long it takes.” She rushes all of this out, her tone taking on a sense of urgency.

I’m silent, still processing her words.

“My bus to the airport leaves in an hour. If I’m not there, Coach will skin me alive,” she tells me, getting off the bed. “I know… you have doubts. I get it. But I’m telling you right now, you’re fucking it for me, Maya. And if you need a day, weeks, months, years to get to that place - I’ll still wait for you.”

Paige walks briskly to me, taking my face in her hands. I feel as though I’m in a state of shock. “My bus leaves from the Hilton. If you come, I’ll know you want to keep trying.” She kisses me chastely. “Please come,” she whispers.

Then she’s gone. I glance at the clock on my phone. It reads 9:30.

I let about fifteen minutes pass.

Then another fifteen. I pick at my blankets, my fingers twitching.

Twenty minutes go by.

Then thirty more.

I check my phone again. Nothing from Paige. The time reads 10:52.

I hesitate.

Then I grab my car keys off my nightstand.

*******

Paige’s POV

“She didn’t come?” KK asks softly. I stare out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her dark hair. “Nah, guess not.” I try to play it off, acting like it doesn’t bother me, but my heart feels like someone stabbed it and twisted the knife. I pull my jacket tighter around me, as though it might hide the bloodstains.

The ride to the airport is slow and painful. I wallow in the words I said to her before I left.

The truth is, I don’t want to be without her. I can’t. I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen years old. I’m 23 now, and the sun still rises and sets on that fucking smile.

I trudge through the airport, drag myself through security, and plop down at a seat at our gate. Azzi tries to poke me, trying to tease me to cheer me up. It doesn’t work. I shoot her a glare, then turn to the other side, determined to ignore the rest of my team.

That’s when I see her.

Maya.

She’s wearing what she wore to bed last night, a hoodie thrown over her t-shirt and shorts. She looks frantic, just about running through the airport. She clutches her keys in one hand, wallet in the other.

I shoot to my feet.

“Maya,” I breathe. KK gives me a weird look. “Yo, I know you’re down bad and all, but you have to chill.”

I swat her, my eyes still trained on the dark haired girl running through the Detroit airport. “No, dude. Maya. She’s here.”

KK’s eyes go wide when they spot her. “Girl, what are you standing here for? Go get her!”

“Right,” I mumble, nearly tripping trying to get past the bundle of duffels we all have on the floor in front of us.

“Maya!” I call, praying she hears me. “Maya!”

She spins to find my voice, her hair swishing around her. I see her lips form my name, and then she’s sprinting towards me, launching herself at me. Without hesitation, I gather her in my arms, squeezing her to me, letting her wrap her legs around my waist. “Paige,” she whispers into my hair, placing a kiss at my temple. “What are you doing here?” I wonder aloud. “I-I bought a ticket to Miami,” she splutters out, tears filling her eyes. “They wouldn’t let me in otherwise, but I had to see you-”

“You came,” I breathe, locking my arms around her body.

She stops, pulling back to look at me, a ‘duh’ look on her face. “You called,” she replies.

I bury my face into her, breathing in her smell. “Don’t do that again, okay?” I beg.

She laughs tearfully, nodding and clutching me to her. It occurs to me momentarily that this is an awfully public display of affection to be having in an airport, but I don’t give a shit.

“Never again,” she agrees, slowly unhooking her legs from around me.

“God, you scared me,” I tell her, but I’m too busy drinking her in to actually be mad.

“I just thought about what you said. We’re so over everything that happened in high school. I’m not scared you’ll hurt me again. I trust you too much for that. And I don’t need days or weeks or however fucking long, Paige. It’s been four years. I’m done waiting. I want this. Now,” she tells me earnestly.

I nod eagerly, unable to believe my ears. “We’ll- we’ll make it work. I’ll call you every day, every hour if you want. Whatever you want. You can visit! I’ll pay for your flights. I got NIL bank now, I’ll pay for whatever. I just-”

I know I’m babbling, but I’m just so unbelievably happy, I think I might be high off of it. I interrupt myself to kiss her, pulling her to me, not caring who sees. She laughs against me, kissing me back, and I think at this moment that if I could bottle her laugh up, I could get drunk off of it.

I lift her up off her feet once more, grinning at her.

“I hope you know I’m never letting you get away from me again,” I tell her.

Maya smiles at me, pecking my nose. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” she retorts.

I grin at her, stupidly in love with every single part of her. “You and me, baby?”

The smile she flashes at me is blinding, and she’s so beautiful I think I might pass out.

“You and me.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #fic #wcbb #uconn wbb #✂️ anon #ncaaw #paige bueckers x oc #fic talk #right where you left me

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11cupid-tarot11 · 15 hours

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Habits of your future spouse that might annoy you 😅

1 -> 3

DM me for private readings!

$5.55 per question!

Tips appreciated

C@sh app and P@ypal payments only

Cash tag- $minnieplant3

Love y'all

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

Pile 1- Four of swords, Seven of wands, two of cups and Queen of coins.

So I'm seeing this person will annoy you with how closed off they are. They don't let their emotions show easily, it's hard getting this person to really settle down and be grounded. I don't think this person doesn't ever want to settle down, I think they're just scared of commitment but more specifically love, getting close to someone. Maybe they've been hurt by people before, rather it be an ex who left them feeling guarded or just walls being up because they think how cuel the world is, whatever it may be they feel they have to protect these feelings from everyone, and that will annoy you I'm assuming lol. You might not really understand this person's intentions at first, you might think they're disinterested or you wanting to move the relationship to a more serious level and they could be resistant, really confusing, like you just don't know what this person's next move is. But this energy is really frustrating! Like, either you love me or don't srsly man 😭 I see this person really does want you, they are serious about you and I think that scares them because again they're so closed off and guarded, but they really do worship you. They might think you're also out of their "league" I'm hearing, there could be some insecurities around their ego as well.

I'm mostly picking up on that and not much of anything else? I wanted this pick a pile to be a little longer but it seems this is all spirit wants to flow through for now lol.

I hope you enjoyed! See you next time, don't forget to do the pole at the bottom!

Other messages- Cancer, Pisces, 14, I'm sorry. (Seems like someone wants to apologize for something? I heard "I'm sorry" multiple times during this.)

Pile 2- Ace of coins, Five of wands, The magician, Eight of cups in reverse.

This person tends to be fixed on money at times, it might annoy you how materialistically this person might be. I'm also seeing this person likes to take on battles on their own, will fight anyone on earth for you and you don't have to move fingernail, they like to try and be the solution to all of your problems and this will annoy, it could be you just hate how this person makes all of your problems their own to the fullest which is a nice trait to have but it's also not healthy. This person could have a hard time letting toxic people go, they have a bit of a people pleasing energy. With the Magician card I'm getting this person really likes fixing everyone's problems, having their "Aha!" Moments and that might really irritate you, you could help this person coming out of that energy and teach them it's okay to not be everyone's hero, that it's not their job all the time to give themselves away so much.

I hope you enjoyed this reading! Don't forget to do the poll below! See you soon 🩷

Other messages- Aries, Leo, Sagittarius.

Pile 3- Three of coins, Knight of Swords, Three of cups and Five of swords

This person would rather sit in silence and struggle rather than ask for help. This person could like going out and partying a lot or maybe likes taking you on dates out doors a lot in crowded places, you could be more introverted than them so this annoys you a bit lol.

I think this person might have a temper they're still learning to control? Like I think they're a calm person but as soon as they get ticked off their words cut deep, and they know that actually.

Maybe this person has a lot of talent, you see a lot of potential in this person or they share lots of good ideas with you and it might annoy you that this person doesn't believe in themselves to finally turn their dreams into reality? I see you really want the best for this person so it might really annoy you that you know they're not giving it all they've got, you see how far they can go, they just need that extra bit of encouragement from you!

Hi! Hope you liked this reading! Don't forget to do the poll at the bottom please! See you soon! 🩷

Other messages- Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, blue, water, wings and 14.

#tarot community #18+ tarot #pac love reading #pac tarot #pick a card #spirituality #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot love reading #tarot messages

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orth82 · 2 days

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Michael Sheen=the greatest.

Despite how exhausted he was after Thursday's performance (he was on FIRE that night) he still took the time to see all of his adoring fans at the stage door and make loads of people's day.

Friday's stage door was truly magical, and the energy in the crowd was off the charts. Loads of hardcore fans and talented fanartists were there and it became a spontaneous mini Ineffable Sheen Convention of sorts.

Everyone was interacting and supporting each other like the fabulous family we are. One girl was so nervous she almost threw up. Another adorable fan had a full on breakdown of the most joyous and beautiful kind after meeting their hero. Shy and trembling fans were gently encouraged and helped by the complete strangers next to them.

An international delegation of Sheenie fans comprised of some of the loveliest and most talented people on earth, all brought together by our adoration of this beautiful man.

So many hugs, happy tears, stories and wee handmade gifts were exchanged. I am so grateful to have been lucky enough to be a part of it all.

And yes, that's his handwritten bratty Bastille Azi quote on my collarbone, freshly tattooed this morning in Soho (he kindly wrote it on a post-it note for the specific purpose).

Oh, and then this happened. Irene, you are a cinnamon roll and we all think you're just the bee's knees ☺️

Toward the end of my third magical stage door encounter I finally had the wherewithal to ask for a photo. Still not brave enough to request a hug but my hand went straight for his glorious tummy of its own accord. My brain ceased to function at that point and I am now deceased 💀

There are no words to describe how grateful I am to Michael, the phenomenal cast and the best fandom on earth for this unforgettable experience. I genuinely hope MS knows how loved he is and how much we appreciate all he does. This world is a better place because of him 🖤

(btw that adorable Nye kewpie doll is the creation of the talented @buzzinglarrieee and the Nye watercolour was a gift to MS made by @dennissima)

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spiderfunkz · 2 days

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heyy could you do a peter parker blurb based on him asking you out on the last day of school? i love ur writing btw

✧ LOVE ON A LAST DAY.

summary : someone has a pretty crush on you!

word count : 0,7k

contains : fluff, fem!reader, super cutesy stuff.

a/n : next month i'll be graduating so this prompt is actually perfect omg omg, thank u for requesting anon i hope u like this !!! 🤭 i used the word 'smile' so much in this i apologize

"hey, peter!"

you waved cheerfully,

it was the last day of school. the final bell just rang and everyone is running out of the building yelling, cheering, crying, and smiling. papers were scattered, pens fell out of backpacks, shirts were signed, and flowers were exchanged.

you were going to hangout with your friends but that's when you spot peter at the end of the hall. hair messy, backpack full, his hands were in his pocket, he looked very nervous.

but you weren't going to leave him alone like that, it's been a while since you two have catched up.

you have been friends since middle-school, but as friends do, they drift apart, though you've never lost that spark with peter. you loved his company & he loved yours.

"hi!" peter waved.

you catch up to him, "hey, i didn't see you anywhere today! you haven't gotten a chance to sign my jacket yet. here," you pass a marker.

"i saved you a spot to sign." he nods, signing it.

you smile, "aw, this looks perfect."

he smiles too, he seems to be very smiley every time he's around you.

sometimes he forgets that you can see how much he smiles when he's near you, or how you can see that he's clearly staring at you.

"what? do i have something on my face?" you rub your cheek,

"oh, no. no you don't, sorry."

"you sure?"

he nods.

"you're weirdly quiet. you okay? i'm still going to the same college as you if that's what you're worrying about," you giggle.

peter has always loved how easy you are to talk to. in a way that there's never awkward pauses between conversations, and how your smile makes everything feel so calm and nice.

"i know. i just, uh-" he fiddles with something in his pocket, "there's something i wanna say, if that's okay."

"yeah, why wouldn't it not be okay?"

he shakes his head, smiling.

he passes you a picture from his pocket along with a small flower he picked.

you take it, your hand softly brushing his hand for a second.

it was a picture he took 2 months ago. you remember the day very well.

it was hot, awfully hot for new york. there were no clouds, the skies were clear and everybody was talking about it. how eager they are to take a walk and how excited they are to enjoy time outside.

though you and peter wanted nothing more but to stay inside, but this doesn't happen everyday. so why not try your best to enjoy it?

you were at the park and just finished your 2nd cup of lemonade (it was peter's), peter brought his camera for memories. your hair kept sticking to your face and it didn't help that you were smiling a ton so it got in your lipgloss as well.

suddenly wind came and flew past you. the air felt cool for a second and your hair went all over your face, you still smiled though.

peter saw and took a picture immediately, the sun perfectly leaving a glow on your hair, also giving your lips a nice glow.

"did you just take a picture?" he quickly shook his head, "yes you did! let me see!" — "no! i know you're just gonna delete it."

you finally saw the picture. at the bottom you can see a handwritten note on it. a beautiful day with the most beautiful girl!

"peter, this is so cute. you- you took this?" you asked, he nods shyly.

you couldn't hide the fact that your face grew red. "i was wondering... if maybe the most beautiful girl in the world would like to maybe.. like to.. go out with me sometimes..?"

peter said, whispering the last few words, looking down at his shoes, the doodled converses you once drew on.

you smile, "i'd love to."

he looks up, shocked. "really?"

"yeah! i mean all of this coming from the most prettiest, talented, caring boy in the world? how could i say no?" you smile, teasingly.

peter smiles.

he thinks for a second before taking the small flower from your hands and tucking it behind your ear, "pretty." he says, stated actually.

"so are you going to walk me home now, most beautiful boy in the world?" you ask. he nods almost immediately, "absolutely, most perfect girl in the world."

you walk outside the building, your hand holding his.

"just so you know i'm gonna draw a big red heart around your signature on my jacket."

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gn4bnahc · 21 hours

Text

You, not her

Pairing: Bangchan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

CW: Car sex, riding, fingering, unprotected sex, corruption kink, insecurities. Idk what else

Masterlist

This is just fiction!

P.S. Theres twitter/X vid links

Chan's parents were very wealthy. His parents and your parents were friends. Your parents had the idea to make your sister date Chan, but little did they know, Chan had a crush on you.

——————————————————————

You go home from school seeing Chan and his parents sitting on the couch with your parents and your sister, Bella. You smile at them a little bit, before going upstairs.

Chan looks at you as you go upstairs. “Who was that?”, Chan whispers to Bella, “That was my sister, y/n, don’t mind her”, Bella says in a flirtatious tone while clinging on his arm.

“Y/n!!”, your parents shout, calling you to go down. You go downstairs, “hm?”, “join us here”, “oh uh okay”, you say as you sit down facing Chan.

You notice he keeps looking at you. You try your best not to look at him. “Y/n this is Chan, your sister’s soon to be you know”, your mom whispers but you were sure everybody could hear her.

“Oh right you should eat first before you go”, your mom says as they follow her to the dining table. Chan sits beside your sister, facing you, your mom places down the food on the table, “Come on eat up”, your mom says as she sits down.

You see Bella wearing the hair clip that you just bought, Chan noticed you looking down, fidgeting with your fingers. As you expected, everyone was putting their attention to your sister, she was always the amazing one, the pretty one, the smart one, the talented one, the perfect one, and you, you were just there.

Chan kept staring at you, you minding your own business, quiet, just listening to your parents talk about Bella.

You finished your food, Chan saw you went out the house, but the rest didn’t even care.

You went out to go to the park. Chan just wanted to go now, he didn’t want to listen to your parents babbling about Bella.

When they were all finished eating, they said goodbye to eachother. Chan’s parents went home, but Chan told his parents he’s going to the park.

As Chan walked to the park, he saw you, sitting on the bench, looking at the sky, he sat down beside you, “Hey”, “Oh hi Chan”, you smiled at him, making his heart melt, “Why are you here?”, he says looking at you, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”, you say as he chuckles, “Well i’m here because I wanted to get some fresh air”, he says while smiling at you, “I go here every night, I love this place, this were I mostly cry, I just stare at the stars”, you say while looking down, “Cry?”, “Yeah”, you say as you look down. “I noticed you were very quiet a while ago”, “Oh yeah I don’t really talk much, no one really listens to me”, you say while looking at the sky as he stares at you, “I’m here, i’ll listen”, he says as you chuckle, “Why are you even talking to me”, you sigh, “Because you seem like a interesting person”, “Me?”, “Who else am I talking to”, “Okay, it’s just people always put their attention to my sister, I can’t even argue with them cause Bella is very pretty, Im just a basic girl, a very unattractive one actually”, you say while he’s here shocked, “Are you serious right now? You’re so pretty”, he says as you giggle shyly, “No one has ever called me pretty”, he kisses your cheek while holding your hand, “Woah what was that for?”, “Oh nothing”, he says teasingly while smiling, “Anyways can I have your number?”, “Oh uh sure”, he takes your phone, he is so happy right now that he keeps putting in the wrong number.

——————————————————————

Chan has been inlove with you since he saw you at school.

He accidentally dropped his things and as you helped him pick it up, he looks up at you, when he saw you giving his things while smiling cutely, he knew you were the girl of his dreams, “Thank you”, he says as you run away, he was devastated that he didn’t get to ask your name.

——————————————————————

That night Chan slept while smiling, imagining scenarios of you and him, you, berry and him, walking on the beach together, you and him eating ice cream together, him cuddling you on the bed, humming while placing kisses on your forehead. Man he was head over heels.

The next day Chan comes to your house. He knocks on the door, waiting for you, he knew you were alone today so he wanted to take you out.

You open the door, you see him with a bouquet of flowers, his dimples showing, “What are you doing here?”, “Let’s go out”, “I’m not dressed properly”, “Ok i’ll give you time”, he says while still smiling widely. He waits patiently, excited that he will take you out, you walk down the stairs, he couldn’t take his eyes off you, “What are you looking at?”, you say while staring down shyly, he kisses you on the cheek, “so beautiful”, he says as you smile like an idiot. You take the flowers as you go to his car.

You go to his car, he opens the door for you, admiring you. He goes in the car, “Where are we going?”, “It’s a supriiise”, he says in teasing way, making you smiling widely. As he drives, he holds your hand, kissing it every minute.

You guys finally arrived at your destination. Chan opens the door for you, holding your hand as you go out, “Woah this is beautiful, Chan”, he took you to a private picnic with lights around it, “Meh, you’re much more beautiful”, he says teasingly, smiling at you, holding your hand.

You both sit down, he takes out the food in the basket, “Did you make all this?”, “Mhm”, “Woah”, he goes closer to you, feeding you, as you chew your food he keeps kissing you on the cheek, smiling while clinging on you. While he was kissing you on the cheek, you turn to him, kissing him on the lips, at first he was shocked, but as time passed by the kiss got more heated, he slowly takes off your sundress, “No bra?”, he grabs your breasts, circling your nipples, he slowly goes down, his hand in your panties, he slowly circles your clit, you moan as you guys kiss, “Cha…a…nnie…”, “Whats that baby?”, “Pleasee…”, he lays you down, unbuttoning his pants, taking of his shirt, you look at his boxers, you could already see how hard he was, he takes his boxers off, his cock springs out, “Chan, I never done this before”, “Shh baby, i’ll be gentle mkay?”, “Okay”. He goes down, licking your entrance, circling your clit with his thumb, you moan loudly, he spits on your cunt, getting ready to put his dick in. He slowly enters, “Chan… you… you’re s… so big”, “Im pretty big aren’t I, yeaaah”, he starts off slow, but as time passes by, his thrusts gets harder, better, faster, he fucks you right there, not caring if anyone sees you.

When it was finally night time, both of you lay down, “The stars are so pretty, but you’re prettier”, Chan says as he slowly places his hand on your clit, rubbing it, you grab on his cock, slowly stroking it, he puts a finger in, fingering you, you stroking his dick as you stargaze.

The date was finally over. “Aww I wanted to spend more time with you”, he says while pouting, “You did great today, because of that you get a kiss”, he looks at you suprised, you kiss him on the cheek, even though it was only on the cheek, he didn’t care, he was blushing so hard, “Why are you even blushing that hard, you’re acting like you didn’t just put your dick in my cunt and finger me”, you say as he chuckles.

Before you went out of the car, he stops you, “I have something for you”, he takes out an expensive necklace, “Chan, I can’t accept this, this is very valuable”, “I don’t care, you look so beautiful with it, but even without it you’re still beautiful”, he smiles at you, his dimples showing as you chuckle.

The next day, Chan sees you putting things in your locker. He goes towards you, you see him, you close your locker and quickly ran away, he was confused why you ran away, it’s like you’re pretending nothing happened yesterday. He sees you in the hallways, when you see him, you quickly try to run away, but not this time, he quickly grabs your hand, “Hah! there you are, why do you keep running away, it’s like you’re avoiding me…”, “What… No… I…”, “You’re definitely avoiding me, did I do something wrong? did you not enjoy the thing that happened yesterday? was I too rough? did I stretch you out that much?”, he says as he looks at you worried, “No… it’s just…”, the bell rings, “Oh look! I’m gonna be late for class… haha…”.

It was night time, Chan knew you were at the park. As Chan goes to the park, he sees you covering your face while crying, he ran fast, he hugs you, “Hey… hey… I’m here, just let it all out, mkay”, “Chan… the reason I was avoiding you was because, when I came home late, they asked where I went, I said I was with you, they got mad and told me to not go near you anymore and of course I followed cause I’m a coward”, you say as he kisses your forehead while hugging you, “Chan this is wrong… you shouldn’t be here with me…”, “What’s wrong with being inlove? Y/n ever since you helped me pick up my things, I was inlove with you, your smile lights the whole place up, I know I didn’t completely know you that time, but I knew that you were the one”, “Why? Why not Bella? Bella is so much more prettier than me, she’s basically perfect, why are you settling for less when you can settle for more? Chan, you can get any girl that you want, but why did you have to pick me?”, “Cause… I love you, not her, period”, he caresses your cheek, you suddenly pull him into a kiss, he carries you, he opens his car, he lays you down the front seat , he notices there’s something in your hand, “What’s that in your hands?”, “Oh it’s nothing”, “Come on let me see”, in your hand was a heart shaped pendant with his initial and your initial in it, “Woah baby, is this supposed to be for me?”, “Yeah… I just thought that you won’t like it, because it’s nothing compared to the expensive jewelry you have…”, “Baby, this is the most expensive jewelry I have ever received”, “Can I put it on you?”, you say as he nods, you both sit up, you put it on him, “I’m gonna wear it everyday”, he says as he puts you on top of him, taking off his pants, and taking off your panties, he puts his cock in you, “So beautiful”, he slaps your ass, you kiss him as he thrusts his dick in you, fucking you in his car, the windows didn’t have a tint, people outside could see you both fucking inside, but both of you didn’t care at all.

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cinnibelle · 21 hours

Text

I’m going to vent. Sit tight for an artist’s reflection on the acotar fandom!

I was going to use tumblr to strictly post art (at least on my end) and engage with the wonderful ppl here as well. Except what I’ve been seeing as of late is a lot of abuse (across platforms) and it’s very jarring. As an artist, I understand to make the most of your experience in a toxic fandom is to say nothing and do nothing that bothers those a bit **too** passionate about their opinions. I get it, I’m used to being content fodder from other fandoms. So I am not new to this.

But this fandom is *so* toxic that I immediately understood why artists choose to stay neutral or entirely avoid making art for this fandom at all. I have several art friends interested in the books but won’t touch the fandom with a ten foot pole from what they’ve seen. What I’ve personally witnessed the past few months is genuinely disgusting. The only reason I’m here after being FLAMED on twitter is because 1) I began posting BECAUSE people were so kind and encouraging and I don’t want to leave them and the possibility of befriending others 2) I was fully prepared to be dragged for the smallest offense.

I didn’t want to believe people would be downright atrocious to me for Elain, being starborn, holding the sword that reflects her (as I’ve stated when I paralleled quotes) but that’s what they were: awful. And what I got in turn was: why are you victimizing yourself this is what other artists deal with! Ok?? And!? Why is it appropriate AT ALL. Why is it fine for you to do that? I don’t care what anyone ships, why do you feel entitled to comment nastiness under someone’s art. To directly be in their mentions mocking the concept and the way it looks or how you hate the character. It brings me and others joy.. why are you being ruthless? For a fictional character??

It’s too much. And you know, this is my first fandom experience where the shipping is so extreme. I would’ve loved multi shipping as I’ve done it in other fandoms, I really don’t care for what sort of crack ships people make up (though I have my limitations, I think everyone does. “Notp”.) But you know what I DON’T DO as an adult? Ridicule artists for their work. They are providing content FOR FREE. And if they aren’t, they are gifting you with their expertise and talent. You are scaring people away.

I was afraid of joining and just stayed on the sidelines for months just enjoying arts in peace. I only gave in because I showed some friends some of my sketches and they ADORED it. And pleaded that I post. So I did, and I found many others really wanted me to continue posting. So I do. Were it not for the toxicity, I would’ve drawn all types of ships because I’m genuinely someone that does not care about the ship and if it’s canon or endgame or not, if I like the characters and the vibe- cool. Draw it. That’s the beauty of fanart.

But people are acting diabolically UNHINGED over it. And treating artists like they’re players and they’re revoking sponsorships. Fandom should not be a competition. That is exhaustive and tiring. I shouldn’t have to be fearful of the engagements on my posts. I don’t even have 500 followers yet on ANY of my platforms. And still, I am treated like filth. I need people to reflect on their behavior, recognize if they don’t like something ignore it or block it or what have you and be at peace. Stop giving into negativity and using artists as some pawn- they have feelings TOO! And you really turn them off to a character or a ship or a fandom in general with the way you act.

I have my comments off where I can keep them off because I simply don’t want 1) people arguing in my comments and 2) comments that are generally unhelpful or just shaming me for what I post. But twitter I really can’t help what happens. And tumblr too there’s some limits I can take and a filtering system I can take advantage of but even here people lack etiquette. I don’t understand where people get off acting like mean girls over things people made.

This is the most extreme, unhealthy fandom I have ever been in and I’m really not all shocked when I hear an artist quit and doesn’t want to partake. This is not a competition of who has it worse. Stop bullying artists because they don’t make content that pleases you. Just drop it. I can’t believe I am being called TOXIC for defending myself and my art. And I know who these people are, I know exactly the type of content they themselves post and it’s COMEDY to be telling ME I’m toxic for standing up for myself.

Most artists leave or go silent. That’s what you want, right? Or to antagonize them to the point they really lose patience with you. This is me losing patience: a call to being better. Be the change you seek. It’s funny I have people going at me and in their bio it says “ spread kindness not hate” Pardon??

Seriously, I would’ve liked to explore any theory and a variety of arts despite my preferences but the way people act with what I DO put out, I’m just sour. I don’t even want to expand beyond the two characters I really like because I have a headache already with the “you don’t really care about-“ takes that I’ve seen other artists get when they expand what they draw in this fandom.

It shouldn’t offend you that an artist has a preference and wants to share the things that they found intriguing or makes them happy. And if it does, cry about it in private at minimum. Stop dumping your grief onto the artists. That’s all. Maybe then you will see a resurgence of artists that do content for free (and frequently) or a return of artists who left.

#sorry I’m just shaken and tired #acotar #small artist #bookish

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shefanirandom · 11 hours

Text

“I am honored, absolutely honored, to be here tonight to support the incredible work of Keep Memory Alive, and to celebrate this year’s honoree, Blake Shelton! His heart is as big as his voice. His talent is obvious, but it's how he lights up the room and brings a smile to everyone he meets that makes us all love him so much. So whether he’s supporting an important cause and organizations across the country, he’s an incredible person. He supports veterans. He supports children’s hospitals, food banks, supports people with disabilities, disaster relief efforts, wildlife conservation or local communities in need, Blake’s generosity is genuine and endless. His dedication to giving back and making a difference and using his platform for good, both publicly and behind the scenes is truly inspiring. Please help me welcome my husbaaaand! Blake Shelton!”

Gwen's speech, Keep Memory Alive, Power of Love gala at MGM Grand Garden, May 2024

#shefani #video

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chaithetics · 1 day

Note

GIRLLLL OMGGGG YOUR MONEKY MAN FIC HELLO?? HELLOOOO???? so good. i just came back from watching it and wtf. now that is how u direct and that is how u make a profound film. (i’m glazing him and this film so hard but idc i just want 1 chance dev PLS JUST GIMME 1 ONE IS ALL I NEED) also r u indian? cuz when i saw the ��jaan” i read it it in his voice and my knees literally almost hit the ground like i was like 😧🌚😜😍🤭🤭😋😋🤤🥰 the whole time!!! if i may, can i request another monkey man fic/drabble/whatever u wanna make it but it’s about how they met? basically like a backstory on how they met and got together. thank youuu! 🫶🏽

Blood-Stained Meetings, Nauseous Introductions

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader Word count: 2.6K Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries/blood, longing, reader has no physical description, a kiss, no smut. Not proof or beta read. A/N: Hey lovely Nonnie, so glad you enjoyed the film! It's so good! Dev Patel is so talented. I hope you and everyone else reading this and in the fandom enjoys this fic! 🫶(Please do and validate me, I'm scared it's TERRIBLE and I'm not happy with this, genuinely terrified lol) Comments, reblogs etc. are always more than appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy 🥰 Gif by @junkfoodcinemas Somewhat inspired by an old chat with the talented @mittos about how reader would probably hate seeing him fight, and tagging @lialilalo because I feel bad about ending up taking a week to get this out since your ask!

Sure, there were probably worse ways to spend a Friday night, but you also knew that there were definitely much better ways to spend a Friday night as well. But you simply weren’t the kind of person who did better things on a Friday night, that wasn’t in your DNA. Obviously. This was your brother's idea of fun after all.

It didn’t surprise you that this was how your adult brother wanted to spend the start to his weekend and drag you along, or that this was a frequent pastime of his. It didn’t mean that it horrified you any less though.

You’d sighed and dreaded this for hours, days probably, subconsciously.

Yet, you still were here. You’d changed out of your work clothes for this, you’d tried to make yourself as presentable as possible when you knew it was an effort you’d see reflected in your brother. You were dreading leaving your home and having to blend into the sea of bloodthirsty betters you were about to find yourself in.

You walk with your brother and one of his friends into the building, it’s large and crowded. Everyone is packed in like sardines as they yell about what odds they’re betting on, who’s the biggest and strongest, who’s the most nimble-footed and quickest, and who is the immediate runt of the competitors. You can already feel yourself becoming stressed, at this environment. You don’t understand the appeal of this but you understand how it can become a reality with the world that you’re all in.

The heat stings your face like a slap, as you stand there, close to your brother so you don’t get split up in this sea and he rambles in your ear about who he placed a bet on, how they usually do. All of the information that seems so important in a moment like this to everyone else. But you’ve seen enough blood, you don’t need to be fascinated by people getting bloodied up like this. It’s a privilege that you’ve been able to avoid this your whole life.

If you were seeing this at home, or if it wasn’t so packed in here tonight, you’d feel a little less self-conscious. And if you felt a little less self-conscious, you’d be chewing on your nails, all the way down to the nail bed. Until you felt the all too familiar sting of going too far. You give your hand a little shake to try and get rid of that urge, now’s not the place or time to wear your nerves on your sleeve. So instead, you try to offer up a small smile to your brother as he leads you to a spot on some benches nearby.

The bench is relatively close to the ring, but it’s good, you’re already overstimulated and trying to make it up further to higher seats isn’t an idea that agrees with you right now, and it surely promises you a quick exit if needed. You look around, the dim lighting further adds to everything, your eyes scan the faces of those in the crowd and you look out at the ring. It’s big, you think, but you’re not sure if it’s a standard size or not for this sport.

An announcer enters the ring, he looks sleazy and has a large, sly smirk pasted onto his face, one that makes you uncomfortable. You look at your brother to try and share a knowing glance but he’s focused on what’s in front of you both. You let out a quiet sigh as you tilt your head back to focus on what’s in front of you.

The announcer opens his mouth and he speaks in a South African accent, that surprises you and you can’t help but look at your brother again. He announces himself as Tiger. This night is already so random, and you have a feeling that it’s only going to get more wild.

“He’s the owner.” Your brother says as he tilts his head to whisper loudly in your ear. You can hear him over the whooping, clapping, and chants that have started. You nod as you look back at the ring, trying to pay attention to what you’re going to soon witness. Despite how overwhelming it all is.

Tiger then introduces a fighter who’s dressed to almost look like a reptile, he’s introduced as King Kobra and gets a warm, adoring welcome from the audience with thunderous applause and cheers. You don’t clap as you can’t help but look around instead, taking it all in. It’s a lot and there’s so many people here, here just for this.

Tiger then starts to introduce King Kobra’s opponent, his voice changes and it’s tinged with an antagonising disgust, he’s clearly trying to rile the audience up into booing, and not rooting for whoever it is. You can’t help but feel your curiosity grow at that. It feels childlike how it’s said, but you see the audience respond just as Tiger wishes. The opponent is Monkey Man, he quickly comes out and makes his way into the ring. He moves quickly and he bounces on his feet for a moment as he gets further into the zone. He stands there, waiting for the noise to confirm it’s the start, the start of a fight where he can maybe get one or two punches in before he has to keel over for his pay. Pay that he’ll probably have to bargain for.

He stands in the ring and he can’t help but spend a second focusing on the face he sees in the front row. Kid is sure he hasn’t seen that face here before, it’s a pretty face, but he can’t help but notice the anxiety pooled in those eyes or your body language. He tilts his head slightly, it doesn’t seem to be the kind of anxiety some of the gamblers here have before the match, the ones who are risking it all for an expensive thrill and painful rush, to live vicariously through him and the other men adorned in animal masks and names.

Kid turns his head away from you and tries to focus back on his work. You don’t even notice that the man in the ring has been staring at you, taking you and your nerves in for a few, long but oh so short seconds.. How could you? With that mask? You can’t see his face, but you can see there’s a lanky figure standing there, hiding under the mask and donning the monkey man mantle. He’s tall and slender but you can see there’s some muscle on his arms, from what you can see of the sweat and blood-stained undershirt he wears, his chest is toned as well.

You don’t know it yet, but you can feel something realign, change in this moment. You’re just not sure what it is, or if this feeling is even real, or if it’s just another symptom of somatic anxiety. Right now, you think it’s probably just that.

After almost another minute of the crowd booing Monkey Man and chanting out for the King Kobra, the match begins. Each of the men takes a moment to size the other one up, watching the other’s moves before the first hit lands. It’s King Kobra, he strikes Monkey Man.

King Kobra goes to throw another punch, he moves quickly and he’s very agile, yet Monkey Man somehow dodges this one. His landing with the dodge isn’t perfect, but it gets him out of the way. He throws a punch to King Kobra and the crowd erupts into boos at that. It’s even more louder and clearer than before who they’re all rooting for and aren’t. The crowd’s response seems to motivate King Kobra as he quickly moves and starts to deliver blow after blow.

You barely feel the noise of the crowd’s screams of joy and cheers as this happens and King Kobra gets his footing back. Your eyes widen as you watch, you see blood starting to fall as Monkey Man loses his way in this match.

You let out a gasp as he falls to the ground. King Kobra slithers around the ring, posing and feeding off of the crowd’s response before he goes in for the kill shot. He delivers it and you feel yourself slightly jump. It’s terrifying to you, you don’t see the appeal in this, you can only start to mentally list off all of the physical trauma this causes. You sigh as you watch King Kobra be declared the winner of this match, it sounds like a recurring event, you gaze over at your brother who looks ahead with a large smile of awe, obviously happy with whatever return he’s getting on the bets he’d made beforehand

Monkey Man slowly tries to limp his way out of the ring and backstage, you look at your brother and quickly whisper that you need to check on this man. You have to, it’s basically a moral and ethical obligation. Your brother sighs and nods, you quickly move off of the bench and it doesn’t take much for you to catch up to this masked man. “How are you feeling? I’m a nurse.” You say to him and he nods slowly, you can hear his ragged pants from under the mask, the mask is drenched in sweat along with the rest of his body.

As you slowly walk backstage with him to the locker room that’s pungent with the sweat of costumed men masquerading as animals and characters you’d find in The Ramayana. There’s blood stains visible throughout the floors and walls, and you can taste the copper of the crimson in the air, impossibly so. You don’t know how but you can. You ignore these other bodies floating in your periphery as you walk to a sink with the Monkey Man, he leads the way, naturally.

As you approach the sink together he immediately puts his hands on the edge and spits out a thick string of blood, you’re used to seeing blood but in this context, you can’t help but feel your nose screw up a little. It’s awful.

He tilts his head to look up at you, your eyes meet him and you offer him a small smile and give him your name. He looks at you, taking in the way that your lips curl up and how they do so genuinely. He gives a small nod, one you’d have missed if you’d blinked just a few seconds earlier. He just tells you that his nickname is Kid. Maybe he’s been fighting since he was very young. You don’t ask. Not yet.

You turn the faucet on at the sink, to try and wash his blood away so that you can start trying to clean the damage of tonight’s fight, off of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, he knows you’re not the type of person to come to these events. You’re not a regular and it’s clear from your face, you’re not a fan of these displays of violence.

“My brother. It’s his birthday this weekend.” You say quietly as you wipe the blood off. “Have you broken your nose?” He looks up at you with a small smile, it makes sense. Your brother was probably the man beside you, he thinks. Kid can’t quite remember his face. He then shrugs at your question. His nose doesn’t feel too bad right now, but he knows he’s probably broken it at some stage.

“You’re not sure?” You ask him, he shakes his head. You immediately notice how quiet he is, but despite his silence, his eyes are so reactive and expressive that you feel like you know more than what his words could give you.

“Do you have issues breathing? It doesn’t look bad, there’s just a small scar there. They often heal pretty well on their own.” You say as if to reassure him, even though you know that it probably isn’t something that would bother him. There wouldn’t be much he could do now anyway about that. You don’t like that thought.

Kid stays there perfectly still as your stomach is now over its nausea and your hand touches his skin so gently as you try to offer him some kindness, some respect, some dignity, some simple compassion and care. His eyes soften as he realises that and looks up at you. There’s a glow from within you, even in the artificial lighting of the locker room and it’s easy for him to block out the chaos in here and focus on your gentleness.

He’s barely ever touched, except for when a blow hits in a match, it’s never this gently. He doesn’t even know how to show himself that level of care when he bandages himself up at the end of each night that he fights.

There’s not much of a conversation as you bandage him up but somehow, you don’t really notice it and it’s completely okay with you. There’s a comfort in his quietness, his stillness. It’s one he finds in you as well, perfectly requited. You put a hand on his arm gently as you just finished putting a bandage on him. He takes your hand slowly, and he examines it. You’ve never had someone look at your hair, analysing every hair on your knuckles and by your wrist. It’s a unique way to be seen. He then takes your hand and gently turns it over, taking his time as he does. Kid looks at your palm, at all the lines on it and his eyes follow and travel amongst every single last one. A million lifetimes. A million dreams. He runs his finger along them, just to confirm as he thinks about the roots of your skin, how they run along to the softness and travel over calluses. “That’s your future.” He says softly as he looks at your hand, running his fingers along the lines. He then looks up at you, and his big, beautiful brown eyes meet your orbs. “It’s your past, everything.” You’re not sure what it is that he sees. You’d like to know but you also think you’d be content living without that and just his opinion on everything else in the world. But still, you want to see with his eyes.His fingers stop running over your palm and you feel your cheeks heat up at the intensity of this, his eyes have softened and there’s something else there. Something you don’t quite know. Is it longing? You’re not sure. You feel a deep, soul-aching longing, he does as well and always has. You just haven’t arrived at the stop yet for that to be communicated with words. Now all there is just looks, longing looks from a man with the most beautiful big, brown eyes in the world. You could melt in them, swim in them, drown in them. All of the above and you’d never complain.

You don’t know who makes the first move first, it just feels natural, like gravity. Some kind of natural force that slowly pulls your lips together that you both know is right. His hand gently cups your cheek as you feel his lips. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t mind. The kiss is soft and delicate and you like it. You need it and so does he. Everything feels so natural right now. Perhaps this is something he saw in the palm of your hand. You don’t know what it is yet, but you’re certain that this mask-wearing monkey man is part of that future he just talked about.

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merakiui · 4 hours

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Can we talk about Azul being a big baby?

https://www.tiktok.com/@saltypinacolada/video/7361631572765871406

Throwing a tantrum as if hes not a grown ass man… I believe he wouldn’t want to show his darling this side of him cause he considers it his gross icky lil tako self, BUT HE DESERVES TO BE IMMATURE AND GROSS FROM TIME TO TIME. LET THE BABY TAKO OUT

Brat taming scenario or straight yandere tantrum 🤔 which would be better i wonder

(link)

AAAAA I LOVE HIM. ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა that's my beloved tako!!!!

I suppose (in his defense) he has every right to have a harsh meltdown like that, considering this is years and years of bottled negativity, insecurity, avarice, etc. Leona destroying the (large collection of) contracts and Azul losing at his own game were just the straws that broke the camel's back.

I think it's also important to note that Jade and Floyd (Azul's two closest friends) are unwilling to side with him this time and maybe Azul saw that as a threat to his own mental well-being. Jade and Floyd are usually easygoing and often on board for all of Azul's schemes, so this is one of the first times they're openly opposing him and telling him he can't do something (i.e., take everyone's magic or else he'll overblot). When Floyd tells him he's much lamer now than he ever was before Azul can't recognize their genuine concern for him. In Azul's mind, it's probably something along the lines of: if he loses the two people he's closest to, alongside all of the contracts he spent years amassing, then he truly doesn't have anyone or anything; he'll be back where he began: the lonely outcast everyone made fun of in his youth.

Additionally, he's on the verge of crying and Azul (who was bullied ruthlessly for being a crybaby) doesn't like showing any sort of weakness or vulnerability, especially when it comes to crying. But what else can you possibly do when the floodgates burst? When so much has been built up and held in, it's only fair that the breakdown is just as frightening and strong. Thus, he screams and cries; he reacts in extremes.

I really adore how volatile he is when he has his meltdown. Azul is emotionally vulnerable by default (which is why he masks all of that with his pompous theatrics), but in that moment he truly believes that if he doesn't have everything (powerful magic, good singing abilities, an endless supply of skills and talents, etc) he is nothing but the "dumb, clumsy, crybaby octopus" from his youth. He can't accept his past self, which is why he's always working tirelessly to be the "best version" of himself because he's afraid of going back to who he once was, as he wholeheartedly believes that version of himself is terrible when it never was.

AAAA FORGIVE ME. OTL I rambled too much about tako, but I love his tantrums and I agree!!! He deserves to be gross and icky and immature from time to time! A yandere tantrum....... orz orz I love writing Azul breaking down at minor and major inconveniences whenever his darling is involved, but I especially love it when he's tried so hard to get you to reciprocate his feelings and nothing's working!!! The type of yan with a mindset of "I really dislike having to act so callous, but it's for your own good." Azul putting you through sensory deprivation to break your mind a little so that, eventually, the next time he visits the dark, soundproofed room you're kept in you'll reciprocate with open arms, desperate to be loved and feel connected with someone.

#twisted chit chat #i love azul rage because it's the type that just builds and builds (festering beneath a carefully crafted surface)#and then one day it just bursts and he snaps

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ineffablecpp · 21 hours

Text

OK so my first Johnlock fic. Canon divergence. Post Reichenbach. Scifi AU. HE (sort of).

English isn't my first language so if you find any mistakes pls tell me!! Thanks so much!!!

I'm Here.

John had just exited the door of 221B Baker Street and was about to call a taxi when he saw the car.

It’s been over a year since he last visited this place-- he only came today because Mrs. Hudson called, and wanted to return some of his personal items left in the apartment. She insisted that paying a visit could better John’s mental conditions, though John wouldn’t agree. Yet she seemed determined about it.

“You should know that he loved this place, John. He loved the time he spent here, with you.” She said.

There weren’t many things he needed to retrieve. A mug, a few of his clothes, and a notebook that hasn’t been written on for ages. But he lingered in the room he was only too familiar with.

“Moving on” was never his thing. Any time he lifted his head up and gazed at the two vacant seats, the dimmed fireplace in between, and the dusty mirror above, everything would rewind inside his head.

His roommate would put his palms together under his chin, his smile as mysterious and proud as always. “You simply see, but not observe,” he’d say in his low and magnetic voice, “What is going on in your funny little brains? So confusing-- the evidence is right in front of you, yet you do not know how to analyse it.”

He might even be sitting on the chair now, looking up banteringly at John. *Sentiment*, he’d say, *you’ve always been like that. Fascinating.*

It took as much courage to come as it took to take up the mind to leave. John felt his heart hallowed out as he stumbled down the last step, opening the door of 221B and said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson. But the hole seemed to have been there for ages-- once, three years ago, it was filled in the echoes of “Afghanistan or Iraq?”-- but now it has reappeared along with the sudden Fall. But revisiting this painfully familiar place reinforced the presence of the hallowed space, as its roars were too much of a sting to be ignored.

A black vehicle was parked by the road. At first John didn’t take notice, nor was he in the mood to care-- probably just a passenger who happened to have reached their destination. But before he could walk away, his phone started ringing.

“Get in the car.”

He knew who it was without asking. But the question was-- he hasn’t heard of the voice in ages. So long, it made him wonder whether it was in his past lives that he’d gotten used to being pulled on a car without reasons.

“...Mycroft? I really couldn’t guess what you possibly could need from me now.”

The voice on the other end sighed after a moment of silence.

“It’s about Sherlock, John.”

The name cut through his heart like a blade. Everyone was still talking about him, as if it’s not over yet. But he was the only one who knew that it was all over. Everything from the past, every memory, every nuanced flutter he felt had been buried into a tomb called time.

Even so, Sherlock’s name was like a spell that could compell John to do anything at his own will. If his friend was in trouble, even after his death, John knew he had to help. It was his deepest and most desperate wish.

John sighed, and pulled open the car door.

The elder Holmes in front of him didn’t change much since their last encounter, which got John wondering in frustration whether Sherlock’s death had effected him so destructively more than anyone. But Mycroft seemed to have been fatigued by his work-- even though all the Holmes had a sort of talent for hiding their true emotions and mental status, John could feel that Mycroft’s workload in the past years have only been increasing.

For a few seconds they just stood there in dead silence until Mycroft took out his empty hand which wasn’t holding the umbrella to break the ice: “Good to see you again, John.”

“Likewise.” John shook his hand and took a deep breath, “So. What you said. About Sherlock. What is it? His will? Or something about the media?”

Mycroft hesitated-- not something he normally does. This fueled the doubt in John’s mind since his arrival. Mycroft only had three reasons to see him: 1, Sherlock wouldn’t accept his help, and he needed John to look after his brother; 2, The government needs Sherlock’s help but he refuses to, so Mycroft needs John to persuade him; 3, Sherlock’s in danger, and he needs John to figure out what’s going on to protect him. This time, however, doesn’t fall into any of the categories.

Then his words froze John on the spot.

“...Sherlock isn’t dead. But, precisely, he isn’t alive either. I’m truly sorry we haven’t told you earlier, John. But now that it’s all settled, we think you have the right to know.”

John blinked, staring puzzled at Mycroft.

“What do you mean by... He’s not dead, but not alive either?”

Mycroft thought for a while before he started: “As Moriarty became to much of a threat to be overlooked, Sherlock and I started to come up with a few possible plans. He saw it coming that Moriarty wouldn’t make things easy for him, and he foresaw that Moriarty was going to hold his dearest friends as hostages-- Moriarty would never stop until he sees Sherlock’s dead body. One way was for Sherlock to fake his death, change his identity and leave the country for a few years, returning after his reputation has been cleared. But Moriarty blocked every way out on that roof of Bartz. He took away Sherlock’s phone and cut all possible communication pathways, so all the plans that required him faking his death wasn’t going to work. But, we still had a plan B. The last resort. A plan that could barely be called one.”

John nodded, signaling him to continue.

“This plan requires the most advanced scientific team at my disposal. It’s an unprecedented risk, a huge, long-shot bet. --preserving human organ at low temperature. This technology has appeared long before, but even a few hours of preservation takes strict environmental conditions and advanced equipment. You’d know best as a doctor. We did it with little hope, but miraculously, it was a success. Within minutes after Sherlock’s fall, we managed to preserve his brain. But what came next was only more complicated and impossible.

A super bio-computer. In fact, the government had a blueprint for this plan several years ago, but due to its high technical difficulties, cost and energy consumption, it was never implemented. Using the human brain to connect sensors for data transmission, after connecting to the Internet interface, you can access all the information currently possessed by humans, and have ultra-high computing power.”

“So... you made him... into a computer? Is that even moral? Did he agree?” Overwhelming information and a series of perplexing nouns rushed into his brain, and for a moment John felt as if his legs were giving up.

“You can put it like this. In other words, he is now basically a computer working for the British Government with self-entertaining software installed.”

John lifted his chin up, staring unbelievably into Mycroft’s calm eyes, to which he responded with a helpless sigh, “It really was the worst move.”

John closed his eyes. Though he’s always considered his roommate “a machine with no human feelings”, it now seemed like an unfortunate prophecy he did not wish to have made. He was now imagining Sherlock’s brain floating in a tank filled with nutrient solution, multiple sensors and intersected data transmitters attached to it, the entire cabin lit with dim lights, performing countless calculations within second -- from the probability of a terrorist attack to the likeness of a traffic accident, from one side of the world to the other-- all the while joyfully extracting interesting cases from documents and cracking them one by one at a rate countless times faster than before. He had to admit that Sherlock was probably enjoying this. But beneath all these absurd yet rational incidents a question still lies, one that he cares too much to ignore.

“Then... can he still feel everything? Feel the world around him? Or... communicate with us?”

“Sadly we’ve never succeeded in doing so. We haven’t completely mastered this technology yet, so all we could do is to solve one problem after another and analyse what we get like a Black Box. For now, what he could know, and what he could feel, remains unknown.”

Not dead, yet not alive either. It was now coming to John how fitting a description it was.

Sherlock was never someone who blended into the society, or someone who’s used to complicated social relationships. On the contrary, he always seemed to be walking on the edge of everything, a sane lunatic, a sober drug addict. This way of being now is like a portrait of him "before death" : an emotionless machine, an observer outside the world.

But without a body, with out the final proof of being “human”, will you remain to be “you”?

John realized he couldn’t come to a conclusion.

Mycroft lead him through winding hallways, one locked room after another, and they finally reached a small door that didn’t seem to stand out at all.

The sign at the entrance reads in large, bold letters: "Experimental Base - Do not enter".

“Whenever you’re ready, John.” Mycroft nodded slightly, and laid his hand on the silver door knob.

John closed his eyes, and nodded after a few deep breaths.

The door opened, giving way to him.

Things were very different from what he had imagined. There was no brain floating in the middle of the tank, no flickering lights and darkened halls, no shrill whining of instruments. It was just an ordinary room, in fact, quite similar to his memory of a high school classroom-- only that where the whiteboard should be, there was a giant display screen; On the desk where the lectern is supposed to be, lies a computer with a small screen and only one input box that took up half the screen.

Then it came to John. Such delicate thing as a brain culture tank could never have been accessible for tour. This was just the operating interface connected to the biocomputer for testing inputs and outputs.

He turned around, but there was no one else left in the room. Mycroft had given him privacy.

John sighed, forcing himself to turn to the blank screen. This *is* Sherlock, he told himself, this is who your best friend is now. Whether you like it or not, it’s him.

And now you’re here to visit.

Slowly, he walked towards the table, and placed his hands on the keyboard. After a few moments of silence, he typed out his first question.

“Tell me about identifying 243 types of ashes.”

Enter.

The cursor on the large screen flashed for a moment, then waves of information began to emerge. John could tell that a considerable percentage of them came from Sherlock’s essay from his website, but other information came from different sources, so its identification methods and usages could be explained clearly to whoever asked the question. The narration seemed Wikipedia-styled, calm and objective, exactly like the answer of a machine.

It *is* a machine, John reminded himself. That’s what he is now.

“You still remembered quite clearly.”

The keyboard clicked as he typed.

“Please tell me the basic structure of the Solar System.”

Again, after a few seconds, it gave a clear and precise answer, even presenting a graph showing the spatial relationship between the sun and the various planets, and giving the orbital parameters of each planet.

“I see you finally have enough memory for this,” he lowered his head, a giggle escaping his lips.

Then he tried asking many other questions -- mostly things that a normal person with a lot of spare time on their hands might Google. He also tried searching some of the cases they investigated together, and Sherlock-- the computer-- gave every single detail without mistake. John marveled at the amount of advanced technology used in this project, but at the same time, he found himself reading the information in his head using Sherlock’s voice, an impulse he couldn’t resist. Every word he read echoed with Sherlock’s voice in his mind like a prerecorded audio.

“Please tell me the stories of Sherlock Holmes.”

This time it took longer for the computer to buffer. Then, Sherlock’s identity, main achievements and relevant information started appearing on the screen. First his personal information, date of birth and death, family relationships and so on. “Working partner: confirmed bachelor John Watson.” Smiling, he shook his head. *These media workers are ever so rude.*

This was followed by a brief synopsis of a series of cases he has solved, many of which derived from John's blog, and some of which even canonical references to his blog's "literature review." The text scrolled along at a pace John’s comfortable with.

Then followed the media’s comments on him. First they were news before Moriarty messed with people’s minds. “The Reichenbach hero”, “Hat-man and Robin”, “Highly intellectual detective”, all of which John was familiar with. Seeing them again pulled on John’s heartstrings. But it was just pain-- it was a bittersweet warmth, a sense of retrieving a long lost possession.

Public opinions seemed to had turned against him overnight. The forces of group polarization were so powerful that all it took is a groundless suspicion to condemn someone once on a pedestal, to hell. There's a fine line between a hero and a demon. John didn't want to read any further -- he clenched his fists, felt the cruel words whirling and screaming in his head, rattling his already fragile nerves again and again.

*No, he's not like that. I know him, and I know him best. He is the wisest and bravest man I have ever known. He would never do such a thing. He would never--*

“THUMP!”

The next thing he knew he punched the desk with his fists.

The output on the screen came to a sudden halt. The cursor stopped at the last unfinished sentence, flashing like a puzzled child’s eyes.

He had an impulse to smash open the obnoxious screen in front of him, and scream to Sherlock himself. But what could he possibly say? What could he possibly do? Not to mention that yelling at a brain that’s already lost its sensing functions cannot solve anything.

It’s too late.

It’s always too late.

*You’re* the mad ones, *you’re* the arrogant people-- he’s gone already, so why on earth does he deserve to be treated by the world like this.

John felt the flames inside slowly consuming every last part of him, burning his throat, and spreading into his stinging eyes.

He shoved back the keyboard, and slowly allowed himself to bend over the table, lying on his arms, until all there was left in the empty room were suppressed, sobbing sounds.

He didn’t know how long it had been-- probably to the point where John worried Mycroft couldn’t wait any longer-- until he finally straightened up, refocusing his sight on the screen from a blurred vision.

The last search record has been cleared, and the screen has returned to a blank, vacant image, like how the universe was before the Big Bang.

He gently pulled the keyboard back in front of him, typed, slowly but solemnly, and not pressing enter.

He heard footstep drawing near-- possibly from Mycroft. Straightening his collar, John took one last look at the screen, turned around, and left.

The unsent message lit a silent white light in the room, like a calm, grieving soul.

“I love you.”

John hasn’t written anything on his blog for a long time.

Occasionally he still helped out Scotland Yard on some trivial matters, but they were nothing compared to the excitement and thrills that constantly struck him when he was on a case with Sherlock. The feeling of blood pumping through his veins once reminded him of what “being alive” feels like. And now, everything was back to normal. Sometimes the thought would hit John, that maybe everything that happened in the last few years was just a dream too good to be true. Maybe he never met such a man after returning from Afghanistan, a man who could tell everything you did yesterday, who liked to talk to skulls in a surprisingly fast pace, who could solve the strangest and hardest cases in the world.

But everything around him was a constant reminder that it was true. Everything did, in fact, happened.

And he couldn’t tell which was more painful.

On the way back, John allowed himself to replay every single memory he had since he met Sherlock like a movie, as he watched the rain picking up outside the car window.

Sherlock taking his phone, asking, *Afghanistan or Iraq*?

Sherlock rushing down the stairs then turning back towards the door, the light flashing dangerous signals inside his eyes, a fascination that took him spellbound. *You’ve seen a lot of blood and injuries, violent deaths, then? Want to see some more?*

Sherlock at Angelo’s, pausing slightly after being asked “do you have a boyfriend, then?”

Sherlock’s look of shock and subtle delight after he blurted out “amazing” without thinking.

Sherlock’s proud and effortless look after every time he solved Moriarty’s puzzles.

Sherlock standing in front of the door of 221B, looking at him with a smile. *I’d be lost without my blogger*.

Sherlock pulling the coat embedded with bombs off him by the pool, for the first time he’s ever seen, in panic and relief.

Sherlock walking behind him in Baskeville, in his most sincere tone, *I don’t have friends; I just got one*.

The Woman looking at him, an either teasing or scornful tone, *Are you jealous? You are a couple.*

Sherlock handcuffed together with him, raising his hand to fire a gun into the sky.

They were dashing as fast as possible on the streets in London as accomplices. He heard Sherlock utter, *take my hand*.

Then he did.

Sherlock standing on the rooftop of Bartz holding his phone, alone.*Goodbye, John*. He said.

Then he did.

...

He felt himself reliving those years as Mycroft parked his car in front of 221B.

Every memory were brand new, yet so fresh they were dipped with bright, red blood, dripping down along John’s heart, dripping into the very depths of his aching soul.

When he came home this time he opened his blog website once again. He wanted a formal farewell to the Sherlock of his past, and he wanted to continue their story. It may be a lot more plain and dull than it used to be, but he believed that Sherlock, now a machine for calculation, could see. No matter if he could comprehend, or if he could remember, every letter John wrote would enter his database through the transmission lines and become a part of him.

Entering username. Password.

Wrong password.

Perhaps he mis-typed a letter.

He deleted it, and tried once more.

Wrong password.

John frowned. He didn’t remember changing his password even once in the past years. Though Sherlock had cracked it within a day, he didn’t really care that much, nor do something about it; even if he changed his password, all Sherlock would have to do was to crack it again. It would be useless. --Furthermore, even if Sherlock saw it, it wasn’t a big deal. He’s Sherlock Holmes.

...He’s Sherlock Holmes.

The sentence echoed louder and louder inside his mind.

*He’s Sherlock Holmes.*

Who could’ve possibly changed John Watson’s password except him? He’s always kept the laptop beside him, and even Moriarty, who once broke into his account, had now killed himself and was no longer here.

“When all the other possibilities are ruled out, and there is only one left, no matter how impossible it is, it’s the truth.”

It was Sherlock who changed it, John. A voice inside his head said ever so firmly.

John could feel his heart racing faster and faster. Yes, Sherlock has access to all the information possible on the internet now. It would only take a few lines of code to alter the password of a blog account. But why would he? And what would he change it into?

*Think, John, think.* He heard Sherlock’s voice.

What is a code that only belongs to them? What is a metaphor that only they knew? What code could only be cracked by John Watson?

His fingers trembled as he started typing.

*Vatican cameos.

...

Logged in.

John could barely contain the tremors in his fingers as he scrolled down the page in great effort.

He clicked into some of his most read blogs immediately. No new messages, no new comments. The numbers of views were still rising.

For a moment he started to doubt whether he himself had changed the password in memory of their past, but forgot about it after grieving day after day.

Until he scrolled back to the top of the page.*

You have one new private message.*

Unknown address. Unknown sender.

The message was simple.

“I’m here.

-- S.H.”

His hand hovered above the keyboard. For the split of a second he seemed to forgot how to breath and how to make his own heart beat. The word spun and collapsed from around him, falling apart into an ocean of chaos and darkness. The only anchor in thunderous waves and dizzying swirls was the computer and the simple message on the screen. It kept him from falling down, and kept him safe and steady.

John felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket.

One new message.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face.

-- S.H.”

A complex wave of emotions flooded him. He felt himself smiling, so uncontrollably like a child who retrieved his favorite, lost toy, but there were uncontrollable tears streaming down his face, dripping hard onto the keyboard in front of him, a symphonic harmony with the pouring rain outside his window.

“You’re a complete jerk.”

“When all that’s left of you is a brain, it’s likely you’ll also become more reckless. No one can ever punch you in the face again.

-- S.H.”

“...Utterly unbelievable.”

“John, for your information, I can still see the messages in the input box even if they weren’t sent.

-- S.H.”

“...”

“John?

-- S.H.”

“I’m here.”

“I heard you.

-- S.H.”

END.

#bbc sherlock #johnlock #sherlock #bbc sherlock holmes #long post

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crown-of-roses-thsc · 2 days

Note

It's the final day, time to announce winner of your POGGERS contest your honour who is it? *Holds up mic to you*

THIS WAS SUCH A HARD CHOICE YOU GUYS ARE ALL SO TALENTED!!! 😭 😭

I only counted posts that directly confirmed in said post that they were contest submissions…and remember that if you didn’t win, your art was still AMAZING (quit dancing around the question and tell me where you guys got your talent >:((( mom said it’s my turn with the talent stash) and this definitely won’t be your last chance to win art or a cameo in the comic :)

And without further ado, the winners are….

1. @icilarastudios ! THEY BASICALLY MADE ME A WHOLE AAA MOVIE POSTER!! LIKE DUDE!! THATS AWESOME!! THATS FREAKIN’ AWESOME WHAT THE HYECK. They handed theirs in very early and I knew for a fact that it would be one of the top contenders

2. @wololo-01 , with this sonic.exe Terrence Suave I love him so much. I mean I hate him but I love this art piece so much you made him so SCARY IM STICKIN SCARED LOOK AT HIM HES SO FREAKING SMUG AND OMINOUS I DONT KNOW WHATS GOING THROUGH HIS HEAD BUT I DONT TRUST HIM I LOVE THIS PIECE SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR SUBMISSIONS!! Winners, please reply to this post or DM me with which of the two offered prizes you’d like :))

Wololo-01’s Submission:

Icilaristudios’s Submission:

#thsc #henry stickmin crown of roses #thsc cor #thsc au #henry stickmin #au

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bravemikhailo · 2 years

Note

what are your favorite gallavich fics?

wow this took me literal months but finally here I am with a looong list. this fandom is just too talented 🥹

ok let’s start with wips, shall we?

miles between us - by @xgoldendays // In the summer of 1975, Mickey Milkovich is released from Beckman Correctional in California after a seven year prison sentence. Along with his cousin, Sandy – he's set to make the long road trip from Los Angeles back to his hometown of Chicago. On the way though, the pair pick up a hitchhiker who teaches Mickey that life on the outside has changed and the road home is never easy.

balancing on the ledge - @mmmichyyy // Moments on ledges in Ian and Mickey’s lives as their connection ebbs and flows throughout the years.

care for a cut? - @gallawitchxx // a barbershop au written 100 words at a time based on galladrabbles prompts!

a dustland fairytale - @gardenerian // It’s different, this heat.It wraps around him, covers him as he walks into the night. Their usual summers might be heavy and stifling, but this - it feels alive. It feels purposeful, like it clings tighter to him every time he thinks about it.

the silence is all we have - @mmmichyyy // Ian remembers a time when Mickey loved him. Now, all they have is silence. A story not about changing the past, but about rebuilding what they once had into something whole again.

things beyond mistake - @gallavichy // In the 90s and early 00s, they were distant neighbors on a long, dirt road out in the middle of vaguely Georgia farmland. Ian and Mickey: two poor, closeted Southern kids with similar financial situations but very different families, harboring secret crushes that felt illegal and that manifested themselves as sharp words, punches, and self-loathing. In 2021, Ian, a high school teacher in need of a fresh start, returns to his childhood home after nearly 20 years to find himself once more sharing a lonely dirt road with Mickey, the boy he once knew and the man he's desperate to get to know.

your question has been received - @celestialmickey // a tumblr AU with a bit of a twist

since we’re alone - @lethargicmick and @buffymilkovich // When Mickey Milkovich first got to the University of Michigan he had two goals; play hockey and get drafted into the NHL. But by his junior year, he’s at risk of losing his full ride scholarship because of his slipping grades.Enter Ian Gallagher, an ambitious and fiery redhead who takes his job as Mickey’s tutor way too seriously and seems determined on making his life a living hell.Or a College AU where Mickey is a hockey player and Ian is studious as fuck. They are everything the other one hates. Or so they think.

intro to quantum dating - @spoonfulstar // another college au

ok I’m going to put the rest under the cut because this got extremely long!

completed multi-chapters

I had a dream (I got everything I wanted) - @matteoamiras // mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.mickey suddenly finds himself being thrown head first back into a world of people and places he's spent so many years trying to leave behind.or, the one where two broken puzzle pieces find a way to fit themselves back together.au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.

Ian the friendly ghost - @sunoficarus // "ghosts au where Mickey thinks the house he moved in is haunted because the doors seem to close on their own and his shit somehow gets neat and tidy and Ian's just a very polite ghost who's got a bit of a crush on the adorable grumpy guy who's just moved in"

you outshined the best there was - @metalheadmickey // Scenes from early parenthood in the Gallagher-Milkovich household.

cooperative gameplay - @gallavichy // At nineteen years old, Ian Gallagher’s stuck. Stuck in a minimum-wage job he hates. Stuck in the same boring routine--sleep, wake, work, take your meds, Ian!, try not to lose it day after day after day. But after his little brother introduces him to MICK MILK, a frustratingly hot horror gamer he watches on YouTube, Ian's life will never be the same.

like real people do - @gallavichy // At the age of 26, Mickey Milkovich gets his first apartment, his first wifi connection, and his first kiss. How he gets from wifi to kissing is a complicated story. Mickey is socially anxious. Ian is a frustratingly lovable escort working through an app. Mickey downloads said app. The rest is history.

where I end and you begin - @gallawitchxx // Mickey is dead. And he’ll stay dead unless his soulmate can see him. He knows that’s Ian. Because….come on. But he’s only got two weeks to prove that--if he can get Ian to see him, then he gets to live again. If he can’t? Well, then it’s a one way trip to the Great Unknown. The thing is, the last time Mickey saw Ian it was behind some glass and Ian was not-so-convincingly promising to wait…

blood in, bleed out - brewrosemilk and whatsastory on ao3 // The year is 1954. Tony Bennett is on the radio, Marilyn Monroe is on the silver screen, and as Ian Gallagher is about to find out - the Ukrainian mafia is in full swing.

where I found you - @gardenerian // "They were finally thriving, as opposed to just surviving. Things were finally going their way. And now Ian’s in a hospital bed, thinking he’s fifteen fucking years old. He doesn’t remember their story. He doesn’t remember what they went through together. He doesn’t know Mickey like the back of his hand anymore. He doesn’t even know that Mickey’s gay. And Mickey’s the neighborhood thug again. Ian’s afraid of him. Ian hates him."

you’ll never see us again - @spoonfulstar // Ian navigates life inside the confines of Marceline, a beautiful boarding school in rural America where he had been fed, clothed, and raised since as long as he could remember. Things begin to fall apart when he grows older and starts to question the truths he'd been told -- about himself, his friends, and what their purpose truly is.

your name like a song I sing to myself - misandrywitch on ao3 // Mickey and Mandy Milkovich are the two halves of indie band 'Mandy and the Misdemeanors' and, against all odds, they're pretty good. That's about all Mickey has going for him though. He's expecting to slog through another long monotonous summer, make a little money playing some gigs and pass unnecessarily hot afternoons how he always has: drinking too much and wondering halfheartedly what feels like it's missing from his life.Until, that is, he meets a red-headed green-eyed bartender named Ian who charges into Mickey's life with a laugh, and who ensures that nothing will ever be the same.

the sound - chloemaay on ao3 // Five years. Five years for Ian and Mickey to twist their lives together so inextricably that neither can imagine life without the other. Five years of getting to know every inch of skin, every bad habit. Five years of fights. Five years of memories. Five years of being inseparable. One moment to take it all away.

one-shots

hope we’ll be better than the past - biblionerd07 on ao3 // Ian wants to leave Chicago when Mickey gets out of prison, intent on a fresh start together. Unfortunately, leaving a place doesn't always mean leaving the problems you faced there.

ghosts that we knew - @matteoamiras // for the first time in mickey's life, shit is moving forward - he's married, he's got a steady job and his dad just kicked the bucket. then, someone impossible turns up and everything he thought he knew is turned upside down. she doesn’t look like anything mickey has been led to believe about ghosts. because the woman in front of mickey is alive.

twenty strangers - @crossmydna // Ian may be a realist in most things, but at heart, he’s a hopeless romantic. That’s probably why he agrees to kiss a stranger on camera.

morning light - @mmmichyyy // Ian swears he feels Mickey's heart slow for a millisecond, but his voice remains steady. "You doing okay?" Maybe when he was younger, Ian would've probably stiffened and gotten defensive if anyone asked him that. I'm fucking fine. Leave me alone. Stop coddling me. But Mickey's not just anybody. He's his husband. His person. His rock. His everything.He's Mickey.

something to hold on to - @xgoldendays // Ian Gallagher thought he wasn’t prepared for prison but who he really wasn’t ready for was his brand new cell mate, Mickey Milkovich. or alternatively, Ian and Mickey meet in prison and cuteness and flirting ensues.

blood cells pixelate and eyes dilate - kissteethstainred on ao3 // The worst part about loving Mickey wasn't the fact that Mickey (might have) slept with other guys or the fact that Mickey doesn't love him back or that Mickey and Ian will only ever be fuckbuddies. No, the worst thing is the moments where Ian thinks it will be more.

stages - ColdReign on ao3 // It’s nice for married couples to share interests and experiences. But they didn’t really need their dads to die one after the other like this.

how to love - proval on ao3 // Mickey's body's been a bit quieter for a while now, no longer wracked through with those heaving sobs. But Ian gets the feeling if he leaves they'll start up again. Ian POV gap filler for 11x09. Starts after the end of 11x08.

three wishes - @xgoldendays // It's a time honored tradition to blow out your candles on your birthday and make a wish. Most people wish for happiness, others for gifts but for Mickey Milkovich, birthdays meant wishes never coming true. At least until he finds exactly what he's been missing to make those dreams into reality. Otherwise known as the three times Mickey celebrates his birthday and the three wishes he makes.

golden hour - @iansfreckles // He’s going to count those freckles one day, he decides, right then and there with Ian’s mouth on his. He’s going to find his favorite shapes in them, his favorite stories. Draw stupid little pictures in black ballpoint pen on his shoulders and kiss them, kiss them, kiss them, until Ian’s laughing with that one crooked tooth on display. (OR: 5 times Mickey admires Ian's freckles, +1 time Ian admires his)

bright - @gallavichy // "There's gotta be a neglected Milkovich baby crawling around your family tree somewhere."Post-series fic in which Ian and Mickey become parents. Alternating POV, but this is Mickey's story.

my love, you’re the one - @matteoamiras // all the years they’ve lost, all the goodbyes, all the reunions – they've all led up this. or, five times ian gallagher misses mickey milkovich + one time he doesn't have to (he never has to again).

you - budget on ao3 // "You can’t pinpoint exactly when it was that you stopped being you." - 7x11 analysis

the weight of water - Callielee227 on ao3 // mickey thinks about water, once in mexico and once in ian's arms

blueberry pancakes - noeller on ao3 // Ian and Mickey make dinner with Ian’s gay tomatoes from his gay garden

the seeds that you plant - @good-then-dont // inspired by ian's apparent love for tomatoes in the new episode.

makes a cathedral, him pressing against me - misandrywitch on ao3 // Ian kisses the top of Mickey’s head again, his temple, the hollow of his throat below his Adam’s apple, his collarbone, the torn skin on his knuckles. He kisses him and feels, for the first time, that neither of them is really going anywhere.

over and over again - mariss__ugh on ao3 // Mickey told him once that he’s fucked for life; he hopes more than anything that Mickey knows now that’s not true. He knows Mickey had a vision of how his future would be, but he also knows this isn’t the first time that vision is changing.

every story has its chapter in the desert - misandrywitch on ao3 // That was then, and this is now, and maybe those two things are connected, there’s a direct line from Monica to Ian, something you can’t wash out no matter how hard you try.

this is the essence of love and failure - misandrywitch on ao3 // “You’re sick,” Mickey says. “Hospital,” Mickey says. And your body is numb and your heart is breaking and you run.

try to forget how it feels inside - endofadream on ao3 // But this Ian is so different from that Ian.

a storm to weather - @xgoldendays // Pain is meant to be felt. As visceral as it can get, as deep as it burrows, you must feel it or it will consume you from the inside out. One shot detailing Mickey’s thoughts and emotions during the events of seasons 6, 7, and 9.

softer, softer - sunshineians on ao3 // “Softer,” he says quietly, guiding Mickey’s hands to his own bruised waist. He leans their foreheads together. “Softer,” he whispers, one more time. Just so Mickey knows. Or, Ian teaches Mickey's hands how to be gentle.

collections of ficlets and series

broad shouldered beasts - biblionerd07 on ao3 // Six years after Mickey goes to jail, he's released on parole. He does his best to build a "normal" life and a relationship with his son while juggling the scars of his past.

shots in the dark - @iansfreckles

garden song - @gardenerian // He stands at the plot for a while before he begins working. This is it. After weeks of internet searches and sketches in his notepad, it’s time to put it all into action. Ian closes his eyes against the afternoon sun, breathes in the smell of dirt and greenery. Thinks about that giver of dreams. Opens them, squeezes the trowel in his hand.He works. He works well. And then: there it is. A goal accomplished. A beginning.

#i just went through all my bookmarks and recent history on ao3 😳 I’m sure I missed some gems anyway so please forgive me #I love all of these so much everyone is so talented #fic rec list #fic rec #gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #hope all the links work 🤡#asks

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