#long or short chapters

[okamirayne]

BtB READER ASK:

Still plugging away at the next chapter for Heaven Hold Us, and thought I'd drop this ASK for you guys. To all the BtB readers out there, your inquiring Word Witch would love to know which you prefer regarding Chapter length...thanks! xxx

[marsreds]

honestly, knowing that henderson was supposed to be an one-off character but endo liked him so much he kept him and then henderson gets what's honestly the best, most tightly plotted, most blatantly political [tee hee old guy with monocle bc monocles are Elegant™ → actually he only started needing it after the police beat the crap out of him for calling out the mythologizing of the war machine, like. holy shit] arc in the manga so far?

god tier tbh

[hinamie]

took 3 tries but i think i am finally free of korra plagiarism in yuuji's water tribe design

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[linkbetweenlinksau]

Chapter 2- Negotiations

Part 2

[riant-draws]

tw for panic attack, eyestrain (last page), swears

@tsunochizu's backwards through the snow!! this fic is my lifeblood

this scene's from chapter 15, in which iirc sig is like "ok pebbs is acting weird as hell time to get to the bottom of this" and pebbs wants some modified neuron flies for extra storage (which sig can send him the blueprints for), which ends up in them having a very... exciting video call

also I belatedly realized that the author made designs for sig and pebbs in btts but haha I am not redrawing pages~

this took me over a month I'm not even kidding

*dies*

[crawlingdrawing]

The Cage - Chapter Two, Part Two

<- previous next ->

master post

Unlike Kurt, you guys guessed right!

Good news: Evolution version Morph is here! Bad news: Evolution version Morph is severely depressed. Not that it's gonna stop them from being a sweet and silly little guy anyway.

[purplebehittindifferent]

I guess I wouldn’t want my friend to know I committed genocide either…

masterpost

prev (INTERLUDE) / next (3::2)

[astrobei]

the scene from acswy that thea has lovingly dubbed the “shorty short shorts scene”

(his feet are propped up on a chair btw. i just didn’t want to draw the chair.)

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 7

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 >>

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, soapghost // CW: angst, Hurt/Comfort, MWIII spoilers

---

Soap flashes in and out of consciousness, his body trembling as he alternates between fever and chills. He's vaguely aware of when they pull into a garage, the already-dark night turning pitch black as the door closes behind them. Ghost gently pulls him from the car and Gaz and Price throw his arms over their shoulders as they half drag, half carry him into what looks to be a safe house kitchen. They lead him through the house and lay him on the softest bed he's felt in years.

He passes out immediately.

When he wakes, it's to the thin light of dawn creeping around the curtains and hushed voices behind him.

"Stop worryin'," Ghost says. "Gaz will be fine."

Soap has his back to the room, but from the closeness of Ghost's voice, he gathers that Ghost is in the bed with him. Price's gruff voice replies from somewhere on the far side of the room.

"He's been gone longer than expected."

"Because we weren't sure exactly when the contact would arrive. And without comms or phones, we're operatin' in the blind. He'll be alright."

Price grumbles. Soap shudders as a chill sweeps through him, and an involuntary whine escapes his lips. It's worth the embarrassment, though, when Ghost's warm body sidles up to curl around his back.

"Alright, Johnny?" Ghost murmurs.

"Cold. And hot. And... fuck. Just want this to be over."

"You and me, both. Gaz is working on getting you more saline bags. We grabbed what we could from the hospital, but you're about to run out."

"Wha' 'bout you?" Soap slurs as the heat of Ghost's body pulls him toward oblivion.

"Right as rain. Go back to sleep, yeah?"

Soap hums and drifts off again. The next time he wakes, it's to the scent of something savory wafting through the air. His stomach growls, and behind him, Ghost huffs a laugh.

"You awake or just gurglin' in your sleep?"

"'M awake," Soap mumbles, turning to face Ghost.

A long tube snakes out from under the covers, and Soap realizes Gaz must have returned with the saline bags while he was sleeping. He must've made a supply run as well.

"Any news?" he asks as he gingerly pushes himself up to lean against the headboard next to Ghost.

"Nothing worth mentionin', we're here until Laswell thinks it's safe enough to move again. She's narrowin' down the possible traitor or traitors, but it's slow work."

Soap just nods as Ghost turns and hands him a bowl of rice and chicken covered in a mild sauce. Another growl from his stomach interrupts the quiet of the room, and Soap gladly tucks into the meal. When he finishes, Ghost takes the bowl and sets it off to the side.

"More?"

"No' right now."

A quiet permeates the space between them, but it's not uncomfortable. Ghost gingerly adjusts himself against the headboard, and then softly, quietly, he moves his hand to rest over Soap's on the mattress. 

The touch shouldn't feel so mind-shattering. He's been sleeping in Ghost's arms for two days now and even kissed him. But something about the way Ghost's warm hand curls around Soap's feels like the most significant thing to happen to him since Makarov stole him away from the 141 and broke him.

The quiet lingers. Soap breathes through the pressure in his head and turns his hand, slotting their fingers together. The world slows to the faint beat of a pulse against his fingers and the rise and fall of Ghost's chest in his peripheral vision.

"Don't know what's goin' on in that head of yours," Ghost murmurs, "but I wanted to make sure you know... nowt's changed for me when it comes to you. If you feel different—"

"I don't," Soap interrupts. "Feel different, I mean. If anything, I'm probably gonna be a clingy bastard for a long while."

A pink tongue darts out to wet Ghost's lips. It strikes him then that Ghost isn't wearing a medical mask any more. Soap turns to study Ghost's profile, and Ghost nods, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"S'alright with me, Johnny. If we're bein' honest, I'd rather not let you out of my sight ever again."

Soap nods and leans over, resting his head on Ghost's shoulder. "Fine by me."

The soft pressure of lips against his shaved head is almost as good as the warmth of their fingers tangled together.

---

It takes a week to wean Soap off Makarov's drugs, but to his frustration, the withdrawal symptoms don't abait much: headaches, chills, irritability, and worst of all, hallucinations. They're mild — just blurs of motion in of the corner of his eyes or vague figures hovering in shadows — but it's enough to be dangerous, especially when they're being actively hunted. Luckily, Ghost is always there to reassure him. Gaz teases them about being attached at the hip, but he can see the underlying concern when Gaz looks at him.

They all look at him like that, though. Like he might disappear on them. It's fine, though, because Soap pretty much feels the same way about them.

He's still waiting to wake up in a pile of his own excrement and find that everything was a dream.

Ghost's wound is also improving day by day, and he's started mild exercises to keep up his strength. Soap joins him when he can, desperate to stay strong. Desperate to be able to fight. 

He can't go back. He won't. 

They have their own room, but in spite of Soap's bravery with their first and only kiss, he decides it's best to let Ghost take the lead any anything further, especially considering Ghost's wound. They curl up together each night, becoming more comfortable invading each others' spaces, but Ghost keeps his hands limited to the non-erogenous zones and his lips confined to soft kisses to Soap's head, forehead, or occasionally the corner of his mouth. Soap reminds himself of Ghost's words — that nothing has changed — and tries to be content.

The days pass slowly, and they're all going a bit stir crazy by the time Laswell wakes them before dawn and tells them to pack up. They obey without a word. The house is already clean — they've been treating it like an op where they could be called away at any moment, and it pays off. Within ten minutes, they've got their personal items packed, the fridge contents packed into a cooler, and as many surfaces as they can reach wiped down for finger prints. It won't stop a detailed search, but it will slow their enemies down if they find the place.

Ghost and Soap move as a unit, piling into the car in their previous positions. Gaz and Price swap out so Price can drive. Laswell continues to be closed lipped about everything from her spot in the passenger seat, and whether it's because she suspects listening devices or just doesn't think they need to know, he can feel the tension rolling off of her as she turns around and hands each of them a gun and several clips.

"I hope we won't run into trouble, but I'm not taking any chances. If we're separated, RV at these coordinates." She rattles off a series of numbers, and Soap repeats them in his head to solidify the information as Laswell continues, "And trust no one but each other. No old friends. No family members. Anyone outside this vehicle is suspect. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the three echo in unison.

Laswell nods, turns back around, and closes her door. The interior light switches off, leaving nothing but the dim light of the dashboard as a bastion against the darkness.

Soap stares at the soft glint off the barrel of the gun is in his hand.

His palm curls around the grip, finger placed carefully away from the trigger. His heart beats in his ears as the garage door opener grinds into motion, the slow dawning of morning light permeating the space.

The gun in his hand gains shape, hard lines mixed with gentle curves revealed by the growing light. A whisper of reflex, of ground-in instruction, urges him to flips off the safety, curl his finger over the trigger, and eliminate his targets.

He sucks in a hard gasp and shoves the gun at Ghost.

"C-c-c-annae have it. Not yet."

Ghost doesn't even blink as he leans forward and shoves the gun in the waistband of his trousers at the small of his back. "More for me. If somethin' happens, you stick to me like glue, right Johnny?"

Soap feels Gaz's eyes on him, but it's Price whose gaze collides with his in the rearview mirror. "Alright, Soap?"

"Y-yeah. Stick to Ghost."

It takes ten minutes for his hands to stop shaking.

---

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 >>

[writeouswriter]

The curse has lifted (finally wrote more than like 10 words on something)

[bidisastersanji]

Finally writing my “zoro gets lost because he uses the red thread of fate as a compas” story and I’m so giddy it’s like the first thing I posted on here

Edit: I posted it

[captainofthetidesbreath]

Candela Obscura: Needle & Thread is about, if it is about anything, parent-child relationships and the desperate desire for a closeness in the face of a yawning chasm of separation, physical, emotional, or both.

Sean and Margaret, the creature and mother, Nathaniel and his father, Jean and hers, Allison and Lucas. Even Beatrix and the child she never had, transferred onto Sean. (Marion is the only major character who does not fit neatly and completely into this pattern, despite the brief look at his relationship with his father.)

That desire for closeness—even when there is immense strain in the relationship, even when that desire has been suppressed into more of an involuntary instinct—escalates over the chapter until incredible violence is being committed in an effort to reduce these distances.

These parent-child relationships are even weaponized repeatedly in the finale. Sean takes the deal to save his mother. The person in the cage observes that Nathaniel's father never liked him as a device to rattle him and his father's face is worn to force him to hesitate. Violet lashes out at Jean before she dies by telling her that her father was happy when she told him that Jean was no longer going to visit.

There is so much longing for a parent or a child in this chapter. Sean wants to be with his mother again, and Margaret wants her sons. Nathaniel craves his father's love, and in the end, his father reaches for him. Jean grieves for her father. The creature wants to be with their mother, and their mother is distraught when her child is killed. Beatrix is wistful for the child she did not have. Much of Lucas's screentime is devoted to missing his mother, and Allison misses her son terribly.

There is also much to be said about sibling relationships here: Sean and his brothers, Nathaniel and his, the creature and their sister. Sibling dynamics inform the relationship between Sean and Marion, and Sean and Nathaniel. That's not the focus of this post, though.

I believe that it is specifically this web of parents-children and the various distances in their relationships that really is the core of the chapter. This is about a desperately intense, even violent, desire for a closeness in those relationships and the willingness to do basically anything to overcome the distances.

[petite-phthora]

A promise is a promise

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first… murder? - part 16]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

Private chat nicknames:

Fryer = Tucker

Dann-O = Danny

Other private chat nicknames:

Kangaroo = Jason

PolarBear = Danny

---

Danny has been searching online for a while now for the perfect place to take Red Hood to, for the second part of their date. He already has in mind what he wants to do, he just hopes Red Hood will like his plan.

He’ll need to make sure to get the needed materials either today or tomorrow.

Midway through his planning, his phone buzzes with a message. Danny picks his phone up, checking who sent it. He raises an eyebrow at seeing a message from Tucker in their private chat.

He opens his phone to read the text, putting his date-planning on hold for now.

---

Private chat

Fryer: so wheres my tim drake-wayne autograph danny? when am i gonna get it huh?

Dann-O: wait what? 😦

Dann-O: I still need to get it for you?? 😥😥

Dann-O: but you didn’t even end up wiping the cams ☹️

Dann-O: they were already wiped!!

Fryer: ye but I still wouldve wiped them if they werent already its all abt the intent danny

Fryer: u promised me the autograph now u gotta follow thru with it u cant just go back on ur word >:(

Dann-O: fine I’ll try and get it for you

Dann-O: I did promise 😓

Dann-O: but be prepared that it might take a while 😬😬

Fryer: great! thnx my dude knew u would come thru for me ur the best love ya danman 😘

Dann-O: yeah yeah I know 🙄😒

---

With a small sigh, Danny closes the chat between him and Tucker. He’s unsure how to go about getting that autograph.

He can’t just stalk the guy and nag him into giving the autograph, then he’d probably end up with a restraining order instead.

He could try looking online for one, but those will probably be very expensive. Though, he might be able to trick the guy into signing something? Or perhaps steal one when he’s at the manor this Saturday anyway?

However… Perhaps he can get some help with this… Danny considers.

He looks back at his phone and opens another chat.

---

Private chat

PolarBear: hey, so uh, random question ☝️

PolarBear: you wouldn’t happen to have a Tim Drake-Wayne autograph 🤔

PolarBear: or maybe know a way of getting one

PolarBear: would you?? 😅😅

Kangaroo: Why do you want one?

PolarBear: it’s not for me

PolarBear: but I kinda promised my friend I’d get one for him 😅😓

Kangaroo: Ah, okay. I’ll see what I can do.

PolarBear: really? 😲

PolarBear: thanks!! 🥰💕

PolarBear: but it’s fine if you can’t

PolarBear: like don’t feel obligated to help or something

PolarBear: if need be I’ll probably just trick him into signing something for me 🙃

PolarBear: or I could just sneak in once we’re TPing the place anyway

PolarBear: and just get one of his documents or something 👀👀

Kangaroo: Hell yeah, sign me up. This will be fun :)

---

In another realm, a bright toxic green smoke hits an unsuspecting victim, a crazed giggle following behind coming from the origin of the strange smoke.

The victim, instead of fleeing, stops right in their tracks, collapsing into themselves. Not a moment later their laughter joins in with the giggling from before.

The smoke fades away and reveals a man with bright purple hair and glowing red eyes. He’s wearing a green suit with a red vest and a purple dress shirt underneath.

In his breast pocket on the outside of his suit is a glowing red flower with purplish-black leaves that looks like a rosebud of some sort.

His face is stark white with a greenish undertone and his lips are bright red and pulled back into a deranged grin.

This insane clown who's hellbent on dragging the people of Gotham into his madness is a fairly new resident of the Infinite Realms. He’s a specter. A wraith.

A ghost.

The Joker moves closer towards the other ghost. The other ghost keeps laughing, not reacting to the Joker’s approach.

However, once the Joker is within a few meters of them, the ghost starts choking. While the ghost is unable to stop the mix of laughing and coughing, a glowing green liquid starts flowing out of their mouth.

Ectoplasm.

While they’re involuntarily laughing, their eyes are full of distress. The Joker just moves closer, humming a little tune.

Once close enough, the Joker bends down, getting right in the other ghost’s face. Ignoring the other ghost’s attempt at flinching away, the Joker drags a finger across the ghost’s face, wiping up some of the glowing green liquid.

The Joker takes a close look at it, the grin on his face becoming impossibly, inhumanely, wider.

“Oh, this! This is going to be a right laugh!” He exclaims, cackling a little. He straightens back up before continuing.

“It’ll be the show of a lifetime,” He turns around, “Don’t you agree, my friend?”

The person who has been watching the entire display from the sidelines doesn’t respond verbally, their own deranged grin forming on their face, no outside influence needed.

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea @uraniumwizard @why-must-i-be-like-this @griffinthing @i23432i @imsotiredfanficlovertm @jaguarthecat @arkita-shadow @ilydana

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 16

As the human and I did not share any duties during this particular cycle, I decided now might be a fitting time to inform the Vitrichl about the aforementioned book, which could possibly grant a further insight into Terrans.

Despite the quite serious circumstances we are currently in, I was able to secure a time frame to initiate a conversation regarding this topic.

I repeated the information V-7 had been able to conjure on this as well as other stories and reports on humans.

"There seems to be one…obstacle, though: The book‘s last documented location is in system Skė-51-33, which does not seem to be even remotely near our current route.", I eludicated.

The Vitrichl seemed to consider the information given, keeping in mind the reason the SIIR Noxos usually avoids this particular system: its unfriendly and occasionally aggressive nature.

Concluding, I was able to convince the Vitrichl through the benefits this book could provide in the task of studying humans, causing the Vitrichl to eludicate that changing the route was currently not possible, but as soon as the chance was offered to us, we would make a short detour through this system to retrieve said book, given that the book was still located there.

In the meantime, I was tasked with retrieving as much possible information on this particular and other sources about humans.

Our arrival on Fendaar is imminent, as we are nearing the planet‘s atmosphere. Further reports will follow.

[kaelidascope]

Midnight Menagerie Chapter 19 is LIVE

**SHAKES UH OH DOGGY BAG OF TREATS**

This aint an April Fool's joke folks. This chapter is DARK and I wish I was kidding but I'm not LOL

The second biggest chapter I have ever written for MM is LIVE!

Please please please mind the content warning on this one guys. From here on out, we're getting into the darkest segments of the story. Every negative tag will be relevant. For the sake of spoilers, I'll only label the extremely graphic scenes. ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN! CHOO CHOO

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Race 14)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.7k words, pure fluff) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {LANCE FIRST WIN 🤯 aka fluff before crazy angst}

last part - masterlist - next part

Lance got to the paddock with Nico, Racing Point having booked a different hotel than Renault so the Canadian had to wait until later to see his boyfriend.

"It's so fucking hot, I don't understand why they want us both to do media today. I'm gonna melt" The younger of the two complained, practically dragging his feet on the pavement as they walked towards the cameras.

"You'll be fine, Bubu, just rush them" Nico laughed, wrapping an arm around Lance as they reached the bundle of reporters, quickly bombarded with questions about both this weekends race and their personal lives.

Lance had grown to not mind media days, most of the questions either being about developments to the car or his and Fernandos relationship.

He could talk about how wonderfully him and the Spaniard got on for hours, it was almost embarrassing how his body language changed the second the older man was mentioned.

As he was walking away from the crowd of media personell he was stopped by a familliar voice, bright smile taking over his face as soon as he spoke

"Lancito!" Fernando called, walking a little faster to catch up to the boy in pink, arm draping over his shoulder as they walked closer to their garages, side-by-side on the grid.

"Hi, Nando" The teenager beamed, hearing the clicking of the cameras behind them "Sleep good?"

"Not at all" Fernando groaned, unable to wipe the smile off his face even as he complained "Would've been better if you weren't so far" He quickly added, shooting Lance a cheeky grin

The Canadian hit his shoulder, shaking his head at the mans comment "Dirty, dirty, old man!"

"Old??" The Spaniard scoffed, pulling away from Lance as they reached their garages "I'm hurt, mi vida, so hurt"

"Well, you can take it out on me on the track" Lance rolled his eyes, the two exchanging soft smiles before disappearing into their pink and blue garages, ready to prepare for quali.

As Lance drove back into the pit lane he had no idea what place he was in, some cars still trying to get in the fastest laps possible as he pulled himself out of his seat.

"You were quick out there, Lance, let's hope it paid off" Brad commented, already by Lance's side to take his helmet and balaclava

"Thanks, I'm feeling pretty confident in both the car and the track." Lance hummed, nodding to himself as he glanced around, seeing Giancarlo pull into the pits with Fernando close behind "Not sure what changed but it's a big improvement."

Lance and Fernando leaned against the wall between the two garages as they finished figuring out lap times and setting up the starting grid. Fernando found out his place first, having qualified 3rd because Felipe Massa was given a 5 second penalty for track limits.

Brad ran up to Lance next, practically yanking the boy away from the man in front of him as he began speaking quickly

"YOU'RE ON POLE, LANCE"

"What?" Lance furrowed his brows, unsure if Brad was saying what he heard him say

"POLE, P1." He confirmed "Your lap time in Q3 was 1.25.801, you're brilliant"

Lance smiled, pulling Brad into a tight hug once he realized he really had qualified on pole, it was insane, he out qualified Fernando for the first time ever and would be starting the Turkish Grand Prix from the front row, now all he had to do was pray for a podium finish as well.

As soon as Brad let go of him he was pulled away by Fernando, the Spaniard practically smothering the boy

"Joder!" The Spaniard started, hands cupping the Canadians face as he pulled back slightly to get a good look at him "Eres el mejor, mi vida"

Lance laughed, jaw hurting from how hard he'd been smiling, the Spaniards praise not helping

"Are you ready to look up to me on that top step?" Lance asked, unsure if he really believed that would be the outcome of the race

"Am so ready," Fernando smiled, praying nothing would go wrong in the next days race "Cannot wait, Lancito"

Lance was in a good mood as soon as he got the paddock the next day, being asked how he felt about starting the race on pole really made it feel real.

"How are you feeling today, Lance? Nervous to have Michael Schumacher and Fernando Alonso so close behind you?"

"I feel fine, if i can out qualify them it shouldn't be hard to beat them today" He said sinply, not sure if he believed his own words.

As he made his way to his garage he was greeted by Nico, who was starting 10th but still managed to be excited for his friend and teammate.

"Welcome, race winner" He beamed, dorky grin on his face as his hands fell on the younger boys shoulders

"Don't jinx me, you saukerl!" Lance laughed, pushing Nico slightly

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Lance?" The German gasped, covering Lance's lips with his hand, the two insanely close "Who taught you that word?"

The boy tried to respond, his words coming out mumbled in the Germans hand

"Oh, right" Nico laughed, moving his hand so he could undersfand Lance

"The Schumachers say it a lot"

"Well they're adults! You're just a säugling" Nico cooed, moving his hands to Lances cheeks to tease him

"Fuck off" He groaned, turning his face away. He knew whatever Nico said was making fun of him but he couldn't help but smile at the funny sounding word.

Nico and Lance stood to the side of the grid as their engineers swarmed the teammates cars, Lance back at p10 to talk with the man before the race started.

It was hot, the boys overheating in their pink race suits. Nico unscrewed the lid of his waterbottle, shoving it into the Canadians hand as he poured water on himself then Lance, the contrast in temperatures feeling heavenly.

Lance set down the lid, both of their hands combing through their hair at the same time. Lance's was darker and a little longer but the two had grown more popular because of their long hair, fans saying it made up for their poor performance that season.

He gripped the wheel, it was weird looking ahead and seeing no ones rear, he hoped to keep it that way but he couldn't help but miss recognizing people and waving at his acquaintances in the midfield as they awaited the start.

His heart almost stopped as the red lights ahead of him turned off, pushing hard right away.

He got away brilliantly, Brad radioing in to praise him for his start as soon as it'd happened. He was sure Fernando fighting Michael for 2nd and Giancarlos spin on turn 1 helped him a good amount.

"What Mclaren is in the wall?" Lance asked a lap later, Brad having told him earlier that there was now over a 1.8 second gap between him and Michael who was battling Fernando for 2nd.

"That's Kimi. He's all good but theres a yellow flag"

The next 11 laps went on fine, now under a green flag he'd lengthened the gap to 2.3, very pleased with himself and he could tell Brad was too.

His hopes were just getting higher until a safety car was called out, Vitantonio having spun and stopped in the middle of the track.

"Pit now, Lance. Safety car. Pit now."

"Coming" He responded, entering the pit lane with Michael and Fernando following behind him. "This is so scary I'm gonna piss myself, Brad."

"Not in the car, Lance."

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled out, watching in his mirrors as Fernando made it out ahead of Michael, now in p2 right behind him.

The rest of the race was fairly comfortable, Michael took the lead from lap 40-43 but Lance got it back soon after which earned him some cheers from Brad.

"Insane work there, Lance. Fucking insane."

"I think I'm gonna fucking explode, Man" Lance said, voice high pitched as he tried his hardest to rebuild the gap he'd lost

He made up a 1.2 second gap as the last lap started, Fernando visibly fighting to keep 2nd and just barely making it as they crossed the line.

"AND LANCE STROLL WINS THE TURKISH GRAND PRIX AND IS NOW A FORMULA ONE RACE WINNER" The racea commentator roars, the crowd screaming as Lance's hands shook on his steering wheel, breathing heavily as he struggled to come to terms with this being real.

"LANCE STROLL YOU ARE A RACE WINNER" Brad screamed over the radio, all of the Racing Point staff audibly cheering which just further confirmed that he really just did it.

"YES. Thank you, thank you guys this means so much I owe you all the world."

Fernandos engineer radioed in, the Spaniard barely registering his words

"That's p2, Fernando, 1.2 behind Lance and 0.0 ahead of Michael. Terrific job."

"Lance? Lance won?" Fernando spoke loudly, the smile on his face audible even through the shitty audio quality

"Yes, p1 for the first time, you proud of your friend?"

"So proud." He muttered before turning off his radio, in awe at the news and now more ready than ever to park his car and greet the race winner.

As soon as Fernandos car stopped he exited his car faster than he ever had, running to the Canadian and pulling him into a hug.

"Lance, fuck, te quiero mucho mi vida." Fernando said breathlessly, hands on either side of the boys helmet as he pulled away to look at him, so insanely proud of his lover.

"Told you I was gonna beat you." Lance laughed, eyes practically closed with how wide he was smiling.

Michael came over, helmet and balaclava already off as he patted the rookie on his back "Great work, Stroll."

"Thank you!" The boy nodded, moving away from Fernando to look at Michael as they spoke. Crazy. THE Michael Schumacher was congratulating HIM.

Lance stood on the top step of the podium, Canadian anthem coming to an end before he was absolutely waterboarded with champagne from either side, covering his face as he was soaked.

It felt amazing. The top step. The sun. The cheers from the crowd. The Spaniard beside him. It couldn't have been a more perfect race.