#vincere: follow.

[vincerehq]

MINGYU LEE @mnngyv ( cambio de cuenta )

[leoramage]

mastermind

⊹ masterlist ⊹ taglist ⊹

⊹⊱ trigger warning - [n/a]

⊹⊱ theme - [university au]

⊹⊱ pairings - [mick schumacher x student!y/n]

⊹⊱ keywords - [mind games and hints. "this is the first time i've felt the need to confess."]

The sun was setting over the sprawling campus of Gran Vincere Academy, casting a golden hue over the campus where dreams of speed and adrenaline took root. Every corner of the school echoed with the roar of powerful engines and the scent of high-octane fuel, but there was more to life than just racing. The academy is a hot pot of talent — a place where exceptional students from various fields came together.

"Miss L/N, are you okay? Class is dismissed." Professor Vowles soft snapped at you, finding yourself daydreaming about the upcoming weekend. The usual group of friends had exciting plans, but this time, it felt different. The classroom was already empty and it was just you and the Professor Vowles who likes to stay behind the classroom even though the lecture is over.

Thinking about your friend group... At first, it was just you and Daniel. Ricciardo is a sunshine over-the-top guy whom you were able to be friends with as you are both sat together in biology class. He hardly shuts up and mutters jokes under his breath or blurts them out loud amid lectures of Professor Abiteboul but regardless, he is always a guy who is down for anything and is known by everyone alongside Lando who is in photojournalism.

Lando has a Spanish friend named Carlos who is a varsity athlete for golfing. Then this Carlos has a Monegasque friend named Charles; who is pursuing a music degree - allegedly a serial monogamist and a heartthrob - targeting friends of his exes to be his next girl. Charles is often confused as a French and is mistakenly friends with the French duo.

Pierre is a varsity player for soccer; who dates high school girls despite him being in his senior year in college. While Esteban is enrolled in aerospace engineering and hangs out with the nepotism babies of the university: Mick and Lance.

Lance Stroll, the young billionaire boy plays for the varsity hockey team. Got into the dean multiple times for instigating fights at the back of the university parking lot.

Mick Schumacher, the charismatic and daring racing prodigy of Michael Schumacher, was part of the friend group, life had a funny way of intertwining paths. He is pursuing medicine to be a pediatrician or veterinarian... You were not sure, everyone just found him attractive nonetheless and he is one of your close friends alongside Daniel.

"Hey, Y/N!" Speaking of Mick, he greeted you with a warm smile. His blue eyes sparkled under the rays of the sun, a hint of his usual playful demeanor. Then there was a lady standing beside him who eyeballed on you before rolling her eyes. You found it odd, was he waiting for you despite being accompanied?

"Hey, Mick," You replied, adjusting the strap of your backpack after walking out of the classroom of Professor Vowles. "Ready for another semester of classes?"

Mick chuckled. "Always! But you know, Y/N, I've got a new strategy this year." He leaned in closer, his voice hushed as if he were sharing a secret and seemed to have forgotten that he was with this girl whom you do not recognize, "I've got a plan."

You couldn't help but laugh at his mischievousness. "Mick, I hope this plan of yours will not involve Lance and Esteban being sent to the Dean's office. You're going to have to do better than that."

He only chuckled and shook his head before muttering softly which sent shivers down your spine, "No it won't. See you soon, Y/N." Just as fast as he came, he left with the lady who seemed to be following him like a lost puppy.

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Weeks passed...

And Mick's plan whatever it was continued. You would walk the hallways of the campus, Mick passing by and greeting you shortly with "hi" and "hello y/n" while he is always accompanied by different girls on every occasion at every opportunity. Your conversations were kept short and awkward which made you feel pained at the fact that you and he weren't as close as it used to be.

"Have I done something wrong?" "Have I said something that offended him?" These were the thoughts that run in your head more than 300 kilometers per hour as it seems. It bothered you - yes. Because of the fact that you do not want to come across as anxious to Mick, you didn't know how to address the issue. What were you supposed to say without making everything look awkward?

As you sat with George and your friends in the school courtyard, he leaned over and whispered, "Have you noticed that Mick is always with unattractive girls whenever you see him?"

This caught your attention, snapping out of your snacks to furrow your brows in confusion at George's question. Even Carmen, George's girlfriend, looked upset at him for describing them as such. You didn't want to speak, you didn't want to sound judgemental by agreeing to the 'unattractive' part.

This gathered attention from Pierre who is closely listening in before butting in the conversation like the typical French tea spiller he is. "You want to know why?" He asks as you nod before the French smirks and turns to George to continue what is boiling under the surface. What was Mick doing all these past few weeks?

"Mick has a crush on you all this time and he's doing this to make you feel jealous - to elicit reaction out of you. He was getting frustrated because you didn't seem bothered at all with his shenanigans with these ladies." The British chuckled as you stared at him with wide eyes and slightly agape lips. Mick was what???

Pierre laughed at your reaction and spoke, "Why do you seem surprised, Y/N?"

Why were they telling this to you anyway? They were probably bluffing and it must be some sort of prank. Lewis only gave you a soft but genuine smile, at some point, it gave you a little sense of security that George and Pierre weren't playing around. So you decided to say something, "Why are you telling me this?" Uncertainty rung in your words still quite doubtful that they were not beating around the bush.

By the devil's name, the blonde German (and a blonde girl) walked towards the table with a smile on his lips and greeted everyone before sitting down, "Hello guys! Hey Y/N." Mick was at his usual antics, leaning in close to the girl, whispering something that made her blush before walking away.

"Y/n, can we talk?"

Those three words made your ear rung and deafen for a second. Finally, the moment of truth arrived as George, Pierre and the rest of the friend group shared looks as some were chuckling softly. So everyone knew while you don't. Did you miss out on a hangout night? Absolutely not.

Daniel looked concerned from the other side of the table as Mick stared at you hoping you'd accept his offer... And you did. With every step you take walking away from that table, your heart beats louder almost as if you could hear it with your ears as Mick leads you into a quiet place on the campus - the school pond & fountain where architecture students hang out. You were happy it wasn't in the parking lot knowing Lance's antics and his battleground was that place.

"Y/N, you're impossible," Mick sighs, leaning against the balustrade.

You raised an eyebrow, confusion etched in your features. "And why's that?"

He was scratching the back of his head, gaze on the ground - embarrassment glimmering in his eyes despite it cast down. "I have to tell you something, Y/N... I was hinting at this girl these past few months. She just doesn't seem to get it that I like her."

"Mick, if you're interested in someone, why not just be direct?" You leaned in, voice sincere. You were confused about how this conversation was going but a slight sting of jealousy sets into your heart. At the same time, you were upset that he was dragging you into this type of conversation and never really explained why he was hanging out less with you which left you dumbfounded for the past weeks.

He smiles sheepishly and all his attention now set into you. His blue eyes were staring at yours, touching every crevice of your own soul. His eyes were telling you something that words couldn't comprehend. "Fear of rejection, I guess. And she's… you're not like anyone else. You're not like everyone else."

"All these months that have passed."

"I planned everything to be close to you and to make you jealous... But it didn't work out." He chuckled awkwardly and lightly bit his lip.

"This is the first time I've felt the need to confess."

"I like you, Y/n."

At that moment, the unspoken truth hung between you both, now as clear as day. Your paths might have been unconventional, but they had led you to something genuine.

Author's Note: This is impulsive writing and this story had been crafted out of my dream. It's an odd dream but hey, I thought about for a moment to share this with you. And no, I wouldn't take requests to write. I do not wish to make a promise and disappoint you all for being slack in writing. I'm not quite sure how this turned out but I hope you guys liked it. 𔘓ฅ[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]𔘓ฅ

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created by the user in response to a creative writing prompt. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or entities, whether living or deceased, is purely coincidental. The characters, events, and dialogue portrayed in this fanfiction are products of the user's imagination and are not meant to infringe upon any copyrights or trademarks associated with the Formula One sport or any real-life individuals. This fanfiction is solely intended for entertainment purposes, and the author acknowledges that the depicted scenarios are not endorsed, authorized, or supported by any official Formula One entities or the individuals mentioned.

[bicheco]

Parliamo per un attimo di cose serie.

Stanno per iniziare gli Australian Open di tennis. Ho quindi scommesso. Sinner è dato addirittura a 6, secondo me una quota alta (Djokovic è dato a 2), ed ho scommesso 10 euro. Poi io personalmente ho un debole per Ben Shelton (non vincerà, è ancora immaturo, però tennisticamente parlando è un fenomeno), dato a 33 (!) e ci ho messo due euro sopra.

Dovessi vincere, offrirò uno spritz a tutti i miei follower: incrociate le dita.

[loquarocoeur]

Okokokokok I’m so sorry to double send to you but I reread Vincere and I noticed something a second time.

There’s an aspect of this fic that feels - in a way - like a follow up to Resolutions. Or at least the first fight in Resolutions. And maybe it’s just because Resolutions is my favorite fic of the verse (I love them arguing for real the angst and comfort is the best), but the part of the first fight where Charles throws his lack of wins in Max’s face. And it becomes this source of tension for them because Max does love Charles winning even if he doesn’t get to do it often. And Charles *knows* that but it doesn’t mean the wait isn’t hard or the jealousy isn’t real.

And then in Vincere we actually get to see JUST how much max loves it when Charles wins. When the world gets to see what Max sees (in part) every day. He spends every day of his life certain is Charles is the best of the best. He loves seeing Charles adored. And now we have a whole fic of Charles getting to *feel* that and soak it all in with no angst, no heartache or anything. Even when he checks in about Max’s shit race. All Max wants to do is celebrate Charles.

I just UGH. Resolutions is so good because it makes their relationship *real* and Vincere feels like the beautiful wonderful tenderhorny follow up (to me at least)

Yesss, I was also thinking of resolutions when I wrote it, because I think Charles has such a hard time sometimes distinguishing between whether not getting wins is a car issue or a him issue and he gets in his head abt it sometimes and Max has to smack him over the back of the head and tell him to stop overthinking

But it's a really hard concept to wrap my head around and try and see how they would navigate it but I think it can definitely be a source of tension when one of them does very well and one has a really bad day sometimes

Because both the celebration for a good result and the empathy for a bad one are kind of equally important? Like you can't ignore a win or smth just because one had a shit day, but it's also not healthy to expect someone who had a shit race to compartmentalise having a really bad race for later if they don't feel like they can do that atm, feelings need to be felt as well

I think sometimes it works like in vincere where its just like fuck it lets not think abt it, but sometimes its still a delicate balance. But nothing can be perfect, it's obviously not going to break them or anything, there will just always be parts of relationships that are hard even when it's nobody's fault and it's not something that can really be fixed

[sciatu]

ORTIGIA DI NOTTE

Abbiamo pranzato in un vecchio ristorante di Ortigia. Fino a qualche anno fa vi erano i due fratelli che l’avevano ereditato dal padre. Eravamo in confidenza e quando ci sedevamo a tavola non ci portavano neanche il menù ma una serie di piatti con antipasti tipici di Siracusa. La pasta alla Meggellina o allo scoglio gli spaghetti al nero di Sicci, la frittura, l’arrosto, la stessa cassata con cui si finiva il pranzo, seguivano le stagioni, la disponibilità del momento. Ora il ristorante è uno dei tanti, con piatti belli a vedersi ma insapori, ed un menù che è lo stesso di Milano o Düsseldorf. Siracusa dalla tavola è scomparsa nella ricerca del Glamour, di una supposta eleganza che giustifica un costo non equilibrato con il pranzo servito. Per questo ci avventuriamo nella notte di Origia con la paura di non trovare più la sua anima accogliente ed antica. Ci accolgono i grandi Yacht dalle forme eleganti che sanno di una ricchezza che cerca ancora l’avventura tra le vele di due alberi o nei ponti eleganti di una cattedrale marina. Poi però torna Ortigia, i suoi enormi baobab la fontana di Aretusa, torna nelle feste sulle barche luminose ormeggiate ai lati delle grandi mura o in quella nei balconi luminosi delle antiche case. Ortigia vive il suo mare e vive sé stessa, di giorno e di notte, indifferente ai tanti turisti per cui l’hanno camuffata e popolata di ristoranti, vive nel silenzio che avvolge i suoi balconi, nella luce giallognola dei suoi vicoli, nelle feste dei ragazzi nelle sue oscure spiaggette, nel vento che l’attraversa e nel tempo che non la vince. Nel silenzio della notte e nei pub stracolmi, tra tavolini e barche in cui rimbomba la musica da discoteca, come un’antica signora che l’oblio non potrà mai vincere, Ortigia vive.

We had lunch in an old restaurant in Ortigia. Until a few years ago there were two brothers who had inherited it from their father. We were friend and when we sat down at the table they didn't even bring us the menu but a series of dishes with typical Syracuse appetizers. The Meggellina or scoglio pasta, black Sicci's spaghetti (cutttlefish spaghetti) with black sauce, the fried food, the roast, the same cassata with which we finished lunch, followed the seasons, the availability of the moment. Now the restaurant is one of many, with dishes that are beautiful to look at but tasteless, and a menu that is the same as in Milan or Düsseldorf. Syracuse has disappeared from the table in the search for Glamour, for a supposed elegance that justifies a cost that is not balanced with the lunch served. This is why we venture into the night of Origia with the fear of no longer finding its welcoming and ancient soul. We are welcomed by large yachts with elegant shapes that smell of a richness that still seeks adventure between the sails of two masted ship or in the elegant descks of a marine cathedral. But then Ortigia returns, its enormous baobabs, the fountain of Arethusa, returns to the celebrations on the bright boats moored at the sides of the great walls or in the bright balconies of the ancient houses. Ortigia lives its sea and lives itself, day and night, indifferent to the many tourists for whom they have disguised it and populated it with restaurants, it lives in the silence that envelops its balconies, in the yellowish light of its alleys, in the festivals of teeneger in its dark little beaches, in the wind that crosses it and in the time that does not overcome it. In the silence of the night and in busy pubs, between tables and boats in which disco music booms, like an ancient lady that oblivion can never conquer, Ortigia lives.

[evilscuderia]

what verb did charles get wrong in italian?

he said "vencessimo" if i heard right which doesn't exist. the closest conjugation of vincere (to win) would be "vincessimo" which would still be wrong in the context lol. the right form would be "avessimo vinto". to be fair to him though subjunctive is one of the most complicated aspects of romance languages and it follows different rules in each romance language it's fucked

[putaindebellehistoire]

Italian notes : passato prossimo

getting back into Italian, taking notes for review (its been a year)

formed with two parts

auxiliary verb (avere, essere) in present tense

past participle (participio passato)

-------------

avere :

io ho noi abbiamo

tu hai voi avete

lui/lei ha loro hanno

essere :

io sono noi siamo

tu sei voi siete

lui/lei è loro sono

-------------

participio passato : regular verbs

-are -> ato

-ere -> uto

-ire -> ito

ex. lavorare -> lavorato, ricevere -> ricevuto, preferire -> preferito

-------------

participio passato : irregular verbs

accendere (to turn on) -> accesso

chiedere (to ask) -> chiesto

chiudere (to close) -> chiuso

conoscere (to know) -> conosciuto

correre (to run) -> corso

decidere (to decide) -> deciso

dire (to say) -> detto

fare (to do) -> fatto

leggere (to read) -> letto

mettere (to put, to wear) -> messo

perdere (to lose) -> perso

prendere (to take) -> preso

ridere (to laugh) -> riso

rispondere (to answer) -> risposto

rompere (to break) -> rotto

scegliere (to choose) -> scelto

scendere (to descend) -> sceso

scrivere (to write) -> scritto

spegnere (to turn off) -> spento

spendere (to spend) -> speso

vedere (to see) -> visto

vincere (to win) -> vinto

-------------

passato prossimo with essere

used with intransitive verbs, verbs that cannot be followed by a direct object

when a verb takes ester in the passato prossimo, the past participle (participio passato) has to agree with gender and number

most common verbs that take essere :

andare (to go) -> andato/a/i/e

arrivare (to arrive) -> arrivato/a/i/e

diventare (to become) -> diventato/a/i/e

entrare (to enter) -> entrato/a/i/e

essere (to be) -> stato/a/i/e

morire (to die) -> morto/a/i/e

nascere (to be born) -> nato/a/i/e

partire (to leave) -> partito/a/i/e

rimanere (to stay) -> rimasto/a/i/e

stare (to stay, to be) -> stato/a/i/e

uscire (to exit) -> uscito/a/i/e

venire (to come) -> venuto/a/i/e

vivere (to live) -> vissuto/a/i/e

-------------

some intransitive verbs DO take avere. most commonly:

camminare (to walk)

dormire (to sleep)

telefonare (to telephone)

piangere (to cry)

ridere (to laugh)

viaggere (to travel)

-------------

dovere, potere, and volere are flexible

when followed by another verb, they take the same auxiliary that that verb would take

ex. Lei è potuta venire. Io ho dovuto finire.

[machiavellli]

Dear followers,

Sorry if I have been insufferable in the last 5 days. It’s over, I swear (for a year).

I’ve lost about 11 followers in the past 5 days (never lost one before lol), but gained almost all of them back hihi.

Sorry, this was something important to me, something I wanted to do and I hope I didn’t completely trashed your “following” page (even if, as I said before, you could have just blocked the hastag).

Now, I’m normal again, even if this edition was pretty intense and I’ll try to catch a break from my phone and get back to my normal sleep schedule.

Grazie @moonschocolate per aver commentato con me, abbiamo pure scoperto che esiste un limite di post. Magia di Sanremo.<33

Grazie @theeslutintheroom for supporting pookie and my craziness.<33

Felice per Angelina, ma spero di vedere una canzone in napoletano vincere un giorno, senza buu in sala possibilmente. In qualsiasi caso, mi mancherà terribilmente Ama con Fiorello.

Love you all, have a nice day or a wonderful night of sleep🩵🩵

[iamjucie]

A History in Lessons

Chapter 8: "Your Most Prized Spawn" pt. 6

“A-Astarion!” You run up to him and he stares at you. Shock is visible on his face, his eyes scanning you up and down and his mouth agape.

He stands up from his seat, force pushing the chair he was sitting in backward. “Tav, what in the hells happened to you?!”

Words don’t seem to want to leave your throat, you only choke on them. The tightness in your chest is so profound you can only cry. You scream and sob, babbling nonsense. Fuchsia walks up next to Zarovich, she must have followed you through the crowd.

You frantically find Astarion to tell him what happened, but you can't seem to get the words out. You can't seem to think straight at all.

If you skipped the previous chapter here is context that will be needed: +Tav was assaulted sexually and physically by the vampire lord that was compelling her +He fed from her and when he finished, he was able to see a faint image of himself in the mirror, because of the nature of Tav's blood. +The chapter ended when she fell unconscious due to blood loss.

CW: Detailed description of a panic attack, Domestic Abuse, Mind Control, Unwanted compulsion Word Count: 1.6k AO3 Link

photo credit: @astarionposting

You’re still unable to move. Mind clouded and vision blotched with black spots, darkness slowly fills your eyesight. You stare at the mirror that was just so profound for the monster. You close your eyes, succumbing to the heaviness of your eyelids. You feel nothing.

-----

“Vincere est vivere!”

Your eyes open and your lungs fill with a gasp. The blood in your veins regenerates unnaturally fast, filling you with a newfound vigor. You shoot up and  scurry off the bed. On the opposing edge of the mattress, a figure stands hovering. You take a defensive position, your vision not fully adjusted to your newfound consciousness. 

You stand panting frantically, fists raised ready to fight the monster that attacked you. Only when your focus increases, you see Fuchsia holding a spell book in one hand and a healing potion in the other. 

Suddenly you realize you are safe and a wave of relief washes over you. You collapse onto the bed and sob, trying to comprehend what just happened. Fuchsia walks over to where you lay, leans down and rubs your back in an attempt to console you. You sit up and look into her eyes, tears cascading your cheeks. You crash yourself into her, sobbing into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around you.

“You poor child…” Fuchsia mumbles quietly into your hair. 

It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. You’re no longer being compelled and yet you still feel so absent from your body. You feel so cold and despite being in the arms of Fuchsia, you feel so alone.

You pull back from the embrace and stare absently at the ground, sniffling.

“I need to find Astarion. I-” You frantically gather your shoes from the ground and turn to leave the bedroom. “We need to go home.” 

“Tav, wait.” Fuchsia follows you cautiously. “Let me help you… clean up first.”

You catch a glance of yourself in the vanity mirror. You’re covered in bruises, blood, saliva, and tears. Your hair is half undone from the updo it once held, knotted and matted from your struggle. 

You shake your head subtly. “No…” you whisper, looking yourself in the eyes before turning to leave. “No, he needs to see.”

You crash yourself through the door. As you stumble through the hall, the crying starts again. Gasps and sobs leave your mouth as you pick up speed. Your chest is tight and your vision is warping. Is it the blood loss? Adrenaline? Remnants of that cursed wine in your body?

You don’t care. You just need to find him and get the fuck out of here.

You push yourself through the middle of the ballroom. “Astarion?!” you scream between sobs. Pushing vampire lords with weak shoves from the arm holding your shoes to get through. 

“Astarion?!” You look around, the room is spinning. Your vision is glazed over. You scan the faces of the crowd. You sense they’re all staring at you with disgust, yet you can’t see them. You can only see through the tunnel forming in your vision as the room seems to cave in around you. 

You spin and catch a glance of him. He’s sitting at the far right end of the head table talking to Zarovich and other noble looking vampire lords.

“Astarion!” You sprint clumsily towards him. He is sitting casually with his legs crossed. One hand holding a goblet of the same style you drank from earlier and the other gesturing enthusiastically as he talks to the group of vampire lords surrounding him. They’re all so enamored by his charm.

“A-Astarion!” You run up to him and he stares at you. Shock is visible on his face, his eyes scanning you up and down and his mouth agape.

He stands up from his seat, force pushing the chair he was sitting in backward. “Tav, what in the hells happened to you?!”

Words don’t seem to want to leave your throat, you only choke on them. The tightness in your chest is so profound you can only cry. You scream and sob, babbling nonsense. Fuchsia walks up next to Zarovich, she must have followed you through the crowd. 

You turn and survey the crowd of people in Astarion’s audience. You see several vampire lords, two ladies, Zarovich, and him. That monster that did this to you. He stares at you with raised eyebrows, feigning ignorance. Acting as if he knows nothing of what happened to you. He leans to the man next to him and whispers some snide comment while looking you up and down.

You feel utterly ill. The room is spinning, and you can’t seem to breathe properly. Inhaling and exhaling at a rapid pace, you turn to Astarion still looking at you. He’s clearly trying to talk but your mind is so filled with panic that you can barely comprehend it.

You are just staring at him, hoping he can understand what you need. You need to get out of here.

Zarovich leaves his seat at the opposing head of the table and saunters over to casually stand next to Astarion. He places a hand on his shoulder and leans in to stare at you, like you are a specimen to study. A situation to be handled. You find yourself focusing on his words. 

“Lord Astarion, what ever will you do to handle this?” he gestures to you before turning to face Astarion. “You will handle it, won’t you? I mean, you are it’s master after all.” he leans into Astarion’s ear as if to share a secret, yet does not whisper quietly “Unless, it only calls you that in the bedroom.”

A shiver grows up your spine and you turn to Fuchsia who is standing arms length from Zarovich. She has her arms crossed at her chest and she bows her head down, avoiding eye contact with you. You can’t believe this… It was all a ruse. She was only fishing for dirt on Astarion for Zarovich the entire time. This woman who just held you and comforted you after being assaulted was a fucking spy. Your hyperventilating increases speed. 

Astarion whips his head back toward your hysterics. His face is void of color and he has a look on his face that you can’t quite interpret. Embarrassment? Anger? Pity? Whatever it is, he is feeling it toward you. 

You want to grab his hand and drag him to the carriage and get the hells out of this place, but your panic renders you useless. You sit on the ground and grab your hair in your fists. You’re so overwhelmed. Astarion’s face relaxes slightly and he flinches forward, like he instinctively wants to comfort you until glancing at Zarovich. You don’t see what Zarovich’s face does in response, but you know it gave a message to Astarion to stop because he only straightened his posture and squatted down in front of you.

He grabs your face covered in mucus and tears. Although he’s not doing anything particularly kind or romantic, his touch gives you a semblance of comfort. You melt into his hands, stifling sobs leaving your mouth. If only he would just pull you into an embrace and tell you it’s going to be okay, maybe this would stop. He moves his head to enter your view, establishing contact with your frantic eyes. You lock onto him. Your eyes plead to him to give you any semblance of comfort.

His eyes glow as his compulsion fills you.  

“Stand up, stop crying.” he commands quietly while looking into your eyes. 

What is this? That’s not what’s supposed to happen. Your legs straighten and you rise from the floor. Your sobs and hyperventilating come to a sudden halt. This isn’t what he was supposed to do. You still need to cry, the feeling burns in your chest and it needs to come out but it won’t. It can’t

“Astarion…” you whimper, pleading. 

He glances slightly around at the audience that cultivated around you, all staring at him judgmentally, expectantly. 

“Do not speak.” his nose turns up slightly, displaying a false sense of confidence. You know it's not real. Looking into his eyes they scream only weakness. He looks so pathetic putting on this act.

You hear his voice in your head, ringing like a thought. 

I’m sorry, we are going to leave now.

You could respond telepathically, but don’t. There's nothing to say to him. When he looks into your eyes, you can almost recognize him. But, as soon as he turns away, it’s like his face changes shape and you do not see your lover. You see only a stranger. A stranger who has complete control over you. 

You stand still, unable to move if you wanted to. Unable to speak if you wanted to. Any autonomy over your body has been stripped from you.

He clasps his hands together and faces Zarovich. “Well, it has been lovely. Truly a great party, but I must be seeing myself out.” His puppeteering of your body guides your feet to start to walk to the exit next to him. The feeling of moving without moving is disorienting. You feel like screaming.

“What? Leaving already? Surely you aren’t letting an unruly spawn ruin your entire evening.” Zarovich laughs. “Pity, we didn’t have time for our toast.” Zarovich’s voice is quieter, trying to emulate speaking under his breath, but still loud enough to be heard.

Astarion turns from the exit to face him. “A toast? For whom?”

“For you of course! The very first Vampire Ascendant.” He proclaims, voice projecting through the hall. There’s still a silence lingering in the crowd from the scene that just played out. There are some hums of approval amongst them, you cannot see them however. Astarion still has you facing the exit. 

Suddenly your heels turn, you are facing Astarion and Zarovich. Astarion looks from you back to Zarovich. 

“I suppose one more drink couldn’t hurt.”

To be continue...

[satureja13]

Oh no, Signore Srini found Adriano. Jack's disguise didn't trick him...

Vlad: "You can't take him away from us!" Signore Srini: "Actually I can. This is a valueable animal and I'm the owner. Plus I can't let him roam free around the campsite. Llamas are quite dangerous creatures. And he was the worst of the flock."

Saiwa: "I'm sure we'll come to an agreement. You could sell him to us." Signore Srini: "You can't even afford a hotel room. What do you think such a llama costs? The meat alone..." Saiwa: "How much?" Signore Srini: "13.000 §" Saiwa: ...

Signore Srini: "Thought so. I'll pick him up in two days." Saiwa: "Could you at least give us more time? And take those wanted posters off?" Signore Srini: "Two days. Since I found the llama, I'll take those off, but that girl paid me well. The other ones stay where they are."

A little later. Saiwa checks their finances: "Ok, we put everything together and Noxee sent me an advance payment. Makes 9187,42 §... dammit! That's all we have..."

Saiwa: "Barfolomew sent what he had. Ah I have no idea what else to do..." Vlad: "But we must do something!"

And then Jeb's phone rang...

Jeb: "Oh Travis, the roadie! Hi! How are you?" Saiwa in the background: "I'm so sick of how they treat us!" (Adriano is a creature, just like them...)

Jeb listens: "A gig? Sure! ... How much?... 3000? Thanks, Travis! You saved a life today! See you tomorrow!"

Incomincia la gara la battaglia del denaro non c'è più tempo né per ridere né per amare chi vuol vincere deve saper lottare

The race begins. The battle of money There's no more time for laughing and loving Who wants to win must know how to fight

Una Festa Sui Prati - Adriano Celentano (Added the song to the 'Summer at Tartosa' playlist on youtube and spotify)

TMI: We actually really got attacked by a llama once! Omg that was so scary! It was in a petting zoo and we fed them and when the food was empty we left but it followed us and pushed us and one of us fell. I was so afraid ö.ö

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest

[keicordelle]

At the Confluence of Creation and Devotion

FFXIV | Themis/WoL | Explicit | 6108

When he agreed to follow Natus into the future and make a new life for himself on the Source, Themis knew it would be challenging. He just hadn't expected how much so. With the thinner aether and fractured essence of the Source, even small acts of creation are beyond his current skill. If he wants to craft a gift for Natus for Valentione's Day, he's going to have to do it by hand. In which Themis offers Natus a gift, and Natus shows him just how much it means to him.

A commission for @natus-vincer! So glad to get to work with Natus and Themis again. Happy Valentione's Day! <3

My ficlet commissions are open through kofi, and if you're interested in a longer piece like this, send me a message and we can talk!

-

The half-formed spell slipped from Themis's grasp. Magic evaporated from his fingers, leaving him dry and empty inside. He winced as the recoil snapped back in his face, biting back a curse. Another failure.

Frustration bubbled up beneath his breast, in the place where once his magic had lain so thick. Even with the thinner aether and fractured essence of the future, he ought to be able to manage this much at least. All he wanted was to twist a simple spell as a gift for Natus for Valentione's Day next week. A miniscule act of creation, that was all! In Amaurot, it wouldn't have cost him so much as half a thought, much less a half day of frustration and failure. He was Elidibus, for heavens' sake! Or, he supposed, for the sake of the Twelve, if he wanted to fit in in his new world. Natus had assured him that his "somewhat archaic" speech patterns would not be out of place here in Sharlayan, but if he wanted to integrate himself properly into his new home, he was going to have to learn to adopt their customs.

Customs like Valentione's Day. What a novel delight, to have a day dedicated entirely to expressing your love for another. They hadn't had anything quite like it back in his era, and he found he rather liked the notion. If only adapting to the limits on his magic was quite as simple as adopting new holidays and speech patterns...

Well, there was only one way to learn. Themis blew out a breath, fingers flexing as he steeled himself to try again. Slowly and carefully, he coaxed his magic from where it dwelled within him, his entire being focused on the shape he wished it to take. Sweat beaded along his brow as he eased it out along the familiar paths carved by decades of creation. Light formed between his palms, his fingertips tingling as aether sparked along them. He gritted his teeth, tongue caught between them and breath held at he tried to force it into the ornate coil of metal that he held in his mind. Careful, careful....

[Read the rest on Ao3!]

[vincerehq]

DAVIKA WICHAYANNE @davikawch

[leoramage]

iris + mastermind (part two)

⊹ masterlist ⊹ taglist ⊹

⊹⊱ trigger warning - [mentions of emotional heartbreak, swearing]

⊹⊱ theme - [university au]

⊹⊱ pairings - [mick schumacher x student!y/n x daniel ricciardo]

⊹⊱ keywords - [muse. "your beauty should be captured and framed." steal my girl. "capture a piece of her essence, a glimpse into the depths of her soul." unrequited. "more than just a subject; she is the embodiment of artistry itself."]

The library was bathed in the soft glow of reading lamps, and the soft hum of fluorescent lights revealed the rows of dusty books, creating an ambiance of solitude that lent itself to focus — a sanctuary of silence in the heart of Gran Vincere Academy. Daniel sat alone at a corner table, engrossed in his studies, oblivious to the world around him. The weight of academic responsibilities bore down on his shoulders, leaving little room for idle thoughts. His camera, a trusty companion, sat perched on the table before him, its lens staring back at him with anticipation. It lay stealthily hidden beneath a pile of books, its lens pointed towards an inconspicuous spot. He had been studying diligently, but curiosity had a way of taking control.

Weeks had passed since Mick had confessed his feelings to you, and things seemed to be progressing slowly but steadily between the two of you. You found yourself spending more time together, getting to know each other on a deeper level. The atmosphere within their friend group had subtly shifted. Uncertainty and tension simmered beneath the surface permeated the air at Gran Vincere Academy, but a different kind of tension was brewing beneath the surface.

Little did Daniel know that the shift in dynamics would soon become more pronounced.

His finger rested lightly on the shutter button, capturing an image that would soon become a secret he'd carry. He was working on a project that required him to capture candid moments, raw emotions frozen in time. Little did he know that a candid moment was about to find him.

As he adjusted his camera's settings, he discreetly aimed it towards a secluded corner of the library. The click of the shutter clicked, and a sound followed, familiar as an old friend's laughter, echoed through the library. They seemed to be sharing secrets, their faces close, their voices hushed.

In that moment, Daniel captured more than he had bargained for.

Upon returning to his dorm room, he transferred the images to his computer, eager to review his progress. His excitement dimmed when he came across a photo that stood out amidst the portraits and landscapes. Mick and a girl, their heads bent together, sharing a secret conversation in a secluded corner of the library. He felt a mixture of shock and uncertainty. Should he share this secret with Y/N, his close friend? But then, he remembered the guilt that churned inside him for having unintentionally invaded Mick's privacy.

His heart raced as he examined the image. It was a moment of vulnerability, concealed from the world, captured by pure accident. He couldn't help but wonder who the girl was and if sharing this information with you would be wise.

The knowledge weighed heavy on his shoulders, but he hesitated, fearing the consequences of unveiling this hidden truth.

He was left walking on a tightrope till then.

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Days passed...

And Daniel wrestled with his conscience. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do something about that photo, but the weight of his discovery kept him silent. Then, a twist of fate intervened.

The professor assigned a portrait project, demanding that each student capture the essence of their chosen subject. Daniel's mind whirred with possibilities, but there was only one person he could envision as his muse.

Y/N. You were his muse that he wanted to capture the beauty from his lenses.

Nervousness swirled within him as he approached you with the proposition. He knew it wasn't just the assignment that drew him to you. It was an amalgamation of guilt, curiosity, and the unspoken feelings that had been slowly bubbling to the surface.

The day of the photoshoot arrived, and Daniel was a bundle of nerves. He wanted to capture Y/N's true essence, her spirit, and her beauty, but the guilt still gnawed at him. As he adjusted his camera and prepared for the shoot, he couldn't help but wonder if the beads of sweat on his forehead were from his nervousness or if they were a manifestation of the feelings he had for you.

"Daniel would you like me to smile?" You ask him softly, your gaze fixated on his form.

"Uhm- whatever you feel like best for your comfort? Anything that makes you feel relaxed." He muttered as his hands were shaking lightly, his breathing a little too shallow as if he had been chasing his own breath. He couldn't discern whether it was the guilt for keeping a secret or the burgeoning emotions he had for Y/N that caused this uncharacteristic nervousness.

He was about to unveil a side of himself he had kept hidden, just as he had kept that photo hidden.

With every click of the shutter, he tried to convey his admiration and remorse through the lens. The camera captured your essence, your strength, your vulnerability, and the depth of your eyes that had always drawn him in. It was a silent confession, a way of saying what he couldn't put into words.

"Thank you, Y/n. I should probably take you out for a treat tomorrow night, the newly opened cafe outside the university seems promising. Would you like to join me if you're free?" He offered humbly and his brown eyes were sparkling as he stared at you.

Daniel made you feel comfortable, at ease.

To be with him feels like the fresh morning breeze with the sun bathing your skin.

It feels refreshing, warm and cozy.

"Y/n?"

You were brought back to reality as Daniel snapped you out of your trance. Tomorrow is Friday and you are certainly free, there's nothing wrong with hanging out with your closest friend. Mick said he's busy the whole weekend with his studies and you totally understand.

You really do.

Without the knowledge of Daniel's discovery.

"Yes? I'm sorry, I was phasing out a bit." You apologized causing for his features to shift to a concern.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" He asks and you nodded with a smile.

How he loved that smile.

So his features softened once again and smiles in return. "Good to know but are you free tomorrow? My treat." He repeated.

You didn't need to think twice though you would often refuse for him to treat you out.

A refresh wouldn't hurt, right?

As the photoshoot concluded, Daniel couldn't help but feel a weight lifted from his shoulders. He had kept one secret but revealed another through his photographs. The story of this tight-knit group of friends was taking unexpected turns, and the unspoken emotions hung in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.

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Friday night arrived.

And the anticipation weighed heavily on Daniel's mind as he sat at a corner table in the newly opened café near the university. The soft, warm glow of pendant lights illuminated the cozy space, casting a comforting ambiance around.

As he fidgeted with the handle of his coffee cup, he watched the entrance, waiting for the sight of you. The café buzzed with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of cups, but in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just him and the image that he took that made him toss and turn in the comfort of his bed every night.

Finally, you arrived, a smile on your face that could melt even the iciest of hearts. Your presence lit up the room, and Daniel's nerves seemed to fade, if only for a moment.

"Hey, Daniel," Y/N greeted, taking a seat across from him.

Over cups of steaming coffee and the occasional bite of a pastry, the conversation flowed naturally. It felt good to be with Daniel, to share stories and laughter in a setting that was both intimate and soothing.

But as the night wore on, you noticed a certain unease in Daniel's demeanor. His eyes, once warm and inviting, held a shadow of hesitation. You couldn't help but wonder what was bothering him.

His camera was drawn and he had shown you pictures he had taken days prior. You can't help but smile at every picture he had taken from landscapes to your portraits.

He, of course, made sure you will not delete the portraits he had taken of you. Chuckling in the process as you taunted him.

Then your smile dropped...

Mick was in the frame with a blonde girl, their face close to each other.

Smiles on their lips and eyes glinting as they stared at each other, lost in each other's presence.

Your heart sank as the weight of the picture of Mick and the girl settled in. It was as though the floor had dropped from beneath you. The truth Daniel had feared, the truth he had been trying to distance you from, had come crashing down.

⊰⊹⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋄⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊹⊱

In the days that followed...

You distanced yourself from Mick, unable to shake the feelings of hurt and betrayal that swirled within. Mick noticed the change in your demeanor and couldn't understand the reason behind it. He turned to Daniel, seeking answers.

"Daniel? Honestly?" Irritation was heard from Mick's voice as the supposedly calm conversation turned heated. "You could've just confronted me about it!"

Daniel felt uneasy as Mick's anger and frustration were palpable. But he refused to back down.

"Talk to you about it so that you'll tell me to keep it a secret? Y/n has to know the truth and you can't be playing around people's feelings like that, Mick." Daniel firmly stood by his principle. He knew how laced you were around Mick's finger.

He had seen it before Mick even confessed to you that he liked you. It was always a concern to Daniel.

And he wouldn't let you be hurt because you admired someone.

You deserved someone better.

"Seriously, Daniel? What the fuck are you even talking about? You're not so slick about trying to steal my girl, no?" Mick seriously accused Daniel, his voice was laced with frustration and betrayal.

But Daniel, resolute and firm, refused to accept the blame. "No! I didn't steal anyone, Mick. I had to do it because it was the right thing to do. I care about Y/N, and I couldn't bear to see her hurt."

Accusations and defenses clashed, further deepening the rift that had formed between two of the people closest to you and it hurt you deep inside.

You were supposed to return Daniel's portfolio that you had borrowed. Yet here you are listening to them argue because of you.

You began stepping away, further and further.

Your feet decided to take you away from that place, your heart hammering inside of your chest as you choked from your breaths. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fled to your dorm room, almost collided with someone along the way, the weight of their words heavy on your heart.

You didn't know who to believe this time.

Daniel was probably in the wrong timing?

Mick probably have his reasons too.

But all of these were too overwhelming you didn't know if you should follow your head or your heart.

You had to risk one to choose one.

And it crushed you.

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Author's Note: as a daniel and mick fan, i cannot decide which one y/n will end up with. let me know your thoughts! 𔘓ฅ[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]𔘓ฅ

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created by the user in response to a creative writing prompt. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or entities, whether living or deceased, is purely coincidental. The characters, events, and dialogue portrayed in this fanfiction are products of the user's imagination and are not meant to infringe upon any copyrights or trademarks associated with the Formula One sport or any real-life individuals. This fanfiction is solely intended for entertainment purposes, and the author acknowledges that the depicted scenarios are not endorsed, authorized, or supported by any official Formula One entities or the individuals mentioned.

[galloberardi]

A costo di prendermi parole e passare tutta la giornata a guardare il numero di followers che diminuisce devo dire una cosa. Concordo che ci sono persone che non dovrebbero stare in quella lista per determinati motivi, e alcune che o non sono proprio state chiamate oppure sono state chiamate e mandate a casa che dovrebbero esserci. Ma, siamo sempre allo stesso discorso ogni volta che ci sono le convocazioni. Non e’ possibile ora come ora rischiare e mettere giovani nuovi, non c’e’ un ritorno di queste partite e non possiamo permetterci di inserire gente che non sappiamo come reagisce perche’ non ha mai giocato ad alti livelli. Concordo anche che se non gli si da’ l’occasione non potranno mai giocare ad alti livelli, ma adesso non se lo possono permettere di inserire un Baschirotto che gioca contro Gavi o Morata. E’ un po’ come dice Daniele su Sogno Azzurro per la famosa partita contro la Svezia di quel mondiale mai raggiunto ‘Magari mi metteva dentro e facevo 2 gol non lo puoi sapere’, ma in questo momento non si puo’ rischiare. Non ci siamo qualificati al Mondiale nonostante nessuna partita persa per una cosa matematica, questo ci ha portato a scendere (anche di poco ringraziamo le grandi squadre che al mondiale hanno fatto schifo) in classifica FIFA. Questo comporta che dobbiamo vincere piu’ partite possibili con le big, per poter stare su ed essere (SPERIAMO) testa di sere al prossimo Europeo se ci qualifichiamo. Portare giovanissimi che non hanno mai giocato a livelli alti in una partita secca (per quanto questo torneo sia una barzelletta) e’ un rischio che ora come ora nessuno si vuole permettere. Potrebbe essere che reagiscono come Raspadori e ti fanno 800 gol, ma possono reagire anche come Scamacca che prende paura e si nasconde dietro a Gnonto quando vede arrivare la palla. Aggiunto a tutto questo, ricordiamo che l’U21 si contende giocatori con la maggiore. Questi giocatori (Bove, Sandro, Miretti, Fagioli) che sono effettivametne i giovani che hanno esperienze con altre squadre Europee quando giocano nei Club, non possono essere chiamati in Nazionale Maggiore perche’ gli stessi club non sono felici di questa cosa o perche’ un Europeo anche se U21 viene considerato piu’ pesante della Nations League e quindi si lasciano alla squadra U21 come rinforzo. E’ un cane che si morde la coda da solo, perche’ per x motivi ci ritroviamo sempre con 26 persone da poter chiamare, di questi 26 solitamente concordiamo che 3 non dovrebbero nemmeno comparire nella lista, e concordiamo che ce ne sarebbero almeno altre 20 che dovrebbero essere chiamate. Tutto sto pippone senza senso per dire che credo che, tenendo conto degli avversari, il Mancio cerchi di chiamare piu’ giovani che puo’ nel limite, perche’ il cambio generazionale decisamente lui quando e’ arrivato l’ha fatto, e ora come ora la nostra nazionale non e’ vecchia, nonostante abbiamo 2-3 mummie. Queste mummie pero’ servono come garanzia perche’ aiutano i giovani con la loro esperienza. L’esperienza a livello Nazionale non e’ uguale a quella che ci si puo’ fare in un club, e purtroppo si torna al punto dolente che i Club grandi non danno opportunita’ ai giovani perche’ hanno troppo in gioco. E se un giovane non gioca in un Club che garantisce sfide a livello europeo e’ difficile che possa essere chiamato a giocare in Nazionale. Quindi, credo che le liste che ci sono, siano fatte tenendo conto di piu’ motivi e meccanismi di cui noi non siamo a conoscenza, e che siano il meglio che si possa fare. E se qualcuno che doveva essere chiamato e’ stato escluso, immagino che i motivi che hanno portato a questa decisione, vadano al di la’ dl simpatie e antipatie del Mister per una squadra o un giocatore.

Ora potete unfollowarmi. Thiaw.

[missfogo]

Stavo pensando alle mie ambizioni con rabbia. Infondo, non ho mai avuto possibilità e mi fa imbestialire averlo capito così tardi. Non era questione di talento, ma di amici, o meglio, di followers. Quando ero bambina facevano gare di disegno in classe, ma nonostante io fossi oggettivamente più portata e capace, i miei compagni facevano vincere sempre gli scarabocchi dei loro amici più simpatici. Ed è così che funziona anche il mondo degli adulti. Il mio talento è sempre stato inutile se non un fastidio. Avrei dovuto invece imparare a socializzare, usare altri strumenti quali sono oggi i social. Ma proprio non ce la faccio. Mi sembra tutto così odioso. Io non sopporto le persone, tantomeno i social, o i trend tutti uguali. Dunque per realizzare i miei sogni, dovrei fare di essi un prodotto vendibile al pubblico e cambiarli in base ai gusti della massa? Non credo di esserne in grado. E poi mi sto trasformando in un dinosauro. Vorrei che il mondo digitale implodesse e che le persone tornassero a parlarsi per strada. Fottetevi