Everything Everywhere All At Once Blooper Reel

And I will wait for you.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov | Caravaggio, Bacchus/The Lute Player/Saint Jerome Writing/Young Sick Bacchus (details)

okay i’m really tired of the gaz exclusion💀

i was on a tiktok live of someone playing mw2 and this person was like “i like everyone except gaz” and this other person agreed saying “SAMEEEE” like ????? wdym everyone but gaz???? and so i asked “why do yall not like gaz genuine question” and then one of them asked “gaz is kyle right?” and just completely ignored my question😭 like atp it’s just racism cuz everyone but gaz???? you didnt even know that gaz was kyle???? did u even watch the actual gameplay???? im probably being over dramatic but this really ruffled my feathers clearly💀

Gurlll I don't even check my inbox anymore because all of it is scams to the point it gets genuinely so annoying. The fact people, bots, ai, whatever is using the War in Palestine as a way to scam people is absolutely disgusting like...bitch we know damn well your name isn't Salwa, you do not live in Gaza, and you do not have kids. If it is people doing this then...stop?? Theres actually people who need donations and pretending to be one of them is so pathetic and wrong. Also stop flooding my inbox im broke as hell, as in the hell you'll be going to for doing thissss ❤️😝

If this gets by anywhere somehow and you would like to donate there are genuine Gofundme pages you can donate to, do not fall for these

I'm getting tired of these scam bots appearing in my inbox. So, I'm disabling asks. I doubt it'll do much, but if I see another one ask for donations or whatever, I'm blocking them. I'll even send them to the moon if I could!

I don't have any money on hand.

I don't want to give money to anyone pretending to be a victim of genocide. (Note: I'd definitely try to help the real deal, tho. Israel deserves to have their weapons stolen and turned against them for what they're doing to Palestine, imo)

And even if I did have money, I wouldn't just throw it all away to some guy wanting to profit from a tragic incident. Which is fucking wrong, btw.

If you're looking to earn money, GET A JOB.

Ang Huling El Bimbo the Music: thoughts and feelings

[SPOILER ALERT]

Can I just say I love the subtleness of the musical and how it just tells its message through the storytelling???

It touches a whole lot on the Drug War that the current administration is waging against the poor Filipinos who are more victims than the main perpetrators themselves. The end of AHEB which only shows Joy's death and the subsequent lamentation of her family and old friends as the perpetrator who now holds a political position as a councilor goes scot-free is saddening but feels true with what happens in the Philippines. The people who are at the bottom chain are caught or killed while the ones running things get to sit in their high chair.

I also love how the other three main characters Eman, AJ and Hector represent the three divisions of the Filipino middle class and their actions towards the injustices and aggression Joy, who represents the poor and oppressed, faces tell a lot about their positions and views. When none of them could save Joy from being raped, their actions tell a lot about their position. Their positions in the future also dictates where they came from.

Emman who seems to be part of the lower middle class and is also an activist shouts the hospital, focusing more on comfort although might not do much is the kindest of the choices. Going to the hospital would be a direct action to help Joy who is in distraught atm cope. It's also important to see that although Eman got a government post like he dreamed (to change the system), it's the system that changed him instead. With someone from a poor background and no backing, he works hard everyday and is rarely home because he has to "prove" his worth. His career is banking on how hard he works and he forgets that the reason he dreamed of this in the first place was to help advocate for better change in the Philippines and take care of his family with his wife/sweetheart.

AJ who is at the very middle of the middle class chooses the police instead, relying more on the legal system that probably would seem like a fair judge ( probably to imply his trust on the system who perhaps would be fair to him but unjust to others) and his focus on the social aspect of it, aka how other people would perceive what happened. The middlest middle class whose position on the pyramid is dependent on how others perceive you hits too hard for AJ who becomes a successful businessman. He gets a wife, knowing full well that she would simply be a decoration for him to keep appearances, as he is in fact gay. AJ might know some people here and there but to primarily keep his connections, he has to look the part and in exchange for that, he hurts his wife and continues to hide who he truly is.

And God, Hector, this fucking bastard, I hate him but he represents the Upper Middle Class rhetoric so well. Hector tells everyone to keep quiet, to not do anything, overglorifying Joy's trauma and hardship as her being strong. And that speaks so much about how the upper middle class operates, how it's the upper middle class who rarely if ever listens, because although they might not be as powerful as the Filipino Oligarchs, they are pretty much the people living the "Fiipino Dream" and to keep their position, the upper middle class turns a blind eye to the suffering of the Filipino poor. Hector who had always lived comfortably chose to protect his own comfort even in the face of grave injustice. Hector makes it in life too. He's got the resources and the connections, just enough to get him a famous name as a tv director but being in the upper middle class means you still have to bow your head to those with power, to the great oligarchs who control how things go. You see Hector who is "a famous director", under the orders 'from above' has to make his series about ratings than the story itself. He has to accept people with connections into the movie because despite his position that many Filipinos dream about, he isn't exactly the omnipotent hand that can control everything.

God this musical feels so real. The characters too also just represent so much of the struggles of Filipinos, of the lapses in our society and how it continues to harm us and those around us. Please watch The Huling El Bimbo.

“Those poor boys”

“She deserves to be punished too.”

“I’m not saying I support rape, but-”

“Sorry to say - she deserved it.”

“She put herself in harm’s way”

“But if she was fingered, then that’s not rape.”

“She ruined their lives.”

HAI! i rlly like your platonic 141 fics and I'm wondering if we could get some more dad price and/or brother gaz sleepy cuddles? :3

stretched too thin — python333

— — — —

synopsis gaz notices you overworking yourself one night and decides to step in before you end up pulling an all-nighter.

relationships platonic!gaz & gn!reader.

characters gaz.

word count 2.05k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of pet names [love, darling], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note oh my god im so sorry i disappeared for like. a month. ill try my best to not be gone for more than a week at a time, but with all of my schoolwork and just over all stress ive been experiencing lately, i dont know if ill be able to get fics out every week :< ill try my best though! please accept this fic as an apology—its another big bro gaz one!! special shoutout to everyone else who has an older sibling thats very distant with them, you and me are in the same boat fr!! also, last thing—im thinking about making a discord server where i announce when fics are being written and published and stuff, but i dunno if yall would join or anything, so if u would pls lmk!!

You haven’t left your office in five hours. 

Recently—just about two days ago—you finished up an assignment fairly quickly and, as a result, had to write a detailed report of said assignment. It went over the mission you’d gone on, and listed off every major detail you could think of, though because you just can’t give yourself a break you were constantly thinking of other details you might’ve missed even though there was little chance you’d missed anything.

The mission wasn’t anything too important, honestly. It was originally going to be a week-long camp-out reconnaissance by an enemy task force’s base, obtaining information on their schedule and what they did throughout the day and whatnot. However, only a day into the mission, the small squad of soldiers that had accompanied you saw another small military group observing the same group you’d been observing.

So, naturally, you observed them as well. Aren’t you just the best multi-tasker?

The task force eventually found out about the other group, just a day later, while your squad was still in the clear to continue your observations. So, your mission had quickly come to a close—but, because of the circumstances under which the mission had come to a close, you were required to write an extremely detailed report on the other group and the group you’d been observing.

It would be an understatement to say you were tired. You’re exhausted.

Between the non-stop writing, the coffee sitting on your desk that’s been microwaved five times and has been refilled thrice, and the uncomfortable chair you’ve sat in that you have yet to replace, you’re extremely exhausted. Your movements are sluggish, your fingers aren’t as swift on the keyboard of your computer as they usually are, and worst of all—you still have more to write. 

Your eyes stung and felt dry, your hands felt like they were going to stop working completely at any moment, and you were overall just exhausted. 

You look over at the clock on your desk, and it reads 02:28 AM, indicating that you would only have about four hours to sleep if you went to bed now. I’m too far into this report to stop now, You tell yourself, sighing as you blink slowly at your computer screen, If only my vision didn’t keep getting blurry… 

Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, and for a second you think you’re hallucinating until the knock sounds once more. 

Reluctantly, with a voice raspy from not using it almost all day, you call out, “Come in!” 

Your voice is softer and quieter than you’d like it to be, but it doesn’t matter too much to you at this moment—at least, not in your foggy mind that still begs you for sleep, even when you have far more of your report to finish. 

The door opens with a creak, and in walks Gaz. 

“Sarg,” He greets you, not bothering to close the door behind him as he walks up to your desk, “Pleasure to see you for the first time in, what… three days?” 

“Two days and eighteen hours,” You correct him, taking a moment to crack your stiff knuckles, not taking your eyes off of your monitor, “And you know you don’t have to call me ‘sarg’ or ‘sergeant’ or anything. We’re the same rank.” 

Gaz promptly ignores you, “Right, well, anything over a day is way too long for me to go without seeing you. Why’re you all cooped up in here on your computer?”

“‘Cause I need to write a report on my assignment,” You briefly explain, before lightly goading Gaz, “Not all of us need a shit ton of attention every day like you do.” 

“Ehh,” Gaz theatrically makes a thinking face, before shrugging, “Not sure what you mean by ‘us’, but alright.” 

“By ‘us’, I mean everyone but you.” 

“Surely that doesn’t include you, right?” 

“It does.” 

Gaz gasps quietly at your reply, before dramatically responding, “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“I absolutely can,” You hum, finally taking your eyes off of your computer screen to look up at Gaz, “Is it so hard for you to believe that I don’t need to talk to you every waking hour?” 

“It is, actually,” Gaz scoffs, “Because I know that you do need to talk to me every waking hour.” 

“Uh, no I don’t,” You childishly argue, raising an eyebrow at Gaz.

“Uh, yes you do,” Gaz immaturely argues back, crossing his arms, “Look me in the eyes and tell me that the past two days and eighteen hours haven’t been shit because I haven’t given you any attention.”

You open your mouth to form a response but quickly close it, realizing that yeah, actually, I kind of do crave his attention. 

Fuck.

“You’re not the only person that gives me attention,” You point out, hoping to find some way to change the subject.

“Sure, but you like the attention I give you the most,” Gaz hums, leaning forward to rest his crossed arms on your desk opposite of where you sit.

“You don’t know that.”

“Then tell me that I’m wrong,” Gaz challenges you.

You narrow your eyes at him, glaring at him for a moment before sighing, “You suck.”

“Maybe I suck, but you look like you haven’t slept for the past week,” Gaz points out, “You look exhausted, by the way. And dehydrated. Actually, you just look like the human embodiment of a headache.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“I mean that in the most loving, non-offensive way possible.”

“You come into my office, accuse me of needing attention from you, then you insult me by calling me the human version of a headache?”

“It wasn’t an insult!” Gaz raises his hands in surrender, before sighing, “I’m being serious. You look dead, [c/n]. You need sleep.” 

“What I need is to finish this report,” You huff out, beginning to turn your attention back to your computer, before Gaz’s hand is quickly placed on your chin and forces you to look back at him. 

“No, what you need is some rest,” Gaz argues, more serious this time, taking his hand off of your chin—something you shouldn’t miss nearly as much as you do, the warmth of his hand fading far too quickly from your face—and bringing it back to rest on the desk. 

“Maybe you need rest, Gaz.”

“Sure I do,” He shrugs, “But I’m only going to sleep if you do.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Really? You’re pulling that card?”

“I am.” 

You stare at him for a moment, mentally weighing your options, before sighing and bringing your elbows up to the table so that you can place your forehead in your hands.

On one hand, if you stay in your office you can finish up your report before four and then go to sleep, and hope that you magically feel active even with just an hour or two of sleep in the morning. On the other hand, if you go to sleep now, so does Gaz, and then you both get more than just two hours of sleep. 

After another moment of consideration, you huff out a frustrated breath and mutter, “Fine.” 

Gaz smiles down at you and walks around your desk to your side of it, holding out a hand for you to grab to help yourself up from your chair and using his free hand to save your report and power off your monitor. 

You take his hand and stand up, your legs a little weak and balance iffy from sitting down for so long, but within the next few minutes you’re sure you’ll be able to properly walk. You let go of his hand once you’re positive you won’t fall over, and once he sees that you’re able to walk, Gaz silently walks towards the door of your office. Just as quietly, you follow him. 

He turns off the lights for you and lets you walk out of the office first, locking the door from the inside and closing it once you’re out. Once he’s done, he takes the lead again and you follow him down to his sleeping quarters. It’s not too long of a walk there, only two minutes at most.

Once you’re there, Gaz opens the door and lets you walk in first. Once you’re inside and Gaz has closed the door, you shrug off your camouflage patterned jacket and toe off your already loosened tan boots, leaving you in just your camouflage cargo pants and army green undershirt.

You look down at your pants with a frown, knowing from experience that sleeping in them was incredibly uncomfortable and left you regretting your whole existence the morning after, but before you could even look over at Gaz to tell him of your situation, you felt something being thrown at you. 

You immediately turn your attention to the item that had been hurled at you—the item in question being a pair of gray sweatpants, some that would probably be a little bit looser than you’d prefer on your figure—and then look over at Gaz with a questioning look. 

“Figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in that,” Gaz shrugs, nodding to your cargo pants in response to your nonverbal confusion. 

You hum in appreciation, not wanting to talk too much at the moment, instead waiting for Gaz to look away before slipping off your pants and replacing them with the sweatpants Gaz had thrown at you. The fit isn’t as uncomfortable as you thought they’d be—they’re loose and hang low on your hips, just like you thought they would, of course, but they don’t feel nearly as weird as you thought they would.

Once you’ve tightened the strings on the waist of the pants, you get into Gaz’s bed, pulling the covers up and over yourself. Gaz quickly settles into the bed next to you, quickly getting himself comfortable under the sheets, and pulling the covers up and over his shoulders in one swift movement.

He gets closer to you, so close that his chest presses against your back and you can feel the tip of his nose ghosting over the top of your head. He wraps one arm over your body to pull you impossibly closer to him, and his other arm snakes underneath the side of your body so that both of his arms are wrapped around you.

He hums contently and his thumb rubs small circles into your clothed stomach, the action—despite being small—causing your stomach to warm up almost immediately. 

“Comfortable, darling?” Gaz asks quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“Very,” You mumble back, trying to subtly lean your head back against Gaz in hopes of getting at least one more kiss. Noticing your efforts, he huffs out a small laugh and presses another gentle kiss right at the edge of your hairline before pressing one last one to your forehead. 

Even with the comforting atmosphere, you can’t find it within yourself to fully relax, your body still tense and stiff underneath the blanket. Gaz, just like he did with your “subtle” movements, notices and frowns. 

“Just sleep,” Gaz tiredly mumbles into the top of your head, “You have to get up in three hours. The sooner you sleep, the more sleep you get.” 

You don’t respond, instead simply sighing and forcing your eyes closed. You do have to admit, it’s nice being able to actually close your eyes for something other than blinking, and closing your eyes for longer than half a second has made you realize that they were even drier than you thought they were. 

Exhausted and ready to finally sleep, you eventually get to a point where you no longer need to force your eyes shut, and as a result, your whole body relaxes for the first time in almost six hours. 

“G’night, love,” Gaz murmurs, feeling your body relax next to his. You hum in acknowledgment of his words, not finding the energy within yourself to properly respond, instead finding yourself drifting off into a deep sleep. 

And if four hours later, Gaz wakes up and simply lies there, not waking you and instead letting you get some more sleep despite you having to be up soon, nobody has to know.

First we had platonic cuddles with Simon

Now we need platonic cuddles with price !!

We need the dad cuddles !!!

Please

It shall be done @itsscromp 😌 hope it's to your liking.

Also! Callsign poll going up tomorrow at 10AM MT.

Platonic cuddles with Captain Price

Price is hesitant to cuddles in the way he's very busy and it's his job to protect you all. If something happens he takes the blow so he's stressed out a lot.

Not only does he not feel like he can take a proper break, but cuddles or affection in general would mean being vulnerable and over the years it's something he's started to lose grasp on.

It wouldn't feel appropriate, just as much as going up to Simon or you sergeants and asking for touch. Price gives touch, he leads, he shows affection. He gives the occasional gratitude and pat on the back, making sure his soldiers are alive and breathing.

Sometimes those small moments of affection are grounding for him. Touching Simon on the shoulder after a mission and seeing their eyes meet relaxes his mind that Simon is very much still alive. Same goes for the rest of you.

So long story short he can give affection but does not ever ask for it in return. Ever. He may want it, but he feels it's not his place among many other things.

Then you came along. And unlike others, you saw. You heard and you saw. You'd hear the exhaustion dwindling on the edge of his voice, his head full and his hands busy with paperwork and whatever else needed to be handed in before he got his ass kicked.

You saw how his shoulders would bow slightly when the invisible weight on his shoulders pushed down a little too much.

Of course you initiate contact. And he forgot just how much he misses it. Wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him until his worries too are drowned out...

You knocked on the door to his office, coming in to see him finishing up a briefing on one of your last missions. You'd not been feeling good all day so Price had given you the day to rest.

"Y/n, what are you doing up??"

You sniffled, tired puffy eyes looking down when you came over. "I can't sleep..." You whisper.

"Did you get more medication from Ghost?"

You nod, rubbing your sore eyes again. Price sighed and stopped his paperwork, standing and attempting to help you. "How about we get you to bed and I'll make you some tea. Clear up those sinuses a bit."

But before he can move you come forward, wrapping your arms weakly around him and lean into his body. You listen to the sounds of his heart over the panting breaths of your fever.

Price hums, rubbing your back and runs his hand down the back of your head. "It's ok."

His strong arms wrap around you, firm hands grounding you to him. Making you feel safe, and content. Your head spins from the fever, giving you little strength to move from the warm, soft spot that is Price's chest.

"Can I get you some soup? Have you eaten much today?"

You hum, lazily shaking your head.

"Alright. We'll get you something to eat then. No use fighting this on an empty stomach hey?"

He would send you away back to your room, but Price was a strong man and very rarely got sick. So he wasn't concerned with that.

He slid his hands under your arms and hoisted you up. Doesn't matter your height or size, he's got you. He picks you up in his arms, feeling you curl a little closer and brings you back to your room.

"There, gonna lay you down. Nice and slow." Price whispers, slipping you back under the covers. You grumble, grabbing onto him and pull on his shirt. He softly shushes you, but doesn't hesitate for very long.

Only until you fell asleep he said to himself...

Jokes on him, Price falls asleep with you. The exhaustion and the stress slowly melts away for a time and he rests.

It's a curious thing. You are. Sometimes you won't even be stressed, but you can see Price is stressed.

If you've had a long day you will occasionally seek him out. You know he's busy and he's got many other things on his mind so you aren't always expecting him to give up his utmost attention for you.

Until he does. Somewhere along the way Price relaxes when he sees you. He invites you all on leave back to his home and that's when he gets a moment to relax and that father figure comes out.

Especially when on leave, he remembers that you are family and he cherishes every moment with you. Simple touches on the shoulder turn into wrapping his arm around them and pulling you against him for a short hug.

But still, when he needs a break Price doesn't come to find you. He doesn't come to find anyone. He's the captain and therefore needs to sort his own shit out himself. Getting done in with paperwork and organizing recruits and requests and all that bullcrap.

Until you stop him. Like the safety roadblock before he hits a deadend.

You knock on the door to his office, hearing him call you in before stepping inside.

"Y/n, what can I do for you kiddo?"

"I just wanted to check on you. You've been in here a while.. and you didn't have much to eat at lunch today."

"I'm alright. Just filling this out and I'll be done." You could tell it was a lie by the way he looked away from you and back down to his paperwork to avoid eye contact.

You closed the door and stepped further inside.

"Anything you needed other than checking up on me??"

You walk over and grab his pen from his hand, shoving it in your pocket.

"Sergeant-!?"

"Come on Price. Take a break."

"Y/n I have stuff to do. Hand me the pen."

You shake your head and grab his hand, attempting to pull him from his chair... Which... Doesn't work. At all.

"Y/n." Price warns. "Please hand me the pen."

"how about I give it back after you take a break. Even ten minutes. Just please take a break." You gave him the most darndest puppy eyes you had and he sighed. How... How could he say no to that??

So he shook your hand off and stood. "Fine. Ten minutes."

You nod and the two of you head to the common room. He sits down on the couch to relax for a moment and you snuggle up next to him. He doesn't complain, wrapping an arm around you as you rest your head on his chest.

"Ten minutes..." Price whispered, already feeling his eyelids growing heavy. "Just... Ten minutes..." And just like that his eyes closed, leaning back against you. You smile softly, pulling off his hat and letting him rest.

"Sleep well Price." You whisper.

Yes, Price may be your captain. But he's only human and has his limits. And you're there when he needs you. Even if he's a little stubborn at first, that's ok.

Price is there for you as well, starting to grow closer and give you that affection. Hugs, cuddles and whatever else you need.

When in the safety of the base, you can break down those walls of captain and sergeant to be father and child. It was special.

😊😊😊

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I suggest searching content and then tags separately. Sort by latest posts rather than top posts so the search will yield more results. Tumblr searches are weird that way.

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SEARCHES FOR AI IMAGES

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**I'll add additional searches as I discover more.

I do not support the harassment of blogs that use a.i. However, I block them because I prefer not to see their posts & I'd prefer they neither see nor interact with my blog in any way.