#Budapest 11

[sunshineandlyrics]

🇭🇺 🛫 Budapest airport, 11 August 2024.

[sunskate]

2024 Budapest Trophy programs:

CPom: RD k&c FD k&c medal ceremony

Bratti/Somerville: RD FD

Turkkila/Versluis: RD FD

Orihara/Pirinen: RD FD

Ignateva/Szemko: RD FD

Harris/Chan: RD FD

Matthaei/Liebers: RD FD

Paolina/Tuba: RD FD

Ramanauskaite/Kizala: RD FD

Argentieri/Riva: RD FD

Maddie Schizas: FD (iamo choreo)

[sincerelyrushwriter]

Chapter 11: The Vulture of Saint Matthias

Two minutes had passed.

Ever tolerant, Lucian focused on the hard knuckles of his opponent, seething eyes, the silver-plated walking-stick brandishing closer to his face. Endless prattle going on and on. Moments like these made him question the wisdom of joining forces with a traitor. The more the man raged, the more he betrayed himself as a coward. A vulture that had been pushed too far, the posture slouched, the neck leaning forward slightly. One of these days, the spine would crack…

Prelude: An Underworld Fanfiction.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/749807/chapters/1399338

Source

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:M%C3%A1ty%C3%A1s_templom_1900.jpg#mw-jump-to-license

[almanach-international]

11 avril : la Journée de la poésie hongroise

La Journée de la poésie (költészet napja) est célébrée en Hongrie depuis 1964. C’est la seule célébration nationale héritée de la Hongrie communiste. Le 11 avril, est l'anniversaire d'Attila József. Un poète qui fut un peu le Rimbaud hongrois. Né en 1905 dans un milieu très défavorisé, cet enfant précoce a été l’adolescent prodige des milieux littéraires hongrois dès 1922. Il est mort en 1937 à 32 ans écrasé par un train, dans des circonstances qui font penser à un suicide.

Il a été communiste, dès 1919, d’où ce choix de la date à l’époque de Kádár, mais il avait été exclu du parti pour idéalisme, d’où le maintien de cette figure dans le panthéon de la Hongrie post-communiste. Sa statue, réalisée par Marton László, regarde le Danube du pied du Parlement hongrois. L’emplacement, choisi en 2009, est inspiré d’un de ses poèmes fameux, Au bord du Danube.

La poésie joue toujours un rôle particulier dans l’espace culturel hongrois. On ne lit plus des poèmes dans les usines comme à l’époque communiste, chaque 11 avril, mais on organise des soirées de performances littéraires comme le fameux marathon de poésie (Költészeti maraton) organisé depuis 2010, où une centaine d’auteurs (147 en 2022) se relaient pendant 24 heures pour lire des textes en public.

La figure d’Attila Jozsef n’est pas oubliée. Chaque 11 avril, sur la tombe du poète, au cimetière de la rue Fiumei, à Budapest, l'Institut national du patrimoine (NÖRI), organise un événement. Cette année est donné un concert de poèmes d’amour mis en musique avec chanteurs et musiciens.

Un article de l'Almanach international des éditions BiblioMonde, 9 avril 2023

[mailnews]

FLOT VIAGENS Concerto de ANDRÉ RIEU em roteiro por BUDAPESTE, VIENA, PRAGA e BRATISLAVA

https://mail.mailnews.com.br/mail/FLOT-11-25/flot-11-25.html

Este informativo é publicado pela Mailnews e direcionado exclusivamente aos Agentes de Viagens.

[rwpohl]

09/11/2024 brückeneinsturz, dresden

08/01/1976 einsturz, reichsbrücke wien

[andrewrossiter1]

Happy Birthday Église

Happy Birthday Église

Prédication par Andrew Rossiter à Castelmoron, Pentecôte 2024 Actes 2.1-11, Jean 15. 26-27

Ça s’est passé à Budapest pendant que j’étais en vacances avec mes deux enfants, il y a presque 30 ans. Je ne parle pas du tout hongrois, une langue qui a la réputation d’être la plus difficile en Europe. En effet elle n’est pas du tout comme les autre langues européennes. J’ai appris un seul mot «egészsegrerek» (Santé en levant un verre)!

Nous étions dans le métro et les jumeaux étaient dans la poussette, et nous étions un peu perdus. Mais comment demander des directions sans pouvoir prononcer les noms des stations? Il faut simplement regarder le plan du métro pour s’en rendre compte.

Puis il y a eu comme une lumière sonore (si cela existe?), traversant les bruits des voix, des rames qui entraient en gare, le haut-parleur… j’ai capté l’anglais! L’anglais avec un accent d’Oxford. C’était comme une balise de repérage pour un naufragé. Pour la première fois depuis une semaine j’ai compris chaque mot à l’instant que les personnes parlaient. Je n’avais pas à me concentrer, ou demander une traduction, ou de comprendre à peu près. Tout était clair, précis et compréhensible. C’était comme rentrer à la maison.

Comme à la maison: être entendu et compris et comprendre.

J’imagine que pour les gens de la première Pentecôte c’était pareil, mais en puissance 10 ou même 100. Ils ont tous compris instantanément en 15 langages différents. Dans les rues autour du temple de Jérusalem l’incompréhension était remplacée par la révélation et le sentiment qu’ils étaient tous chez eux.

Les langues n’étaient pas les langues «au hasard» mais bien les langues de tous les juifs de toutes les nations. C’est-à-dire de tous les pays où se trouvaient des juifs de la diaspora.

Imaginez un instant, les Parthes, les Mésopotamiens, les Judéans et plein d’autres à Jérusalem un peu perdu, ne parlant pas la langue locale, qui tout d’un coup entendent parler des gens dans leur langue maternelle, dans leurs dialectes peut-être pour la première fois depuis qu’ils venaient à Jérusalem, année après année pour la fête annuelle de la Pentecôte.

Et cette maison devient une sorte de balise de repérage, ils se tournent tous pour voir et pour mieux entendre. Est-ce qu’ils avaient le sentiment qu’ils venaient chez eux? Qu’ils rentraient à la maison, à leur maison?

Le don de l’Esprit à la Pentecôte n’est pas pour les croyants. Il n’est pas pour les membres du «groupe Jésus», de cette nouvelle communauté fondée en son nom. Le don de l’Esprit de la Pentecôte n’est pour nous, non plus.

Au mieux Dieu nous le confie, mais Dieu ne nous le donne pas. Le don de l’Esprit est pour celles et ceux qui se trouvent en dehors des murs de cette maison, qui se trouvent dans les rues, dans les places est sur les parvis du temple. Le don de l’Esprit n’est pas pour nous dans nos églises, dans notre paroisse, dans notre vie de chrétien. Il passe par nous pour que les autres peuvent le recevoir.

Le don de l’Esprit marque la naissance de l’Église, et l’Église est pour celles et ceux qui vivent dans un monde où ils n’entendent pas leur langue maternelle. Je ne parle pas de cette langue, française ou anglaise, ou néerlandaise que nous parlons depuis notre naissance, mais de cette langue maternelle divine qui résonne au plus profond de notre être. La langue par laquelle nous savons que nous sommes chez nous, acceptés, compris, aimés, entendus et attendus. 

Nous ne sommes pas les récipients de ce don mais bien les canaux par lesquelles le don est communiqué aux autres.

C’est le don qui se fait entendre parmi les parasites et les interférences de notre vie pour venir jusqu’à moi et à toi. 

Pour d’autres ce don est aussi la folie, il est stupide et incompréhensible pour certains, à quel point qu’ils se moquent de nous. Pierre n’avait pas peur de la moquerie et du ricanement. Il répondait, tel un prophète du Premier Testament en citant Joël (c’est le reste du passage que nous n’avons pas lu). Il dit que Dieu répandra sur toute chair son esprit. Toute chair: des jeunes et des vieux, des femmes et des hommes, des libres et des esclaves. Tous deviendront prophètes, afin de parler en vérité, de témoigner et de passer aux autres, et c’est exactement ce qui se passe à Jérusalem ce jour-là et à Castelmoron aujourd’hui.

La communauté de Jésus dépasse les barrières que nous voulons établir pour nous protéger dans nos églises, nous protéger de la moquerie, du ridicule et de la raillerie.

Dans notre pays il y en a qui disent que tu n’as pas le droit de parler de Dieu, de Jésus et de l’Église. C’est un pays laïc. Comme si la laïcité veut évacuer toute spiritualité. Comme si la laïcité crée un champ de force, un champs de protection, autour d’un collège ou une mairie ou un établissement public, empêchant Dieu d’y entrer. Et c’est faux, car la laïcité t’offre la protection de penser et de croire ce que tu veux, et de l’exprimer sans faire du prosélytisme.

D’autres te diront, «Ha, ha! tu n’es pas sérieuse». Tu ne peux pas croire à tout ça, c’est bien pour les bébés et les mémés. 

Ou encore, celles et ceux qui pensent bien faire, pour te protéger diront peut-être, «Attention on t’embarque peut-être dans une secte.

Alors comment en parler? Que dire?

Voila, la première chose à faire: «Ne t’inquiètes pas!» «Reste zen et cool». Oui je suis sérieux. Vas-y détends-toi, respire un grand coup. Vas-y tout le monde, respire, retiens-le et maintenant lâche-le lentement. Whew! c’est déjà mieux, non?

Le don de l’Esprit, du feu et du vent, c’est ça la Pentecôte, c’est du vent!. Parfois comme une tempête, mais c’est assez rare, à mon sens c’est bien plus souvent comme une respiration. L’Esprit est aussi naturel, aussi inoffensif, aussi vital que de respirer. 

Donc, ne t’inquiètes pas, après tout c’est l’Esprit qui va faire le boulot. C’est l’Esprit qui va communiquer et qui va susciter une réponse dans l’autre en face de toi.

Et toi, que faire? Bah, rien, sauf de ne pas avoir peur, et tout le reste sera aussi automatique que de respirer.

La deuxième chose c’est «ne t’inquiète pas». Oui je sais ça ressemble beaucoup à ce que je viens de dire. En fait c’est exactement la même chose, mais c’est tellement essentiel que je pense qu’il faut le répéter.

La troisième chose est de rester qui tu es. Tu es jeune, vieux, français ou française, souriant ou sérieuse… tu es qui tu es.

La langue maternelle de l’autre peut s’exprimer par WhatsApp, Messenger, Emojis, Instagram ou quelques-uns des 99 autres réseaux sociaux disponibles aujourd’hui.  Peut-être leur langue maternelle est la musique, le cinéma, les jeux vidéos, les séries télé ou la peinture. Peut-être la langue maternelle qu’ils entendent c’est ta disponibilité, ton amitié, ta fidélité et ton honnêteté.  Peut-être la langue qu’ils captent dans la cacophonie de leur vie est un mot de pardon, une caresse d’affection ou une simple présence qui rassure.

Ces juifs qui venaient à Jérusalem chaque année pour la fête de la Pentecôte 50 jours après la Pâque étaient là pour célébrer le don de Dieu, le don de la Torah, de la Loi. Ils étaient là aussi pour offrir les prémices, leurs premiers récoltes. C’était une fête de donnant-donnant. Les disciples de Jésus étaient à Jérusalem pour célébrer aussi ce don de la Torah, comme un don de Dieu. Ils étaient inconscients qu’ils allaient recevoir un autre don: le don d’une langue maternelle divine qui les retourneront vers l’extérieur. Un don qui n’étaient pas destiné à eux, mais qui devait continuer son chemin à travers leurs vies vers ceux et celles qui étaient dehors, qui ne savaient pas qu’il existe une langue maternelle divine comprise par tous.

Happy Birthday Église!

L’Église est née d’un don de Dieu, et l’Église, y compris notre église, contient l’ADN de ce don. Une langue d’invitation. Une invitation dans une langue qu’ils comprennent comme s’ils rentraient à la maison, chez eux.

[sicheslavchyk]

I want to scream and cry (istg who tf am i lying to, i am already crying)

To every non-ukrainian that reads my tumblr — if Ukraine is going to be given to russia, I will die. For being openly pro-Ukrainian or openly queer — one of those two, definitely. It is, like, a fact. And the possibility of that is way higher then the possibility of me dying right now from a missile or a drone (even though there's an air raid right now, yeah). Fucking crazy, but that's the reality.

Don't want to be spreading defeatism, but the things that happened in the White House today very clearly show that the US is siding with russia.

I believe in our military. They are doing absolutely unbelievable things. They are probably the only reason why I haven't given up on my life yet.

But oh my fucking god, it is so obvious that the US is trying to sell us to russia. Honestly, it is fucking unbelievable. After threatening to sanction the hell out of us in the 90s in order to make us give up our nukes and destroy missiles and military aircrafts, they failed to react when russia broke the Budapest memorandum and attacked us in 2014. They did fucking nothing. And now they are actively betraying Ukraine (sorry, I can't call it otherwise). I hate trump and every person that voted for him. I wish them to spend the next 11 years like ukrainians — actively suffering and with everyone telling them to shut up and die already.

I genuinely don't know what else to say. Support Ukraine, please. If you are not from the US — look up the info about pro-Ukraine rallies in your country. We need the support of other countries. At this point I am literally begging everyone who can read this — push your government to help us. It is crucial right now.

If you are from the US — honestly, i don't know what to tell you. Either hire a hitman who can do their job or riot and overthrow him. Yeah.

Ah, also, yeah, never fucking ever give up your nukes 🙂

[oumoumimi]

⁘Jungkook⁘ ↳ G.C.F in Budapest [11/20/2023]

[cold-boys-fandom-hub]

1 still and 11 (mostly) new behind the scenes photos from Liam Garrigan!

Right then, next batch of bts shots. This time for the #theterror I’ve got loads of these so I won’t drop them all now, I’ll save a few for down the line ;) First up I’m thrilled to see it has found a new home on #netflix. We are all so proud of the show and very thankful it is finally in a place plenty of people can see it. It was a labour of love to make it, 6 long cold months in Budapest and then 5 mad weeks in the sun in Croatia but we knew we were involved in something special from the very first day. That said the reception the show received from people who really took it to heart was greater than any of us dared believe. It has continued to have a life far beyond the screen and to know it’s made a lasting impact on people is just amazing. I love Jopson and all he means to fans of the show and it’s been a joy to look back on these photos and all the memories attached. So here you go…! Main pic - me as Jopson, scurvy setting in. Pic 1 - me and the main man Dave Kajganich, writer and show runner. This was taken just after shooting a moment that was maybe going to make it into the Jopson hallucination sequence but was cut from the final edit. Pic 2 - an actor prepares 😂 or maybe just catching a few zzzs in between takes 😜 Pic 3&4 - The first go at Jopsons ‘look’. The beard had to go. Pic 5 - with these guys in charge they’d have never got stuck in the pack ice 😂 Pic 6 - Terror boys difficult 2nd album cover 😂 Pic 7 - shooting begins onboard the terror, is that a tuunbaaq they’re looking at?!? Pic 8 - chillin between scenes. Seb loves having his photo taken 😘 Pics 9,10&11 - what the soundstage looked like with the terror in the ice. A full 1 to 1 replica of the ship. The story behind how it was built for the show is amazing. Too long to go into here but truly remarkable. The magic of the movies! Or tv in this instance 😊 #theterror #thomasjopson #bestjobever #behindthescenes #bts #photodump #forthefans

[dailytomlinson]

LTHQOfficial: 1 YEAR OF LIVE

1. London 2. Nashville 3. Vancouver 4. Barcelona 5. Manila 6. Chicago 7. Amsterdam 8. Rio de Janeiro 9. Sheffield 10. Munich 11. Buenos Aires 12. Milan 13. Budapest 14. Brisbane 15. Tallinn 16. Paris 17. Krakow 18. Santiago

louist.lnk.to/OfficialStore

[porterdavis]

From a man who knows

Your Excellency, Mr. President,

We watched the report of your conversation with the President of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky, with fear and distaste. We find it insulting that you expect Ukraine to show respect and gratitude for the material assistance provided by the United States in its fight against russia. Gratitude is owed to the heroic Ukrainian soldiers who shed their blood in defense of the values of the free world. They have been dying on the front lines for more than 11 years in the name of these values and the independence of their homeland, which was attacked by Putin’s russia.

We do not understand how the leader of a country that symbolizes the free world cannot recognize this.

Our alarm was also heightened by the atmosphere in the Oval Office during this conversation, which reminded us of the interrogations we endured at the hands of the Security Services and the debates in Communist courts. Prosecutors and judges, acting on behalf of the all-powerful communist political police, would explain to us that they held all the power while we held none. They demanded that we cease our activities, arguing that thousands of innocent people suffered because of us. They stripped us of our freedoms and civil rights because we refused to cooperate with the government or express gratitude for our oppression. We are shocked that President Volodymyr Zelensky was treated in the same manner.

The history of the 20th century shows that whenever the United States sought to distance itself from democratic values and its European allies, it ultimately became a threat to itself. President Woodrow Wilson understood this when he decided in 1917 that the United States must join World War I. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt understood this when, after the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, he resolved that the war to defend America must be fought not only in the Pacific but also in Europe, in alliance with the nations under attack by the Third Reich.

We remember that without President Ronald Reagan and America’s financial commitment, the collapse of the Soviet empire would not have been possible. President Reagan recognized that millions of enslaved people suffered in Soviet russia and the countries it had subjugated, including thousands of political prisoners who paid for their defense of democratic values with their freedom. His greatness lay, among other things, in his unwavering decision to call the USSR an “Empire of Evil” and to fight it decisively. We won, and today, the statue of President Ronald Reagan stands in Warsaw, facing the U.S. Embassy.

Mr. President, material aid—military and financial—can never be equated with the blood shed in the name of Ukraine’s independence and the freedom of Europe and the entire free world. Human life is priceless; its value cannot be measured in money. Gratitude is due to those who sacrifice their blood and their freedom. This is self-evident to us, the people of Solidarity, former political prisoners of the communist regime under Soviet russia.

We call on the United States to uphold the guarantees made alongside Great Britain in the 1994 Budapest Memorandum, which established a direct obligation to defend Ukraine’s territorial integrity in exchange for its relinquishment of nuclear weapons. These guarantees are unconditional—there is no mention of treating such assistance as an economic transaction.

Signed,

Lech Wałęsa, former political prisoner, President of Poland

[paddockbunny]

Crowded

Summary : Inspired by the totally mad crowds outside of the drivers hotel in Budapest. What happens when it goes wrong? Rating : 16+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 2,247 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 16+, small bit of language, there is nothing dirty in this BUT there is mention of injury, crowd crushing, accident and hospitals just so you are aware! Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note: I’m not sure if this is my best work but I wanted to get it up during the GP weekend. Also, this is not shaming any fans but I think we can all agree that the scenes outside of the drivers hotels this weekend is a little extreme

The sun was setting as you and Lando made your way back to the hotel. It had been a tough day for him. The McLaren wasn’t playing ball around the boiling hot Budapest circuit and he had only managed to get P12 for Sundays race. Disappointed and frustrated he had barely said a word since getting into the drivers seat and you knew better than to try engage him in any type of conversation when he was so in his head. You had better ways of making him forget about the day - and none of them required either of you wearing clothes.

“Fuck!” Lando drew out an exasperated sigh as he turned on to the street where the hotel was. Throngs of people were crowded, no rammed, into every available space. They were 7-8 lines deep. 10-11 in some places. It was worse than the previous two days when it was at least limited to right outside of the hotel but tonight, it sheer amount of people was unbelievable. Barriers had to be erected to hold them all back and while Lando slowly drove up to where he was being directed too they began to scream and holler loudly at the car. “Lando, is this….” You glanced out of your passenger side window to the sea of faces “safe?” you finished.

“I’m sure it will be.” He was calm about the whole thing. He didn’t seem phased in the slightest which made you wonder why you were suddenly feeling a little panicked. Your hands hand gone clammy and your pulse had quickened. A tight feeling grew in your throat and your lungs felt like they were anxiously holding on to a breath that you couldn’t expel. Lando parked the car. You heard the decibels from the crowd outside increase as he cut the engine. “I’m a little worried.” You finally explained to him. You had been mindful of his mindset since Quali. You knew he would be in a dejected, disappointed mood and he wouldn’t want you creating imaginary problems. “I can’t not sign some stuff.” He shrugged but gave you a sympathetic look. You understood that and you understood how all this came along with his job but it felt to you to be chaotic and crazed - and he hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet. “Just go inside. You go in and wait for me in the lobby.” He opened the door as a hint it was time to leave the safety of the vehicle.

The noise from cheering and screaming hit you as soon as you climbed out of the McLaren Lando had been given this weekend. Sure, the roar wasn’t for you - you knew how much fans disapproved of your relationship from all the hate you got on your social media - but you wondered if this was how it felt to be famous. To be a Harry Styles or a Taylor Swift. It was daunting and alien to you. There was no way you would ever get used to it like they did. Or in fact your boyfriend did. He was already at a barrier, signing shirts and caps for swooning fangirls. He smiled away as he turned and took quick selfies so they could remember their 20 seconds with him forever.

A security guard from the Ritz-Carlton came over to you and started guiding you around the car and toward the hotel. But in that moment you realised Lando had the room key. You knew his quick 10 minutes would probably be more like 30 and honestly, you just wanted to get out of view already. You weren’t shy but with all the stuff you had read about yourself from jealous fangirls you didn’t want to give them anymore fodder. So instead of going straight in you headed over toward your boyfriend. He was in the process of signing a cap when you whispered in his ear about the hotel room key.

And then it all happened in an instant. It happened so quickly you had zero idea what had even transpired. You felt a knock to the side of you as the security guard pushed up against you and then cool, hard metal being thrust against your other side. You felt sandwiched. That was the immediate sense. And then, it was replaced by pure and utter pain. The type of pain that ripped through your entire body. That consumed your whole physical being and captures every last fibre of your brain. You couldn’t think of anything other than trying to get a breath in and your eyes began to sting when you couldn’t, it was a struggle. The same security guard that had been guiding you to the hotel - who had just been hard up against you - was pulling you away. Your feet barely able to touch the floor as you wanted to let out a yell that you were in pain but nothing came out. The agony in your chest was nothing like you had ever felt before and as the doors of the hotel were pulled open, you knew something was wrong.

“Baby!” Lando’s panicked voice was the first thing you heard. His outstretched arms as he rushed to you the first you saw. “What” you struggled “happened?” “The barrier gave way. People started pushing from the back.” His hands were going all over you, checking you had no physical scrapes after you nearly tumbled to the floor. But while you might have looked on in the outside you knew from the fight going on while trying to breathe, things weren’t ok. “I” you started “can’t breathe.” He had to have seen the pained expression flooding your face as he immediately turned and looked for Jon.

As you were guided toward a more private area of reception - out of all the hundreds of prying eyes outside the glass facade of the hotel - you couldn’t think of anything but the sheer pain you were in. You felt tears form in your eyes a slowly trickle down your cheeks. You weren’t meaning to cry, it just hurt so badly that it was an automatic response. Jon, bless him, thought you were having a panic attack so proceeded to try calm you down with some breathing techniques but he stopped when Lando loudly exclaimed; “Mate, that’s not working. Look at her!” And his hand was in yours seconds later. “What do you need baby?” Lando’s hand caressed down the back of your head. You didn’t want to say it because you didn’t want to be a drama Queen, but the torture in your left side was insurmountable. “A doctor.”

It was THAT bad. And it was about to get worse.

Two hours later, you were sitting propped up in a hospital bed awaiting the results of an X-Ray. Lando hadn’t left your side, he held your hand tightly and raised your cup to let you sip on water. He kept blaming himself and he should have listened to your concerns about safety earlier. No matter now many times you assured him it was your choice to come get the room key he insisted he should have made sure you had it before leaving you and you wouldn’t have been lying in a hospital bed in Budapest if he hadn’t been so absentminded. Lando simply went round and round in circles. He blamed himself, blamed security and even blamed the fans at the back pushing those at the front to try and get to him while you (in your head) blamed yourself. You should have just waited for him in the lobby. You should have listened to your gut. But there was no use in blaming anyone or feeling bad about it now.

When the doctor finally came in to your private room at the end of the corridor, you were practically flying from the drugs they had given you. They took a while to kick in but now, you had never felt such damn euphoria in your life. In broken English the doctor took a deep breath in and finally stated; “Unfortunately, you have two broken rib.” Broken ribs. Two. That would explain why there was so much pain and why you couldn’t breathe. You hadn’t as much as broken a finger or a toe before so breaking a rib felt extreme, and yet you had broken two! As you tried to listen to the course of action and pain management plan the doctor was describing you could see Lando become more and more frustrated beside you. He only just about managed to keep composed while the doctor was in talking to you and unleashed when the door was finally closed again.

“Fuck!” He groaned under his breath. “What the fuck?!” You weren’t sure if he was pissed because of the broken ribs themselves, because you had to abstain from sex until you had healed properly, because of the fact you would have to go rest at home and not continue on Belgium (and potentially not go on the amazing summer holiday he had planned during the summer break), or how you had them broken in the first place. You watched Lando pull his phone out of his jeans pocket and you asked him what he was doing. “I’m not driving tomorrow. I’m calling Zak.” “Lando…” you sighed - as much as you actually could “No. I’m not leaving you in pain, alone, in a foreign country. This wouldn’t have happened if they didn’t allow the hotel to tell everyone where we were staying.” He held the phone to his ear and you couldn’t move to even attempt to get it away from him. You just had to watch as he awaited Zak to pick up his call.

Thankfully, it went to voicemail and he cancelled the call. He announced he would try him again in a few minutes. You could see the vein in his temple throbbing away. You had come to know as a signal when he was frustrated or angry with something - or when he was horny or about to come but those were certainly not the case right now - and you knew you had to talk him down. “I’m sorry, Lando.” “What for? It’s not your fault.” He sighed. “I know but you wanted me at the track tomorrow. I should have just went in and waited like you told me too.” You were hoping your tone was enough to convince him and talk him down. “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He rejoined you back on your bed. He had been sitting on the edge of it, holding your hand before the doctor had come in. And now, you were (ok pretending a little so his anger dispersed) feeling sorry for yourself he came back to the same position. He gently ran his hand down your cheek and you nuzzled against it like a little kitten feeling happy at the touch. “I feel so bad about summer too. You planned that amazing holiday and…” “Stop it. If I have to drive from Monaco to Italy then I will or I will book a bigger jet with a bed so you can lie down. You’re going.” He was very determined about you not missing out on the trip. There wasn’t a doubt you knew Lando would look after you - when he was around to do so - over the next few weeks. You knew he would snuggle with you, plump your pillows, help you get dressed and shower and also force you to eat his terrible cooking, unintentionally make you laugh and ask you when you were better a million times a day because he wanted to have sex.

“You have to drive tomorrow.” You told him, looking in those sage green eyes of his. “It’s not fair of the team.” “It’s a family emergency” He shrugged and his eyes (subconsciously) flickered down to your lips before he sighed (probably reminding himself there would be no sexy time for the forceable future). Seconds later Lando yielded. “I’m still going to call Zak. I want to let him know you were injured because of the crowds at the hotel.” It was fair enough “Maybe he can ask them to do something. Move them back, keep them away from the entrance. When they’re right there and gather like that you feel like you have to go to them, like you have to choice.”

“They just want to meet their hero. They just got overexcited.” You felt yourself sympathising with the fans in the crowd that had surged forward and resulted in you getting hurt. You had never been THAT big a fan of anyone before but you were sure that if you were it would be easy to get caught up in the moment.

“This is why I love you. Even when you are lying in hospital with two broken ribs you are still thinking about other people and can forgive them for hurting you” Lando smiled broadly. You had no reply to him. You just coyly smiled back. “C’mere….” He made a tilting movement with his head and you tried not to laugh because it hurt too much “I can’t.” Your words were met with a confused eyebrow lower from Lando before he realised “Oh right, sorry.” He chuckled and leaned in carefully so not to put any pressure against your chest. “I love you.” He whispered before his lips touched against yours. And when you were about to answer him and tell him you loved him more, you hesitated. You realised you were just happy to have his lips on yours and his kiss made you feel safe and secure.

[bubacorn]

The Summoning - Budapest, 2024. 11. 13.

[distantlaughter]

Lewis Hamilton (GBR) McLaren and Nico Rosberg (GER) Williams on the drivers parade. Formula One World Championship, Rd 11, Hungarian Grand Prix, Race Day, Budapest, Hungary, Sunday 5 August 2007. (Photo by James Moy/Sutton Images)

[munkat-keres-kinal]

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