#Petrol

[leoisstillalive]

i have this. horrid yet incredibly amusing vision. of marc and pecco next year on the podium.

pecco wins, marc comes second, and so valentino (having attended the race) thinks it reasonable to go and congratulate pecco for his win. give him a bit of a morale boost for the championship fight. nothing drawn out- he has a debrief to do with franky and diggia- just a quick hand shake.

so he goes to the barricade at parc fermé and pecco is there and he's grinning and he looks hungryyy because he's made ground on marc's title lead. vale pulls him into a hug, clasps a hand on the back of his neck, etc, and it's nice and easy.

so far so good.

then marc appears. seemingly from nowhere. vale hasn't been watching out for him- maybe he should've been. he definitely should've been.

marc shakes pecco's hand, claps him on the back. they're all giggles and heavy, panting breaths. and marc is sweating still and his hair is parted in damp, messy clumps, cheeks rosy and youthful and vale smacks his lips; tries to disappear back into the crowd but

it's packed tight. and nobody seems to be giving because they're all reaching over him to congratulate marc-- of course. they're on the same team. vale isn't a child, he doesn't let it anger him. he instead keeps his eyes fixed on his academy student as pecco smooths back his hair.

marc finishes with pecco and brings his obnoxious, bubbly laughter to the barrier and starts grabbing hands and letting people pat his head, moving down the row, and then.

vale jumps back when marc's sweaty palm locks against his own. marc's fingers curl tight around the ridge above vale's wrist and vale's mouth is agape and he can't tell if he's offended or shocked or- just a bit- pleased by the large, firm hand encasing him. and marc isn't looking at vale-- hasn't looked at him once, vale's not sure if he even knows he's there, caught up in the whirlwind adrenaline, almost post-coital ecstasy of getting a podium.

but vale knows. and the people around vale have noticed. and vale is frozen still like a tree- everything in him tense as hell except his heart, which is rattling like an alarm. he is afraid marc can feel it hammering through his skin.

marc's brows curl together and his smile turns confused as everybody quietens down, all eyes turned to the two men like some sort of baroque painting.

marc lets his gaze fall on valentino at last-- at long last, but vale would not, could never admit this. and his smile wobbles at the edges, goes sharp and thin. he releases vale's floppy hand and blinks a few times, pupils blown wide like he’s spotted a lion in the reeds. valentino is absolutely stunned. can't say a word. can barely breathe.

and pecco shares his surprise- only, a small, sly smirk has crooked at one side of his mouth and he looks nigh on laughter. valentino would be too if he wasn't so. astounded. his hand is tingling from the contact, heavy as if packed with mud.

marc bites and licks his lips. habit. vale does not track the movement-- he doesn't. but he spots it in his peripherals and is glad for the shield of his sunglasses.

marc lingers. for some reason. like he is waiting for something- for valentino to speak or retake his hand or dissolve into smoke like a super villain. nothing happens. they both just stare until it becomes. very awkward for their spectators.

finally, valentino clears his throat and turns back to pecco, gesturing him over for nothing in particular- simply trying to get marc out of the way, trying to pretend none of..... that just happened.

marc seems just as eager to move on, shuffling away to the corner of the barricade. but there is a crease of sadness or loss on his face for a moment- only long enough for valentino to spot it. and then he is smiling again, laughing and shaking hands, while everybody just watches. slightly confused, very amused.

vale hopes the cameras didn't catch that but. fucking. of course they did. now he's in for it

[viejospellejos]

Este gato pedía comida en la estación así que le dieron un traje y lo pusieron a trabajar ayudando:

[its-where-the-wild-things-are]

[crushedvelvetheart]

[thesecondskinspandex]

[theworldatwar]

US soldiers load a truck with jerrycans of petrol - date and location unknown

[nevzatboyraz44]

Maşallah Sübhanallah Barekallah ☝️🇹🇷

[chettyspagetti]

Au: New Scout

If Jeremy didn’t come to camp and they still lost the challenge and had to pick the “best” camper, it would of been Spacekid since he

-Has been said to be the most expendable

-Gets left behind

-Is the most bullied

- The most forgettable

So I think that’s why he’d be given to the woodscouts.

[thundermotorsports]

Jim Clark and Graham Hill racing in two Lotus 49 at Watkins Glen. United States Grand Prix, 1967.

📸 Pinterest

#formulawednesday #wednesday #thundermotorsports

[gebo4482]

The Copper Hill

X

[truffle-draws-turtles]

Hey truffle! For not-mikeys-panties reasons, what's your favorite color?

Hi gornack! I'm taking this opportunity to tell you that I'm very honored that you follow me and your reblog tags are always among my absolute highlights! 🫵🫶

And now to your question:

[samott]

Jessicat imadnam... 🥰

[thereisnoafter]

[hotchoccieformoony]

Marauders as types of petrol

James:

Unleaded 95

A little fancy, but not as fancy as Sirius

Peter:

E10

Just a little more fun than regular 91, and a little plant based!

Remus:

Diesel

I cant explain this one it’s just true

Sirius:

Unleaded 98

He’s expensive, darling

[josematalobos]

LUFTWAGEN IV

DEEP-ROCK Motor Oils

https://es.wallapop.com/item/champion-dealer-service-cuadro-original-vintage-1013018626