#Ricardo::chat

[raffa-ledesma]

Where: Roof of the building TopWash is in

When: Evening

Who: @brkwingss

It had been a weird week. But he had given Ricardo the week that he said he would give him. It didn't take a genius to know that something had happened to the younger man. Something bad. But as far as Raffa knew the guy would tell him what was up once he got his head on straight.

Walking up the stairs he got to the roof and made his way to where he knew Ricardo would be. Setting the six pack down next to the younger man he sat down. Sitting in silence for a long minute as Raffa looked out over the street and then up at the sky before finally asking, "¿Qué pasa?"

[father-jude]

@brkwingss

"Ah Ricardo, how are you son?" Jude asked as he saw the other man catch eyes with him. After their exchange when the young man had come into the church Jude had made a point to check in with him to make sure he was okay. So much pain and guilt for someone so young. "I hope you have some friends around somewhere?"

[kazimir-voronovitch]

It was easier without expressing their own desires. If they made it all part of the job. Kept the lines clearer. Kazya was not exactly known for their ability to self-control but he understood his job and was damn good at it. Walking next to Ric like this was difficult. The soft breeze and scent of Ric drifting against his skin. Not theirs to touch. Not here. Not now. But Ric was his to protect, even from himself.

Kaz had jammed their hands into their jacket pockets, holding them in place to avoid impulses. Their mismatched eyes drifted over to Ric's face at the correction. He let himself look at Ric with his good eye, wanting to say that Ric already knew him. Ric knew him better than anyone. With maybe the exception of Knox only. Kaz let himself remember New York. They had never been the type to fall so hard, so fast. Never meant for it to go as far as it did. But they'd locked eyes, Kaz on the dance floor, Ric on the stage and everything had shifted for the were tiger. A seismic adjustment in their existence. Not that they'd ever told Ric that. Not that they ever told anyone that for fear that Kaz would be removed as Ric's bodyguard. That someone would say that Kaz was too close. And no one, no one, would protect Ric like they could.

Kazya didn't consider himself all that interesting. They listened to the things that Ric wanted to know about him. The things the younger man felt were interesting to know. But when Ric volunteered things about himself Kaz couldn't help but smirk. Thinking of Ric sketching away at something while listening to a record in the background. "Can I see some of them sometime? Also what kind of old records? I like jazz." They drew themselves up and giving a small sigh shrugged, "Most of the time I like to be out in the nature. Spending more time on four feet than two. I feel very free when I am my other form. Things are easier." They looked out across the cemetery, "I like to go to jazz halls sometimes when I want to hear music. I like to go to clubs when I want to dance or if I want to fight. Usually both." He flashed Ric a small grin, "Fighting is also sometimes easier." They paused and said thoughtfully, "I don't think I get bored much. Even after 135 years I can always find something to do. Maybe not always something smart but I am pretty good at enjoying myself. That's what life it about right? Living it." He waited for a moment before he asked, "Do you get bored?"

He wanted to point out that he had asked if they would be interested in a walk, but decided against it, instead he just gave Kazimir a little nod of his head. They begin walking forward in no particular direction besides following the paved path, another gentle breeze blows. Ric chuckles a little at Kaz’s response, looking over at them, “Kazimir, I am asking about you. I do not really care about the best clubs in town. Restaurants? Well, you got me there.” It was not very often that he allowed himself to express his curiosity about the other, but there were those rare moments. More so whenever they came here and Ricardo was able to speak to his favorite little ghost person. It put him in a rather relaxed mood, which allowed his walls to come down around the other just a little more. Like in New York, in which no walls were up. He was carefree, curious, and hungry to know more about Kazimir.

In a way, Ricardo was happy he hadn’t known who Kazimir was right off the bat. Was he frustrated to find it out? Absolutely. But deep down he knows he would’ve never allowed himself to get so attached to the other if he had known who they really were and what their actual purpose in New York City had been. What he couldn’t figure out is how much of what they did was simply for business purposes on Kazimir’s part, in order to get closer to him. Was it all fake? It was hard to think it was, because the way he felt with the other was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was electric, in every way possible. There had to have been some truth to it, right? Kazimir had to have been interested in him for more than just the purpose of getting close to protect him, right? Those were questions Ricardo could not answer because he was not Kazimir, they simply lingered in the back of his mind.

As much as he tried to keep the line of boss and bodyguard very visible, they blurred on nights like this. “I want to know where you like to go during your free time. If you want to tell me about the best clubs or restaurants around the city, well that’s fine too. I am also content with simply hearing about what things keep you occupied when you’re bored.” He paused, before adding, “I like to draw and listen to old records. I wouldn’t say my drawings are anything spectacular, but I do enjoy drawing nature. Sometimes people, but more so what captivates me about a person.” He has a couple of sketches he’s done of Kazimir’s eyes, because they were one of his favorite things about the other.

[ia-nsfw]

➡️This⬅️ (warning: suggestive) is what yesterday's ric roll originally looked like. This is what Tumblr took aways from us 😫

[tri-punisher]

if gunner wright wasn’t such a good actor dead space 3 would have been totally unsalvageable

[raffa-ledesma]

Location: Top Wash Laundromat

@brkwingss

Sleeve rolled up as he pulled the guts out of a machine. He looked up and saw Ricardo giving the man a quick friendly greeting, "Hey Flaco, hand me those new paddles will you? Some motherfucker was in here two days ago and stuffed this thing like a Thanksgiving turkey. Burned out the motor." He trailed off, mumbling a string of curses in Spanish as he fixed the motor. It was a simple enough fix that he could do the repairs without having to replace the whole machine. Still a pain in the ass. As he reached out for the paddles he frowned, "I didn't put you on the schedule today. Who you filling in for?"

[father-jude]

Jude waited in the close quiet of the confessional booth. Just a presence existing on the other side of the screen as the young man pulled his obviously troubled thoughts together. He nodded gently as the man said he would start at the beginning.

And what a terribly sad beginning. Thirteen. Such a young age to experience such a horrible loss. So much untended to pain and grief. Left to fester just under the skin. Shame necrotizing the soul. Jude sat quietly when the other paused. Just listening and waiting for everything the young man needed to get off his chest. The next piece was another terrible situation. One where he had made a choice to save his friend. To try and make up for his sister who he felt he couldn't save.

He could hear it when the young man broke. Saw the movement of the other's body collapse in on himself. And Jude's heart ached for the other's pain. Jude flexed his hurt hand, the slightly itching on the palm as it slowly healed. Finally the questions came. The ones that Jude knew he had to thoughtfully answer. But he had sat across from so many men and women that had blood on their hands. That felt like the monster. Jude's voice was soft and full of nothing but care and understanding. "It makes you human, son. No more, no less. It makes you human. God has promised that no matter what we do. No matter how terrible. That he will not forget or abandon us. And that we can be forgiven if we ask. You are not a monster. And you are not evil. And some of these things you've mentioned... They are not your sins to carry." He paused, "I can hear in your voice the pain you feel. And that pain means you have regret, shame, guilt. Those are guide posts to let us know that something in our spirit needs to be tended too. Like physical pain lets us know we need to tend to a physical wound. You being here, even asking these questions. This is where grace and forgiveness starts." He paused, "Only you can answer that last question about yourself. Knowing that God will forgive you... For the murder. For the hurt. For every sin or mistake. God doesn't pick and choose which ones to forgive. We are never outside of what God's forgiveness can cover. You don't have to earn it. Forgiveness is a gift. All you need to do is ask."

"There are so many things, Father." He closes his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath, holding it for a couple of seconds, before exhaling slowly. In all honesty, he had no idea where to start. His soul felt lost.

"I guess I'll start at the beginning." Best place as any, Ric supposed. He clears his throat, letting out another exhale, eyes looking down at his hands as he spoke, "I feel like I let my sister die. I was thirteen when she was taken by a hit and run. I was supposed to be watching her at the park, but for a moment, just one second, I got distracted with a group of friends and when I looked in her direction...it was too late. I was too late. And in that moment, Father, I understood what it felt like to want to taste blood. That feeling carried on as I grew, it just settled, it planted itself and spread a fire in the older I got. I promised myself I would protect those I loved, those closest to me, no matter the costs." His brows furrow, for some reason tears begin to form, and his shoulders sink a bit. "And recently, that promise has had to come into play. There was a situation with a close, very close, friend of mine that required assistance to defuse and I offered to help. Of course, right? Because that's what you do for those you love, yeah? I just never thought, not in a million years, that it would come at the cost it came. I thought helping people was supposed to be a good thing, Father. I thought I was doing a good thing, the right thing."

For some reason his mind races to Raffa, Oz, Damien, even Ezra, and he felt like such an idiot for not having reached out to either one of them. Even knowing now what he didn't know then, he knows that they would've helped him out or at least been there for emotional support. His mind lingered on Ezra for a moment, and he lets out a shaky breath at the thought of the man that was followed by more tears. But he continues, because he can't stop now that he's started, the words are just spilling like word vomit. "My friend could've lost her life to this guy, he was about to seriously hurt her, but she isn't just my friend, she's a mother of two, and I didn't even think twice when I pulled the trigger that ended his life. But in that same night I ended my own life too, Father. I not only took the life of that person, but I proceeded to burn every person that's ever been there for me. I became a monster."

Teeth bite down on his bottom lip to hold back a small whimper as he just lets himself break down, burying his head in the palm of his hands. "I have unintentionally destroyed everything I have ever loved, broken the hearts of those who I cared about, burned everyone who was close to me, and I did it all without even hesitating. Even if I had no idea the outcome I would be facing after wanting to help another friend out, to fight for a cause worth fighting for, I still backstabbed people I considered family. I am so worthless. I didn't even give them a reason either. I just ghosted...right out of all of their lives, with just a goodbye, and some venomous words towards a man I once considered a brother." His fingers grip on to his hair, the whimper finally just coming out, his voice was shaky as he continued, "Father, what kind of person does that make me? How can I be forgiven for such things? How can I call myself anything but a monster? And even if God forgives me, how do I forgive myself?"

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader Spice 🌶️

Anonymous asked: Hi!! I would love to see you write some more daniel Ricardo smut, maybe it starts out as a media thing and they eventually get together and everyone goes wild thinking he was just being his normal sweet smiling self. Maybe in some Interview he lets something spicy slip. <3

Warnings: smut 18+, talks of sex, oral, Daniel being a little bit naughty- I didn’t know how to include them starting as a media thing, so I altered it slightly, hope that’s okay! It’s a little short

When Daniel and I first met I was working as an interviewer on the paddock. It had been my life long goal to work around F1, and soon my work gained a large following, especially on social media. It felt good to finally represent women working within motorsport, of course there was hundreds more who deserved recognition, possibly more than I did, but I loved spreading the word for young girls with a dream that they can work in a mainly male dominated workplace. The job was fun, it always ran (most of the time) smoothly, I gained many, many more friends, but one person in particular I became particularly close to. Daniel Ricciardo, currently driving for red bull, he had been one of my best friends from the beginning. We’d always stop to chat, his interviews were always the most fun (not to be bias) and he was also one of the most supportive and sweetest about everything I did. I came to learn very quick that my feelings for Daniel had scathed way past a friendship and after one boozy night our feelings became known and the rest was history. My relationship with Daniel was so intimate and fun, we’d sneak around a lot of the time, keeping our relationship semi out of the public eye for the first couple months. Privacy, not secrecy was the best thing for us.

The best thing of all was when I had interviewed him the many times after we’d gotten together. I’d find our cheeks flushed way easier than before, we’d hold eye contact for a little too long, and there was subtle touches here and there that was difficult to resist.

“Here I am with Daniel Ricciardo, the winner of the Monaco Grand Prix today!” The excitement was oozing from my voice as my boyfriend stood to one side, beaming away. “Congratulations Daniel, we’re all so proud of you! How does it feel to get your redemption from 2016?!” I held out the microphone as his hand engulfed mine, holding it closely.

“Incredible, y’know. It’s such a surreal moment, I’m pretty speechless.” He laughed, borderline breathless as his eyes scanned over my face. There was a glisten in them that Redbull had threatened to take away, but not anymore, Daniel wanted this so bad, and I was so proud of him for achieving it. “Well I’m super proud of you, I couldn’t be happier.”

“Aw, c’mere.” He engulfed her in another hug, arms tightly squeezing around her waist. To onlookers we were witnessing the couple sharing an adorable moment, Daniel being as innocent as ever. “How are you gonna celebrate later?” I then asked, feeling his hands slowly trail off me. “How are we gonna celebrate?” His eyebrow then perked as I felt my breath hitch and a heat rise to my face. I was rarely speechless as an interviewer.

“I don’t think everybody wants to know how we’re gonna be celebrating later..” He joked as I raised a hand to my face. “Oh- Daniel!” My cheeks were burning overwhelmingly, and the sound of his giggles only made it worse.

“No they don’t, you’re right, let’s keep that off camera…”

Keep it off camera we did… well, semi off camera. Daniels phone was angled down to me as I gazed up through my lashes, lips wrapped all the way down his twitching cock. “Fuck, that’s it baby, keep looking at the camera. So sexy.” The Australian groaned as I deep threaded his member as much as I could.

Daniel was moaning and groaning, seething through his teeth as he fucked into my face. Spit was drooling down his cock and my lips and a small gag caused him to pull off. “Fuck. Such a good girl.” Daniel praised, wiping at my chin. I was sure half my makeup had come off with it, but I didn’t care.

“I’m your good girl.” I panted, reaching out to nudge him down onto the bed. Tonight was his night, his celebration, I rode him endlessly, with every inch of energy I could muster. Daniel didn’t take too long to explode his cum inside of me, he was a shivering moaning mess, sweaty and exhausted from the pleasureful night.

“Best celebration ever.” Daniel poked fun at the interview earlier in the day which had now gone viral. Nobody expected Daniel Ricciardo and myself to be in such an openly honest relationship, nor did they expect the smiley man to be capable of such dirty things, but they were so wrong… “Oh, Daniel…”

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

I wonder if someone will draw a Fukase vocaloid with a Palestinian flag

Now that I have your attention:

[glavazz]

I have edited and fused two sprites of Ricardo together

Chat, am I down bad?

[rjmenezz]

Ricardo chuckles, " I mean, I can't argue that. I also will have a great excuse to call off work and lay in bed all day watching horror movies. Win-win if you ask me," He grinned, " Oh, I'm dead serious. I never joke about burgers and fries. There's a diner just up ahead here that we can head to." Hearing the other ask about the catch, he shook his head, one of his hands comes up to attempt to wave away any concern, "Ah, there's no catch. Sometimes the universe just wants to bestow upon you some burgers and fries, ya know?" He motions for the other to follow and then begins walking towards the diner. This was the way Ricardo was, always offering a little kindness to the world around him, and he enjoyed the adventures that came out of it. "I'm Ricardo, Ric if you prefer that. It's nice to meet you."

Hollis only smiled as Ricardo willingly ate one of the dirt-covered fries without any hesitation. It was a good litmus test for who he was and wasn't likely to get along with. "Well, we both might puke yet, depending on who got to these before me, but hey, at least we'll be in good company." He chuckled, throwing a couple more into his mouth to chew on while the other spoke. "More fries and a burger? You serious?" he raised an eyebrow, waiting for more information. "I mean, I ain't exactly picky, but, I wasn't expecting someone to come along and make a night of it. What's the catch?" He smiled, trying to keep things playful, but, there was a hint of doubt and insecurity creeping in.

[kittlesandbugs]

FHR: Just a chat (AO3 link here) Pairing: Sidestep/Ricardo Ortega (hints of Chargentstep), Sidestep & Hollow Ground Warnings: None, they're just chatting lol Word Count: 1720 Summary: Ortega takes Sidestep to the park to get some fresh air after being cooped up with broken legs in his apartment for a couple weeks. When he steps away for a few minutes to take care of something, someone else swings by for a talk.

It's a peaceful day at Memorial Park. The sun is shining through the carefully maintained trees, dappling the green grass. The air is cool and calm, balmy even with your multiple layers. The birds are chirping around you and every so often, a squirrel darts by. The air is full of children's laughter as they play on the jungle gym. People are calm and content around you, enjoying the nice weather. 

You haven’t been this tense since the last time you were hauled into a lab and strapped down. 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," you hiss at Ortega, sitting on the bench next to your wheelchair. 

He's lounging, at ease, though still alert. You see it the way his eyes roam around through the back of his sunglasses, watching everyone and everything around you. "Relax, Riley. Nothing is going to happen here," he chuckles. His hand starts towards your knee to give what you assume is supposed to be a reassuring pat before stopping and redirecting to your arm. You don't like it when anyone touches your casts. "You need some fresh air and sunlight once in a while. You were going crazy in the apartment."

"You could have at least waited for Argent to come over," you growl quietly. "Four eyes are better than two."

"We got four eyes. Hell, four hundred probably, if we count your telepathy." 

"Fine, four working legs." You roll your eyes at the pedantry. 

"We're in broad daylight in the good side of town, no one knows we're here. Relax." 

There's a little note of a plea in there that makes you sigh and nod. He is right, but you aren't going to tell him that. The chances of anyone coming after you in broad daylight on this side of town are almost nonexistent. And if they knew where you were, they would have gone for the significantly easier hit on Ortega's apartment by now. 

So you try. Take in some sun from the sky. Some sun from the carefree kids running past in a game of tag. As good for your brain as dogs, and they're here too. You sink into the padded chair and close your eyes, trying to focus on them rather than the itch of your healing bones that reminds you just how helpless you actually are. 

"Hey, wait here a moment," Ortega says after a few minutes of peace and quiet. You open your eyes to find him perched at the edge of the bench, eyes honed in on something. Your gaze follows but you can't make out who or what he sees at this distance. Are his sunglasses enhancing his vision? Probably, knowing him. You try to follow his line of sight with your telepathy, but what you find that might be getting his attention is strange. Foggy. Nebulous. It's difficult to latch on to any thoughts. Not blocking you like numbers, no, that's closer to the static of Ortega's brain. But someone that is definitely strange. Who is it? 

"Ric, what do you see?" you whisper harshly, the anxiety you felt earlier returning in full force like a hammer strike to your skull as he starts to rise, gesturing with his hand for you to stay put. Like you have a choice

"Just an old friend," he says, the cant of his lips saying the opposite. "I'll be right back. You're safe here."

And then he's off at a swift jog before you can protest, leaving you fumbling for the locked brakes you can't easily reach on the wheelchair handles. 

"Wait! You stupid fucking jackass—" 

"He is, isn't he?" A laugh behind you, and it takes all you have not to scream as a familiar lanky figure folds into Ortega's vacated seat. She's dressed in a finely woven linen jumpsuit, warm sepia with matching leather loafers, her gold piercings sparkling in the dappled sunlight. Her too similar face looks at you with a too similar crooked smile. 

Hollow Ground. 

How the fuck could she sneak up on you like this? You didn't sense her at all. You still can't. Not even so much as a thought void, just nothing. You've never seen anything like it. How is she concealing herself? What the fuck does she want with you? Your chair is still half-locked, trapping you here. Should you scream? Should you—

" Relax," she says, and it's almost a command as she meets your gaze with your own gray eyes. Still, you try to rein in your heart attempting to race its way out of your ribs. "I just want to talk."

"About what?" Your voice betrays the tension tight in your spine, much as you wish otherwise. If one more person tells you to relax, you think you might actually snap. You need to regain control of yourself. You are Reckoning, for fuck's sake. You're not some helpless child. 

"You," she says simply and then pauses. Frowns. Like she's no longer quite sure of what to say. Like she had a plan, but now she doesn't know if it should be executed. 

You try to touch her thoughts again, and again you're met with less than nothing. Are you hallucinating? No. The man walking down the path sees you both. He isn't worried by what he sees, two sisters having a conversation that seems tense. You aren't going to dig into the implications of that one. So she's here. She wants something, wants it enough to approach you about it. You realize the benefit to her closely kept secret identity means she can approach you freely as long as Ortega is not around. The weird presence you felt before, you realize that was Jake, you felt the same nebulousness of his thoughts when you went to meet Hollow Ground at Parkside. Irresistible bait to lure Ortega away. But you have no idea what it is she wants. So you wait. Ortega is right. No one is going to try and do anything in public in broad daylight. She won't, not like this. 

"What about me…?" you prompt when the quiet of her gets to be too much, impatient to find out what this is about with her mind giving you no clues. 

"How… are you?" she asks, surprisingly tentative. 

That reserved inquiry catches you off-guard, but you recover swiftly, her odd nervousness making you feel more confident despite your obvious weakness. "Oh, you know. Peachy. Just out for a stroll," you drawl, gesturing at your propped up casts. 

She snorts and the corner of her lips twitches. Somehow, your snark steadies her. "I should have expected that."

"Why do you care?" you ask sharply. She's being weird, and you don't like it. What is this about? Why would she risk meeting you like this?

"You're a mystery, Riley Owens. I'd hate it if you died before I could solve it." She smirks as you feel your blood run cold. Something about the way she says your name makes you feel jittery. But even more importantly, how could she possibly know who you are? You never gave your name before, to anyone at Parkside, you were there as your villainous alias. Argent scrubbed all records of your surgery at the hospital, though you have no doubt Hollow Ground knew who had been involved in the wreck. How does she know your name? Do the Rangers have a leak? 

As your brain stumbles over what this could mean, she holds out a small white card with something scrawled on it. An address. You recognize the area. Rich and residential. Very rich and residential. Is this… She can't possibly be just handing you this… 

"Got it memorized?" At your nod, she pockets it with a smile that's a little sharp for your liking. 

"What is your g—" 

"Fuck." Her hand shoots up, silencing you as her head tilts slightly like she's listening to something. You can just make out the outline of a small clear low profile receiver in her over-pierced ear. "We lost your pet Ranger, and he's on his way back. I have to go." She rises from the bench with the grace of a crane, giving you a conspiratorial wink.

"Wait, what— Fuck!" You swear, fumbling for the other lock on your chair before she can get away. 

As she strides away, she calls back, "You should stop by sometime, when you're back on your feet. We have a lot to catch up on."  

For someone so tall, she disappears far too easily into crowds. By the time you can roll after her, she's gone, as traceless as she appeared. What the fuck did she mean, catch up on? You're left sitting there, stewing in your own bile, until Ortega finally returns. 

He's sweaty, looking a little tired and roughed up. You think you can see the outline of a bruise blooming under the edge of his bearded cheek. He's definitely been in a fight. You don't know if you should be pleased or pissed that he learned to leave civilians behind for these kinds of escapades after his stunt with Jolene went awry. "Hey," he says with a little wave as he catches his breath. "Everything okay?"

 "Just dandy," you snarl, playing into being pissed that he left you. If he knew who just stopped by to pay you a friendly chat, he'd shit his own generator. "Sitting like a duck while you go haring off to go fight some rando."

Luckily, you think he's getting the right message, because he holds his hands up, placating, as he talks to you in the same tone he uses with his unruly horse at the ranch. "Hey, c'mon. I was just gone a few minutes. Nothing happened, right?" 

"Yeah," you lie with a sigh, dragging a hand down your face. "Nothing happened."

He grabs onto the handlebars of your chair, and if he notices you've unlocked it, he doesn't comment on it as he starts walking you through the park. "Angie texted me about meeting us at the ice cream stand. You want to get some ice cream before we go home?" 

"Yeah." Sugar will help steady your nerves. Get your mind off what just happened. “Let’s get some ice cream and go home.”

You have a lot of thinking to do later.

[the-ghost-lovwr]

Dumb little crush - Dr3

Part 2

Summary: Y/n is Max's sister , you love going to see Max's race every time you can .When you go see your brother race, you also have eyes for another driver .You always thought of it as a dumb crush you never expected for him to feel the same .As time passes by, you start talking and knowing more about him . He might be interested in you or he' just being nice ?

Warnings: Not proofread (probably a lot of mistakes ) ,angst

You and Daniel went to a Cafe together ,it was a nice an quite place which you both liked going to. You would always have long chats and laugh at eachothers stories . This was you and Daniel's safe place where you could talk and nobody would judge you, it was just the 2 of you.

One day after you and Daniel left the cafe ,he hugged you tight. He was going to be busy for a few weeks, and it would be a while before you could see each other again . He hugged you and kissed you in the forehead telling you to meet here again as soon as he was back.You smiled and went back home ,you were kinda sad about the fact that he was leaving but you would still text him everyday.

You were in your bed thinking about your day, but you couldn't get Daniel out of your mind .You remembered how a few months ago you would just admire him from afar, thinking he would never be this close to you . You still thought that you shouldn't completely fall for him even though you had already.You were overwhelmed with your own thoughts ,so you just went to sleep .

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. You saw the screen, and it was max calling you .You answered quickly,it was weird for Max to be calling you early in the morning.

"Y/N!, are you dating Daniel?!"

"What?!,what are you talking about"-you had just woke up and your brain was still kinda fuzzy .You opened your eyes wide when max asked that ,why would he think that ,he knew you had a crush on Daniel but you were just friends .

"Haven't you seen the report?"-

"No , I just woke up , can you chill down "

"I'll send you the link , so you can read it"

*report *

F1 news

Y/N VERSTAPPEN AND DANIEL RICARDO?

We've seen these two closer these past week .Could this be a confirmation?, y/n verstappen ,Max vertappens younger sister and an influencer with Daniel Riccardo an f1 driver . Y/n known for being a super shy and serious girl, and Daniel is known for being a chaotic guy. How are these two going to complement. They are complete opposites ,but if we have to be honest, they look super cute together.

You decided to ignore this and not even respond to any questions.You were going to wait for Daniel's reaction .

Daniel was busy doing some shootings and doing some interviews,he was unaware of the picture that was leaked of him and y/n ,so when the reporter asked about him and y/n having a relationship it took him by surprise,he didn't know how to react , he too was confused about his feelings for you he couldn't answer something he didn't know, he thought about it for a few seconds before answering .He went with a safe answer and said you and him were just friends.

"She's a super sweet girl,and we just clicked in that way,"said Daniel to the reporter

People were disappointed hearing this, and so were you, but you knew it was going to happen. Even if you didn't want to feel this way, you had already fallen for him .It was not just a crush anymore. You stopped texting Daniel as often. Your text got dryer as the weeks passed .You started ignoring him .You weren't mad with him . You were mad at yourself because no matter how many times you repeated yourself, it was just a dumb little crush. Deep inside, you knew it wasn't. He was just a nice guy who enjoyed talking with his friend . You had to get your thoughts together, but Daniel wasn't of much help . He was so sweet and kind ,he made you doubt if he was flirting or being nice. You had to clear your head out, so you decided to completely ignore him for a few days and get your thoughts together.You were also worried you didn't want Daniel to be affected , you felt like the rumors were going to be a problem for him .

You were ignoring Daniel's texts and calls .He started to worry about you. Since he wasn't in Monaco, it was easier to avoid him until race week .You always went to see Max Race , and you were proud of your big bro being successful.You never missed a GP, and you weren't going to miss one just because of this.

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

Even if you said you were going to ignore him for a few days, it ended being months since the last time you saw Daniel you had avoided him so much, he stopped trying .You felt bad for ignoring him that way, but in the end, it kinda worked .You fully convinced yourself that you didn't feel anything for Daniel anymore.You were going to apologize you Daniel before the Japan GP started . You wanted that good old friend back, and you felt bad for ignoring him.

You walked through the paddock searching for Daniel. You walked towards the RB garage , you were nervous . How would Daniel react .you were ignoring him for the past months he would probably be mad or at least have some kind of resent. You didn't actually explain anything to him .You looked everywhere but didn't see Daniel anywhere, so you decided to leave and look for him later .

You had been looking for him all weekend, but it looked like now he was the one avoiding you . You needed to talk to him and apologize ,you decided you were going to wait for him on his garage . The race went well, and he finished p5 . You were so proud of him. He returned to his garage. Everyone was celebrating it had been a good race, and he hadn't had one of those in a while. He didn't notice you immediately, but then he saw you standing in the corner of the garage . His eyes widened when he saw you.He didn't expect you to be waiting for him at the garage . The minute you saw him, it was clear that those feelings had not faded ,you felt butterflies on your stomach like the last time you saw him . You smiled at him ,at this point, you were anxious. You didn't know how he would react . He simply smiled and signaled you to follow him to his driver's room. You walk behind him without saying a word ,he wasn't talking either . You got to the room, as he closed the door you hugged him from behind and said

"I've been looking for you all weekend"-you said in a low voice

"I know, though since you didn't respond to any of my messages the past months you wouldn't want to see me at all"-

"Im sorry I jus-"

"You just what y/n , you ignore me for months and then expect for me to act as if nothing happened "-said Daniel raiding his voice

You were on the verge of tears , your face was red, and you felt a knot on your throat. You knew you were in the wrong and you were sorry but you didn't know how to express it .

"Im- I'm sorry daniel"-your voice was cracking it was obvious you were going to cry

Daniel turned around to look at you finally and hugged you tight .

"Why did you ignore me all of a sudden? )I was sad , I missed you ," he said, sounding a bit hurt

"I didn't want to put you in a hard spot with the rumors,"you said, still trying to hold back from crying

"Still - that's no reason to ignore me "

"I like you Daniel"-you blurted out

Daniel, who was still hugging you ,he looked like he had stopped breathing ,you pulled out of the hug and look at him directly in the eyes and said it again

"I like you, daniel," you continued saying, "I ignored you bc I wanted to forget this stupid crush I had on you ,and I thought I did, but I realized It was all for nothing the moment I saw you on the garage," you said with a shaky voice ,the tear falling down your face .Daniel brushed the tear off your face without saying anything. He looked at you .

"Y/n...."-he stayed silent for a few seconds ,"I don't see you that way. You're a really good friend, and I care a lot about you "-

"Oh- no ,no, it's ok ,I'm sorry for making this uncomfortable,you know I have to leave "- you started walking away ,you felt so stupid .Why did you say that if you knew he wasn't into you.

"Y/n ,please just promise me your not gonna ignore me anymore ,I still want us to be friends"-said Daniel grabbing you by the arm before letting you go

You smiled softly and replied "Don't worry Daniel, I won't ignore you anymore ,I didn't want to make the rumors bigger "- you said while trying to walk away

He loses the grip on your hand and lets go of your hand . You walked away from the garage quickly, trying to cover your face. You knew reporters would bother Daniel and you with questions if they saw you leaving his garage crying. You left the paddock without even congratulating your brother. You felt stupid and embarrassed for saying that to Daniel. You went to your hotel room and curled up in the bed . You just accepted the fact that Daniel and you could never be more than just a friend . You knew something like this would happen, but you still wanted more than just a friendship with him . This feeling you had for him , you were going to repress it . You were just going yo pretend it wasn't there and not ruin your friendship with Daniel.

[lukechweiss]

Luke was lowkey hiding from Suresh, but his height really didn't help much to get away from people. He simply wasn't in a social interaction mood… But he also didn't want to upset the Captain. He had enough early chatting with his brother and his besties Elizabeth and Ricardo… He has a strip schedule for some hours later to another country. God knows the timezone he would be. ❛ Fancy seeing you here… ❜ He starts the conversation.

@suresh-lal

[rjmenezz]

"Nah. After all, you're the one helping me out." Ricardo easily replied, grinning. They made their way over to the pumpkins and he let his new carving partner take over the pumpkin selection. He looks at the first pumpkin she picks up, "I mean, nothing crazy, I was thinking like putting a small pumpkin inside a bigger pumpkin, possibly carving out like three bars and then a face on the smaller pumpkin. Like he's in jail type of thing." They move on to the next one, and he tilts his head as he examines it with her. Outside looking in they probably looked like two researchers doing studies on pumpkins, but it was crucial to get the right canvas for their art to come alive on. He looked over to her as she leaned in, leaning in as well, as if they were both sharing secrets from their competitors. "I think the judges are giving like they want cute spooky vibes. We could also carve three little holes in a pumpkin, use some of the stem to turn two of them into windows, and turn it into a small pumpkin home. What do you think?"

"You're not even gonna ask me for my half of the entry fee?" Nancy chirped, a finely plucked brow arching while the ghost of a smirk played at her lips. Admittedly, she hadn't even realized that Horizon was putting on any sort of event. She'd dropped in on a whim, curious to see if Sam was working, and if maybe she could score a free meal from him. But, hey, she liked Halloween. She dug pumpkins and guts. And money was even better. The banner toting a hundred dollar grand prize had her nodding and wandering towards the table of pumpkins, decidedly partnered with the other for the contest. "You already got a concept in mind?" she asked, twisting a pumpkin around by its curly stem, examining it from all angles. She abandoned it and moved to another, testing its weight. "Cutesy? Gorey?" Nancy looked over at the man, leaning in to say conspiratorially, "It's always important to play to the judge's preferences. Even if we think its shit."

[mariacallous]

April 12, 2019, Updated at 12:22 a.m. ET on April 15, 2019.

In the end, the man who reportedly smeared feces on the walls of his lodgings, mistreated his kitten, and variously blamed the ills of the world on feminists and bespectacled Jewish writers was pulled from the Ecuadorian embassy looking every inch like a powdered-sugar Saddam Hussein plucked straight from his spider hole. The only camera crew to record this pivotal event belonged to Ruptly, a Berlin-based streaming-online-video service, which is a wholly owned subsidiary of RT, the Russian government’s English-language news channel and the former distributor of Julian Assange’s short-lived chat show.

RT’s tagline is “Question more,” and indeed, one might inquire how it came to pass that the spin-off of a Kremlin propaganda organ and now registered foreign agent in the United States first arrived on the scene. Its camera recorded a team of London’s Metropolitan Police dragging Assange from his Knightsbridge cupboard as he burbled about resistance and toted a worn copy of Gore Vidal’s History of the National Security State.

Vidal had the American national-security establishment in mind when he narrated that polemic, although I doubt even he would have contrived to portray the CIA as being in league with a Latin American socialist named for the founder of the Bolshevik Party. Ecuador’s President Lenín Moreno announced Thursday that he had taken the singular decision to expel his country’s long-term foreign guest and revoke his asylum owing to Assange’s “discourteous and aggressive behavior.”

According to Interior Minister María Paula Romo, this evidently exceeded redecorating the embassy with excrement—alas, we still don’t know whether it was Assange’s or someone else’s—refusing to bathe, and welcoming all manner of international riffraff to visit him. It also involved interfering in the “internal political matters in Ecuador,” as Romo told reporters in Quito. Assange and his organization, WikiLeaks, Romo said, have maintained ties to two Russian hackers living in Ecuador who worked with one of the country’s former foreign ministers, Ricardo Patiño, to destabilize the Moreno administration.

We don’t yet know whether Romo’s allegation is true (Patiño denied it) or simply a pretext for booting a nuisance from state property. But Assange’s ties to Russian hackers and Russian intelligence organs are now beyond dispute.

Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s indictment of 12 cyberoperatives for Russia’s Main Intelligence Directorate for the General Staff (GRU) suggests that Assange was, at best, an unwitting accomplice to the GRU’s campaign to sway the U.S. presidential election in 2016, and allegedly even solicited the stolen Democratic correspondence from Russia’s military intelligence agency, which was masquerading as Guccifer 2.0. Assange repeatedly and viciously trafficked, on Twitter and on Fox News, in the thoroughly debunked claim that the correspondence might have been passed to him by the DNC staffer Seth Rich, who, Assange darkly suggested, was subsequently murdered by the Clintonistas as revenge for the presumed betrayal.

Mike Pompeo, then CIA director and, as an official in Donald Trump’s Cabinet, an indirect beneficiary of Assange’s meddling in American democracy, went so far as to describe WikiLeaks as a “non-state hostile intelligence service often abetted by state actors like Russia.” For those likening the outfit to legitimate news organizations, I’d submit that this is a shade more severe a description, especially coming from America’s former spymaster, than anything Trump has ever grumbled about The New York Times or The Washington Post.

Russian diplomats had concocted a plot, as recently as late 2017, to exfiltrate Assange from the Ecuadorian embassy, according to The Guardian. “Four separate sources said the Kremlin was willing to offer support for the plan—including the possibility of allowing Assange to travel to Russia and live there. One of them said that an unidentified Russian businessman served as an intermediary in these discussions.” The plan was scuttled only because it was deemed too dangerous.

In 2015, Focus Ecuador reported that Assange had aroused suspicion among Ecuador’s own intelligence service, SENAIN, which spied on him in the embassy in a years-long operation. “In some instances, [Assange] requested that he be able to choose his own Security Service inside the embassy, even proposing the use of operators of Russian nationality,” the Ecuadorian journal noted, adding that SENAIN looked on such a proposal with something less than unmixed delight.

All of which is to say that Ecuador had ample reasons of its own to show Assange the door and was well within its sovereign rights to do so. He first sought refuge in the embassy after he jumped bail more than seven years ago to evade extradition to Sweden on sexual-assault charges brought by two women. Swedish prosecutors suspended their investigation in 2017 into the most serious allegation of rape because they’d spent five years trying but failing to gain access to their suspect to question him. (That might now change, and so the lawyer for that claimant has filed to reopen the case.) But the British charges remained on the books throughout.

The Times of London leader writer Oliver Kamm has noted that quite apart from being a “victim of a suspension of due process,” Assange is “a fugitive from it.” Yet to hear many febrile commentators tell it, his extradition was simply a matter of one sinister prime minister cackling down the phone to another, with the CIA nodding approvingly in the background, as an international plot unfurled to silence a courageous speaker of truth to power. Worse than that, Assange and his ever-dwindling claque of apologists spent years in the pre-#MeToo era suggesting, without evidence, that the women who accused him of being a sex pest were actually American agents in disguise, and that Britain was simply doing its duty as a hireling of the American empire in staking out his diplomatic digs with a net.

As it happens, a rather lengthy series of U.K. court cases and Assange appeals, leading all the way up to the Supreme Court, determined Assange’s status in Britain.

The New Statesman’s legal correspondent, David Allen Green, expended quite a lot of energy back in 2012 swatting down every unfounded assertion and conspiracy theory for why Assange could not stand before his accusers in Scandinavia without being instantly rendered to Guantanamo Bay. Ironically, as Green noted, going to Stockholm would make it harder for Assange to be sent on to Washington because “any extradition from Sweden … would require the consent of both Sweden and the United Kingdom” instead of just the latter country. Nevertheless, Assange ran and hid and self-pityingly professed himself a “political prisoner.”

Everything about this Bakunin of bullshit and his self-constructed plight has belonged to the theater of the absurd. I suppose it’s only fair that absurdity dominates the discussion now about a newly unsealed U.S. indictment of Assange. According to Britain’s Home Office, the Metropolitan Police arrested Assange for skipping bail, and then, when he arrived at the police station, he was further arrested “in relation to a provisional extradition request from the United States.”

The operative word here is provisional, because that request has yet to be wrung through the same domestic legal protocols as Sweden’s. Assange will have all the same rights he was accorded when he tried to beat his first extradition rap in 2010. At Assange’s hearing, the judge dismissed his claims of persecution by calling him “a narcissist who cannot get beyond his own selfish interests.” Neither can his supporters.

A “dark moment for press freedom,” tweeted the NSA whistle-blower Edward Snowden from his security in press-friendly Moscow. “It’s the criminalization of journalism by the Trump Justice Department and the gravest threat to press freedom, by far, under the Trump presidency,” intoned The Intercept’s founding editor Glenn Greenwald who, like Assange, has had that rare historical distinction of having once corresponded with the GRU for an exclusive.

These people make it seem as if Assange is being sought by the Eastern District of Virginia for publishing American state secrets rather than for allegedly conniving to steal them.

The indictment makes intelligible why a grand jury has charged him. Beginning in January 2010, Chelsea Manning began passing to WikiLeaks (and Assange personally) classified documents obtained from U.S. government servers. These included files on the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq and U.S. State Department cables. But Manning grew hesitant to pilfer more documents.*

At this point, Assange allegedly morphed from being a recipient and publisher of classified documents into an agent of their illicit retrieval. “On or about March 8, 2010, Assange agreed to assist [Chelsea] Manning in cracking a password stored on United States Department of Defense computers connected to the Secret Internet Protocol Networks, a United States government network used for classified documents and communications,” according to the indictment.

Assange allegedly attempted to help Manning do this using a username that was not hers in an effort to cover her virtual tracks. In other words, the U.S. accuses him of instructing her to hack the Pentagon, and offering to help. This is not an undertaking any working journalist should attempt without knowing that the immediate consequence will be the loss of his job, his reputation, and his freedom at the hands of the FBI.

I might further direct you to Assange’s own unique brand of journalism, when he could still be said to be practicing it. Releasing U.S. diplomatic communiqués that named foreigners living in conflict zones or authoritarian states and liaising with American officials was always going to require thorough vetting and redaction, lest those foreigners be put in harm’s way. Assange did not care—he wanted their names published, according to Luke Harding and David Leigh in WikiLeaks: Inside Julian Assange’s War on Secrecy. As they recount the story, when Guardian journalists working with WikiLeaks to disseminate its tranche of U.S. secrets tried to explain to Assange why it was morally reprehensible to publish the names of Afghans working with American troops, Assange replied: “Well, they’re informants. So, if they get killed, they’ve got it coming to them. They deserve it.” (Assange denied the account; the names, in the end, were not published in The Guardian, although some were by WikiLeaks in its own dump of the files.)**

James Ball, a former staffer at WikiLeaks—who argues against Assange’s indictment in these pages—has also remarked on Assange’s curious relationship with a notorious Holocaust denier named Israel Shamir:

Shamir has a years-long friendship with Assange, and was privy to the contents of tens of thousands of US diplomatic cables months before WikiLeaks made public the full cache. Such was Shamir’s controversial nature that Assange introduced him to WikiLeaks staffers under a false name. Known for views held by many to be antisemitic, Shamir aroused the suspicion of several WikiLeaks staffers—myself included—when he asked for access to all cable material concerning ‘the Jews,’ a request which was refused.

Shamir soon turned up in Moscow where, according to the Russian newspaper Kommersant, he was offering to write articles based on these cables for $10,000 a pop. Then he traveled to Minsk, where he reportedly handed over a cache of unredacted cables on Belarus to functionaries for Alexander Lukashenko’s dictatorship, whose dissident-torturing secret police is still conveniently known as the KGB.

Fish and guests might begin to stink after three days, but Assange has reeked from long before he stepped foot in his hideaway cubby across from Harrods. He has put innocent people’s lives in danger; he has defamed and tormented a poor family whose son was murdered; he has seemingly colluded with foreign regimes not simply to out American crimes but to help them carry off their own; and he otherwise made that honorable word transparency in as much of a need of delousing as he is.

Yet none of these vices has landed him in the dock. If he is innocent of hacking U.S. government systems—or can offer a valid public-interest defense for the hacking—then let him have his day in court, first in Britain and then in America. But don’t continue to fall for his phony pleas for sympathy, his megalomania, and his promiscuity with the facts. Julian Assange got what he deserved.