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libraryofloveletters · 1 year ago

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chapter four: show me the world.

Chalres Leclerc x Fem!Reader + Carlos Sainz Jr x Fem!Reader

Warnings: carlos heavy content so you charles girlies - I'm sorry, charles is oblivious, reader doesn't seem to have much of a strong will around carlos, alcohol and the consumption of, some cheesy flirting from both carlos and reader, sneaking around, lying to your boyfriend, sexual tension, carlos is so fuckboy coded I can't help it, insinuation to nsfw content.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author's Note: this one is juicy :) those of you that are rooting for her and carlos - this one's for you!

Call My Name Masterlist

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" His warm hand rests on your knee, you can feel the contrast between his skin and the cold silver wrapped around his index finger.

You smiled at your boyfriend, fingers interlocking over his. "I'll be fine, Charles. I'm a big girl."

"I know, but I know you hate flying alone."

You shrugged, getting out of the car with him. You were headed off to sunny, sunny Spain to meet up with your girlfriends. You two were currently in Belgium, a two hour flight from your next destination. You had joined Charles for the last race of the season before the summer break.

Usually, you would join Charles but he was headed to Italy for some training, rather self-inflicted torture in the mountains, with Andrea and Joris.

The man sets your suitcase down in front of you, "you're 100% sure you'll be okay?" He asks, you nod once more, pulling him into a hug.

"Be safe, okay? and text me from the gate and when you get off the plane." He rattles off, kissing your forehead.

You smiled, teasing him. "Okay dad." Charles rolls his eyes, his arm still over your shoulder. "Have fun with Andrea and Joris, hm?"

"Training? Yeah right."

You take his words with a grain of salt; he always managed to cram in some fun.

"I'll see you next week for the trip with your mom and your brothers, yeah?" Your hand rests on your boyfriend's jaw, kissing him softly. Charles smiles, his lips covered in your baby pink lipgloss. "Yeah, I love you."

"Love you too, drive safe." You smiled at him, walking off to the door. The airport was fairly calm, a typical Tuesday morning. You went through security and got onto your flight without a hitch.

Two hours later, the warm Spanish sun welcomed you; a more than needed change from the downpour of rain and grey clouds you had been basking in all weekend in at Spa.

See, you had every intention of spending the day in your hotel room, relaxing before your girlfriends returned. After they heard you were staying with Charles in Belgium, they went off to Lisbon in search of, well, who knows. intention

After much assurance that you'd be more than fine on your own for the two days they'd be gone, you were at peace. A short Uber ride to your hotel and you had made sure to text Charles, letting him know you landed and made it safely to your hotel.

The buzzing noise caught your attention when you stepped out of the shower. The fluffy white fabric tucked under your arms, wet fingers reaching for the phone on the counter.

carlossainz55: landed?

youruser: yes.

carlossainz55: no need to be so proper with me, amor.

carlossainz55: especially after what happened in monaco.

You rolled your eyes at his message and yet, you texted back.

youruser: okay

carlossainz55: where are you ?

youruser: why?

carlossainz55: because I would like to take you to dinner.

youruser: I’m in madrid

carlossainz55: of course but where?

youruser: the ritz, room 729

You hesitated before you sent the message, a little uncertain about this. You knew you shouldn’t but god, he had a hold over you that was unexplainable. What’s the harm in dinner ?

carlossainz55: and what am I meant to do with your room number y/n?

youruser: whatever you’d like, carlos.

carlossainz55: pick you up in an hour.

Not a question, but a statement; he was coming to get you.

It didn't take you very long to get ready, you saw Carlos less than 48 hours ago. You didn't need to impress him but some stupid feminine urge to make yourself look pretty for him kicked in.

The bed sheets were untouched, wrinkling under your weight as you straightened the hem of your skirt. You let out a breath, the sun in the sky had slipped away under the clouds; fitting.

It's the universe's way of telling you not to go out with your boyfriend's teammate, even if it was just for dinner. Dinner always meant something else, you couldn't get into something else with Carlos.

Not after Monaco.

It took you a second to swallow the thought, the same way you swallowed the vodka. The mini bottle sat empty of the desk before you pushed it over the edge and into the trash can.

Another breath slipped from your lips when you reached for your phone, about to message Carlos and tell him.. well you weren't sure, you were hoping to come up with something.

Perhaps you weren't feeling well or you suddenly came down with food poisoning.

The message was typed out; not feeling well, I thought a shower would help but I guess not :( raincheck?

You didn't even get a chance to hit send, a knock on the door startling you. To no surprise, Carlos stood in front of you with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Who are those for?" You asked, the man smiles at you and hands them over to you. "It's rude to take a woman on a date without bringing her flowers first."

Carlos kisses your cheek as he passes the flowers to you, his fingers brushed against yours. You hum, biting back the urge to roll your eyes, "this isn't a date, Carlos."

"Says the one dolled up," he says, following you in as you set the flowers on the table and gather your purse and phone. Carlos leans on the wall, watching as you slip on your flats. "Linda," (beautiful) he mumbles under his breath, arms folded over his chest and smiling at you when you turn around.

"Shall we?" You ask.

Carlos raises an eyebrow, "what's the rush? Gonna change your mind on me?"

"Maybe."

He smiles, opening the room door for you and then gestures for you to go ahead. "Ladies first."

You hum, stepping out of the room and following Carlos down to the back parking lot. You knew the hotel wasn't some run down place and they had quite a few high end guests but none of whom drove a Ferrari.

"Flashy," you glance at the man, Carlos of course, opens your door for you and even offers you his hand as you lower yourself into the seat.

"Figured I'd bring her out for a worthy guest."

You roll your eyes as he shuts your door and gets into the driver's seat. "You're incredibly cheesy, Carlos Sainz."

"You did tell me that cheese pizza was your favourite."

"Don't you dare compare yourself to pizza. It's way better than you."

Carlos laughs, rolling his eyes playfully as you two head towards a restaurant he had told you about.

It was a small place, tucked away between two small side streets and between buildings. It's one of those places you'd see if you'd googled aesthetic photos of Spain.

Seemed like Carlos came here often, the man at the door hugged him hello, ushering him to a table by the window. Carlos ordered for you, of course he asked if you minded beforehand.

You agreed, letting him order for you - the menu was in Spanish and you were a bit rusty.

Dinner was quiet, the two of you chatted over a bottle of wine. It felt as if all the time in the world had passed and yet no time had actually passed.

You had forgotten all about the nerves that riddled you before he picked you up and you had forgotten about your boyfriend momentarily as well.

Carlos pays the bill, refusing to take your money; you were here on vacation, save it for when you're with your friends, not him.

His hand rests on your lower back, there wasn't a worry in the world.

It's an older part of Madrid - mostly remnants of a past Madrid and a few family spots left behind. No one knew Carlos as the driver, just a boy who visited often and you were his friend, that's all.

The Spanish sun had peeked out from behind the clouds of earlier skies, setting under the horizon casting out an orangish hue onto the city.

"Ice cream?" Carlos says out of the blue, pulling you from your thoughts.

"What?"

He nods towards the man with the little cart, ice cream plastered on to the side. "Yeah, please." you tell him, sitting on the bench. Carlos takes that as his hint to get it for you, asking you what flavour you wanted before running over and getting it for you.

After passing you the ice cream, he gets himself a scoop of chocolate - the worst ice cream flavour.

You were taking a picture of your own ice cream but you lifted the phone towards him, taking a picture of him mid bite.

At some point, the sun had completely set and the street lights lit the way back to the car. Carlos had opened the door for you again, sitting patiently next to you as you connected your phone to his speaker.

"What was wrong with my music? I thought it was the driver's choice anyways." He looks over at you, you mumble, focused on your screen when you finally get it to connect.

"I don't want to listen to smooth operator over and over again, Carlos."

The man laughs, shaking his head as you hit play on your playlist.

You seem to have forgotten that when your phone connects, your messages display on the screen as well. Charles's name pops up on the bottom and you had felt your phone buzz on your lap but you ignored it.

Carlos smiles to himself when he notices your lack of interest in the message. "Aren't you going to answer your boyfriend?"

His words stab you in the side like a knife.

"Yeah."

From Charles: how’s the trip so far?

To Charles: Good! The girls come back from Lisbon in a day so I’ve been hanging out and exploring

From Charles: see anything interesting ?

To Charles: not really lmao, how’s training ?

From Charles: good, exhausting.

From Charles: are you gonna meet up with Carlos while you’re there? I don’t think he’s going anywhere during the break.

You freeze, Carlos looks over at you. “Are you alright?” He asks and you nod, “Charles asked if I’m going to see you.”

Carlos smiles, “tell him you already did.” You roll your eyes, flinging your hand towards the man and hitting him in the arm. “I will not!”

To Charles: I haven’t spoken to him.

From Charles: message him then, amour. I’m sure he’d be happy to take you around, show you some stuff if you don’t have plans for tomorrow.

To Charles: yeah okay :) I think I’m gonna call it an early night, get my sleep before the party animals come back

From Charles: okay, sweet dreams.

To Charles: you too <3

The phone sits on your lap, looking out the window. Carlos's hand rests on your knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth. Your skin felt like it was on fire, all from a simple touch. Imagine if he was doing more, you were letting your mind run wild, taking you back to the night in Monaco.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about. It was just dinner." Carlos tells you.

"Yeah, this time it was just dinner."

He huffs, "stop that."

"Stop what? Telling the truth? This whole thing is wrong, Carlos. You're his teammate."

"And what? You're not allowed to have friends, y/n?"

You roll your eyes, ignoring his words before brushing his hand away from your knee. The buildings roll by until they start to become familiar, the two of you sitting in silence until he pulls into the parking lot.

"Is this the last I'm going to see of you?"

"I see you almost every other weekend," you tell him, picking up your purse.

"You know what I mean, y/n. On this trip."

"Probably."

"I hope it's not."

You roll your eyes, getting out of the car. Carlos follows you, his hand on your lower back as you two walk to the door. You push his hand away, stopping in your tracks and turning to look at him.

Carlos nearly walks into you, barely stopping himself from colliding into you. "Jesus woman, what?"

"I shouldn't even have been out with you tonight, what makes you think I'll have time for you later? My friends get back in a day."

"You can sneak away, come spend the night with me tomorrow." His hand reaches for you but you pull away.

"You live with your parents, Carlos. They know I'm Charles's girlfriend, that would be a bit odd, don't you think?"

"And if they weren't there, you'd come stay with me?"

"No," you rolled your eyes, scoffing. "Don't twist my words, Carlos."

"Fine," he raises his hands in self defence, "fine. At least let me walk you up, y/n. Can I do that without you biting my head off?"

"Okay," you say, nodding.

It's quiet, it's a little past ten when you two make it up to your room. You stop in the doorway, the door propped open by your hip as you look at your boyfriend's teammate.

"I'll see you at the next race," you tell him and Carlos nods, his hand slowly moving and finally settling on your hip.

You don't move his hand, your eyes fixed on the man's face. The way his lashes hits cheek when he blinks, his tongue passing over his bottom lip, the curve of his nose, the smell of his expensive cologne makes your head spin.

Carlos takes a slip closer, his lips by your ear. "Don't forget to put your flowers in water."

You glance back to see the flowers you had left on the table before you went out. "Yeah-" you were cut off when you turned around, his lips meeting yours.

It takes you a second to register that he's kissed you and you pull away; you already felt bad enough about going to dinner with him.

Carlos's brows furrow, "that's.. a new reaction."

You roll your eyes, taking a step back into your room and away from him. "Thank you for tonight and for the flowers, Carlos. I'll see you in Zandvoort."

"Yeah, okay." He nods, smiling at you." Goodnight, y/n."

"Goodnight, Carlos."

The door shuts and your back presses to the cold wood, looking into your room as your hand presses to your chest. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, making a beeline for the bathroom.

You strip off your clothes and get into the shower, scrubbing at your skin until it feels raw, felt free of him, of Carlos.

Sitting on your bed, the flowers were propped up in a glass on the table and you had the tv running for background noise. Your phone sat on the bedside table, plugged into the charger when it buzzed.

It's past midnight and you were certain Charles was in bed.

You reach for the phone, glancing at the message on the screen.

carlossainz55: miss you

12:32am

You read him on read, distracting yourself with your show but you can’t help it, your mind lingering back to the message.

youruser: me too.

1:02am

Carlos reads the message, the three bubbles pop up but they disappear just as quickly. You think nothing of it and go back to your show. You aren't sure how much time has passed but your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

carlossainz55: open the door.

1:29am

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blurredcolour · 7 months ago

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In My Blood | Part Two

In My Blood Masterlist

Curtis "Curt" Biddick x SOE!Female Reader

It is no longer safe for you to remain in Belgium. With the Gestapo closing in, Curt is finally ready to make his escape with you. But is it too late?

Warnings: MAJOR canon divergence, Language, Violence, Weapons, Spy Craft, Detailed Description of Murder, Death, Injuries, Angst, Grief, Fear, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: This story contains revisionist history, read at your own risk. Reader is half-Belgian, half-English and has been given an extensive backstory and family tree. While they have been given the codename of "Marie," no physical descriptions or Y/N are used.

Italics used for non-English words and to indicate dialogue spoken in a language other than English.

This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 6929

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May 3, 1940

“Honestly Papa,” You protested in French, threading the telephone cord between your fingers as the line crackled and hummed with the standard overseas audio distortions,“I do not understand why you will not let me come home, nothing has happened in months–”

“Enough, my little monster,” Your father’s voice gently but firmly cut you off. “We have been over this a thousand times, it is simply too dangerous for you to leave England with war declared. Yes, it is quiet at the moment, but it is only a matter of time now that the weather has grown warm.”

Your eyes scanned across the neatly appointed Edwardian writing desk in your grandmother’s study before turning to eye the drizzly gardens of the Dower House through the spotless window behind you.

“If it is so dangerous, why do you and Mama insist on staying in Brussels? You are both more important than me and if those Nazi bastards invade you know that’s where they’re headed – straight for you.”

“Come, come now, don’t let your mother hear you using that language.” His chastisement was half-hearted and filled with laughter, pulling a reluctant grin from you. “Belgium is neutral, firstly, but if the worst happens, we will simply flee to the house in Wallonia. Chin-up my little monster, we are made of sterner stuff, are we not?”

“Yes, Papa,” You replied, feeling somewhat reassured and heartened, “we truly are.”

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October 28, 1943

The collision of your spine against the brick wall drove the air from your lungs, a strangled noise of pain seeping from your throat as the broken end of a bolt that had once affixed something to the side of the building tore through the fabric of your blouse and dug into the meat of your right upper arm. Gritting your teeth as your eyes watered at the searing pain and warm gush down your sleeve, your grip tightened on the handle of your knife, swinging it higher towards the vulnerable neck of the man you had lured into this alleyway.

He had been following you for at least twenty minutes, Gestapo most likely, on your way to pick up some material to then courier to another contact. You had been unsuccessful at losing him, and with the sun setting and curfew nearly upon you, confrontation had remained your only option. While sneaking out after curfew was perilous enough, being caught out around the fall of curfew was nearly suicidal. Parking your bike in front of a well-attended pub, you had made your way across the town square, wending your way through the emptying streets before ducking into this very alley to lay in wait.

Unfortunately for you, the man had proven to be much larger than you had first estimated, and along with a brutal case of halitosis, each sour breath assaulting your senses as it impacted your face, he was easily overpowering you, slowly turning your knife in your grip, threatening to use your own weapon against you. Unfortunately for him, you had been trained in all the ‘ungentlemanly’ ways one could undertake warfare, and he was utterly unprepared for the collision of your foot with his most tender parts.

A sound consisting of an intriguing mixture of a yelp and a wheeze escaped his mouth as he fell back, his oppressive weight finally easing off you. Seizing the momentum, you quickly struck with your blade, meeting the weak block of his forearm and drawing a yowl this time. While he was not proving to be a quiet kill, thankfully his racket resembled an alley cat, and could be explained away if necessary. Heart hammering in your ears, breaths coming in quick gasps under the heady influence of your own adrenaline, you swung the blade home into the defenseless flesh of his neck and tugged forward, sealing your opponent’s fate as he crumpled to the worn cobblestones.

Taking several awkward steps backward, you inhaled deep, greedy gulps of air as the man exhaled his last and grew still. It was both relieving and unsettling. Casting about for the large metal bins you had glimpsed earlier, you darted across the alley to quickly remove the lids from both, shifting the filthy contents from one into the other to make space for your deposit. Returning to his lifeless form, you assessed his bulk before struggling to strip him of his large, navy wool coat before dragging him down the alley and hoisting him into his final resting place. The wound in your triceps screamed in agonized protest with every breath until you had resecured the lid, the scene unremarkable enough in the long shadows of evening.

Shrugging into the bulky coat to conceal the damage to your blouse and retrieving your luggage, discarded moments before the altercation began, you forced yourself to exit the alley at a perfectly normal pace in the direction of Doctor Legot’s clinic, trusty bicycle abandoned for the sake of a speedy departure. Reaching the clinic well after closing, you slid around the back, setting down your suitcase to root around in the hedges for the upturned pot hiding the spare key known to only a select few. You took a moment to compose yourself, taking a deep breath and brusquely wiping at the tears of discomfort that had been stubbornly welling in your eyes the entire journey.

The lock turned soundlessly under your practiced hand, the door swinging inward to an unexpected shaft of light spilling from the patient washroom. Peering around the doorjamb, your eyes widened to see Curt standing at the small sink in the powder room, stripped down to his undershirt, carefully dragging a safety razor across one lathered cheek. Exhaustion and injury got the better of you, making you sway unsteadily, forcing you to catch yourself on the frame of the door, immediately attracting his attention.

“Marie?” He turned to look at you, well-defined muscles of his arms flexing with his movements, shaving cream adorably still adorning a great deal of his face.

Hastily lurching forward into the clinic, you quickly closed and latched the door behind you, depositing your luggage and shoulder bag before shrugging out of the claustrophobic overcoat.

“Jesus Christ, look at you!” His outburst, followed by the sound of his razor hitting the porcelain bowl of the sink, made you drop your gaze to your clothes, only to be greeted by the sight of your late opponent’s blood drenching the fabric.

“Oh, do not fret about me…” You had hoped to put on a display of bravado, but your voice was aggravatingly thin, “…the other fellow is much worse off.”

His startlingly warm palms cupping your elbows made your head jerk back up, meeting his furrowed brow, eyes darkened with concern. “That isn’t very comforting, gorgeous.” He muttered and began tugging you towards Doctor Legot’s office where a crack of light shone from beneath the door. “Doc?” He barked out before open the door without any further preamble.

Only a small noise of protest sounded before the doctor was shooting to his feet, quickly ushering you to take his recently vacated chair, rapidly looking you over before his eyes settled on your arm.

“I’m not going to ask how such misfortune befell you, Marie. I am a wiser man than that. But what, specifically, happened to your arm?” He murmured in Dutch as he retrieved a set of suture scissors to begin cutting away the sleeve of your ruined shirt.

“I backed into the shorn off end of a bolt with rather a bit of force.” You sighed wearily, glancing at Curt who remained in the room, eyeing the pair of you intensely from where he leaned against a filing cabinet. “Why is your guest upstairs?”

Your sentence ended in a hiss as you inhaled sharply through your teeth at the feeling of the doctor’s fingers prodding at the wound on the back of your upper arm.

“He cut himself shaving by candlelight one too many times. Once the cast came off, we made an agreement he could come upstairs between closing and dinner to wash up. You’ve had your tetanus vaccine?”

As Legot began to aggressively paint your wound with disinfectant, you pressed your lips together tightly against any further mortifying outbursts, and thus only managed a nod in confirmation.

“Good.” The room fell silent as he applied a square of gauze to your wound, securing it in place by wrapping your arm in a bandage, tying it off.

Your eyes drifted back to Curt who had not seemed to move an inch, not even changed position, the shaving cream on his face drying out, growing crusty against his skin. His silence was perhaps the most unnerving thing you had encountered this evening, his voice seeming to have filled every waking encounter you’d had with him thus far.

“It’s a lot of blood…” He muttered, eyes rising from your clothes, marred by scarlet quickly turning a mottled brown as the blood dried and aged.

“Mostly someone else’s.” You reminded him gently, earning a non-plussed grunt in reply.

A heavy sigh fell from the Doctor Legot’s lips, making you look up at him slowly. “Marie there has been…an increase in the Gestapo around town. A contact of mine was even questioned about a woman bearing a remarkable resemblance to you. And now that you seem to have had a run in, I’m…concerned.”

Despite similar thoughts ricocheting about your brain the entire flight back to his clinic, the breath you drew in felt like it contained thousands of tiny shards of glass which imbedded themselves deep inside your breast as you heard it from an external source. Rationally, to have survived so many months in your occupation was a feat worth celebrating.

An SOE agent typically had a life expectancy of six months, and yet to watch your ability to remain in Belgium, to remain useful to your fellow Belgians, crumble before you was incredibly painful. You allowed your exhale to accumulate in your cheeks before releasing it all at once through pursed lips with a nod, the feeling of having failed your people, your family, once again a yawning pit deep in your gut.

“It is time for me to move on.” You conceded flatly.

“If you are headed in a certain direction, might you be able to take a certain guest with you?” He asked with a nod in the American’s direction.“Couriers are still stretched thin.”

Your eyes widened slowly as it dawned on you that it was well over two months since Curt had become a guest in his cellar and should be well on his way to Spain by now. “He is well enough to travel then? Have they made him papers yet?” Your rapid-fire questions were greeted by frantic blinking from the doctor before he nodded quickly in the affirmative to both.

Turning back to Curt you tilted your head, reinvigorated by the chance to be useful one last time as you tried to remove yourself from occupied Europe, saving another’s life infinitely more important than simply trying to preserve your own. “Tell me, Curt, are you ready to head back to England?”

The apprehension that had drawn his features tight melted away, yielding to a bright smile, his eyes fairly sparkling with anticipation at the promise of beginning his escape at last. “You have no idea.”

You could do nothing to stop the uplift at the corner of your mouth in response, nodding slightly. “I’m going to change out of these clothes and then we’ll get ready to leave in the morning.”

Straightening from his lean against the cabinet, he moved to the door. “I’ll just go grab…” His voice trailed off as he disappeared down the hall before returning with your suitcase, setting it on the floor with a nod before departing once more, not loitering long enough to accept your gratitude.

Legot produced an old flour sack for you to deposit any clothes beyond saving, to be burned upstairs in his fireplace, before leaving you alone in his office. Feeling the chill of autumn in your damp clothes, you quickly stripped, using a towel to wipe any bloody remnants from your skin with water from the sink in the corner of the room, before changing into fresh clothing. Your mind was already occupied with plotting your route – to Antwerp, fetching supplies from the small flat you kept as a base of operations there, and then boarding a train to the border before crossing on foot then onto another train at Lille to Toulouse before meeting up with the Ponzán group to be guided across the Pyrenees. But this time, you would be one of the party making the crossing in neutral Spain.

Bringing your damp towel to try and blot any blood from the pilfered overcoat, hoping to save it for Curt’s benefit during the mountain crossing to come, you turned off the office lights and headed toward the storeroom, grabbing the garment from the floor on the way. Dropping it through the open trapdoor followed by the wet towel, you smiled to Curt as he appeared below, passing him your suitcase with your good arm before beginning your own descent down the ladder. Pushed well beyond all possible limits, your battered and bandaged arm gave out at your demand to bear your body weight, a yelp escaping as your right hand lost its grip on the ladder as a result.

Strong hands quickly landed on your hips, steadying and supporting you.

“Easy, gorgeous, good as you got the guy, he still hurt you.” Curt muttered behind you, the fresh scent of soap and aftershave radiating from his warm skin as he helped you down the last few rungs.

“Th, thank you, Curt.” You stammered, hugging your throbbing limb close as your feet settled onto the cellar floor, watching him easily climb up the ladder to swing the heavy trapdoor shut almost silently even from inside. “You’ve come a long way in the past few weeks…”

He smirked a little, carrying your luggage over to set on the foot of your bed for you. “Been doing a lot of shadow boxing down here.”

“Boxing!” You breathed in surprise, gathering the abandoned coat from the crumpled heap it left on the floor, trying not to notice the way his muscles moved as he pulled on a thick knit sweater in the cool damp of your hiding space. “If I had known, I would have gotten comics related to your interest…”

“I enjoyed the ones you brought, even read the book too. My teachers would be proud.”

A small laugh escaped you as you settled onto the edge of the bed, inspecting the coat for bloodstains and methodically beginning to blot them out. His own laughed intertwined with yours all too melodically, making you swallow tightly.

“That coat is awful big for you, gorgeous.” He teased, watching you from where he stood at the end of your bed.

“It’s not for me, Curt, it’s for you – you’re going to need it where we’re headed. Just need to get all the blood out first.” You murmured, turning the right sleeve inside out knowing you had surely bled on it yourself.

“Do I get to know where we’re going?”

You peered up at him a moment before shaking your head. “Other than England. That will suffice for now. I will share the goal with you day by day, but the less you know the safer you will be. Aside from a few key portions, the majority of the trip will be by train to start. Tomorrow, though, we shall have to try something new.” You trailed off into a mutter at the last, wrestling with the heavy fabric, shooting him a grateful look as he grabbed the hem of the coat to help you position it, allowing you to reach one of the last stains.

“What’s so special about tomorrow?” He prodded, clearly still listening even though your final statement had more been musing aloud than for his ears.

Pausing a moment you sighed before meeting his eyes. “I suppose you ought to know that I appear to be a known entity to the Gestapo, at the very least locally, and so we will take extra evasive manoeuvres when we leave town. I shall be disguised, we will leave just before dawn, and avoid public transportation. I have a few ideas for how we might reach where we are going first, do not worry.” You offered a reassuring smile, to which he returned a small nod. “Jan will have been by the take your photo and give you papers?”

“Oh, yeah, nice fella if a bit quiet. Gave me a couple sets of papers.” He stepped over to his cot to retrieve two well forged sets of identity papers, bringing them over for you to inspect.

Laying the now-cleaned coat to dry across your suitcase, you accepted them from him, looking them over before holding out those in your left hand. “These are your Belgian papers. I suggest you put these in your usual pocket – the one you will reach for first, so that you can produce them as naturally as possible. We will destroy them as soon as we have left Belgium.” You watched as he took them from you.

“Belgian papers, got it.” Curt made a tiny salute with the papers before grabbing a leather jacket from the back of a small chair that was a new addition to the cellar, sliding them into the inner left breast pocket.

“And these,” you held out those in your right hand, “are your French papers. You will want to keep these close, in a safe place on your person, but not somewhere you will mistakenly hand them over until they are needed.”

His eyebrow shot up playfully. “Hold up, Marie, I thought you just said you weren’t going to tell me where we’re going…”

“Did I?” You blinked innocently and his guffaw of amusement threatened to pull another unintentional smile from you.

Since when had your expressions become so very difficult to control?

“The most important thing for you to remember on our journey,” you soldiered on despite your inner struggle, “is not to speak. Your voice absolutely gives away the fact that you do not belong here. Many of the airmen whom we guide find the most success by feigning deafness. It explains both their inability to speak and the fact that they do not understand the language.”

“You could just teach me French, or whatever you speak with Doc…”

“Flemish?” You found yourself fighting back laughter. “We do not have enough time for you to master either, Curt. We leave tomorrow. Now take your French papiers and get some sleep, we leave in a few hours.” You nodded firmly, but with a kind smile.

“You too, Marie, you need dinner or anything?”

Shaking your head softly, certain you could not bring yourself to eat even if you felt hungry, the pair of you settled in to sleep, the damp wool coat taking over the chair in the middle of the room to dry, looming in the flickering candlelight like some grim reminder of your actions. Huffing at your melodramatic thoughts, you pulled the blankets over your head and rolled over to get some rest.

As agreed upon, Legot woke the pair of you shortly after four with warm bread, apples, and granola. You could almost taste the ghost of butter, jam, sugar, and cream on your tongue – heavily rationed delights that had been hard to come by in England and all but non-existent here under Nazi rule. Downing your dry, brown breakfast, you opened your suitcase to retrieve a wig from its depths, gathering your hair and securing it beneath the false strands to disguise your apparently known appearance.

“I dunno Marie…” Curt’s musing were interrupted by an exaggerated yawn as he smoothed his hair with a pot of borrowed pomade. “Your natural hair looks so much prettier on you.”

Fighting the girlish urge to preen under his indirect compliment, you shook your head. “It’s a good thing I’m not trying to look pretty then, just different.”

“Well in that case you look nothing like your usual self.” He shrugged into his leather jacket before snagging the hard-won navy coat from the back of the chair and folded it in perhaps the most unmethodical way you had ever witnessed, but it still wound up flat and small enough to fit into his suitcase.

“Good.” You muttered and snapped the latches on your own luggage closed, heading over to the ladder to climb up.

“Wait, let me help you.” He hurried over, reaching out to grasp your waist. “You sure you can pull the cases up?”

Huffing a little, more in annoyance at being injured than his offers of help, you nodded firmly. “Absolutely.” Clenching your jaw, you forced your way up the ladder, stubbornly ignoring the ache in your still-healing arm, turning to reach out expectantly for the first piece of luggage once you were kneeling on the floor above.

A bemused expression greeted you before he easily hoisted the first, waiting until you had it tucked aside before sending the second up. Taking a moment to extinguish the candles still burning below, he then quickly ascended the ladder to join you, silently securing the trapdoor behind him.

“Right, this is it then.”

About to make your way down the hall to bid a final farewell to the doctor, you turned with a soft gasp to find him stand there with a small canvas bag of food.

“For your journey.” He held it out, nodding as Curt quickly stepped forward to sling it over his shoulder.

“Be safe, Doctor Legot, thank you for all your assistance.”

“The very same to you, Marie. Best of luck on your travels.”

A small, sentimental smile poked through your serious expression before your eyes widened. “If you are in need of a bicycle, mine remains outside the pub across from the town square. Farewell.”

At serious risk of lingering too long, you turned then and headed out the backdoor, glancing over your shoulder in the faint light of early morning to ensure Curt was following you. You kept a quick pace, cutting and winding through town towards a familiar farmyard, dairy cows grazing the fields, lowing softly, as the farmer and his daughters loaded containers of milk into the back of a worn truck. The sun had escaped the confines of the horizon by now, flooding the landscape with the golden light of an autumn sunrise as you cast another glance of confirmation over your shoulder, nearly tripping over your own feet at the unjustly stunning quality of Curt’s eyes in daylight.

“Whoa, easy.” He hurried a few steps forward to steady you by the elbow, catching the attention of Tillens who quickly sent his children back into the house.

“Hush.” You whispered firmly before waving to the farmer, who squinted at you a moment before relaxing as you greeted him warmly in Dutch.

“That you, Marie? You’ve done something new with your hair, didn’t even recognize you for a moment…”

“The point, I am afraid. Are you by any chance headed to Antwerp today?” You asked hopefully, stomach falling as he shook his head.

“Could take you to Brussels, but Antwerp is tomorrow.”

Brussels was the one place you avoided, far too many familiar faces and even more Nazis along with their collaborating government.

“How much could I offer to convince you to take us to Antwerp today?”

Tillens’ brown eyes studied your disguise before looking over at your companion. “It’s only one hour out of my way, Marie, for you there is no charge. Hop in the back and I’ll pack the rest of these around you.”

Your eyes widened before you quickly gestured Curt forward, digging into the bag on his shoulder and pulling out the loaf of the bread you found there. “Then please accept this, for your family.”

“Marie…” Tillens protested but you pushed it forward insistently and he accepted it with a grateful nod. “Thank you, every bit helps.”

“Thank you, for it truly does.” Grasping Curt’s elbow, you pointed into the back of the truck, watching him step up and weave his way towards the back.

Setting your suitcase on the tailgate, you reached for the handhold with your left arm, gasping as Curt’s hands were suddenly around your waist to hoist you in amongst the containers of milk.

“Gorgeous but stubborn.” He muttered under his breath, grabbing your suitcase and leading you over to a gap he had found just large enough for the pair of you to settle on the floor.

Pulling your shoulder bag against your body, you tucked your skirt beneath yourself as you sat down beside him, nodding to Tillens as he peered in at the pair of you before sealing you in with the last of his cargo.

“It’s about a two-hour drive, feel free to sleep.” You whispered, the back of the truck going dark as Tillens secured the doors shut, the motor growling to life shortly thereafter.

“So he speaks Flemish too?” Curt asked curiously as the vehicle jolted into motion and you nodded softly.

“It’s Dutch, really, with some regional differences. In the bigger cities you’ll find more of a mix of Flemish and French.”

“And you speak it all.” Curt smirked and you nodded, hugging your knees to your chest as the cargo rattled around you. “Really somethin’…” He muttered, leaning back to close his eyes and try to get some rest as you had suggested.

The drive smoothed out as the truck navigated onto the main road, and you felt yourself relax a little after the first hour of distance was put between you and Beverst. You were by no means out of danger – the Gestapo was an insidious organization, their network a far-reaching and interconnected tangle. The fact that at least one agent had come looking for you specifically meant that, if the entirety did not know of you yet, they soon would. You had to run all the way to be truly safe.

Of their own volition, your eyes drifted towards Curt’s sleeping form, his handsome face grown slack and soft in sleep, the youth of him both striking and painful. What would his life look like if Hitler had been able to keep his hands to himself…or better yet had never even come to power? What would your life look like? Certainly neither of you would be in the back of a dairy truck sneaking your way to Antwerp.

A roughened patch of road jostled his body, threatening to wake him and you quickly wrenched your eyes away, studying the handwritten labels from Tillens’ farm. Thankfully Curt remained asleep for the rest of the drive, the truck pulling to a stop amidst the hum of the city, and you gently prodded him awake with a shake to the shoulder.

“We’re here.” You whispered before pressing a finger to your lips and he nodded drowsily before straightening.

Light flooded into the back of the truck, the pair of you blinking owlishly as Tillens shifted the cargo to make a path of exit into a familiar alley. Climbing out carefully, you turned to unload the suitcases as Curt passed each, nodding sharply to the farmer before you and the airman assembled yourselves, and strolled casually out into the foot traffic on the sidewalk.

The interference and unpredictability of humans had you on edge, not appreciating the way Curt always seemed to be not where you expected him to be with every glance over your shoulder. After the fourth time you looked for him a little too long, your heart in your throat, you stepped around a rather annoying blonde making eyes at him, and seized his free hand with yours. To keep better track of him, of course. The fact that your throat tightened slightly as his blunt fingers wrapped around your hand in return, requiring a forceful swallow to clear it, was utterly irrelevant.

Turning the corner, you looked both ways before tugging on his hand, guiding him across the street to the unassuming building of flats from which you were intending to collect your warmer clothes and some other supplies. The sight of the rather nice car out front was the first sign that something was off. The next was the sound of your neighbour, an ancient, haggard woman named Josephine De Smet, speaking loudly in the stairwell, her creaking voice cascading down the tiled stairs to the lobby, halting your feet immediately.

Clearly distracted, Curt’s body collided with your back, forcing you to brace against the wall lest you topple over.

“Geez, why’d you sto–” His less-than-hushed whisper was cut off by your palm, forcefully freed from his grasp, slapping over his mouth as you quickly pushed him back into the corner of the lobby under the stairs, casting a sharp look at him before craning your ear back upwards.

Holding your breath, you listened intently, trying to hear the rest of the conversation. To confirm if the alarm bells ringing in your head were warranted.

“Just what has that hussy gotten herself mixed up in then, sir?” The old crone rasped in French, not her usual choice of language, and you pressed your lips into a line thin.

“I cannot say, madam, other than she is a monster and you’d best be wary.” The deep male voice, a German accent poisoning his pronunciation, made you inhale sharply through your nose.

Hand dropping from where it pressed against Curt’s remarkably plush and soft lips to grasp the lapel of his jacket, you pulled hard, yanking him out of the building and back onto the street. They were a lot closer on your trail than you had realized. Pulse rabbiting at your throat, you held your suitcase out to Curt in a silent request, grateful when he took it without question, following you as you took off down the sidewalk at a brisk clip.

Darting around the next corner, you led him on a chaotic, unpredictable, and hopefully untraceable path to a tramway stop several blocks away as you dug through your shoulder bag for the coins to make fare for both of you. Once that was secured, you traded his fare for your suitcase, tucking your own coins into the pocket of your light jacket, trying to suppress your grimace at the loss of your winter clothes in that now unvisitable flat. The feeling of Curt’s sturdy hand slipping into yours, enveloping your skin in warmth and his strong grip, halted you for half a step before releasing some of the tension in your lungs.

Propelling forward across the street, the pair of you jumped onto the tram just as it was about to pull away, shuffling into the heart of the crowded carriage to purchase your tickets and keep your faces away from the windows. It was not an overly warm ride to Antwerpen-Centraal station, but you could certainly feel sweat prickling in your armpits and rolling down your back between your shoulder blades. Tugging on Curt’s sleeve, you disembarked one stop short with him and ducked into an alley to yank the wig free, hanging your head upside down to shake out your hair before repining it. It surely looked sad, but given that identity papers were required to board a train, you needed to resemble your photo and thus the wig was shoved into a nearby trash bin.

“We will be asked for papers, there will be a lot of soldiers, try to remain relaxed and do as I do.” You whispered to Curt, and he nodded, patting the left breast of his pocket with an easy smile, though you watched his adam’s apple bob sharply as he swallowed. “We will be buying tickets and travelling to the border where will stop for the night, alright?”

“Lead on, gorgeous.” He nodded and turned to following you toward the grand, stone-clad station built at the turn of the century.

The presence of Nazi soldiers was pronounced, their bright red swatiskas flashing about the otherwise pleasant square like blemishes on a beautiful face. Keeping your expression perfectly neutral yet pleasant, confident yet not cocky, you took a moment to exhale slowly as you made it past the first hurdle into the building before heading to the ticket counter, requesting two tickets to Kortrijk. It was nothing short of a miracle that you managed a polite nod rather than kissing the ticket seller full on the mouth when he informed you the train would be leaving in twenty minutes. Pulling the bills from your bag, you accepted the tickets in return before leading Curt to track three.

Rolling your shoulders in and down your back, you confidently offered your identity papers to the Nazi soldier standing at the carriage door, immensely pleased when Curt did the same without prompting.

“Where are you two headed?” The soldier asked in clipped, stilted French, his piercing blue eyes wholly unsettling as they flicked between you and Curt before coming back to you.

“Kortrijk, sir.” You answered simply.

If he wanted to know more, he would need to ask more. You certainly had a lie prepared should he require one. He made a noise of displeasure, looking over your shoulder, implying the accumulation of other passengers.

“Off you go.” He grunted, returning both sets of papers to you and you nodded rapidly, climbing aboard quickly, even as your arm shook under the strain of hauling your body up the steps.

Shuffling down the hallway of the carriage, you at last came to an empty compartment, stepping inside and setting your luggage on the bench. As soon as Curt stepped in behind you, you slid the door shut behind him, knowing it was rude with a full train but not wanting anyone else to join you. As you turned back, he was already hoisting your suitcase up onto the luggage rack, making you smile fondly.

“Merci.” You murmured, hoping he would understand your meaning.

Judging by his responding smile, it seemed he certainly did. Despite your longing to collapse onto the bench seat, you sat with decorum, trying not to stare at your watch and count down the minutes. As the last whistle blew and the cars at last shunted into motion, you finally relaxed back into the cushion behind you.

“Is it always like that?” Curt whispered and you shot him a rueful look before shaking your head.

“I am deeply sorry, that…that is solely a complication of traveling with me right now.” You murmured in response, digging out his ticket and papers, returning them to him. “The conductor will arrive closer to our destination to check your ticket, then we show the papers again in the station after we detrain.”

You watched as he carefully took the items and tucked them back into his inner pocket.

“No apologies, gorgeous. We’re both not wanted here, so it’s a good thing we’re leaving.” He nodded and you looked out the window when rain pelted the glass as the train left the shelter of the station, biting the inside of your cheek savagely to keep your emotions in check. “Why don’t we have some lunch?”

He started to root around in the bag from Legot and you forced a smile, sharing the few apples and the small wedge of cheese, akin to a rare jewel, that the man had gifted the two of you with. After a minor squabble over who ought to be resting, Curt finally gave up and obstinately remained awake as you insisted that you must, staring out the window as the fields of Flanders rolled by. The train made numerous stops until the conductor arrived to check your tickets, signalling you were about to arrive in Kortrijk, the final stop.

Courtesy of your preparation, the process went remarkably smooth, and the pair of you stepped off the train once Curt had retrieved the suitcases from overhead. Another successful check of your papers and you were melting into the population freshly departing from their workday and making their way home. Within thirty minutes, you had arrived at an unassuming home on the southern edge of town, knocking the door in the prescribed way.

A young woman with a toddler perched on her hip opened the door, eyeing each of you cautiously.

“May I help you?” She asked in Dutch.

“Good afternoon, Ma’am. We were wondering if you might be interested in some new cosmetics?” You smiled broadly, delivering the passphrase.

A flash of recognition crossed her delicate features, her plump cheeks flushing in excitement as she briefly went rigid before she reined in her emotions. “Why don’t you come in and show me what you have for sale…” She stepped back, holding the door open wider for you and Curt to step inside.

Once the door was secured behind you, she led you through her small but tidy home up the narrow stairs to a small half door before opening it slowly.

“Here you are, dinner will take some time.”

“Whatever you can spare is truly appreciated, thank you.” You thanked her softly, sliding your suitcase into the attic before crouching down to crawl in after it.

The space was smaller than Legot’s cellar but larger than the back of Tillens’ dairy truck, enough room for each of you to lay flat, high up in the very peak of the small house. It was not a safe house you would have employed for a larger group. For the first time, you were grateful it was nearly November and not the heat of summer.

“Ouch!” Curt hissed as he cracked his head on a low beam, and you frowned, shifting up onto your knees to make sure he was alright. “Yeah, yeah, m’fine Marie, just an idiot.” He gave you a lopsided grin and you shook your head.

“Sorry it’s not the Ritz, but it’s not a cellar either?” You tilted your head hopefully.

“Never stayed at the Ritz, you?” He asked, settling onto the centuries-old wooden planks beside you.

“Hmmm.” You hummed noncommittally. “She says she’ll have something for us to eat in a bit, we will rest and then start out walking after midnight.”

“Walk…?” He prompted, eyebrow raised.

“It is not easy to cross the border, we cannot simply take the train into France, so we must walk. It is best to do so at night, and even better to do so rested. I promise we can linger a little longer at our next place, but we must get out of Belgium.” Despite your efforts to quash it, a slight tremor remained in your voice and Curt shot you a look of sympathy and utterly threatened your ability to maintain your composure. “So sleep.” You tacked on firmly and pulled off your jacket, folding it up to make a pillow before laying on your side with your back to him.

There was a decidedly awkward silence as he remained seated, looming above you, before laying down with a heavy exhale, clearly frustrated with you. Well that made two of you.

Dinner arrived two hours later with a soft knock, driving home the fact that you had not slept, but the warm vegetable hash was so very welcome and filling, giving you hope that you might be able to actually fall asleep for the last few hours of your stay here. As you lay back down onto your make-shift pillow, Curt’s breaths almost immediately evened out into the heavy sighs of sleep, making your lips twitch in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Yet as you closed your eyes, all that echoed through your mind was the voice of your father ‘mon petit monstre’ and the Gestapo agent from the stairwell of your flat building ‘elle est un monstre.’

Petit monstre

Un monstre

Monstre

Grief clawed at your throat, making you sit up sharply as you gasped for air, eyes brimming with tears as the realization that you would never again hear that nickname in your father’s voice – that it would now only come to you by way of anger and insult – sank like a stone in the pit of your stomach. Sniffling petulantly as your nose began to run, you jumped at the feeling of Curt’s hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong…” He whispered groggily, shifting closer.

Shaking your head quickly, you roughly wiped the tears from your eyes trying to hide the evidence, huffing as the action only caused fresh ones to spill onto your cheeks.

“Don’t tell me then, just c’mere.” He replied and gathered you into his arms, cradling you close against his chest.

Every muscle in your body went rigid at first, your rational, well-trained self knowing this was utterly inappropriate. And yet…

And yet, he was so warm, so kind, and he was holding you so tightly that maybe you could fall apart just a little without crumbling entirely. Surrendering to the fact that no arms had attempted to hold and comfort you in years, you yielded to his embrace, becoming pliant as you loosened the clenched-fist-grip on your grief just a little, allowing tears to slide freely down your cheeks in the darkness of that attic as his palm soothed up and down your spine.

“Shhh, I’m right here, you’re not alone…”

How very much you wanted to believe him.

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

Read Part Three

In My Blood Masterlist

Tag list: @precious-little-scoundrel, @luminouslywriting, @polikabra, @beingalive1

#curtis biddick x reader #curt biddick x reader #curtis biddick #curt biddick #mota fanfic #mota fic #masters of the air fanfiction #mota #masters of the air

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5ducksinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

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eep i have a test on all of ww1 and ww2 (and the interwar period! yay!) tmrw and i'm not very ready!! anyways i'm going to summarize most of what i know ABOUT WW1 under the cut. mostly for my studying but if you want to see you're welcome to read it. BEWARE IT IS LONG

BACKGROUND

scene opens on Germany, a young nation eager to prove itself as strong to the other European powers, namely Britain, who has lots and lots of colonies at this point. (the sun never sets on the British empire!). Britain also has the strongest navy. Germany believes in "Weltpolitik", meaning aggressive expansion.

Germany has recently beaten France in the Franco-Prussian War and acquired the territory Alsace-Lorraine. France is angry and embarrassed. It went from being the biggest European power under the rule of Napoleon to this!! France hates Germany.

Russia is poor but MASSIVE and has a HUGE POLULATION. if it is awaken, it will do serious damage. luckily it is "sleeping" for now.

The Austria-Hungarian empire is made up of many different nations along the Balkan Peninsula who hate being part of the empire. The Balkan Peninsula is known as the powder keg of Europe because a single spark could make it blow up.

There was also the Moroccan Crisis where Britain decided to support France (against Germany) in Egypt and the Suez canal. There is more here, but basically it solidified the hard feelings between Germany and France/Britain.

Everyone starts beefing up their military because conflict is coming!

ALLIANCES FORM

Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Italy ally themselves to form the Triple Alliance. Germany organized this to try to isolate France.

Britain, France, and Russia ally to form the Triple Entente because they were a bit worried about Germany (especially France).

THE SPARK

Archduke Francis Ferdinand, heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary, goes to visit Sarajevo with his wife. He thinks the people will love him! He doesn't know that he is visiting during a parade for Slavic independence. They don't like him. Gavrilo Princip, a member of a nationalist group called Black Hand, kills Francis and his wife.

Austria-Hungary is ANGRY. It blames the government (who didn't organize the assassination, but who weren't sad about it either) and makes unreasonable demands to Serbia, who refuses.

Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia.

Russia mobilized troops to protect Serbia.

Germany declared war on Russia for mobilizing its troops. Germany was aligned with A-H, so it was at war with Serbia too. Germany also declared war on France because it was allied with Russia (and Germany just didn't like France).

Germany marched through Belgium to get to France quickly so it could defeat France before Russia "woke up". This was called the Schlieffen plan.

Britain declared war on Germany because it had secretly agreed to help Belgium remain sovereign. Now that Britain is at war, so are its many colonies. The war has breached European confinement.

WAR WAS LONG. NO SIDE MOVED OR GAINED MUCH TERRITORY. MANY DIED.

CANADA'S INVOLVEMENT

Men had the idea that war would be quick and glorious so lots signed up!

Germans and Ukrainians were forced to register with authorities and many were sent to internment camps.

Black and Indigenous men faced obstacles trying to enlist because of racism.

French Canadians enlisted less because they had, for the most part, been in Canada longer than British Canadians, so they didn't feel as emotionally attached to France. They also didn't appreciate being encouraged to go fight for Britain because they weren't British.

Women's suffrage and prohibition became two large issues across the country.

Conscription - Borden had promised not to have conscription, but then he took it back. People were angry. He gave women with husbands overseas the right to vote because they would want to send help to the war to bring their husbands back. Yay?

THE BATTLE OF YPRES: Germany introduced poison gas and created a gaping hole in the defences. Canada remained strong and closed the gap. It was the first European battle Canada fought in and it established itself as a powerful country. yippee.

THE BATTLE OF THE SOMME: one of the bloodiest battles in history for all sides. 68 of almost 800 Newfoundland soldiers survived the first few days.

BATTLE OF PASSCHENDAELE: seen as a symbol of ww1's senseless slaughter as thousands died on the field (either killed, drowned in the mud because it was super rainy, or got trenchfoot (don't google it. yucky.))

VIMY RIDGE: this becomes a source of national pride to this day. Canada was able to take a ridge held by Germany that nobody else had succeeded in taking. Ultimately it gave Canada its own seat in post-war discussions and made it recognized as a country. HOW DID WE DO IT? They build a system of caves and tunnels and a railway to transport explosives. During the attack, a creeping barrage of soldiers made its way up the hill, in between heavy artillery fire (in front of and behind them) that was also making its way up the hill. This way, when they stopped firing, the Canadians were on top of the German soldiers. This is called the Vimy Glide. ARTHUR CURRIE was the general who came up with it.

TURNING POINTS:

Not really a turning point but i don't have another section: GALLIPOLI: Australia was a British colony so it had to fight for Britain. Britain threw Australians at the Ottomans as a feint. It was a slaughter.

ITALY CHANGED SIDES due to a secret treaty granting it territories that Italian people lived in. (After the war, they weren't given this territory, leading to the rise of Mussolini).

THE US ENTERED THE WAR: Americans had wanted to stay neutral, but they hated Germany thanks to British propaganda. A German U-boat sunk the Lusitania, which contained American civilians. THE ZIMMERMAN TELEGRAM was from Germany to Mexico saying to attack the southern states to the US was busy fighting and couldn't join the war. The US intercepted this, got angrier at Germany, and joined the war. This helped wear down the Triple Alliance (now down to 2 because of Italy).

PEACE TREATY WAS SIGNED ON NOVEMBER 11 1918

there was then a revolt against the German government because German people had believed they were winning.

#im gonna do ww2 on a reblog #if you find this helpful that's nice #social studies #studying #tagging so i can find this for my final lol #school

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lindsayrps · 8 months ago

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an endless road to rediscover

alex has been back in england for forty eight hours and they still haven’t taken him back to thorpe abbotts yet.

the hospital came first, he’d suspected as much. he’s sure he only looks marginally better than he did five weeks ago so the poking and prodding is to be expected, he supposes. the doctor assesses his arm, making sure it had been set properly, all the while humming and hawing at the handiwork of manon who’d set it in the first place. it had hurt like a bitch, then, both breaking it upon impact in belgium and getting it set several hours later in paris and he’d felt pathetic for not being able to handle the pain in the moment but now it just felt like a dull ache.

he’s thankful they don’t decide to plaster it as a precaution—it’s been five weeks, he’s not in considerable pain, nothing seems wrong with it the way it was but they put it in a sling, a triangle of white fabric similar to the one camille had used. a week or two out from being healed completely, they mention, but he should still avoid using it until then, just in case.

"who patched you up?" the doctor asks, tightening the sling around alex’s neck.

"i don’t remember." alex shrugs. he’s not sure how much this doctor knows about where alex has been and while he doesn’t exactly have any reason to not trust him, it’s easier to just not say anything. outing manon as a member of the resistance felt counterproductive to what the whole movement was about in the first place.

thankfully, the doctor just glosses over it.

"no signs of infection, no crooked bones." he hums, stepping back from alex. "damn fine work."

when they decide to send him back to thorpe abbotts, the air force sends a higher ranking member to escort him from the train station in london to east anglia where he finds out someone from base will come collect him like a forgotten package to take him the rest of the way.

there’s a joke in there, somewhere.

he’s not sure who he’s expecting but he’s not all that upset to find out that it’s sidney halstead. it’s not a terribly long drive from the station to base but sidney picks him up in a jeep and spends most of the time talking enough for the both of them all the same. alex thinks he talks about everything under the sun but he’s at least merciful enough to not ask about where he’s been, what he’d been doing or what happened to the rest of the crew he’d been with.

it’s probably a distraction tactic, alex realizes, and sidney’s always been extremely and eerily good at those so he supposes it’s not entirely surprising nor unwelcome. after all ,he’d already answered enough questions about the last month and a half from people higher up than halstead and knows that everyone will have several questions of their own so he’d just rather not get into it right now.

better, then, to talk about who’s suddenly decided they’re good at cards or darts after months of pretending they weren’t.

sidney swerves past the sign just outside of base and alex thinks it’s a little too quiet the further in they get. there must be a mission, he thinks, taking in the sight of a few of the ground crew milling about with some of the local kids from nearby farms, pointing out various parts of the planes they’re working on. they wave politely before going back to what they’d been doing and before alex knows it, sid’s stopping the jeep outside the barracks. he cuts the ignition and looks over at alex from behind sunglasses.

"those of us who aren’t flying today are out at the clubhouse, if you wanna swing by there." he says by way of extending an invitation that would’ve otherwise been unspoken.

"i’m exhausted, sid. kinda just wanna sleep for as long as they’ll let me." alex exhales deeply, thinking over who could possibly still be grounded. if sid’s here, then that means david, sam and jack are, too. armstrong and holland are wild cards but it’s possible. "does everyone know i’m back?"

"'course they do," sid chuckles, "shit, i’m sure they’d be throwin' a party if they’d been allowed."

"right." a beat, "my stuff still inside or did they send it back to the states?"

"nah, should be there." sid shakes his head, restarting the jeep and speaking just above the din of the engine. "hatch wouldn’t let anyone take your bunk, let alone send your footlocker back home."

alex is thankful for that, he thinks, as he climbs out of the jeep, grabbing his jacket from the back. cutting around the front of it, his feet carry him to stop just in front of the building on the other side.

"hey kid," sid calls from behind him and when he turns, adds, "it’s good to have you back."

"thanks, sid."

alex watches as he speeds off then turns his attention back to the building in front of him. it felt like a lifetime since he’d set foot in it but, unsurprisingly, nothing’s changed. same drab olive green and dark grey blankets and pathetic excuses for pillows. down the middle, between rows of bunks, he picks his way over to the one he’d claimed when he’d been sent here. it’s in almost pristine condition, the blankets tucked in tight on each side, the pillow resting neatly on top of it. alex’s foot sweeps underneath it, the toe of his boot hitting the footlocker underneath and sid wasn’t wrong—all of his stuff was still here at a bunk that hadn’t been touched in five weeks.

he might’ve almost missed it, all things considered.

lowering himself down to sit on the bunk, his feet swing up and his head falls against the pillow. he wasn’t lying when he’d said he was exhausted. he’s not entirely sure how many solid, consecutive hours of sleep he’s had in five weeks that wasn’t aided by codeine or morphine and it’s catching up with him. he closes his eyes for what feels like a split second but when he opens them again, it’s darker and he’s not alone, glancing over to find david sitting on the edge of the bunk beside his.

"jesus christ," alex’s brow knits together at the sight, "you always watch people in their sleep now or am i just lucky?"

"don’t flatter yourself, kid." david laughs, clear as a bell, then says, "halstead said he’d dropped you off, just wanted to make sure you didn’t disappear on us again."

"yeah, yeah." alex huffs, shifting to swing his feet back onto the ground. "you’re stuck with me for good now."

"a little busted up," david jerks his chin towards alex’s arm. "they sending you home soon?"

"a little but better than i was." he says then shakes his head, "no. can’t get back in a plane, though."

"where’d you end up?"

"france." a beat and a subject change. "anyways, maybe they’ll toss me up to ops and away from you."

"you’re lucky but not that lucky." david chuckles, hands pushing him up off the bunk opposite alex so he’s standing. "come on, get up."

"where are we going?" alex asks, knows better than to say no, so he stands, too.

"clubhouse," david slings an arm around alex’s shoulders, "you’ve missed out on five weeks of bets."

"what are we betting on this time?"

"how long it takes holland to make a move on nellie."

"the red cross girl with the—"

"the cute dimple, yeah." david nods, steering alex towards the door and out to a jeep. "think we’re finally getting somewhere but with them, who knows."

"you tried hitting on her again, didn’t you?" alex asks, trying not to laugh when david makes a noise instead of confirming or denying. "what if she makes a move on him first?"

"that," david stops to consider and contemplate, "never crossed my mind."

"gonna change your bet now?"

"oh, of course not."

#verse: at the end of the world #type: writing #sh: the jackals #bc more than one of them makes an appearance and they all get mentioned

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diary-of-a-recovering-party-girl · 1 year ago

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Maybe I need some distance from my friends [14- 15.10.2023]

I'm waking up later and later by the day. Yesterday, it was about 12am, I luckily was able to sleep well after the birthday party last night despite my sleep anxiety.

In the evening, I met with Y to go accessory shopping for a party on where they will film scenes for a Netflix series. Of course, I was already stressing about my outfit since I heard about the event. Meeting Y, I always know there will be something fun happening and that is part of why I like her so much. In the store, the store assistant started helping us when she was trying on some hats and basically shamed Y for wanting to buy the cheapest thing possible. "You can just buy china stuff then". She was a cosplayer she told us and my negative stereotypes keep getting confirmed.

Afterwards, we stayed freezing in the subway station while I told her about the story of my crazy ex roommate which I apparently hadn't told her about even though it's an integral part of my recent history and thus, of my personality.

I love that it is autumn now. I feel like the whe city is telling me to calm down, wear pullovers, drink tea and focus on sewing and studying. Berlin is saying to me "It's okay if you're tired, I'm tired too". As much as I love summer, I am happy he left for now, giving me a whole season to proces, relax and recover.

I did a walk in the evening just to appreciate the murky grey sky and the yellow street lights until the sun fully set and it was dark.

After some back and forth, I managed to meet up with M to go to a party in a squatted house and also was looking forward to see G there later.

I keep being surprised I really became friends with M, the first friend since over a year that I didn't meet at a party.

So, we went to the squat, kind of nervous about if we looked "cool" enough, but there was no bouncer, just a low entry fee and then a big room full of grafitti. M turned to me and said in a low voice: "This is punk, right?". Out of nervous it's over getting in I hadn't paid attention to the music until then, but she was right. Everybody around us was wearing black leather or jeans vests, dreadlocks and iros everywhere. This was clearly not a techno party. We creeped inside, suddenly hyperaware of our outfits and the fact that we clearly didn't fit it, squeezed into the last corner at the back of the dance floor (do you even call it dance floor if nobody is dancing) and tried to not attract anybody's attention while making jokes in a low voice to confirm to each other that this was funny and not disappointing. I couldn't really get into the music of the band that was playing but I enjoyed people watching. While observing the punks bumping their fists in the air and headbanging, I wondered what their opinion on a techno party would be.

Outside, M told me about the first weeks in her stay abroad in Belgium. We still talked low when other people were around, scared to say something that would be problematic to the punk crowd, when we suddenly heard a guy next to us say "... down to the techno cellar". M and I stared at each other, we hadn't been wrong about the event then!

As it turned out, the same venue simply hosted two events with two separate entries and we simply hadn't seen the entrance to the cellar. Inside, I instantly felt integrated and at the right place again. The music wasn't too good, especially in the beginning when the dance floor was still basically empty. The atmosphere was completely different; people dancing by themselves with their eyes closed, sporty outfits, awareness team. When the music got a bit better, I really started to feel dancy again, closed my eyes and did so, realizing I hadn't "really" danced like this in 1.5 months. In Portugal, the focus had always in the end been on interacting with the people there.

M and her boyfriend left at 1:30 and right when I went to bring them outside, I received Gs text that she was coming as well. She had been texting me before that she was too tired and in usual Holly-manner I had tried and failed to be understanding and empathetic and not pissed at her for canceling last minute. Now, she was coming after all. She didn't like the music either because it wasn't hardstyle enough for her and she was still tired, despite doing coke. I was happy to see CL again, though, who also came with her boyfriend and other friends of G.

The last hour of the party I spent laying/sitting on a couch with G and removing the bubbles from a water. Random guys sat next to me and started talking to me and I started calculating at what time I have to get home to get enough sleep until the next day.

When we left, G was still a bit disappointed because of the music. We took a bus together and talked about meeting up to do arts and crafts together. Making plans with friends always makes my whole body warm up with excitement.

Then I was home. It was 6am and I was tired. Insomnia. My brain was too tired to form coherent thought, my body was so exhausted I could barely turn around and I couldn't sleep. Sleep anxiety. Telling myself I still have more or less enough time and I can also go to the event tomorrow tired only helped a bit. How can my body have insomnia when it's 6am and I was up all night, how can that even be physically possible?? I deliberately didn't look at the clock but I think I didn't sleep before 8am.

The next day, I woke up correspondingly whacked, still wondering how I can suddenly have such strong insomnia. I continued cleaning my disorganized flat.

Then the messages arrived in the group chat. The protest and people thought about going. C, with whom I wanted to go to the Netflix event later thought to just pass by the protest. My astonishment at her unrealistic time planning mixed with some type of impotent anxiety at the realization that everyone disagrees with me on this topic and everyone disagrees strongly.

Also, the time planning, as always. C was helping Y with her move and I knew they wouldn't be able to meet on time at C's place to get ready, especially when none of them answered when I started asking about it. I ended up calling C, and told them that we needed to meet soon or we wouldn't make it.

Waiting for the bus, I reached my emotional down of the weekend. I read a tiny piece of news, just to confirm my most basic knowledge about the Gaza conflict. I couldn't believe how people I loved and cherished so much could believe so strongly in the opposite of what I believed in. And the conflict itself made me feel a dull terror of what humans could do to each other. I ended up making a donation to a humanitarian organization, just to do something about the sharp pain in my chest, to do something against the suffocating sense of powerlessness. In the bus, I saw many police cars pass us. For sure they were there for the protest.

When I met Y and C, everything was fine again. The beginning of the Netflix party had been postponed by an hour and we just talked about the event, our outfits and the food that we were eating. Getting ready at her place was stressful but happy. We were doing what we always did together again, what we were good at together.

At the event, everything was a lot more relaxed than I had expected by the e-mails they had sent. Without any problems, we got our wristbands and went inside, where we met friends of C and also H. There were a lot less people there than I expected, though and the light was too bright to really feel like an authentic party. But anyways, Netflix filmed it and we danced away. They had an open bar and kept giving out shots. I tried and failed to get drunk. My urge to get drunk had to always fight with my responsible brain that told me it was Sunday, I knew I wasn't feeling my best and I was starting university the next day which ended up in me drinking enough to have a headache the next day but not really feel drunk there. What a waste of alcohol.

I really liked talking to H, he has got to be the most hyperactive and social person I've ever met and I love it. He kept talking to and knowing everyone. Once, he took off his shirt and layed it on a wall for me to sit on because there had been drinks spilled over it. His kindness reminds me of the first time I met M and A.

At the end of the night, Y puked because she took keta while she was already drunk and I held her hair. Then we all went home except for H even though he also has his first week of university tomorrow and he plans to party less but we all know what that means.

C waited with me for my last bus, probably also because her Mdma started kicking in then and we chatted more about my Portugal debouchery.

Despite having a relatively good time, I can't shake the feeling of this political difference being between us. Whenever I read any piece of news about it, my whole body cramps up and I feel a useless, powerless, dull anger. I thought about doing grafitti to voice my opinion because I don't feel safe voicing it any other way. At least not safe of my friendships.

I wondered if I should take some distance from my friends for a while. It feels like since this thing happened, I notice more and more things where I am different from the, things that I never even noticed before. Of course, our friendship is widely based on partying together, and I feel like I wanna do that less at least for the winter season. I feel like none them still really get why I stopped doing drugs. They would never judge me for it but it's another thing that we don't have in common anymore. And their unreliability annoys me just as much as in the beginning.

I wondered if I need a break, a party free beginning of autumn that can also give me time to focus on the things I want to focus on since ages: Parcour, fitness, my art, health. This conflict might be an opportunity to push myself that way.

#d3 #diary #gaza #israel #hamas #poltics #political differences #friends #friendship #friend group

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le-souriant · 1 year ago

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#MusicMonday Review - April 2023

#MusicMonday is the hashtag I've been using for quite a while to share music recommendations from up-and-coming artists. Always fresh, and always different, trying to look for trends before they become one. You can check March's review for more music.

Welcome to our moody edition, where this month's music may transport you to a different state, temper, place, or era, all with a word from the artists themselves. 🎧

asia – Twenty twenty

I never thought that you would want to fall for me til you did

Now I don't know where you are Doesn't matter now So I don't know where I am

Sometimes you only need a guitar, and inspiration, to set a mood like no other, like this Sad Indie track, coming from Brussels, Belgium:

"I wrote it during Covid so it was largely inspired by the feeling of being stranded hahaha"

The Lonely Together – City Lights

Some men will never find love They're chasing all the wrong kind of city girls And it's true that there are many But for me, there was only ever one

I've never been so worried and I've never felt so scared in the knowledge that I cannot be there

From Edinburgh, Scotland, another dreamy mood piece, where the city air feels warm, floodlit by the sun, hanging over the absence of that special someone:

"I wrote it while apart from someone I cared about… the feeling of distance - different cities/views/surroundings and the emotions that stirred up. It’s a real love song."

Delta – En Mi Lugar

Siete copas tras la barra son algunas de las farras Que hace tiempo no me pego Solo puedo dar las gracias peinarme las cuatro canas Por lo bien que lo hemos hecho

En mi lugar, mirar atrás Sentir que todo pasa y nada está de más Un chaval, que no da más Al fin entiende que todo llega al final

Moving now to Barcelona, this Spanish Pop track offers a nostalgic mood in which time often puts us in our place:

"Well that’s an easy one! Since En mi Lugar is probably the first song with a common ground to share between all our band mates. A bittersweet feeling we all share when we take a look back into our lives only to realize how wonderful our past experiences have been, and at the same time facing the truth of knowing that most of those experiences are never to be repeated again."

Storm the Palace – Some of the Beasts and Birds We Saw

You and I found this In a moment, a pause for thought A faulty rhyme of two straight lines One pushes back, the other forth

One day you will grow into yourself And then you will blossom for all to see And no one will take your for any less Than you were meant to be

We go back to Edinburgh for a taste of Pagan Pop, complete with its own medieval mood that can make a new adventure from your daily dog walk:

"It started with a bit of graffiti on the river path near my house, which read "some of the beasts and birds we saw". WillaDavie took this and turned it into lyrics, which I then turned into the song.

I think the song is about the time she and I spent together throughout lockdown, going for walks, drinking in graveyards, talking about life and art and all things in between."

Pan Arcadia – Deja Vu

We’ve been left to instinct Left an imprint on my brain Often it's been different But it didn’t feel that way yesterday

I remember on the lawn How you used to sing along And I know you remember too You say you still get satisfaction From that fast and easy action I know I still get it too

For our last mood of the month, let's go to Williamsburg, Brooklyn for an Indie Rock track about that good ‘ole deja vu that gets us through the night in the city:

"The song was inspired by being in quarantine and thinking about summer days in New York City."

Listen to them and much more on the complete Playlist:

#music #musicmonday #review #april #2023 #Spotify

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amoveablejake · 1 year ago

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My Five Key Songs of June 2023

The halfway point.

June felt like a long month which I think is down to a few different reasons. First off, I went away to Belgium at the beginning of the month and a trip throwing off the usual rhythm always does make a month feel longer. Alongside this the heat that has been ever present too has made the days feel that much longer. All of this is to say that when I looked back over my June playlist, some of the earlier additions feel like they could have been from February not from only a few weeks ago. I have tried to go with gut instincts on this one and to not let recency bias cloud my judgement so we’ll see what my shootin’ from the hip picks have led to this time.

First up for June, ‘Oh Pretty Woman’ by Roy Orbison.

Okay, so no way did I see ‘Oh Pretty Woman’ or actually any Roy Orbison track making its way into one of these round ups but the thing is you never know whats going to come in and knock everything else out the park. ‘Oh Pretty Woman’ is one of those songs that you seem to always be aware of as it seems to always be in the air somewhere and that was the case when I returned from Belgium. I can’t quite remember where I heard it but I remember it reaching my ears and then suddenly I had a complete urge to put on my headphones on and to listen to it and once I got that opportunity that is exactly what I did, over and over and over again. I would say that I have become more of a Roy Orbison admirer due to it but in actuality I haven’t been able to look passed ‘Oh Pretty Woman’ just yet. Orbison’s voice is quite something and the guitar work on ‘Oh Pretty Woman’ shows why the track keeps on getting air time because man alive, it is a hit and one that I feel like I have only really listened to for the first time.

Second up to bat, ‘Across the Spider-Verse (Intro) by Daniel Pemberton.

I knew that I had to pick a song from the ‘Across the Spider-Verse’ score. There was no question about it after that cinematic experience. The real question was, which song. There have been tracks that I have listened to a lot more than the intro song but I felt that this was the fitting choice as when I heard the introductory music to ‘Across the Spider-Verse’ alongside the visuals and the way the story was being set up, I got goosebumps. It made me so incredibly excited as everything that the character on screen was doing felt like it was exactly as they were in the comic books and the building momentum of the music alongside that only made my anticipation grow and grow as I settled in to what would be one of the best depictions of Spider-Man or any comic book character ever really. There is real love and care radiating from this film and the work that has gone into the score truly shows that level of thoughtfulness even more.

Third on the June list is ‘La pioggia di marzo’ by Mina.

I always thought that ‘Pet Sounds’ was my song, followed closely by ‘Heroes’ but I’m now starting to wonder if maybe another track might need to sit alongside it. ‘Waters of March’ has become one of my all time favourite tracks and that has only been confirmed even more by the different versions of it that I keep uncovering. The moment when I first heard ‘La pioggia di marzo’ and really the moment where I realised what song it was, has been ever present in my head this past month. It was one of those moment where it feels like the stars have aligned and that you were meant to find this song or in this case, this version of it. Sure, ‘Waters of March’ being sung by Art Garfunkel will always be my true favourite version as it is the one that I fell for first but Mina’s take here is very special and brings something wholly new to the song. This version is more of life, it feels happier, not that the Garfunkel one isn’t but here Mina’s voice teamed with the trumpets inparticular combine to lift the song to a whole new level of joy and its the sort of track you can’t help but quietly smile to as the sun shines in your headphones.

The penultimate song for June is ‘NIGHTS’ by Masayoshi Takanaka.

Okay. Look, lets not bury the lead here. Masayoshi Takanka is the man. He is one of my key guys and I am going through a bit of a love in renaissance with his discography at the moment. I use to have a few select tracks of his that meant the world to me that I would often return to and now I have stumbled in to doing a complete discography work through and I am all the better for it as Takanaka’s true masterful brilliance is ever present on every track he has put out. Perhaps none more so, okay that isn’t true as there are ones that I adore even more but for now we’ll go with it, ‘NIGHTS’. When I listen to ‘NIGHTS’ I feel a warm wave wash over me. It is a wave that makes me think of very specific happy memories and also makes me daydream about ones to come. It feels at points like the sort of thing that plays at the end of a coming of age film where the main characters think back on the times they have had and look forward to the ones to come. I think thats where I am with it and ‘NIGHTS’ is the sort of track that when I listen to it, I think I would like to pass it on one day or for it to be the sort of song that when any little one listens to further down the line they remember me listening to it and they smile. Its hygge, truly. Or at least my version of it.

And the key song of the month for June is ‘True Blue’ by boygenius.

I really had to weigh up here whether I should go with this boygenius number or Masayoshi Takanaka. In the end, I have gone with boygenius because I think when I listen to ‘True Blue’ in the future, I always think of June 2023 being when I first stumbled across this truly wonderful band. I was just about to write that it was hard to pick only one boygenius song to feature here but that isn’t true at all, it was always going to be ‘True Blue’. It was always going to be this track as the lyrics here are perhaps the best or at least my favourite from the latest record and the guitar work that features throughout is perfectly worked along with the vocals that are at their strongest for me on the record and that really is saying something on what is a close to perfection album. When I first wrote about boygenius I was very excited and now when I listen to their music, that excitement is still there but in a slightly different way. Its a bit like, I don’t know, there are certain songs and albums that you listen to multiple times a day or week and then there are albums and songs that you don’t listen to as often but when you do, it really hits you or when you see their record on a shelf you smile and think, they’re my band. I get that feeling with boygenius, sure, I don’t know if they’ll be my number one artist on the Spotify wrapped for 2023 but they don’t need to be. I know how special they are and thats enough.

So there we have it, the key songs for June 2023 with boygenius’ ‘True Blue’ making it to the end of the year playlist. We are also half way through the year now, the six month climb up the hill to this point is over as we reached the summit and it is the downhill to the end of the year now. I am looking forward to seeing what this second half of the year has in store and what music it will bring and who will end the year as my key artist. But there is still a long way to go for that, so for now its time to take it one day a time and to listen to the key song for July. I’m joking, I don’t know what it is yet. Well, okay, its a sort of joke. Maybe I do know.

I know.

-Jake, a man bored of the Verstappen dominance, 02/07/2023

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dear-ao3 · 11 months ago

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hi its me again welcome back to the mess that is my silly season post. as a reminder if you never want to see this again block the tag #saph explains silly season 2024

today is february 14, 2024 (happy valentines day mothers and fuckers of the jury) and lets dive in to the most recent batch of car releases

now, to be fair, this is a fairly tame update. nothing earth shattering has happened this week, but tomorrow we have the red bull car reveal. and that is anticipated to be...something. so im splitting this into everything that happened this week and then tomorrow we will get the red bull release and ill do my best to take another stab at explaining the red bull drama.

so so so we have four car releases: aston martin, ferrari, mercedes and mclaren. and well, mclaren already dropped their livery in the middle of January cause cause they're #built different and wanted to cause a social media stir in the middle of their taylor swift reputation esque instagram rebrand, so were mostly going to ignore them here cause we've been seeing that car for literally like a month

(also sorry mclaren but it looks pretty much the same as last years)

as for aston martin. well. its green. its a car. its fairly expected.

and ferrari was red. obviously. theres a fork in the kitchen and the ferrari car is red. but i digress.

ferrari did post some stupidly funny pictures of charles and carlos where they both look objectively miserable though. like. alarmingly so. like people made these memes about it:

(via the instagrams banter_steiner and msportbanter)

like those photos are on the real ferrari instagram account. which leaves many people to speculate if the car sucks. it might suck. at this point (i think) all of the drivers have driven this years car on a track individually (as in all at different tracks near where they're based, so ferrari was somewhere in italy, mclaren in england etc) so. they could know something we dont.

aside from that the other head turning car news was the mercedes car. she is pretty and she is sexy and she is not all black! you all remember how last update i talked about the fact that mercedes was the one to pilot the all black livery. well. clearly they remain ahead of the trend because they came out with this bad boy:

she's painted and once again she's ahead of the trend. we love her.

no other driver contracts have been signed as of yet. but we did learn that lewis hamilton had told zhou guanyu before he told the mercedes team that he was moving to ferrari in 2025. and zhou just told no one. cause hes cool like that.

and everyone under the sun still wants the mercedes seat. even esteban ocon. he will probably not get the mercedes seat. there is a rumor going around tho that everyone is basically out of the running except for our good friends kimi antonelli and fernando alonso. t supposedly kimi has plan a and fernando is plan b. but kimi (still being an f2 driver and only having his first year in f2 this year at that) still has to prove himself, which means they wont be announcing if they are signing him until at least june or july (about halfway through the season). though, as of now things are looking pretty good for kimi.

without getting too much into the f2 drama cause thats its own separate bag of cats, they had their pre season testing this week in bahrain. the first day of testing it rained (literally never happens) but kimi finished the testing with the fourth fastest time, 1:53.511s. this is pretty good when you realize that the fastest lap set that day was 1:53.175s (according to motorsport week) also, recall that george russell got his mercedes seat after the insane 2021 qualifying session in belgium, in a massive rainstorm, where he finished second in a shitbox williams. so. things are looking decently good for kimi.

moving on tho to fernando alonso. he had some things to say about the mercedes seat. and by things to say i mean that he had some shade to throw. earlier this week he spoke about the open mercedes seat and had this to say about lewis hamilton's ferrari move:

"It was not his childhood dream 12 months ago or two months ago, I guess, because it was a different dream." which is kind of a wild thing to say, but then again, fernando alonso has been a driver forever, i think hes entitled to a few batshit statements. and he definitely made more than just that one.

as a small refresher, there are currently three world champions on the grid: max verstappen, lewis hamilton and fernando alonso. verstappen and hamilton are both contracted, alonso is the only still available. and he knows that this puts him in a good position (a lot of teams might want him and they'd be willing to pay good money to get him, especially after the commitment to racing they saw in him last year, like when he beat checo by literally .053 seconds for third place in brazil). he said that he is not sure he will want to stay in formula 1 after this year (he has already retired once and expressed minor interest in going to a different league) but if he does he wants to first talk with aston martin about extending his contract there.

he did say though that verstappen and hamilton are "fast world champions, [and] in the past maybe there were some world champions who were not so committed to being fast." first of all Shade and second of all yeah he knows his value in the silly season. if you want to read the rest of his interview its on espn and its actually pretty interesting.

and the last bit we have to unpack before we get to the hot red bull disaster is of course sebastian vettel. you might be asking, who the fuck is sebastian vettel. well allow me to tell you.

sebastian vettel is a four time, consecutive world champion f1 driver (and also the youngest world champion, he won his first when he was 23). he won all of his championships with red bull before leaving the team to sign with ferrari. unfortunately for him that coincided with the rise of mercedes and he never won any championships with ferrari. carlos sainz took his ferrari seat in 2021 and sebastian raced with aston martin for 2 years before retiring in 2022 to spend time with his wife and kids and give younger drivers his seat (this is of course hilarious because he was replaced at aston martin by none other than fernando alonso. who is six years older than Sebastian).

sebastian also is lewis hamiltons emotional support rival, loves bees (and is a supporter of the environment and social justice) and is generally just a silly goofy fun guy.

now. what on earth foes a retired formula 1 driver have to do with silly season?

WELL

basically hes been being a little shit on instagram

and by being a little shit i mean that hes been posting hints at returning to formula 1, or at least to racing.

basically his entire instagram recently (read: for several months) is all old throw back photos of him at red bull with the tag #thereisstillaracetowin. which is. perplexing. because he is not racing.

then there is a video. posted on february 10. of him wearing a red bull jacket and hat with his logo on it. saying "since the beginning of january ive basically been preparing for the new year, for the new season. and i have been in the simulator several times now. and also with the team in england, just to slowly get back into the rhythm."

now yes, this is still one of the throwback posts of his career that they're reposting on his instagram. but it does have very interesting timing. not only are we in the silliest silly season known to man, but also the middle of the red bull drama.

there is also speculation that there german grand prix could be retuning to the calendar. which could connect to vettels supposed and hinted return.

admittedly, its a long shot that hes coming back. but its still interesting timing for sure.

and that of course takes us to red bull. no real news from them other than what we already know. but we do know that horner has:

been told by pretty much everyone under the sun that he should step down

has not stepped down and refuses to admit to any and all allegations

apparently has fallen out of favor with red bull

will be at the car launch tomorrow

so. could be interesting.

stay tuned :)

Sorry i tried to scroll past but, i know nothing about f1 other than max verstappen is fast, my dad doesnt like lewis hamilton, fast car goes in a loop and sometimes expodes. Could you give me a crash course in f1 drama? Im very intrigued. Whats the tea as it were?

a terribly loaded question, but i will do my best. i’ve talked about some of the drama before like the red bull second seat and the chronicles of haas but allow me to briefly try my hand at explaining the nightmare that is the upcoming silly season

under the cut we go

silly season is when the drivers go through contract renewals, extensions and switches. usually it’s confined to the first half of the season (march-july) but it has been known to extend all the way to the last race of the season and they like to switch people around at random sometimes. driver contracts are complex, there’s a lot of money involved and basically You Are The Face Of The Team so if you have a shit season then you make the team look bad. but at the same time you could have a shit season because you have a shit car. it’s sticky stuff.

so. there are only twenty seats in formula 1. 10 teams. each team gets two drivers. (there’s also reserve drivers but we’re not going to get into that). who ends up with a contract is largely up to the teams, they can pull the contract out from under people they can also cut you mid season. they’ve done it before.

of the 20 drivers on the grid, 14 of them have contracts expiring at the end of the year. yes. 14. you see how this could get complicated.

so let’s meet the teams.

red bull racing. they came first this year (and last year) in the championship. like aggressively first. like they won the championship by over 350 points. they are definitely the team to beat. but if you end up with a seat at red bull, you do have to deal with max verstappen being your teammate and he won all but three of the races last year. he’s the golden boy. red bull are also notoriously silly when it comes to contracts and famously swap people mid season who aren’t performing.

mercedes. merc is home to 7 time world champion lewis hamilton and they have won the championship a great many times, though not since 2021. they are kind of in their flop arc and their car the last 2 years has been pretty garbage, but they have still made it work because they were able to come in second last year.

ferrari. god help the poor little meow meows with a ferrari contract. ferrari is a notoriously great team and they’re trying to get back to the top again but their strategy every single time has fallen short. to the point where their drivers are the ones doing the strategy in their cars while driving. they came in third last year and have been decently consistent at getting first in qualifying and then getting beat by max verstappen on race day.

mclaren. they’ve definitely worked their way up over recent years. they ended fourth last year and have had some championship wins before but not nearly as many as say merc and ferrari. their team ceo (owner? director?) is a little interesting and their car started out a pile of flaming hot garbage at the beginning of the year but they did manage to get their shit together.

aston martin. they are owned by canadian billionaire lawrence stroll, father of lance stroll (one of the drivers for the team). they’ve undergone several name changes over the recent years (force india, racing point, etc). they positively slayed at the start of the season and then one day they sucked. they finished fifth in the championship.

alpine. the frenchest french team. they’re (i think?) still partially owned by the french government. both of their drivers are french. (their drivers also hate eachother but we’ll get to that. just know they’re in the middle of a modern french civil war). they had the opportunity to have a good rookie driver (oscar piastri) this past year but in a thrilling twitter battle, he publically flamed the shit out of them and went to mclaren instead (and slayed). they're usually solidly middle of the pack. they ended sixth in the championship.

williams. williams has been one of the back of the grid teams for the last many years but they have finally started to get their shit together and don’t quite suck as much as they used to. all of the points this year were scored by only one driver though (except one but we’ll get there). they came in seventh.

alpha tauri. they are the sister team of red bull. so technically redbull owns both teams (meaning they can swap drivers between teams. they like doing this.) they’ve just kind of been There for awhile but they did slay towards the end of the season when one of their drivers led the race for several laps. basically tho, this team is the gateway to redbull. they came in eighth.

alpha romeo. recently renamed to stake f1 team (but sometimes they are going to be called kick sauber. this is a whole other drama post and i’m not getting into it). they’re also just kind of there. generally unproblematic. seems that really great drivers who get ixed out of a contract for a younger driver end up here or young drivers who are in their early years are here before they go to a better team. they ended ninth this year.

haas. oh haas. goofy team. they suck. point blank they suck. they keep loosing sponsors because they suck, they don’t win ever (one time they came first in qualifying last year). they cursed themselves in australia in 2018 by not tightening their tires and its been downhill ever since. they came 10th. their team principle got let go (fired?) who’s to say today.

so those are the teams. it is important to note that:

-there is a cost cap. each team is allowed to spend no more than 135m per year.

-not all cars are equal. some things are standard. they all undergo the same testing. but the cars are all very different. so you can be a good driver but stuck in a shitty car. which makes it impressive if you are doing well in a shitty car.

let’s meet our drivers!!!

starting with the guys who’s contract is not ending in 2024:

max verstappen. 3 time world champion. 26 years old. general beast on the track. he dominated the whole season. he’s currently racing for red bull and has a contract with them through 2028.

lewis hamilton. 7 time world champion. 39 years old. he drives for mercedes. he will not leave mercedes until he retires. he really really wants to win an 8th world championship and is willing to stick it out a few more years as long as merc still believes in him. his contract expires in 2025.

george russell. the other merc driver. 26 years old. hes aggressively british and says thinks like blimey unironically. walking meme. got his merc seat in 2022 right when they entered their flop arc by getting his tractor of a williams to finish second in qualifying in the middle of a rainstorm. his contract expires in 2025.

lando norris. mclaren driver. 24 years old. he has notably never won a race in his five years of formula one (mostly because right when his car finally was good enough max verstappen was 20 seconds ahead of anyone) but he is regarded as Very Good. he has only ever driven for mclaren. and even though there is another year left on his contract there is mass speculation that he will not renew his contract with mclaren after it expires and he may move up to one of the top teams (red bull, merc, ferrari) (tho i think he doesnt hate himself quite enough to go to ferrari). his contract expires in 2025.

oscar piastri. the other mclaren driver. 22 years old. this was his rookie season and he positively slayed. like people compared his rookie season to lewis hamiltons rookie season. he also had the positively funniest start to his rookie year because alpine announced that he would be driving for them (he had been their reserve driver and in the alpine academy) and he posted a tweet that basically said yeah thats false i never singed anything with you and im going to race with mclaren instead (he dodged a bullet) and then alpine tried and failed to sue him for $4m USD. he signed a contract extension with mclaren this year and his contract expires in 2026.

lance stroll. aston martin driver and son of the aston martin owner. hes doing ok, tho there was conspiracy that he wanted to quit and have a tennis career awhile ago. but basically since his dad owns the team it seems that hes guaranteed a seat for as long as he wants one.

so now. moving onto the good shit. the people who have contracts expiring in 2024. hold onto your hats people.

charles leclerc. (everyones favorite slutty little soup can). 26 years old. he is currently at ferrari and he has been since 2019. notably, he was given the longest contract in the history of ferrari after a stellar rookie season at sauber (renamed to alpha romeo, renamed to stake f1) where he got the tractor of a car consistently into the points. having the longest contract in the history of ferrari was a flex at the time, but now its likely how he will introduce himself at therapy sessions. ferrari have fucked this man left right and center up the ass with a plastic lunchroom spork. hes talented, he can drive, and he can drive well. but the strategy that ferrari has absolutely sucks. either something is wrong with the car (see him blowing out his gear box on the formation lap in monaco, his car completely crapping out and spinning into the barrier in brazil before the race even started) or they fuck up his pit stops or put him on the wrong tires and honestly its just frustrating. but will he leave??? likely not. you'd have to pry ferrari out of his cold dead hands and at this rate that might be where this is headed though there has been some minor speculation of him going to another team like merc or red bull, but merc doesnt have any open seats and red bull is a whole other dumpster fire of drama. ferrari are going to have to pay him a boatload of money to make him stay.

carlos sainz. the smooth operator. 29 years old. ferrari driver. previously carlos was at toro rosso (renamed to alpha tauri), renault (renamed to alpine), and mclaren before signing with ferrari. he has been at ferrari since 2021 and has voiced that he would like to stay with them for however long he can. there is speculation that lando might replace him at ferrari (but landos contract is not up until 2025) and there is also some speculation that alex albon might replace him. while charles is clearly the golden boy at ferrari, carlos is slightly slower but also definitely consistent. he was THE ONLY non red bull driver to win a race this past year, in Singapore after max verstappedn was knocked out of qualifying by alpha tauri reserve driver liam lawson (more on him later) and because he basically came up with his own strategy in the car while he was driving.

sergio perez. aka checo. red bull driver. 33 years old. and oh boy here's where we open the can of worms. checo was previously at racing point (renamed aston martin) and it was very near the end of the 2020 (?) season and he was out of a contract. he had a bonkers race where he was knocked to the back of the grid and then overtook everyone and somehow ended up winning (there is more to that story but just trust me) and christian horner, red bull team principle, mr ginger spice and definite disney villain called him and said congrats sir you have a seat at red bull! well. fast forward. hes been causing problems. problems as in crashing a lot, generally not doing great and pissing the crap out of red bull. it is basically guaranteed at this point that he will not be getting a contract extension. there was actually talk this year of him losing his seat mid season to one of the alpha tauri drivers, because remember, red bull owns both teams and they can switch them whenever they want to (and they have!) but ultimately this did not happen. even though checo has a seat at red bull until the end of 2024, its mass speculated that he is going to get switched with an alpha tauri driver, probably daniel ricciardo (more on him shortly) mid season because there is a speculated clause in daniels contract that says that if checo isn't performing well in the first few races daniel is getting his seat.

daniel ricciardo. 34 years old. alpha tauri driver. man oh man what a guy. outside of being the prankster of the paddock, he has one of the most batshit careers of anyone currently on the grid. he started out at red bull and was showing real talent and skill and was on track to win things (and was!) and was there until the end of 2018 when max verstappen (his teammate) started getting preferential treatment and also red bull started having a lot of problems with their engines (which were being outsourced from Renault (now alpine) and another team on the grid) and well very very long story short he made the surprise move of the century and decided to sign with Renault (which makes no sense they're the one with the engine problems) and was there for 2 years before moving again to mclaren where he was reportedly not treated very well and had a hard time driving the car so they mutually ended his contract with them early and he basically retired at the end of the 2022 season and became a red bull reserve driver. then halfway through the 2023 season alpha tauri ixed one of their drivers, nyck de vries, because he wasnt doing well and promoted daniel back up to a full time driver at alpha tauri (which we know is only a step down from red bull) but then he broke his hand in a crash in zanvort (?) and then he was replaced for a few races by formula 2 driver liam lawson (who we will also talk about) and then he came back to finish out the season in alpha tauri after he was cleared. daniel has admitted openly that he never should have left red bull and he was given bad advice to do so. hes towards the end of his career at this point and its well known that he Really Really wants to finish out his career at red bull again. he and max have already been teammates before and they do work well together and daniel is great driver (see his comeback in texas (or maybe it was brazil?) this year). so. Pretty Sure that daniels going to get either an extension at alpha tauri or go up to red bull. thats what we all want. get this man in a red bull we need him there biblically.

liam lawson. now technically liam is not actually a formula 1 driver. hes a formula 2 driver, but he was daniels replacement for five races and there has been some speculation and some confirmed news about him so hes getting included. when he was racing for f1 he was at alpha tauri. hes 21 and looks like he belongs in the movie grease. no one was expecting him to slay in formula 1 and he positively knocked everyones socks off. the scene: Singapore. which, if you'll recall, is the one race that a not red bull driver won. this was largely because liam lawson slayed the absolute game in qualifying. the qualifying part of racing determines what order the cars start in on the grid for the race and theres three parts, the first two parts the bottom 5 drivers each time get knocked out and then the top 10 complete for the last 10 spots. liam lawson knocked BOTH max verstappen and checo perez out of qualifying in the second round by going very slightly faster than them, effectively fucking up red bulls race and allowing carlos to win. and he also scored points in that race, which no one was expecting. now thats all fine and dandy, but here's the speculation: hemlut marko (im pretty sure) (who is somehow decently involved in the decision making at red bull though i couldn't tell you how) said that he thinks that liam lawson will be in an f1 seat no later than 2025. meaning that he will probably get offered a contract this year. and hes already raced for alpha tauri. red bull have sunk a good amount of money into him. they clearly want him. so if he gets offered an alpha tauri seat in 2025, that means theres a good chance danny rics is going to red bull. do you SEE how the plot here is THICKENED

yuki tsunoda. age 23. currently at alpha tauri. and fun fact, the only alpha tauri driver to race there the whole year. he had three separate team mates. he is slaying and hes often slept on. he has a bit of a temper and likes to shout on the radio and also hates working out (they had to force him to move to italy or something to work out, long story) but hes been kinda killing it. he led several laps in the abu dhabi race this year and hes decently consistent. people think theres possibility that he could get moved up to red bull on account of the fact that he is younger than daniel and clearly has more years in him,, but there is also possibility that he might not because red bull like to make stupid decisions. and if he doesnt get moved up to rebel, will he stay with alpha tauri? we don't know.

alex albon. age 27. currently a williams driver. alex albon is another one with a batshit career. he started out his rookie year in 2019 at alpha tauri then got moved up to red bull halfway through the year when red bull decided that pierre gasley wasnt doing a good enough job (more on him later) and stayed with red bull for a solid year and a half until he lost his seat in 2021 to checo. he has been with williams for the last two years and is basically carrying the team. like. williams as a team scored 28 points this year. and alex albon scored 27 of those 28 points. and as we know, williams is still kind of in their shit arc (though they are doing much better. they didnt score any points for a solid 2 (?) years. so this is an improvement.) and if you can get a shit car to perform you catch the eye of bigger teams. now, alex has already been a red bull driver. and he was on the cusp of podiuming two separate times when lewis hamilton ran into him. this (among a few other things) basically killed his chances at getting resigned at red bull because he wasnt ""performing"" and red bull are bitches who love to win. but some people think that red bull should give him another shot. like daniel, hes already been max's teammate and he can definitely drive. but theres also talk he might go to ferrari because ferrari think that he might compliment charles's driving style (or something). but going to ferrari at this point is kind of suicide. so.

logan sergeant. age 23. the only american on the grid. the other williams driver. he just finished his rookie year. he scored a grand total of one single point this season, in texas, and it was because charles leclerc and lewis hamilton both got disqualified because the floor of their car had more wear (by literally less than millimeters) than it was allowed to, bumping him up from 12th to 10th. he has never done better than alex albon. he was also the very last driver to get a contract for 2024, with williams waiting until i think december of 2023 to announce his contract extension. clearly, hes on thin ice. but people have also said that he needs time to get used to formula 1 (other people have pointed out that oscar piastri slayed his rookie season this year and this statement about needing time is largely false). where logan ends up next year though will largely depend on how well the 2024 season goes for him.

fernando alonso. 42 years old. many people like to point out that oscar piastri is actually younger than fernando's racing career. he won tiktok creator of the year (somehow) and is also a 2 time world champion. he retired a few years ago, just to show back up again and slay. during the first half of the season when aston martin had a zoom zoom car he killed it, and then they had problems on top of problems and he didnt do well. except for that one race in brazil where he came in third, beating checo by literally .05 seconds. he hasn't really made any hints about retiring a second time and he is kind of carrying aston Martin right now (he scored 205 points this season, coming in 4th and tying in points with charles leclerc, lance stroll only scored 74 points this year.) and they did have their best year yet this year. (though they are relatively new).

pierre gasley. 27 years old. french. drives for alpine. the french team. previously he raced with toro rosso (now alpha tauri), then got promoted to a red bull driver in 2019, then halfway through the season they decided he wasnt doing a good enough job and he got demoted back down to alpha tauri. then he won a race with alpha tauri just to stick it to red bull. after the great oscar piastri contract twitter war, he was signed as alpines second driver, with Esteban ocon being the other driver (more on him soon). estie bestie and pierre (both french) were childhood friends and now hate each other for unknown reasons and basically feuded on the track for most of the season. french civil war at alpine. he scored 62 points in 2023 and came in 11th. not really sure where he will end up, it is possible that he will stick it out at alpine.

esteban ocon. 27 years old. also french. currently driving for alpine. another one with a silly bonkers career. he started out at force india and had a baller few seasons there but his teammate at the time was checo, and checo didnt really cooperate with him too much and caused some drama that cost estie bestie some places and some points. max verstappen also beat him up in the garage once. thats not really relevant but it did happen. anyway, after the owner of force india was arrested for .... i don't remember what maybe it was embezzlement or bankruptcy or something money related, the team was backed by lawrence stroll and became racing point. but all of that happened mid season and lawrence was basically like look ill back you guys for now but next year my son gets a seat (lance) so one of you two (checo and estie bestie) have to go. and ultimately they let estie bestie go even though he was more consistent because checo had more sponsors and they needed money. so he was out of formula 1 for a few years (but was a merc reserve driver) and then went to Renault, which then became alpine. he did come in 12th though overall this season, just behind pierre. so. will alpine keep both him and pierre and keep the civil war going? whos to say.

nico hulkenberg. 36 years old. haas driver. in his 200+ f1 races he has never been on the podium and he really really wants to be on the podium. unfortunately this will never happen in a haas because haas fucking sucks. and everyone knows it. he is getting towards the end of his career though. though! stake f1 will become the mario Andretti and audi team in 2026 (don't question it) and they have supposedly voiced interest in nico. so we will see if he hangs on that long to end up at audi. for now tough, hes definitely hating it at haas. though, haas are going to have a different team principle next year so maybe that will change things. i have a sneaky feeling through that haas will probably end up with another 2 rookie drivers because everyone else is smart enough to not race for them.

kevin magnussen. 31 years old. haas driver. hes another deeply interesting character. he has had one podium. in his rookie season. in his first race. and none since. kevin started at haas in 2017 and then left at then end of 2020 when he basically got kicked off because the team needed money and they wanted to bring in drivers with more sponsorships. these drivers were mick schumacher and nikita mazepin. so kevin basically was forced to retire after the 2020 season. this went decently well for haas. until russia invaded ukraine right before the start of the 2022 season and, well, nikita was Russian and it was never distinctly proven that his dads company (who was sponsoring the team) wasnt also funding the invasion. so nikita got fired and they were literally like 2 weeks out from the start of the season, down a driver. who are you gonna call? kevin magnussen! and hes been back ever since. but hes clearly getting annoyed with haas. there was one great clip from this year where his car caught on fire and he kind of just stared into to, clearly hoping it would burn for a long time. so the likelihood of him extending his contract is looking slim.

valtteri bottas. 34 years old. currently a driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo, kick sauber, whatever you wanna call it). previously, he was a mercedes driver and notoriously helped lewis hamilton win a great many championships, until he lost his seat to george russell in 2022. there was a rather awkward part of the 2021 season where valtteri knew that he was out of a merc seat the following year and kind of just chose violence. he slayed. then he went to alpha romeo, grew a mullet and made a calendar of his ass. quite the glow up if you ask me. hes also very interested in cycling. honestly though, i have my own personal speculation that hes going to retire at the end of this year.

zhou guanyu. 24 years old. driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo/kick sauber, etc etc). hes doing alright. he just finished his second season, in his first season he was majorly out qualified by valtteri but this past season he managed to out qualify him a good 6 times. which is decently good for the tractor of a car hes driving. its possible that he could get a contract extension, but like logan, its probably going to depend on how the 2024 season goes for him.

and thats all the drivers. theres also a few others i didnt talk about, like some other f2 drivers who want seats and mick schumacher, who is currently a merc reserve driver, all of which could be contenders for f1 seats. but one things for sure. this is going to be the silliest fucking silly season.

feel free to add on and peer review me

#not a tag #from saph #saph explains silly season 2024 #f1 #read more baby girl please work #i like that i said it wasnt a lot and then it was #yeah

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yeoldenews · 1 year ago

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It’s Dear Santa time again!

Every year since 2010, I have spent the month of December posting children's Dear Santa letters.

Publishing letters to Santa in the newspaper first became widely popular in the late-1890s, though scattered newspapers did so as early as the mid-1880s. I believe this sudden explosion in popularity was at least partially the result of the famed "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Clause" editorial which was published in The New York Sun in September of 1897.

In large cities Dear Santa letters often acted as a method of getting needed clothing and supplies to impoverished children when parents might be ashamed to ask for charity. Subscribers to the newspaper could choose a child’s letter and provide the items they asked for. The most common requests were shoes and coats.

Sometimes newspapers offered prizes for the best letter (which I suspect often acted as another clandestine form of charity as the winners were often letters asking for basic clothing and school supplies.) Though these prizes could range from the ordinary (a sled or a doll) to the extravagant (a $20 gold piece or a live pony.)

Often local stores would enter children in a drawing if they mentioned the store in their letter - which on occasion would result in children hilariously name-dropping every store in town just in case.

Writing Dear Santa letters was also commonly an activity done at school, often following some rough form letter. These letters are fairly easy to spot as they often hype up what a good student the child was and include effusive praise for their teacher (who would likely see the letter before it was sent.)

So why have I spent hundreds of hours of my life over the last decade reading tens of thousands of these letters?

Children's voices are largely absent from the historical record.

Dear Santa letters offer an extremely rare opportunity to see history unfold through children's eyes - in their own (often creatively spelled) words.

1914′s “Remember the children in Belgium” becomes 1918′s “Please visit my brother in France”.

During the Great Depression the very common phrase “I know you’re poor this year too Santa” gives a glimpse into parents' attempts to explain to their children why they might not be getting as much this year.

1939′s “Be careful flying over Europe” becomes 1945′s “Since the war is over you’re making bb-guns again right?”

Requests for toy flying machines become aeroplanes become fighter jets become space shuttles.

Dolls and wagons become Shirley Temple merchandise become Erector Sets become Barbies and Star Wars action figures.

But through all these changes one thing remains clear throughout 130+ years of letters to Santa, despite the rapidly changing world around them - children have always been children.

I hope you enjoy these letters as much as I do! (All decade+ of posts are tagged “Dear Santa” if you’d like to see more than just this year’s selection.)

Hapy Holadays and Marry Crimes!

#as always - your tags comments and questions make the season so much brighter for me #and oh boy have I got some good ones for you this year #blogkeeping #dear santa #christmas #history #children #kids

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soyouthinkucanwrite · 3 years ago

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The money thing (part 1/2) - Daniel Ricciardo

It's always the little things, isn't it? The smallest stupidest things make almost no difference and then make all the difference in the world. They make everything special, but they also have the power to tear everything appart.

You and Daniel fight about money for the thousand time and he's had enough of it.

Warnings: super angst, but with a happy ending :)

Guys, this turned out WAY BIGGER than I expected, so I'm just gonna do a part 2, okay? Okay, thanks for understanding!

Song that inspired me: A list by HVOB

You and Daniel had been dating for a couple months now, having met through a common friend and hitting off almost instantly. You lived in Amsterdam and he, well he lived all over the world really, but his "time off" (meaning not racing) was spent between Monaco and London (for work), and Amsterdam now too, of course.

The changes were small and subtle at the beginning, like your weekends being spent traveling to meet him wherever in the world he was and consequently spending almost all your savings on plane tickets. You never complained to him (you planned on spending the money traveling anyway, so you didn't see the point), but didn't accept when he offered to buy your tickets, either. There's been some awkwardness around the subject but it usually died on its own.

*beginning of flashback*

"You’d have gotten here in time if you'd gotten the early flight like I told you" you remembered him saying that time you got in the paddock after the qualifying session had begun and couldn’t kiss him good luck.

"Baby, I told you. It was crazy expensive! Absurd even!"

"(y/n) for god's sake! What are we saving money for? I told you, you have my credit card number, I've offered to get you one, this is ridiculous, I can't believe I literally earn millions and my girlfriend wasn't there with me because the ticket was too expensive! I'll fucking fly you private if I have to!" he was almost yelling in his driver's room. You could only stare from the corner.

He took a deep breath running his hands through his hair. "Sorry. It's just... it was crap out there. I needed you" you grimaced at his words.

"Sorry. I really am..." you tried to approach him. "I'm here now?" you touched his arm. "It can't have been that bad, you're still on the top 10 and we both know what you can do from the 8th car..." you smiled at him.

*end of flashback*

He started to spend much more of his time off with you at your place, so you decided to get a place by yourself (having a roommate was great for company and splitting the rent, but having a roommate there while you guys just wanted some much-needed privacy was not working). Then there were more traveling to meet him, furniture for the new place, clothing for all the events (GPs or not), uber rides here and there... all of that without mentioning that you weren't being able to get the freelance jobs you used to get to make some extra money, so yeah, to say things were tight was an understatement. You tried to do all your shopping alone, so he wouldn't offer and you wouldn't refuse or be awkward about it, but Daniel seem to be glued to you whenever you were in the same city (not that you’re complaining).

The thing is, you always had trouble dealing with money. Sure, you liked to pay for your own stuff so as to not owe anything to anyone (especially boys), but it was so much deeper than that. Ever since a kid, you hated asking for money from your parents, and sometimes even the thought of buying stuff that was a bit more expensive made you sick. You couldn't explain why, you just felt guilty having so much and knowing that most people have never even seen that amount. It's not that you didn't want to spend it and save for the sake of it, you just didn't handle the idea of money very well. Needless to say, dating a millionnaire was bound to cause trouble in the relationship for you.

You were currently at his place in Monaco. It was the summer break and you had decided to spend some days just chilling at home, just the two of you - which you were glad since going out means hair, makeup, clothes, accessories, shoes... and, let's be honest, the kind of places he usually took you is not the kind of places you just throw something together last minute (the Instagram models and other driver's girlfriends looking you up and down were enough to make you think about spending money you did not have to hire a stylist or something like that). The whole situation was really stressing you out and you knew you would have to be honest with him eventually, instead of only dodging the subject and refusing most of his offers to pay. You tried to. You kind of tried. You suggested staying at home, in bed, most of the time, and he gladly agreed, but that strategy wasn't gonna work forever. You had to be honest with him. But at the same time, you knew what he was going to say and do, and the thought of him spending money on you, even if just by handling the restaurant bill, wasn't something you were much more comfortable with. Besides, it was only a matter of time before the "gold-digger" term starts to fly around in the small world that was the F1's.

You were laying on his couch, the Olympics playing on the TV but you were too busy overthinking the money thing to pay attention. Daniel was laying with his head on your lap, absently caressing your thigh and watching the TV. His phone went off and he moved to pick it up.

"Hello?" you watched as he answered the phone. "Hey mate, how's it going? Uh nothing, we're just chilling at home. Getting some rest... Yeah, I'm getting rested, you dirty-minded son of a bitch" you rolled your eyes while he laughed out loud on the line with someone. "Yeah, I know... the 19th is it? No, it's fine. Yeah, yeah. I'll be there. Alright, mate. Thanks for calling. Have a good one! Bye!" he hanged up and leaned in to peck you on the lips.

"Good news?" you asked him.

"Not really. Just wanted to kiss you" he shrugged, smiling. You smiled back and hugged him, pulling him in for another kiss. He was always so caring with you, always finding an excuse to kiss or touch you. You knew some people didn't like it, but you loved it. Physical touch was definitely one of your love languages.

"What's happening on the 19th then?" you asked him once you guys set apart from the kiss.

"Gotta be in London. Gonna run some testings and other boring race stuff..."

"Hum..." you hummed in understanding.

"You know what would make it less boring though?" he asked and you just looked at him, you already knew what he was going to ask you and it wasn't that you didn't want to spend every minute of the day with him, but you simply couldn't afford any more traveling, especially not in such short notice. "If you came with me. Huh? What do you say? A week in the Queen's land? Then we can fly together to Spa and after the race, I can go with you to Amsterdam. The next one it's the Dutch GP anyway, I'll just get there sooner" he laughed. It was crushing you, the man of your dreams was literally beaming at making plans with you, talking about spending the next few weeks glued together and you couldn't say yes.

"Dan, I have to work" you smiled sadly.

"Can't you work from distance? Or, I don't know, I mean... I know it's tiring, but you could come to London and fly home a bit early, then just meet me in Belgium?" great, his solution includes even more flying. And the thing is, you really didn't mind the flying. You always slept during the whole thing anyway, so you never got tired and the jetlag was minimal. You could work from distance, sure. Your boss wouldn't mind, as long as you got there eventually to check in on everything. But the whole logistics were just too expensive. There was no way you could afford it.

"I... sorry, I don't think I can" you said sadly and watched as his face dropped.

"That's fine, baby. I get it. I'm asking too much, all this traveling... don't worry about it" he tried to mask his emotions but you knew better. He knew you could in fact work from distance, so he was probably thinking the reason you couldn't do it was because you didn't want to.

He got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but bury your face in your palms. This was so frustrating!

"You wanna go for a run or something? Maybe get something to eat?" he called from the kitchen, already moving on from the subject. You knew this whole thing was only gonna keep build up till he got tired of your excuses or you blowing up, probably the former, but you just keep going.

"Yeah, sure" you answered, getting up from the couch.

You and Daniel were both very active so going for a run, hiking, riding bikes, or whatever in the middle of the day was really routine for you. The Monaco summer weather was as beautiful as always and the sun was shining bright. You enjoyed the rest of your afternoon racing each other, kissing in the harbor, and just taking in the views, spending quality time together. Money wasn't even a thing in your bubble for a while.

"I'm getting hungry" he said on the way back home.

"Me too, and I'm super hot. I could go for a juice or something right now" you were all sweaty from the running, but you didn't care, he was too.

"You're always hot baby, I don't think juice gonna help with that" he grinned at you and you just rolled your eyes at him.

You passed by one of his favorite spots for food, nearby his place and he suggested getting some take-out, to which you agreed.

"Green juice, and a chicken wrap?" you tried to decide while the both of you waited in line.

"I'll never understand how you drink that"

"I've seen you drink that too, it's actually very refreshing"

"Because I'm forced to, I'm a high-performance athlete baby. But I'm on a break, so I'll have a coke, thank you very much" you laughed at him. He was holding your hand and tried to kiss you, wrapping his arm around you, you didn't dodge his kiss, you would never, but still laughed at the fact he wanted to kiss the sweaty mess you were right now.

"I'm gross, only you" you laughed.

"That's my baby, with no makeup she a ten" he rapped shrugging and grinning.

"Alright Lil Wayne, I know that one, don't even finish the verse" you laughed at him, making him laugh out loud, getting everyone's in the restaurant's attention.

"It's true, though"

"Sure..." You just shook your head smiling. Then you heard someone call his name.

"Hey! Daniel!" you both turned around to see Charles and Charlotte sitting in a corner, him waving at you two. You had met Charles a couple of times before but never spoke too much to him. They seemed to be leaving anyway, so they walked towards you guys, instead of towards the door.

"Hey mate, how's it going?" Daniel greeted him with a handshake. "Hey, Charlotte! You know (y/n) yet?"

"Hi! I don't think so, hi! How are you?" she greeted you smiling.

"Hi! Nice to meet you. Hi, Charles!" you said.

"Hey, (y/n). You're keeping him in line during the break? Char won't let me cheat my diet either" he laughed.

"Oh, that ship has sailed long ago! Daniel will just roll into the paddock if it's up to him" you laughed back.

"Hey! I think I've earned the right to some extra calories, we've been working out extra hard lately" Daniel said waving his eyebrows suggestively, making Charlotte giggle, Charles rolls his eyes and you go even redder than you were from the actual workout, while he just laughed out loud.

"I don't even want to know" Charles said. "Always great running into you mate" he was getting ready to say goodbye.

"Are we seeing you guys tomorrow?" Charlotte asked you.

"Tomorrow?" you asked her.

"Stefano's birthday" she said like it was obvious. Stefano Domenicali was the President and CEO of Formula 1, but you didn't know that yet - still, her tone made it seems like it was someone Daniel knew, so you just looked at him. He just rubbed his neck, looking a little embarrassed. "Oh, wait. Please tell me I didn't just said something I shouldn't" she looked at Charles.

"No, no. He invited me. Us, actually" Daniel reassured her. "I don't think we're going though, forgot to mention to you" he said looking at you.

"Uh mate, I wouldn't skip that if I were you. He didn't even invite all the drivers I heard" Charles said. "Maybe just stop by to say hello?"

"Stop by... a yacht... at the sea?" Charlotte said grinning at him. Daniel looked at you.

"You feel like going? It should be fun" he asked you.

"Sounds fancy... I mean, I don't mind if you go" you said.

"Common... I’m not going alone" he nudged you.

"I don't even have anything to wear, Dan" you told him.

"Oh! We can go shopping together!" Charlotte said and you had almost forgotten they were still there.

"Perfect!" Daniel answered for you. You could only imagine the types of stores she shopped.

"Tomorrow morning, then? Daniel can text your address to Charles for me? I'll pick you up!" she was being really nice about it.

"I thought you wanted to go today?" Charles said.

"That's when I thought I would have to go shopping with you, so I could use the extra time since you're the worst shopping partner ever!" she laughed at him.

"Burn!" Daniel laughed.

"His fashion taste is not the most reliable, let's face it" she laughed and kissed his cheek. "It's a date then (y/n)?" she looked expectantly at you. You didn't want to let her down, it was so hard to make friends with the girlfriends of other drivers, they were usually so... not nice. You could always just help her and find something to wear in your own stuff later.

"Yeah, sure! See you tomorrow, at 10?" you said simply.

"Perfect!" she beamed.

>>> end of part 1 <<<

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo fanfic #Daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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script-nef · 4 years ago

Text

Tokyo to France

Category: fluff

1.6k words; Office date [1/6]

Gojou Satoru is many things. The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, an official title which is proven often to be true; humanity's ray of light in the fight against cursed spirits—see the "strongest sorcerer" bit; a teacher at the Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu Specialty High School even though most, if not all, of the Sorcerers Exclusive don't really approve of him; and a total bother.

He has an aloof and laid-back aura, indicating he doesn’t really care about much other than his missions and his occupation as a teacher. He’s whimsical and spontaneous, sometimes selfish in the extreme, putting his desires—like his all-too-often snack breaks—first ahead of anything, except for critical situations. And even then he might still not come. Add his total disregard for higher-ups who pretend to see the “bigger picture”, and there’s a lot of reasons why everyone he’s ever met—well, most of everyone since the newest kid Itadori is yet to experience the full "Gojou's shitty antics" ride just yet but it'll come soon, you can tell—are often annoyed by him.

And the one person who experiences this more than anyone is you, who's currently suffering under his relentless chatter after another successful mission. He always does this, like you’re the only person in the world he can talk to (read: bother).

You don't have anything specific against the man, he’s usually a good friend and a welcomed fellow sweets enthusiast, it's just that you're currently behind on your assigned paperwork and he's a great distraction. His tales are often laced with humour and he has a natural knack for storytelling. The fact that Gojou has a nice, soothing voice which beckons for your attention is also a factor. If you didn't have work you'd be fully invested in his recount but as previously discussed, he has shitty antics and one of those is not particularly caring about whether the other person is busy or not.

He keeps talking and words like “egg tart”, “Shibuya” and “internationally famous” slip through your defence, forcing your brain to block out the lengthy paragraphs on the report and enticing you to listen to him. After a while, you decide that this is getting nowhere. You can’t remember the last couple of paragraphs and Gojou is usually relentless, but you can hear his voice weakening just a bit as you pretend to ignore him.

Resigning yourself from the work and leaning back onto the chair, you make pseudo-eye contact with him. He seems to brighten up just a bit when you do so, the strength of his voice returning. That makes a ghost of a smile appear on your lips. You'll just have to pull an all-nighter after your dinner with Ken-chan.

Gojou always has great stories about his trips everywhere, both in Japan and overseas. Having a teleportation skill is incredibly useful, you realise with envy. If only I had his inherited techniques is a thought which pervades your mind often.

"And I was so close to getting the egg tart but the person in front of me bought the last one! I waited for an hour! For nothing!" The story is topped off with a small pout as he slouches on the chair, chin sitting on the backrest. You laugh, amused at the sudden change of mood. Only he could go from happy and light-hearted to gloomy and dejected in a breath, jokingly or not.

An easy conversation flows between the two of you as you finally disregard your work, chin resting on your palm and eyes crinkling with laughter.

It’s nice like this. He’s been coming around the office more lately, sometimes armed with sweets and sometimes with an agenda to whisk your time away for his use because he’s bored. It’s mostly fine because a person to talk to is welcomed after a couple of hours by yourself, staring at lit screens until you can feel your eyes die off. You once got a scare because everything had a weird white outline when you finally diverted your eyes from the screen. In a sense, he was keeping your sight safe. He smiled when you said that, replying “Glad I can be of service!” before rattling off another description of a strawberry cheesecake he found in Belgium.

“It must be so nice, being able to teleport places. It takes me so much time just to travel within Japan, honestly such a bother. And I can’t really go overseas either with so many tasks to do with all the cursed spirits running around.” Sighing, you slouch on the desk and bury your face in your arms, missing how Gojou’s lips immediately quirk up.

“I can take you there, you know.” Your head shoots up at that, staring at him with wide eyes. “I can take you anywhere. How about France? We’ll be there in the blink of an eye. We can spend a couple of hours there, eat as many pastries as we want to and just snap right back here. What do you say?” His foot taps on the ground repeatedly, like he’s nervous or agitated. Is he in a hurry or something?

Well, it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. The offer sounds nice. Really, really nice.

It’s been a while since you had a break. Not like you can take a long one since cursed spirits are unpredictable in their appearances and need constant attention so that civilian casualties don’t occur. Which means the workflow never stops coming. A trip to pastry country sounds amazing.

“Sure, that sounds good. We need to set up a ti—”

“Gojou-sensei!”

The door slams open, the sound echoing through the hallway and the office. Gojou’s new student, Itadori Yuuji, leans on the door while gasping for breaths.

“Hey, Yuuji! What’s the rush?”

“We’re supposed to be training! I was waiting in the room for the past 10 minutes!” A quick glance at the clock indicates 6:40 and you finally notice the sun setting over the mountains. The fading light paints the room in a golden warmth, which makes you wonder why you didn’t notice how fast time was flying. Probably because you were too invested in your conversation with your friend.

Who is now picking himself up from the chair and putting up theatrics by brushing off non-existent dust from his pants. Small giggles escape at his antics. A glance at Itadori tells you he’s close to dying from either dehydration or exhaustion. He must have run all over the campus trying to find Gojou. You wonder why he doesn’t just use his phone. You do live in the fifth technological age and sort of expect a teenager like him to be able to use one.

“Itadori-kun, do you want some water?” Rising out of your seat, you reach for a cup but Gojou’s hand stops it by covering yours. He twists your hand in his and interlaces his fingers with yours.

“No, it’s fine. We’re going to go now. Think about the time and date, okay? Keep in mind the time difference.” He gives the connected hand a slight jiggle as a farewell, skipping out of the room with a bright “Goodnight!” He’s initiating a lot more physical contact recently. Wonder what that’s about.

Itadori watches the scene unfold from the doorway, jaw slack. His eyes follow Gojou but as soon as he’s out of the room, they snap to you. He stares at you so intensely that it looks like his eyes are going to pop out of its sockets pretty soon. You have no idea why he’s staring at you like this and why he’s not following his teacher. It’s like he’s frozen solid in his spot.

Some—read all—of his students sometimes complain about his walking speed, how he purposefully uses his leg length as an advantage and briskly walks on ahead, leaving them in the dust. Some—again, read: all—of your co-workers said the same thing as well. You asked him about it one day and he replied with a great big smile, “I just do it for fun!” He doesn’t do it to you, though. It’s weird because he does it at least once to everyone else you ever met, even your own brother, despite him being only a few centimetres shorter than Gojou. It apparently played a part in his reluctance to partner up with him. Or just generally hang out with him. You wish he’d give Gojou a chance, he’s not that bad once you get to know him.

Hm, maybe I just don’t have an interesting enough reaction for him. Am I not interesting? Is it a really weird and backhanded way of telling me I’m boring? The train of thoughts takes off, expanding and multiplying until you realise Itadori is still imitating a befuddled statue.

You stare at him. He stares back. He doesn’t break eye contact. This is a really weird thing to think right now but he would absolutely crush everyone at a staring contest.

“Itadori-kun? Don’t you need to go?” That seems to startle him out of his stupor.

“Ah, ye—yes! Sorry for interrupting!” Before you can assure him that there was nothing to interrupt, the poor boy stumbles out of the room and also manages to bonk his head on the door and wall no less than twice. Yelps of “I’m okay!” and “Don’t worry!” followed by his running stops you from checking up on him.

“Man, Gojou must really have his hands full taking care of such a clumsy boy. Thank God Fushiguro is a bit more calmer. Now, where and when should we go… Probably should find out the time difference like he said… Oh! Maybe I can invite Shouko and Ken-chan to come along! They need to get out and have a holiday as well. I’m sure Gojou won’t mind if I invite them.”

Masterlist | Next chapter →

#gojou x reader #gojou imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojou #gojou satoru #fluff #series #female reader

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feetoffire · 5 months ago

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second rotation:

Mexico: Federico Fernandez on Romeo. being a bit of a fussbudget before they get into the ring. elevator-type bit with converter reins. lots of bucks - he’s feeling himself. handy round, two rails down.

Sweden: Rolf-Goran Bengtsson on Zuccero HV. still the coolest coat in the field. drop noseband, elevator-type bit with two sets of reins. froth and gape. One rail down, otherwise clear.

Italy: Emanuele Camilli on Odense Odeveld. shadow roll, and i think a hackamore-bit combination. seems overkill ngl. fleece under the chin as well. scopey as hell. gape and froth.

Colombia: Rene Lopez Lizarazo on Kheros Van’t Hoogeinde. froth and gape, gag bit. Kheros doesn't want to slow down; knocks a lot of rails before Lopez Lizarazo pulls him out of the last line and circles back to it again. not going anywhere with as many penalties as they've racked up, but Lopez elects to finish well rather than worry about it.

Spain: Eduardo Alvarez Aznar on Rokfeller de Pleville. two sets of reins. three rails down; made the call to retire on course.

France: Simon Delestre on I Amelusina R 51. massive amounts of gape. full of himself but jumping (mostly) clear. one rail down.

Saudi Arabia: Khaled Almobty on Jaguar King WD. red ribbon. fantastic striding. one rail and a foot in the water.

Austria: Katharina Rhomberg on Colestus Cambridge. two sets of reins. he’s 9, still very dappled. something was happening with his tongue for a second but i don’t know what. two? rails down.

Japan: Takashi Haase Shibayama on Karamell M&M. blinkers, combined noseband. clear, and juuuuussssstttt inside the time.

USA: Laura Kraut on Baloutinue. as always, pets for the boy before they start. he’s a little fussy today, but she’s not letting it get in the way of their ride. one rail down. plenty of praise after the round. i like this pair a lot.

Netherlands: Kim Emmen on Imagine. two sets of reins. such a solid jumper, and a pretty solid horse too. bet he's got ISH in there somewhere. double clear.

Ireland: Daniel Coyle on Legacy. Mare! naturally, an Irish Sport Horse for the Irish team. Legacy is on a roll this round. double clear (73.smth!) i love watching this mare; she’s just amazing.

Belgium: Gilles Thomas on Ermitage Kalone. nose net. the epitome of a chrome-y chestnut and amazingly adjustable. double clear, beautiful round. back boots come off asap once they're out of the ring.

Switzerland: Steve Guerdat on Dynamix de Belheme. mare! oh i love her blaze. some froth and gape. another beautiful round; double clear.

UK: Scott Brash on Jefferson. pretty lighter bay. drop noseband. double clear. lots of praise for the boy after the round.

Australia: Thaisa Erwin on Hialita B. mare! a red mare at that, and her mane and tail are sun-bleached. blinkers. very neat jumper. two rails down. i like her.

Latvia: Kristaps Neretnieks on Palladium KJV. oh cool another Really Dark horse. Nice movement. three rails down. some tongue nonsense happening after the round there.

Poland: Adam Grzegorzewski on Issem. red ribbon. very adjustable horse. they’re having Discussions about speed. two sets of reins. one rail down, one foot in the water. nice stretchy trot headed out of the arena.

Germany: Richard Vogel on United Touch S. clever to slice the plank wall like that, don’t have to shorten as much. wiggly down the last line. three rails down.

Brazil: Yuri Mansur on Miss Blue. mare! two sets of reins. lovely goer, nice quiet round. refuses the last wall - she wanted a look at it. clears it the second time. lots of time penalties.

UAE: Abdullah Mohd al Marri on McGregor. why a hackamore and bitted bridle set up together. knocks several rails, retires on course.

Israel: Daniel Bluman on Ladriano Z. Bluman letting Ladriano get a look at the last wall - smart. nice round. approach to the last wall is too sharp an angle, retires on course.

Canada: Tiffany Foster on Figor. blinkers, shadow roll, nose net. respectable round. two rails down.

Mexico: Eugenio Garza Perez on Contago. clear through the double and the line after it. ever so slightly wiggly down the last line. One rail down.

Sweden: Peder Fredricson on Catch Me Not S. nice quiet round (it pays to be riding the old hats, sometimes) (Catch Me Not S is 18). two rails down.

showjumping individual qualifiers here we go:

Israel: Isabella Russekoff on C Vier 2. Micklem (or adjacent) bridle. pretty lighter bay. he spooks (or ‘spooks’) shortly after the final fence.

Canada: Mario Deslauriers on Emerson. that turn to the ‘bonjour paris’ wall is Tight. in time, only one rail down. Deslauriers has been doing this forever so that really doesn’t surprise me. double reins on an elevator or pelham bit.

Lithuania: Andrius Petrovas on Linkolns. Linkolns decided something about that jump or the course was not worth it and Petrovas retired. good for him!

Mexico: Andres Azcarraga on Contrendros 2. dropped a stride before the water and still cleared it - horses like that are the best. first double clear round! and an extra little buck.

Sweden: Henrik von Eckermann on King Edward. Oh that’s right he goes in a nose fly net thing. King Edward is Going today - “jumping out of his skin” yeah you’re right. definitely saw Eckermann grab mane.

Spain: Ismael Garcia Roque on Tirano. drop noseband. lots and lots of air on Tirano’s part. only one rail down.

France: Olivier Perreau on Dorai d’Aiguilly. mare! some froth i think. this girl is here to Get It Done. knocked a rail on the last fence. elevator-type bit with converter reins.

Saudi Arabia: Abdulrahman Alrajhi on Ventago. ah a kicker. tapped a rail but went clear and in time. froth.

Austria: Gerfried Puck on Naxcel V. okay i’m sure those fly mask things are blinkers but i can’t get a close enough look to confirm. drop noseband. much discussion from this pair - Naxcel has his own plans it seems. elevator-type bit with two sets of reins.

Japan: Eiken Sato on Conthargo-Blue. red ribbon. Disagreements after the water and over the red vertical. drop noseband, elevator-type bit with double reins. retires on course.

USA: Karl Cook on Caracole de la Roque. mare! one of the two mares going in a hackamore. her topline still bothers me. double clear. every time i’ve seen this mare she gets shit done.

Netherlands: Maikel van der Vleuten on Beauville Z. came in a little wiggly to that second jump (we’ve all been there). only one rail down and a 70 second course.

Ireland: Shane Sweetnam on James Kann Cruz. would like a better look at that bridle. they are tearing through the course in style - no rails in 73.35 seconds.

Belgium: Jerome Guery on Quel Homme de Hus. converter reins. one rail down, four seconds under time.

Switzerland: Edouard Schmitz on Gamin Van’t Naastveldhof. quick buck as they get going. two rails down, four seconds under.

UK: Harry Charles on Romeo 88. always interesting to see which horse’s manes get braided for showjumping and which don't (Romeo 88 doesn’t). the double noseband situation bothers me, and also it seems like you could just use a flash. blinkers. double clear. some bucks just for funsies.

Norway: Victoria Gulliksen on Mistral van de Vogelzang. Mistral has things to say about the rein contact - tons of head shaking between fences. froth. double clear.

Australia: Hilary Scott on Milky Way. mare! pretty gray. i don’t think she has a throatlatch. knocked two rails - one in the double combination and one in the triple combination.

Poland: Dawid Kubiak on Flash Blue B. shadow roll and hackmore. blinkers maybe? two rails down.

Denmark: Andreas Schou on Napoli VH Nederassenthof. Schou’s shoulders look a little slumped as they come in - kinda odd, for how much we worry about our posture. maybe i'm seeing things. knocks a rail on the last fence.

Germany: Christian Kukuk on Checker 47. buck. pretty dapples. two rails, i think.

Brazil: Rodrigo Pessoa on Major Tom. i’m not going to make a built-in sponsor joke. or a Space Oddity joke. i’m not. lovely jump. double clear. i think Major Tom is the third? horse i’ve seen with his fly bonnet tied to the noseband so it won’t flap.

UAE: Salim Ahmed al Suwaidi on Foncetti VD Heffinck. froth. Micklem adjacent bridle. lots of praise after the round. four rails down.

Israel: Robin Muhr on Galaxy HM. two rails down. interesting how there are so many dark bays/blacks in dressage but considerably fewer in jumping.

Canada: Erynn Ballard on Nikka VD Bisschop. mare! big bold blaze. entered the ring fairly quietly. extra little kick over the jumps. i like this pair.

#horses #showjumping #olympics #paris 2024

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