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agendabymooner · 1 year ago

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of long lines and names || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

Summary: Aimee Yael and Charles Leclerc are too young to have five kids under six, but those boys became the life and memories that the couple wanted to keep forever. OR a series of scenarios during Aimee’s pregnancies that Charles remembered the most.

Content warning: Pregnancies with twins/five kids, dad!Charles and the grid uncles, based on Charles’ long name, a crying Charles, mentions of Anthoine Hubert, Niki Lauda, Jules Bianchi and the Leclerc dad (nothing too graphic nor personal, mostly based on their names only), loss/grief, Toto being a d-bag for a moment, possible use of explicit language, family-centric/dad!Charles-centric content, mentions of other Hearth sisters children (Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen)

Note: This will be a flop but I love these fictional Hearth-Leclerc kids. I love all of their kids! In fact, I have a series of spreadsheets dedicated to the Hearth sisters, and other characters and the names of their babies. Enjoy xx

masterlist

2024 — Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu and Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé Leclerc

Aimee Yael Edmunson (Hearth) had never been stressed before. She had no reason to be. As a woman from a wealthy family — the granddaughter of Scottish billionaires and a daughter of an FIA executive — she had no reason to stress over the little things that were in the area of her control. Like her half-sisters, she had the money and intelligence to handle things well.

All except for the two little things in her womb that were continuously developing as the fourth month of her pregnancy went on. It was hard to hide it from everyone if you were to ask her. She had already spoken to her mother about carrying this amount of children in one go— Amara Louise Edmunson had only given birth to one child, and it was her. Nobody knew the struggle, but her mother had comforted her as much as she could.

Aimee was calm despite the disaster that happened to be an unplanned pregnancy, her rational mind thinking that she shouldn’t be in some form of distress or discomfort to avoid any complications in her body.

Her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, thought otherwise.

When her body hit the ninth-week mark, there was already a tiny bump that someone might have seen as bloated. A natural one, no? But Charles was known to overthink things, and when he somehow got his prediction right, he had never cried so hard about having not only one— but two kids. He cried as if he was the one with the uncontrollable hormones. Aimee watched him cry empathetically, feeling grateful that she didn’t have this much anxiety that could risk her health and her babies. Still, she wondered if the tears he shredded were tears of joy or something else.

Charles said he was happy, but at the same time, he thought of how their families would react— minus Pascale, Blanche and Amara.

When her body hit the seventeenth-week mark, they couldn’t hide it from their families any longer, hosting a dinner at their home in Monaco where Aimee did all of the cooking. Everything she made were cravings that became stronger as her first few weeks of pregnancy went on—rice, pasta and somehow a good selection of desserts and pastries that Charles ordered before the dinner.

Welcoming each family member into the house wasn’t the most significant part of the dinner. The maternal figures of Charles and Aimee’s lives — Pascale, Amara and Blanche Ford — were on standby just in case someone decided to act differently towards the two.

Stevie and Lewis Hamilton were clearly (too obviously) shocked at the protrusion in Aimee’s stomach but hadn’t made any comment on it for a while. They merely spoke about their daughter Lottie, who would cuddle with Roscoe whenever her little crawling body approached him. They were talking about their child, all while their eyes peered down on Aimee’s growing body.

Sylvie and her fiancé Max Verstappen were surprised. Still, the model had managed to pass off her shock as excitement over the invitation to the couple’s new home before she tried to maneuver through the huge bump in the road— or rather, in Aimee’s body. Max tried asking Pascale and Amara about it by mouthing, “Is she actually?” only to receive a glare from them. Blanche scolded him quietly to keep it shut while she served him a drink.

Charles dreaded inviting his brothers into his new home because they always picked their timing. When Arthur and Lorenzo Leclerc saw Aimee’s bulging figure, they immediately turned away and snorted aloud. Charles wasn’t this anxious about anything as exciting as this, but Arthur’s offhanded comment, “I’ll be attending your funeral when Toto finds out,” definitely had him recoiling. Pascale had to smack both her other children for scaring Charles off. Aimee nearly cried on the spot when Arthur made the joke, to which Charles returned to his composure and glared at his youngest brother for making her feel so shitty.

The mentioned man and his wife were met at the front by the three maternal figures. Toto Wolff wasn’t typically this intimidated. He was usually level-headed, but how they stared at him while they welcomed the couple left him asking what was happening. Tilly seemed to sense some sort of protectiveness towards whatever it was, and when she had gotten a glimpse of it, her eyes sparkled at the sight of Charles’ hand over her little sister’s stomach. She wordlessly grinned before tugging her husband down on a seat right across the two.

Toto couldn’t say a word if he were being truthful. The moment his eyes settled on the bulging stomach, his glare toward the Monegasque driver hardened. This was Toto’s nightmare, but it wasn’t as if he could just say that in front of the most overprotective women to have existed. So he threatened Charles wordlessly, passing words back and forth with other people while he glared at the Ferrari driver whenever he piped up.

“So…” Toto started after finishing what seemed to be his second wine of the night. “Aimee, you’re pregnant. How long?”

“Uh,” Aimee shifted uncomfortably, scared even to look Toto in the eyes. “Seven- seventeen weeks.”

“She’s seventeen weeks and four days—“ Charles was thrilled. He was. But the stare that Toto gave him immediately had his mouth shut as he looked back and only settled to hold his girlfriend’s hands underneath the table. “Four days,” he murmured to himself.

“So explain how,” Lorenzo started but had given up halfway through, gesturing at Aimee’s stomach, “how has she grown this much if she’s only that much?”

“Yeah, about that,” Charles’ grin widened continuously as he announced, “We’re having twins.”

Aimee and Charles’ siblings were cheering for the couple as a series of hollering escaped their mouths. Pascale, Blanche and Amara were grinning from ear to ear while Toto… he was a man that was hard to please.

“Two?” Toto uttered, already pouring himself another glass of cabernet sauvignon. “And you two are… getting married?”

“What?” Arthur blurted out with an incredulous look, shooting in Toto’s direction. Sylvie and Stevie looked at each other, asking themselves, ‘what the fuck is he on?’

“Uh no,” Charles nervously laughed, but no one seemed to understand the memo when Toto glared at him as the Monegasque muttered, “but I suppose this is a wrong answer to say aloud.”

“We’re not going to get hitched,” Aimee laughed in confusion, “why do we have to?”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“Do we have to get married?” Aimee looked at Tilly for some help.

Tilly, sensing the discomfort from the pregnant woman, reached to pinch her husband in his side, eliciting a groan from him as she glared, “No, you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, you don’t,” Sylvie glared at Toto. “Tils and Toto didn’t get married until Tia came along.”

“So, you’re just going to be waiting for the fourth child to be out until you marry?” Arthur asked bluntly, leaving him to cower when Stevie, Lorenzo and Sylvie shot him a look of annoyance. “Oh mon dieu, je pose juste une question.” Oh my god, I’m just asking a question.

Toto wasn’t sold at the thought of his youngest in-law being pregnant with another driver’s children. He’d seen Stevie get married off to his own driver, Lewis, and it still never sat right with him to witness them being married or having a family with some men. Charles could agree on the same thing, because if his hypothetical daughter was to be courted and even have a boyfriend he wasn’t sure how he would act either.

He didn’t think that he would have the same problem with vice versa until he found out that Aimee was carrying two boys. He wondered how to prevent them from having girlfriends or boyfriends at an early age because he was certain that Aimee would just play mother of the groom on the pretend wedding that the boys would have at a young age.

But his worries withered away when he held Hervé and Jules for the first time. He could still remember realizing how strong they were from the grip they had on his fingers. He could still remember the sight of Aimee crying after she introduced them to their father— not wanting to see Charles cry again due to the tribute that she had given to Charles’ family that passed years ago.

Perhaps it was a good idea that she did the crying this time; she deserved it after watching him have a breakdown over the little things that he didn’t need to worry about — and Charles needed to have the backbone for thinking himself as a shitty father for his unborn children.

“What’re their names?” Esteban almost laughed after seeing Charles stare at Pierre mindlessly. It really wasn’t a good idea for Gasly to have Charles repeat the babies’ names all over again especially when the Monegasque was way too tired for his friends’ bullshit.

Mick kicked Pierre lightly with a hush, rocking the baby in his arms as he quietly asked, “Do you not listen or do you just live to piss your best friend off?”

Charles glared at Pierre, whose smile stood out as he giggled. Scoffing quietly, Charles gestured to the boy in his arm, “Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé.”

Then he nudged his head at Mick’s direction before he introduced the other twin, “and the boy in Mick’s hold is Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu.”

“Sorry, I didn’t listen, Shal can you—“

“Oh my fucking god. Shut the fuck up, Pierre.”

“I’m kidding,” Pierre snorted as he quietly cackled. “What do you call them though?”

2026 — Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc

Torger Wolff promised that he wasn’t going to squash Charles Leclerc’s head until it popped once that Hervé and Jules Leclerc were born.

He loved his nephews after all and spoiled them as much as their Uncle Toto could. He made sure the boys had their bunk beds prepared at the Wolff home in Monaco or England just in case they came for a sleepover with his son Adelmo and his niece Lottie Hamilton — who were just about the same age as the twins. He spoiled them equally.

But god, was he ever ready to get rid of their Da the moment he received a text from the Monegasque with the words, “She’s pregnant.”

“Morning, Sainz, is your stupid teammate in the office?” Toto didn’t even listen to the Spanish man’s answer as he continued to make his way to Fred Vasseur’s in-site office at the Scuderia Ferrari area. “Charles Leclerc! I’ve warned you once—“

The Ferrari team principal turned to look at the entryway of his office with a scowl, crossing his arms in annoyance. Toto wasn’t even in his team’s area and he was still acting like he shouldn’t have to knock at the damn door. The man that he was addressing, however, was teary eyed when he turned to look at Toto.

“Is this your third or fourth?” Toto asked, still glaring at the Monegasque.

“Third,” Charles wanted to smile but the last thing he wanted to do was die in this damn motorhome. In the hands of Toto Wolff, of all people.

“And no ring?” Toto then found him holding whatever in his hand, peering down as his mouth opened slightly.

In Charles’ hand was a gold ring, ruby sitting on top of it as he clutched on it tightly. It wasn’t just a gold ring. From what Toto had learned, it was Aimee’s grandmother’s engagement ring.

“I was— proposing to her—“ Charles sobbed quietly, a smile now resting on his face as he begged himself not to ugly cry in front of the Mercedes team principal. “Then she said Herb and J were going to be big brothers. I was on my knees, Toto! I promise! I want to propose first but she just spewed that— oh god, I have three children now.” It didn’t even dawn on him that he was about to have three under five until he cut himself off.

Then he was just crying hysterically in the middle of the office with Carlos barging in frantically. “What the hell, Charles?! Are you okay?”

Toto smiled proudly at the Monegasque driver, clapping him on the back before he shrugged at Carlos Sainz and Fred. “Don’t worry about him,” Toto replied quietly to the other men, “he’s having his third child, that's all.”

Carlos and Fred were confused and scared. They weren’t sure if it was because of Charles’ breakdown on the floor of the Ferrari team principal’s office or if it was because of Toto’s calm demeanour. But regardless, if Toto said not to worry, then so be it.

Baby Boy Leclerc was written on his little hospital bassinet. But Toto got the first glimpse of his birth certificate.

Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc.

Toto had no reason to be upset. He wasn’t. He was just as equally as annoyed at himself when he realized how overprotective he was when it came to Aimee - who, as of this point, had already given birth to her third baby. He had no reason to be protective especially when she was doing a damn good job at protecting her two children. Now, he had the chance to witness her protect Sacha — the boy that they named after Niki Lauda, who happened to be close to the Hearth sisters before he passed.

Like Tilly’s second pregnancy, Aimee and Charles welcomed their son to the world with wedding bands in their fingers. Pierre almost had a stroke watching Charles boast about his wife and their third son— but the final nail in the coffin had something to do with Sacha Leclerc having Pierre as a namesake. It wasn’t everyday Pierre got to pass out over such a small thing— but to be a namesake and named the godfather of the child? Yeah, Pierre Gasly would boast about him too.

Arriving back home was easy. However, according to the Leclerc children’s grid uncles, writing down the boy’s name into the banner (which said, “Welcome Baby Sacha Niki Pierre Phi—(with a gap) lippe”) was quite complicated. They had done a good job with the twins’ welcome banner two years ago, but according to them their handwriting got too sloppy.

Lando groaned quietly, “Don’t give them such a long name next time. Look at Max! His name is just Max.”

Max Verstappen reached for a balloon on the floor before hitting Lando with it, “It’s a Leclerc thing to give them six names, of course they have to have the long name.”

“Oi, don’t make fun of my name,” Charles called out from the kitchen, pouring his two boys some glasses of apple juice the toddlers babbled in protest against their Uncle Max’s response. “Even H and J aren’t happy with what you said. You’re not being kind to your own nephews the more you make fun of me.”

Pierre chuckled, sitting next to Aimee as she fed Sacha. The Frenchman said, “I’m so convinced that those two are Charles’ minis.”

“They are becoming more like their Da as days go on,” Aimee pulled her tank top’s strap back on and began to burp Sacha. “I’m so outnumbered as of this point.”

“Baby PJ’s going to be like his Oncle Pierre, I can tell you that much,” Pierre smugly said, reaching out to caress Sacha’s cheek as he said, “I’ll be his big mentor and I’ll make sure his Da doesn’t have much influence on him.”

“His name is Sacha, Pierre,” Aimee rolled her eyes. Pierre, from the moment he was told of Sacha’s full name, had decided that the baby’s nickname was PJ — or Pierre Junior. He hadn’t even held the baby yet when he walked in the room but he had already staked his claim and declared Sacha as a Mini Pierre. “And you said the same thing to Herb and Jules when you met them, look how they turned out. They’re so much like Charles.”

“We all have our trials and errors,” Pierre mumbled, “and you know what they say— third times a charm. Maybe PJ will be the same.”

2029 — Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval and Alain Marc Léonard Arthur Leclerc

“You have quite some swimmers,” Pierre cackled hysterically, slapping Charles in the chest as he tried to get his shit together instead of laughing at the fact that his best friend has five children under seven. He really couldn’t when he had to remind himself that Aimee had given birth to another set of twins just a day ago.

Charles began to curse at him in French, already exasperated after the long night that Aimee had. She had a labour that lasted longer than the previous pregnancies that she went through and it annoyed her more than it made things painful. Charles’ five year olds and his three year old son were fussing about not being around their mother for longer than two minutes and were already on the way to the hospital with their Mamé Pascale and Mamma Blanche, eager to meet their little brothers.

Pierre, Max, Lewis, and Mick were all standing in front of the glass window of the hospital nursery with Charles, eyes all trained on the twin boys that slept peacefully alongside other infants. Charles never wondered, but he was always surprised that Aimee was this strong to even give birth to five of their children— fuck that, she had given birth to five of his boys. He couldn’t even find himself to swear to his best friend when he was too busy loving the shit out of his newborn sons. His boys.

On the men’s left was Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval, whose personality was already showing by the way his resting face wrinkles to a scowl. Pierre couldn’t afford to cry over the tribute to their friend who passed years ago that all he did was laugh at his best friend’s experiences in fatherhood. He could just cry later on, the Frenchman told himself while he continued to pester Charles about his five sons.

Next to Anthoine’s bassinet was Alain Marc Léonard Arthur, whose soft smile had the men outside the nursery melting as he cooed softly and shifted around. Charles and the others could tell that out of the two of them, Alain would be the one to stop the Ferrari driver from ripping his hair out.

Anthoine would most likely give Charles a run for his money and raise hell with Hervé and Jules.

Alain would be the one to be as angelic as PJ — whose nickname stuck after Pierre continued to visit the boys every other week — and his mother Aimee, whose youthful glow remained despite entering her motherhood five years ago. Aimee wasn’t that outnumbered after all.

Max scoffed next to Pierre, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t known anything about protection.”

“I’ve had practices,” Pierre winked at Max, making the Dutchman grimace. “Just no luck yet. It’s not as if I’m shaming Charles for it.”

“Five kids are better than none,” Lewis shrugged, still looking at the twins on the other side of the window. “How you’ve done it— fuckin’ beats me— but I sure as hell am jealous.”

“Never hurts to try for one more,” Charles chuckled. “You really think Lottie and Leland would be satisfied to have each other? It doesn’t really make a good playhouse squad.”

Lewis huffed, “They’ve already got your boys, Adelmo and Max’s Millie. I don’t think Steve would appreciate having to push out one more.”

“What about you, Max?” Mick joked before nudging the Dutchman with a smirk. “Opting for one more?”

“I’ve got a girl,” Max deadpanned, “and I’ve another one on the way. I’m not the kind to be greedy but I think Millia and Lila would make good big sisters to a little brother, don’t you think?”

“Are you two settling for the little girl’s name then?” Pierre asked. “Lila?”

“Poor Sylvie doesn’t even have a child named after her,” Mick laughed.

“She named our daughter Emilia,” Max defended himself, “I didn’t ask her to name the girl Emilia. She just said it’s too damn pretty.”

“Besides, Max isn’t really known for giving things good names,” Lewis teased. “Last I checked he wanted to call Emilia ‘Jane’.”

“Fuck off, Sylvie loves Jane Austen,” Max scoffed, shoving Lewis slightly when the British man laughed. “Besides, her name would have been Blue or something.”

“All jokes aside,” Lewis paused before clapping Charles on the back. “I’m pumped to see your bunch hanging out with their cousins. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Four months,” Max murmured. “It’s been four months for all of us.”

“I know,” Charles rolled his eyes. “H and Jules are looking forward to the Australian GP— they’ve been wanting to wreak havoc in the paddock since Abu Dhabi.”

“Those kids of yours need to lose that energy,” Pierre chuckled. “Have you ever taken them for a walk?”

“I always take them out for a walk,” Charles muttered. They just have a bad habit of running away from their Da. All the freaking time.

Speaking of.

“Da!”

“Look at those little devils go,” Pierre and the other men turned to the direction of the sound of running feet, hoisting little PJ up in his arms while the eldest Leclerc children ran towards their father, who had immediately lifted them up and pressed a kiss on their cheeks.

“Where are they? Where are they?” Hervé and Jules tried to keep their voices down, as they were told by their Mamé before they entered the hospital— begging their dad to show them the newborn babies as he pointed through the window.

“Oncle P,” Sacha reached for his godfather’s scruffy face as he murmured, “où est Maman?” Where’s mom?

“Elle dort comme un bébé,” She’s sleeping like a baby. Pierre whispered to the boy, now pointing to the babies as he continued, “Like your little brothers.”

“Mm? Mais il ne dort pas,” But he’s not sleeping. Sacha pointed at the baby to the right. “He’s no sleeping?”

“He looks like you, Da. Look,” Jules pointed and said in awe while grinned at his father. “And he does too!”

“He’s like me and Jules!” Hervé exclaimed in amusement. “They look the same, Da!”

“Yes they do,” Charles grinned, “because they’re like you two. Twins!”

“How come I don’t have twin?” Sacha asked, slumping against his Oncle Pierre. Max and Lewis turned to the boy and offered him a soft smile.

Mick then reached out, “It’s better that you don’t,” he joked, “you’re one of a kind, little PJ.”

“But he won’t have any driving partner for Ferrari?” Hervé protested in annoyance. Charles laughed at this. His sons were born to be Ferrari drivers, said once by Sebastian Vettel. They were born to a Ferrari driving father and a mother who worked for McLaren. Even the amount of papaya outfit never stopped the Leclerc children from aspiring to become the Prancing Horse’s next generation of drivers.

All but one. Sacha turned to look at his eldest brothers and said, “Me and L’land are driving for Mercedes!”

“No! You’re driving for ‘Rari, ‘member, PJ?”

“Mummy said I can drive for anyone,” Sacha pulled himself away from Pierre’s chest for a second to cross his arms, pouting at his eldest brothers. “I wan’ drive for ‘Cedes!”

Lewis looked at Charles with approval all over his face, obviously cocky at the statement made by the three year old.

“You don’t want to drive for Alpine like your Oncle P?” Pierre asked, goading his godson into joining his team.

“Hm, maybe! But I wanna be like Uncle Lew and Da!”

“Mon chou, you are like Da,” Charles grinned widely. “You and your brothers are mini Charles.”

Seeing his sons now — the two that he held in his arms, the toddler that Pierre had on his own pair and the other two that were just born yesterday — had him thinking about the importance of their names and their existence. Charles didn’t seem to think of himself as someone so sentimental, but his life with Aimee seemed to change his viewpoint. He valued his family more than he did before.

He didn’t care much about carrying the family name as long as he could remember where his sons’ names came from.

If his eldest asked, he was more than willing to tell them a story about how Hervé and Jules got their names from their late grandpa and uncle. If PJ asked, then Charles and Aimee would sit him down to tell the boy about Aimee’s Uncle Niki and great grandfather Philip Hearth. And someday when his youngest grew curious, he’d tell them all about Charles’ good friend Anthoine and a French driving legend named Alain Prost.

He’d sit them all down to let them know about the people that he and Aimee loved and how they loved to keep their memories alive through the boys.

But for now, Charles Leclerc was quite content with nurturing his boys with his wife. He was only looking forward to caring for Aimee Leclerc and their children. Then maybe someday, the Leclerc bunch would grow to care for their mother too.

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odoroussavourssweet · 26 days ago

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Francesca Bianchi Tyger Tyger

Nose: Francesca Bianchi

Notes: honey, peach, white flowers, leather, heliotrope, sandalwood, oakmoss, patchouli, oudh

Tyger Tyger is right in Francesca Bianchi's comfort zone: dense, sweet, lusty, bottom-heavy scents. It's exactly what it sounds like: a dark peachy honey. There's a nice smooth beeswax texture to it, and a soft, skin-like muskiness. I can't smell the leather overtly, but I can feel that the dense, jammy peach-and-honey syrup is disappearing into dark depths, which saves it from the frivolity that sweet fruity scents can fall into.

It's kind of similar to Lost in Heaven (Francesca Bianchi Does Orange Blossom) only with peach in place of orange blossom, and maybe less overt animalism. And they both work great for me.

Tyger Tyger is honey-drenched peach-jam sweetness with a hint of salt sweat to ground it, which makes it one of my favorite renditions of peach in perfume.

If you're a true peach-lover, what else is worth trying?

Mitsuoko, of course (spiced peach against a mossy chypre backdrop);

Divine L'Etre Aime Femme (symphonic ultra-feminine floral with a strong peach note);

Olympic Orchids Red Cattleya (vivid peach in a rainbow of tropical flowers);

maybe Tom Ford Bitter Peach (hyper-realistic fresh peach, complete with almond-scented peach pit, against a smoky black backdrop with Evil CEO vibes).

I've also heard good things about YSL Yvresse (a famous 90's peach chypre) and some osmanthus-centric stuff like Hermes Osmanthe Yunnan.

But yeah, Tyger Tyger is straight-up honeyed peach jam. It's long-lasting, it's dense, it's satisfying, and it's got gravitas. But you've gotta like peach.

#perfume #fragrance #scent of the day #francesca bianchi

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avida-heidia-5 · 1 year ago

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{ My Archive Of Our Own Fanfic List }

For anyone who wants to read (and listen to) my fanfics, they are all here! Just so you don’t have to keep going backwards and forwards trying to find them all individually.

Keep an eye out for any updates!

❤︎₊ ⊹ Pairings I Support (F1 Edition): ⋆˙⟡♡

{Key:}

/ = Ship

& = Friendship

💙💥💙 Martian/Sebmark < Sebastian Vettel /& Mark Webber

💙🔥❄️❤️ Simi < Sebastian Vettel /& Kimi Räikkönen

❤️🍬❤️ Sebchal < Charles Leclerc /& Sebastian Vettel

💙🃏💛 Sebson < Sebastian Vettel /& Jenson Button

💙🏎️🔧💙 Socky < Sebastian Vettel /& Guillaume “Rocky” Rocquelin

❤️🌶️🧸🧡 Carlando < Carlos Sainz Jr. / Lando Norris

❤️🍬🌶️❤️ Charlos < Charles Leclerc / Carlos Sainz Jr.

🧡🃏🧸🧡 Dando < Daniel Ricciardo & Lando Norris

❤️💥🧡 Carcar < Carlos Sainz Jr. & Oscar Piastri

💛🃏💙 Butter < Jenson Button /& Mark Webber

💙🐱🦊❤️ Vettonso < Sebastian Vettel / Fernando Alonso

💙🐺🦊🩵 Webbonso < Mark Webber / Fernando Alonso

🩵🤝🩵 Fisinando < Giancarlo Fisichella /& Fernando Alonso

💚🐣🤍 Smick < Sebastian Vettel & Mick Schumacher

🤍🤝🤍 Haasbands < Kevin Magnussen & Nico Hülkenberg

💖💍💖 Prattel < Sebastian Vettel / Hanna Prater

💙💍❄️💙 Virtönen < Kimi Räikkönen / Minttu Virtanen

🩵⛳️🩵 Alex Albon / Lily Muni He

🤍🚲🤍 Valtteri Bottas / Tiffany Cromwell

❤︎₊ ⊹ Other Pairings I Support: ⋆˙⟡♡

🎾 Fedal (Roger Federer / Rafael Nadal) - Tennis

🏴‍☠️ Blackbonnet (Blackbeard aka Edward Teach / Stede Bonnet) - Our Flag Means Death

✨ Freylin (Freya / Merlin) - BBC's Merlin

✨ Gwerthur (Arthur / Gwen/Guinevere) - BBC's Merlin

✨ Merthur (Merlin /& Arthur) - BBC's Merlin

🧚🏻 Zelink (Link /& Zelda) - The Legend of Zelda video game series

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

🏎️💨 Sports: 🏁

Formula 1:

• Miracles Happen at the Right Place at the Right Time

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link

Oneshot | Sebastian Vettel, Lando Norris

Friendship

One moment, he saw a rain sodden track. The next moment, he saw only stars.

This fic is a re-imagining of the devastating crash during the horrific 2021 Belgian Qualifying. Sebastian Vettel acts as the hero in this story as he takes care of little Lando Norris after the crash.

⚠️ Strong language in the first half of the story.

• As Drunk As A Finnish Brown Bear

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link (pending)

Multi-Chapter [1/2] (Ch. 2 pending) | Kimi Räikkönen, Sebastian Vettel, Hanna Prater & Minttu Virtanen

Ship (Simi, Prattel - Seb/Hanna Prater, Virtönen - Kimi R/Minttu Virtanen)

Never bring vodka to Kimi Räikkönen's table. This is a very simple rule the FIA should've considered before hosting the 2018 Prize Giving Gala. Now Sebastian Vettel has to deal with one extremely sozzled Finn, in more ways than one.

⚠️ Mild swearing, plus some vulgar language in Finnish. Alcohol centric!

• My Soul Begs For Your Return

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link (pending)

Oneshot | Charles Leclerc, Jules Bianchi

Friendship

Charles Leclerc wakes up to a sound in his apartment. When he goes to investigate, he is shocked to discover an old friend who he hadn’t seen since he’d been involved in a horrific accident many years ago.

⚠️ Crash mention.

• For The Sake Of Nature

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link

Multi-Chapter [1/9] (Ch. 2 pending) | Mark Webber, Sebastian Vettel

Ship (Martian)

Mark gets dragged into going on a 5-day forest expedition in Germany with Sebastian Vettel of all people. What could possibly go wrong?

⚠️ Some strong language and scenes of a sexual nature. (18+!!!)

• A Toast For A Lovely Old Goat

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link

Oneshot | Sebastian Vettel, Lewis Hamilton

Ship (Sewis)

A simple Instagram Story isn't enough to satisfy him. Nor is sending his best friend a text to congratulate him on his efforts satisfactory.

All he needs to do is go and congratulate him in person. Then he'll be a happy little bunny.

Sewis. Set during the 2024 British GP.

• In Another World With My Eyes Closed

[F1 Big Bang 2024]

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link

Oneshot | Charles Leclerc, Sebastian Vettel

Ship (Sebchal)

Charles Leclerc is haunted by a demon in his dreams every single night, so Sebastian Vettel comes up with a plan to help get rid of them. He invents a pair of electronic headsets; one for Charles and one for himself. These headsets allow the German to enter Charles’ dreams so he could interact with him and everything around him whenever the little Monegasque would fall into a deep sleep.

Together, they travel through Charles’ dreams and nightmares to find the nightmare demon and defeat it once and for all.

⚠️ Some strong language, mentions of blood and injury details, disturbing imagery, and one scene involving drug abuse.

• A Silent Ocean [Podfic]

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link

Oneshot | Oscar Piastri, Zhou Guanyu

Ship (Piastri/Zhou, Zhottas)

Oscar Piastri, amateur space enthusiast, gets ahold of a Chinese astronaut.

Podfic adaptation of Jak_the_ATAT’s fanfic of the same name, which can be found here.

⚠️ Death mention and discussions of family abandonment

• Dear Kimi

[25 Days Of Simi 2024]

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link

Oneshot | Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen

Ship (Simi)

Kimi is away with his mates in Finland for Christmas and Sebastian is stuck in his cottage in Switzerland, alone and cold and miserable. He aches to be in his boyfriend’s warm embrace again, so he sends him loads of cards and a gift as a reminder of how much he loves and misses him.

These are the cards they sent to each other.

⚠️ Alcohol mention

• Put All Your Troubles In A Suitcase

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link

Oneshot | Mark Webber, David Coulthard

Ship (Coulthard/Webber)

Mark finally confesses his true feelings for David to him after bottling it all up for so many years.

⚠️ Brief alcohol mention

• What Christmas Means To A Wolf

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link

[F1 Fic Secret Santa 2024]

Oneshot | Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen

Ship (Simi)

Kimi has never experienced what Christmas is like to humans. He’s never heard of such a thing in his life. On cold, dark winters like this one, he would often join the pack and go hunting together. So Sebastian makes it his mission to show Kimi what celebrating Christmas is truly like from a human’s perspective.

(⬆️ Accidentally labelled as Anonymous!)

• Fine Fettle Vettel

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link

Oneshot | Sebastian Vettel, Guillaume “Rocky” Rocquelin, Mark Webber

Ship (Socky - Seb/Rocky, Martian)

Sebastian has a habit of turning up late and telling fibs, so Rocky sets a challenge for him: He wants him to be on time and to be honest about everything he does. The reward? A fresh supply of delicious brownies.

This becomes a challenge for Sebastian as he loves chocolate and it sends him over the edge.

⚠️ Eating disorder (of sorts), weight loss, and mild swearing in English, German and French

📺 TV Shows: 🤔

BBC’s Merlin:

• Deep Tenebrosity

AO3 Link | Tumblr Link (pending)

One-Shot | Merlin & Arthur – Ship (Merthur)

This is my interpretation of the final battle between King Arthur and Mordred.

⚠️ WARNING: Graphic depictions of gore, injuries and death. DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO FEEL SQUEAMISH!

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

#heidia gemstones #fanfic masterpost #My fanfics #My fanfic #Fic preview #Fic previews #archive of our own #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 fanfiction

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espressodrip · 1 year ago

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ESPRESSODRIP. an independent roleplay blog for an original character; evelyn foster, manager and future owner of bianchi’s, a uk - based coffee shop. low activity, heavily plot-centric, and 19+ due to occasional nsfw themes. temporarily dash-only.

temp. rules & info under the cut!

general rules: basically just don’t be a dick pls <3 find more in - depth rules here.

name: evelyn jean foster. age: ~25 years old. birthday & zodiac: september 20th. virgo. gender identity: cis female. pronouns: she/her. sexual orientation: bisexual, women - leaning. occupation: extremely frazzled manager/barista/baker. place of current residence: manchester, uk. place of birth: london, uk.

#pinned <3

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watching-pictures-move · 2 years ago

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Movie Review | Operation Kid Brother (De Martino, 1967)

I assume that the James Bond franchise was big enough that there were a number of obvious cash-ins alongside the Eurospy genre that it no doubt inspired. I'm not familiar with those to make any broad sweeping statements, but my guess is that none of them fall into as neat a proto-Bruceploitation template as this one. A lead actor who resembles the real deal? Check. A bunch of peripheral actors from the actual movies? Check. Discount versions of the same thrills? Check. Crazier and sometimes more fun? Sadly no.

But instead of Bruce (Lee), the guy we're ripping off here is Connery, and to this movie's credit, it does have a real Connery. Neil Connery, brother of Sean. What's interesting is that it doesn't try to pass him off as the original, but as the brother of the more famous secret agent, who in the universe of the movie, would be going by his real last name. (Although one must point out that Bond does as well, making him a pretty lousy secret agent in most respects.) Neil plays a plastic surgeon who also can read lips and has the power of hypnosis. Apparently he was a plasterer in real life, and I assume the screenwriters got confused and wrote in the plastic surgeon job in an attempt to make him feel more at ease onscreen. I also assume the hypnosis angle, which bears limited fruit in the pursuit of the mission, was an excuse to give the star a bunch of dramatic closeups in an effort to wring a better performance out of him. Neither is successful. If anything, the movie demonstrates the classic Bruceploitation lesson that you can't fake star power, no matter how much your actor looks like the real deal.

The movie is also not remotely thrilling, and this is an area where it compares unfavourably to Bruceploitation. It's still possible to do entertaining martial arts sequences on the cheap, but the more elaborate set pieces of the Bond movies are harder to replicate when you're pinching pennies. To be fair, the movie doesn't look impoverished, and we do bounce around different locations, although whatever travelogue qualities the movie might have attempted were not done justice by the awful transfer I watched on YouTube. But making up for that is a pretty nice Ennio Morricone and Bruno Nicolai score, including a theme song replete with lush instrumentation and sometimes breathy, sometimes soaring vocals, as well as the actual Bond actors in the cast. (I assume there was nothing in their contract stopping them from acting in rip-offs.) We get Adolfo Celi and Bernard Lee doing more boring versions of their actual roles. But the ladies fare better, with Daniela Bianchi wearing any number of red or orange outfits that proved retina-scorching in the copy I watched, and Lois Maxwell, who is normally stuck behind a desk in the Bond movies, actually getting to go out into the field and get in car chases and shootouts. Now if we had a Moneypenny-centric rip-off, we'd be on to something.

#film #movie review #operation kid brother #ok connery #alberto de martino

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onceabluemoonwrites · 7 years ago

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Just Smile!

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn & Batman

Summary: Bianchi was told one time too many to smile- One did not become the Joker out of nowhere, you know.

KHR Batman fusion featuring Bianchi!Joker, Chrome!Batman, Kyoko!Catwoman and Reborn!Harley Quinn.

Warnings: Some violence, and um. Well, it’s pretty mild for the Joker, actually. But yeah. The smile.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Katekyo Hitman Reborn and Batman.

Also on AO3 and ff.net

One: Just Smile! (Bianchi)

Bianchi is society, Bianchi is the girl,

Bianchi is so pretty, but don’t you know, girl?

Just wear some makeup, put on a pretty smile,

‘Till the world goes wi-ild.

But don’t you know, my papa,

I don’t like it very much,

Lipgloss sticks to my hair,

And covering skin sucks.

I’d much rather paint my nails

A pretty shade of poison.

Oh, papa, won’t you leave me to my business?

If you want to poison, dear,

Then go work in the kitchen.

Cook some for your brother,

Or-even-just-make

A sandwich

Or two.

And this is why I poison men,

This why I hate,

This is why I scream and shout,

And never want a date!

None of you understand,

You're fools, all of you!

I’m not gonna wear that dress,

And neither are you.

Goodbye, Romeo.

Did you have to steal his life, my dear?

Why don’t just sit down?

Sit still, look pretty, don’t frown!

Just smile a little more and they’ll never suspect,

That you’re the one who killed him-

And not a heart attack!

I don’t want to smile, papa,

I’ve told you so before,

I’m getting tired of this discussion,

And never wanted more

Then just

For you

To leave me

Be.

Your brother ran away,

But don’t worry your little head,

I’ll get him home,

I’ll drag him home,

He’ll come back in a snap.

In the meantime,

Why don’t you learn to sew?

Oh, darling,

Just smile!

Brother, brother dear,

Father, let him be!

This house doesn’t need me-

It’s venomous already,

Bites us ‘till we’re dead.

Dead,

Like you,

Inside.

Just smile!

Fine,

I’ll smile.

F.o.r.e.v.e.r.

Did you hear about Bianchi-

The Falco heiress?

She took a knife to her face

And carved it as a cReSt.

On both sides of her lips

She s liced!

Her pretty face

Forever marred by grue-some

Smile!

(Don’t you know?

I’m the Joker!)

Author’s Note

I’m having loads of fun with this! It’s going to be one character in the lead per chapter! I’ve got ideas for four chapters already, there might be more if I come up with some more! :D

The style was once more inspired by the lovely @operaeagleicelynlacelett (with a link to her ff.net account: here)! And this Tumblr post by @ithelpstodream

Next chapter: Ac-ti-va-tion, Bat Witch! (Nagi/Chrome)

#gokudera hayato #bianchi #fic #khr #khr fic #batman #khr girls #khr batman au #crossover #khr crossover #my posts #fanfiction #OnceABlueMoonWrites fic #the joker #bianchi-centric #i regret nothing #especially not the reborn chapter #muhahahahah

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khrfandomconfessions · 3 years ago

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why is every bianchi-centric fanfic so good? always a banger when i find them

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #khrfandomconfessions #chara: bianchi #fanfiction

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mirrorfalls · 5 years ago

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The Joker 80th Anniversary Super Spectacular (2020)

“So Lego,” said nobody ever. “Now that you’re got some decent free time and the spoons to write, what are you gonna do? Get some actual work done on that Detective Conan longfic you’ve been rattling about the last two years? Actually start your long-overdue cert paper, that thing you need to graduate?”

Oooof course not! Instead, let’s dive back into the wonderful world of Cape Comix, featuring Tumblr’s least-wanted villain! Will any of these ten little tales actually manage to find something new - or at least interesting - to say about Laughing Boy? Let’s find out.

“Scars” by Scott Snyder and Jock. A pretty typical Snyder gonzo-horror jaunt, complete with “haha, the Joker really is the godmode manipulator/killer you’ve been denying he was all story! Sucks to be you!” ending. It’s stories like these that make me wonder why the hell Bruce’s rogues gallery even needs Scarecrow anymore, even in concept.

“What Comes at the End of a Joke” by James Tynion IV and Mikel Janin. Ahh, Christ, why didn’t I expect there’d be a Joker War tie-in somewhere in this... Well, there ya have it, the Secret Origin of Punchline. There’s a germ of an interesting idea here, likening the Joker’s “the hell with anything else, I just want to fuck over The Powers That Be” influence on Gotham’s youth to the Alt-Right’s influence in real life, but even then I reckon other writers have already done it better.

“Kill the Batman” by Gary Whitta, Greg Miller, and Dan Mora. The first creative team I had to look up - apparently, one of ‘em used to run IGN, and the other co-wrote Rogue One. This is also the first one built as a comedy, which I approve of in theory; in execution, though, the setup is a bit too mawkish for its own good (not to mention way too eager to quote-mine Chris Nolan) the last-page punchline is exactly the kind of dad humor our “hero” was complaining about halfway through the story. All in all, I’d still recommend “Going Sane” as a better take on the whole premise.

“Introducing the Dove Corps” by Denny O’Neil and Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez. Guys, whatever differences I’ve had with his work over the years, I really wanted to report that O’Neil went out on a high note. And I will say this one probably has the strongest premise in the whole book, with Joker trying to not only (gasp!) play hero but (horrors!) do it without bloodshed. O’Neil doesn’t quite cheat the premise, but the story is still bogged down with at least one unleapable logic hole (a Special Forces Team doesn’t know who the fucking Joker is?!), a bunch of pointless continuity-mining (See! The origin of TKJ’s tourist getup!), and a predictable-as-hell ending. Whatever faults the other stories may have, none of them end on a line as hacky as “Killing is so much fun.”

“The War Within” by Peter Tomasi and Simone Bianchi. Okay, first thing - it’s not “Batman/Badman” levels of faux-cleverness, but it’s not quite out of that ballpark. There’s no real plot outside the narration (except maybe to set up some future arc in Tomasi’s Detective), just Bianchi doing a Joker-through-the-ages showcase. Said showcase hits most of the obligatory choices - Golden Age, Silver Age, TKJ, TDK, TDKR - but I will say I was pleasantly surprised to see The Batman’s Joker getting a shout-out, dreads and all.

“The Last Smile” by Paul Dini and Riley Rossmo. Huh. Wasn’t expecting to see Dini do a riff on Joker: Devil’s Advocate of all things - and only slightly that it would average out as the best story in here. After his less-than-stellar writing on the Arkham games, it’s heartening to see Dini’s still got some of the old magic, with a genuinely insightful look into what might scare the Joker: the possibility that Batman can have his cake and eat it too, can get rid of his not-so-eternal dance partner without endangering his precious code, because sometimes, the law is good for something after all. Kudos, too, for a more creative use of Harley - and rapport with Ivy - than years and years of Harley-centric media have ever managed.

“Birthday Bugs” by Tom Taylor and Eduardo Risso. A strong competitor to the previous one - you can almost never go wrong with “the Joker tries to do something nice for an innocent” as a premise - with some choice lines that carry the theme smoothly without ever feeling like grandstanding. That said, Risso’s art is a lot more hit-and-miss than Rossmo’s - some panels are absolutely beautiful, but others - especially if Joker’s actually in them - just look hideously tryhard - and the gore in the last couple pages feels more cheap than disturbing.

“No Heroes” by Eduardo Medeiros and Rafael Albuquerque. See previous opening line. The themes discussed here (why be a hero for a soulless Capitalist engine?) are a little triter, not helped by the fact that the story’s not really long enough to let them breathe properly, but the art is on the whole a lot stronger; and in an age where artists are falling over themselves to out-demonic each others’ Jokers, I especially dig the choice to put him in a mask for most of the story, rooting his scariness in unmoving minimalism instead of hyperexaggerating every wrinkle and pore of his face,

“Penance” by Tony Daniel. Ah, yes. The perennial weak-link of the Reborn era and the inventor of that whole skinned-face idiocy back at the start of the New 52, Daniel’s turn here... threatens to be interesting a few times, but never manages to get all its ideas into anything coherent, much less good in execution. Shame, really - apart from “Birthday Bugs” it’s the only one to focus on “normal” crooks, a perennially underrated element in Joker romps.

“Two Fell Into The Hornet’s Nest” by Brian Azzarello & Lee Bermejo. This was the one I was least looking forward to... and it looks like ol’ Brian anticipated that, given the line (”Have you checked the credits on who’s writing this?”) he kicks off page two with. I suppose it, more than any of the other stories, cut to the heart of what the Joker’s stream-of-consciousness should look like - but that doesn’t really stop it from feeling like something Azzarello cranked out on a lunch break. Even random nonsense needs to be handled with care to not feel like waste of the reader’s time - and whatever else this one has going for it (I did smile a little the nurse taunting Joker about being as much an empty corporate symbol as Batman himself), care's not really on the menu. Stick with his Calvin & Hobbes parody from Superman/Batman #75.

So there ya have it - three (possibly four) stories I’d legitimately read again, surrounded by a sea of mediocrity and misfires (and some intermittently interesting pinups - JRJR’s Joker-as-007 piece hit my sweet-spot best). That’s honestly a better record than I would’ve expected for the J-Man in 2020 - better, by all accounts, than the 80th super-spectacular the Robins got.

Would it have been too much to ask the Lego Batman guys to contribute something, though?

#Joker #Lego has too much time

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nuadox · 4 years ago

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The Future of Insurance Canada 2020

- By Nuadox Crew -

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