#come to russia my friend

[icantdothistodaybruh]

Hello to anyone reading this, I'm opening a form to take online orders for various merch tomorrow and I need your opinion!!

At first I thought I'll just convert original prices from rubles to dollars, but the price difference is DRASTIC due to different market value, and now I'm not so sure what to do🥴

Raising prices would be unfair to foreigners, but leaving them as they are feels unfair to myself? because I see acrylic charms being sold for 8-9$ while mine of the same size would come out around 4.09$ after convertation, + the shipping itself would be pricier and more complicated, + there is 15% charge from boosty, so yeah....

feel free to say what you think I should do because I honestly don't know. For now I'm leaning towards raising, but I'm very interested in your opinion as a potential customer🛐🛐🛐

[that-one-ao3-writer]

Basically what's happening, right?

[maria-ruta]

Discord is basically a spyware program with the NSA crawling through it so no shit Russia blocked it. If I were in conflict with the USA I'd block all the shit I possibly could

usa is shit, but don't you come to my DMs trying to defend russians gov

bc they are shit too, I'd say they are worse but honestly I don't think its productive to argue on which's government is crappier

[izloveshorses]

Also am I the only one who looked at Dmitry and DIDN'T go 'oh he sleeps around'? Because I seem to be!!!

[clickerflight]

Y’all ever go to create a character and then decide to give them a background in a different continent and then realize you know next to nothing about any countries besides America and then start doing research and then start regretting writing your story on Earth but with vampires?

Yeah, so I’m having a rough time.

(Continued rant in the tags if you want)

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

At this point, they're Russia's useful idiots

[asklunakittywolf]

Coping with Big Feelings at 2am is never fun

[the-rat-eatery]

Do I care that I am currently in an echo chamber of how fun Hazbin is? NO!

I AM A SAD TEENAGE GIRL MY MIND WAS CREATED TO PING PONG AROUND ECHO CHAMBERS

[katyspersonal]

It just will forever baffle me how unfair he has been. He kept constantly blaming me for all that was going wrong in his life, he could get upset to the point of wanting to hurt himself or worse over things as little as me disagreeing with his creative ideas or not wanting to listen to something he wanted to share at the moment, he abandoned his friend he knew for two years because he got interested in me too much to give her enough - and then because he convinced himself she didn't care for him anymore.

And I knew, all along, that I was not right for him. I kept telling him to keep reaching out and seek friends that he'd actually like and actually get along with. I kept insisting that he was doing it to himself by clinging to me where clearly he hated me to the point I could've hurt him by as much as setting up boundaries, having different opinions or having limitations as a human being. I told him that that friend he abandoned still cared for him and he could not just decide FOR her. But over and over, he denied everything and begged me to stay, saying how much he wanted to have future together, how I was like a sister he lost a chance to have, how we were supposed to share life experiences together and how I was the only one that felt "real". I kept sticking around despite the abuse, despite how much he was ruining my mental health and my social life (being abused distances you from even close people), all because I could not stand seeing him so hurt and alone. And the last deceit hurt especially bad, because he made me truly believe him. He said something that made me lose my guard, my focus on the fact that I was just a placeholder in his life until he finds someone fitting.

And just like I kept saying, as soon as he got enough money for good life, his mental health improved upon switching meds or something, he met a new friend and reconnected with that exact one he abandoned earlier - he declared me a dead weight on his life that has only been "killing" him and declared that the almost two years he spent with me were just a bad dream he was happy to finally forget.

I knew all along that the best thing I could do for him was to leave him, but I never did. I should have before he stopped caring for me entirely out of blue, because now he didn't even learn anything. He lost nothing of value in his eyes, just a person that "wasted his time". So what if his current friends """fail""" him again? He'll just seek an outlet in new ones, until they prove "useless" and he'll ditch them too, and so on. Some people just can't appreciate someone's personality, they only value people for what they can give to them. Or.. is it just me? At times I am genuinely annoyed when people tell me I am a valuable person and anyone who can't love and appreciate me is an idiot, because on the contrary, in my life all people that despised me and saw me as a waste of their time the most were all high IQ, very well-read and educated, very sophisticated individuals. Clearly, there is a correlation between being very smart and deeming me as human garbage - in a way jealous haters, hypocritical control freaks and callous ableists I've met online never could.

Honestly, sometimes I should decide for someone else. I always knew he hated me and splitting with me was to the better for him, but I let his tears and clinginess force me to feel bad and go back every time. And to doubt that maybe I was the delusional one and could not be sure of someone else's needs. Honestly, guys - when you are given every single indication that you are hated and only kept around out of their fear of loneliness and low self-esteem... it is all there is. It is not a situation where you should listen to your heart, to hope or to give benefit of the doubt. Being abused is something you can only comprehend with mind and knowledge, there is no bigger story and no intricate matters.

Still, I hate how as painfully stupid and naive for my age as I am, I've been able to understand things way more correctly than a much older, much more mature person with high intellect and tons more of life experience. I was right all along, but I hate being right sometimes. And I hate always being discarded as soon as people's lives improve. I hate always being just a placeholder. Apparently, no one whose life is good would ever want to burden themselves with me.

[burritowitch]

My dad and brother: people in other countries and cultures are so different from people here

Me: but arent all still so similar?

[medicinemane]

Never think that I've stopped talking about Ukraine or that I've forgotten

I follow things every day, every day hoping for some kind of miracle that means the fighting is over, russia will leave every inch of Ukrainian soil, no more bombings... but... I know it's probably some time off... I'm not stupid, I just hope people can stop dying

I follow it every day, hear all the horrible news, keep up to date with things like the Kursk counteroffensive where Ukraine has taken a great deal of russian territory (which shows russia has no red lines)

I just don't share most of what I see on here because I don't want people to get fatigued... there's so many horrible things going on in the world, I don't want to burn people out

I'd rather someone be active and able to do a little than having to just turn off and disengage with everything to avoid losing it

All I ask is that you support Ukraine, they're just trying to exist. Just trying to live normal lives. I just hope you can support the "no civilians deserve to be bombed" platform, and say they don't deserve to be bombed by russia

If you've ever got any questions, it's not like I'm an expert, it's not like I'm living it, but I do follow things every day and it often seems like I know stuff other westerners haven't hear about... so ask away

Anyway, just never think that just cause it's been a bit since I mentioned Ukraine that they're not still on my mind

You hear less for your sake, but I keep coming back every day, and even I don't remotely see the true scale and horror of it, only snippets of... photos, videos, stories people share online

[gurorori]

wow.

[mugiwara-lucy]

Hello, everyone! While I am VERY proud of the Democrat voter turnout for Early and Mail In Ballots; here's ANOTHER thing to keep in mind.

Two of the Supreme Court's chairs will be up for grabs and the next president will be able to put in two new justices that are younger. Currently there's a 6-3 demographic in the Whitehouse with 6 being Republican and 3 being Democrat. SHould Kamala win, she can put two more Democrat court younger justices in and we'll be 5-3 (the five being Democrats!) and we'll have a less corrupt SCOTUS.

Should Trump win......he'll stack the Supreme Court with younger justices and the Supreme Court will be locked HARD RIGHT for AT LEAST 30 years.......do we REALLY want that??

And keep in mind, one of the justices (Clarence Thomas) was talking about giving a look at gay marriage if he comes back into office.

And I bet one of the Supreme Court justices that Trump will put will be Aileen Cannon, the person who threw out Trump's stolen documents case. We ALL KNOW he stole those documents for nefarious reasons......do we REALLY want someone like that in office??

Here is the link below to register to vote along with the deadlines varying by state! Also, your own vote isn’t enough! Get as many people as you can to vote for Kamala be it your friends, cousins, parents, grandparents, old friends from high school and college, coworkers, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, stepchildren (if they’re 18 and over) and the list goes on and on but every vote counts! ALSO PLEASE check your registration DAILY because MAGA WILL purge your voter registration!!!

And early voting has started! And if you don’t wanna vote on November 5th, Early Voting is another option! Like I said get as many people as you know and try early voting that way you can avoid MAGA fuckery on November 5th! Down below is a list of dates by state:

And Mail in Ballots are ANOTHER option I highly recommend!! And like I said get as many people as you can to take advantage of this option! BUT if you decide to go with Mail In/Absentee Ballots; PLEASE mail your ballots at the ACTUAL USPS office!! That way MAGAts won't fuck with it.

And if you’re an American who lives overseas; PLEASE use the option of voting overseas since I know every country other than North Korea, Russia and China do NOT want to see Trump’s stinky ass back in the Oval Office! Here’s a link below:

Like I said last night....because of Trump's first term, we had Roe v Wade, Affirmative Action and Chevron overturned. I bet all the money in my savings and checking accounts that Interracial Relationships, Women’s right to vote and Gay Rights will be done away with should he be back in office. BET MONEY.

We're doing well....let's NOT get complacent like 2016.

THANK YOU.

[storiesforallfandoms]

nature trip ~ sergei "kraven" kravinoff;marvel

word count: 2675

request?: no

description: in which she's on a camping trip to explore and connect with nature, and she doesn't expect to run into anyone else

pairing: kraven x female!reader

warnings: swearing, one use of y/n, scary encounter with a jaguar but no one is harmed, mentions of cheating

masterlist (one, two, three)

My friends thought I was crazy when I told them I was going to northern Russia for a nature trip. Of all the places to go, they said, why would I want to go to Russia? Nobody understood that there was some of the most beautiful places in Russia, places that were hardly ever explored because everyone thought the same way as my friends did. Going there meant it was way less likely for me to run into anyone else. I could explore on my own, take in nature, reconnect with it. It's what I needed after the last few months.

My first night was very peaceful. I had set up camp far enough in a wooded area that, on the off chance anyone else was around, they wouldn't come across my camp. It was a warm enough night that I didn't need to have the extra cover on my tent and I could watch the stars before I drifted off to sleep. I woke up early enough to make myself breakfast from the small amount of food I had brought with me, pack up my camp, and set off to explore.

That is when things became much less peaceful.

I had found a trail to take. I was considering taking a break anyways. I had been walking so long that my legs were starting to hurt, and my water bottle was starting to run empty. So, I was in search of any body of water I could fill my bottle with and could sit down next to, when I heard the low growl.

I stopped. When there was no follow up noise, I was sure I had imagined it. But then I heard rustling, and then I saw the jaguar.

She was large, even at such a distance I could tell. She was low to the ground, stalking towards me; a predator stalking her prey. My heart was pounding so hard. I knew she could hear it. Predators knew when their prey was afraid, after all.

I knew coming across wildlife was likely. I thought it was something I'd be prepared for. But in that moment, I had never felt less prepared. My only thought was fight or flight, but I knew I'd never win a fight with a jaguar, and I likely wouldn't out run one either. I was completely helpless, with a large, snarling jaguar inching closer to me.

Suddenly, I wasn't alone. I thought I had imagined hearing more rustling, but then someone was stood in front of me. It was a man, and I truly had no idea where he came from. I could've sworn I was the only person out here. There hadn't been another campsite as far as I could tell.

He was stood between the jaguar and I, almost shielding me from her.

"Back down, girl," he said. His voice was both gentle and stern somehow. "This is not an enemy."

The jaguar lowered herself to the ground. She was still on alert, but it seemed like she was trusting this man. Her eyes kept flickering between us, a slight snarl still curled on her lips.

"Hey!" The jaguar's eyes snapped to him. "She's good. She's not here to hurt anyone. Walk away."

Her eyes found me again. I felt like she was studying me. I felt the need to shift so she could see my camping gear and understand that I wasn't going to hurt her. Not that she needed that reassurance. I'm sure we both knew she could easily take me down if she wanted to.

To my surprise, the jaguar rose from her crouched position. She kept her eyes on us as she stalked back into the woods.

The man turned to face me. It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. I couldn't understand what he was saying because his voice was muffled, but he was right in front of me. The edges of my vision was starting to go black. Next thing I knew, the man was rushing to catch me as I fell to the ground. My vision went black before I hit the ground.

~~~~~~

When I came to, it took me a while to remember what had happened. When it all came back to me, I sat up quickly. I had expected to find myself still on the ground in the woods, but instead I was laying on something soft; a bed. I looked around to see I was no longer in the woods, or even in my tent. I was in some sort of building, rounded and made completely of windows.

And I wasn't alone.

I jumped when my eyes landed on a man stood in the doorway. It took me a second to remember who he was.

"Good morning," he said, a light tone in his voice. "Are you feeling alright?"

I nodded. "What - uh - what happened?"

"You passed out," he explained. "It must've been the adrenaline wearing off from your run in with the jaguar. Or the shock kicking in. It's not an unusual reaction to have."

I tensed a little when he started to approach me. He noticed and stopped. He held something out to me, and that's when I realized he had been holding my water bottle, and he had filled it.

I reached out to take it from him. "Thanks."

The feeling of the cold liquid was refreshing. I downed nearly the entire bottle in one go.

I capped the bottle and looked back to my savior. "And thank you for saving me out there. How did you do that, though? I mean...she was a wild animal, and you just...talked her down."

"I have a way with animals," he answered, shrugging as if it were that simple.

I narrowed my eyes at him. I wasn't about to argue when it came to how he saved my life, but it didn't mean I couldn't be skeptical. How was someone able to speak to a wild animal to stop it from attacking? Even if he "had a way with animals", no one was that good with any animal.

"My name is Sergei, by the way," he said. I mentally noted his quick change in subject.

"(Y/N)," I said. "Where are we?"

"My home."

I looked at him with wide eyes. "You live out here?"

He chuckled. "It's that hard to believe?"

"Kind of. I did research about this place before my trip and there was nothing about anyone living out here."

"I like to keep it that way. Less people bothering me."

"Except for campers who run into angry jaguars."

He nodded, an amused smile on his face. "Yeah, except for campers who run into angry jaguars."

There was an awkward moment of silence. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do now. I guess I should've been planning to leave. After all, Sergei only saved me and brought me here because I had fainted. I wasn't supposed to be a guest or anything. But I wasn't exactly jumping to go back out into the woods again. I knew I would have to eventually, but the encounter was still too fresh in my mind.

Sergei broke the silence by saying, "I made food if you're hungry."

My stomach rumbled in response. We both laughed and Sergei gestured for me to follow him. I stood slowly from the bed, testing my ability to stand and walk after having been laid down for so long.

I couldn't believe how big Sergei's place was. I still didn't understand how he was able to live in secrecy like this. There was no way nobody had ever come across his place before. A giant dome home in the middle of nowhere was certainly enough to even just be added to a "trivia" section on Wikipedia when researching the area.

"I hope you like fish," Sergei was saying, snapping me from my trance. "The only other thing I have is some vegetable made food if you don't."

"I can eat fish," I said. "Do you gather your own food?"

"I catch fish to eat, and I have a garden," he explained. "I don't go after any of the other wildlife out here. I don't eat any meat."

"Just fish."

He gave me a look. I would've thought I had offended him, but there was a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I don't get along with fish as well as I do other animals."

He passed me a plate of his self caught, homecooked fish, as well as some of his home grown vegetables. To say I was impressed would be an understatement. I couldn't remember the last time I had ever met someone who was this self sufficient. I mean, I had one friend who had a garden, but she mainly grew a few carrots and strawberries. Sergei seemed to be completely living off the land.

I took a mouthful of the meal Sergei had given me. It was delicious, and a much needed change from the protein bars and other smaller foods I had taken with me.

"What were you doing out in the woods anyways?" Sergei asked me.

"Camping," I responded.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "In Russia?"

I nodded. "I was looking for somewhere that other people don't typically go to. Somewhere that I could be by myself and get in touch with nature."

"And you didn't prepare for the event of running into dangerous wildlife."

I looked down at my plate as I shrugged. There was something about admitting how unprepared I was for that situation that kind of made me embarrassed, although I wasn't sure why. Who is ever really prepared to run into a jaguar? Besides Sergei, apparently.

"I knew it was likely," I said. "I guess I just didn't fully prepare myself in the event of it happening."

More silence fell over us. I could feel his eyes on me, studying me the way the jaguar had. I didn't want to meet his eye, though. I was feeling a little intimidated, just as I had when the jaguar had been watching me so closely.

"Most people go to Canada to camp," he pointed out. "Or like...Australia."

I scoffed. "You saw how unprepared I was for a jaguar. You really think I was ready to go toe to toe with snakes and giant spiders?"

He chuckled. "No, I guess not."

"Besides, like I said, I wanted to go somewhere that other people weren't going to go to. Somewhere that I could just...be alone. That I could reconnect with nature and clear my head."

Sergei hummed. "There's a story there."

I dared to look up at him, trying to glare. I hadn't noticed before - mainly because I was fearing for my life - but he was an incredibly handsome man. His dark hair a little long and unruly, but not in a way that made him look a mess or anything. It made him more appealing, actually.

"There's a story as to why you're living all the way out here on your own and keep a low enough profile for no one else to know you're here," I retorted.

He nodded. "There is."

I kept looking at him, expecting him to go on. Not that he owed me an explanation or anything, just like I didn't owe him one for why I was on a nature trip the furthest away from society that I could get. But I'd be lying if I said my interest wasn't piqued.

He was looking back at me, though, the same look on his face.

I sighed. "My story is boring."

"Who says mine isn't?"

"I have a hunch there isn't much boring about you."

He smiled, but he didn't say anything else. I knew he wasn't going to back down. So, because my curiosity to know more about Sergei was killing me, I rolled my eyes and said, "I've had a rough few months."

He shook his head. "You gotta give me more than that."

I let out another sigh. "I found out my boyfriend of a year was cheating on me with someone from his work for six months. He dumped me and immediately started flaunting around his relationship with her. And the way I found out was because I was passed over for a promotion I had been promised weeks ago in favor of someone else who hasn't been with my company even half as long as I have, so I was driving over to his place for comfort and found him fucking someone else instead. Oh, and then my fish died."

"Jesus," he breathed.

I nodded. "Yeah. So...your turn."

He hesitated. For a second I thought he wasn't going to tell me, and I was going to remind him that I had just dumped my trauma on him so it wasn't fair to not tell me his. Finally, he said, "I needed to get away from my dad."

I looked at him for a moment before gesturing for him to continue."

"He wasn't a good man. He...he did terrible things. To my mom, mainly, but also to my brother and I. I was sick of it. This place used to belong to my mom, so I ran away from home one night and came here. I keep a low profile so my dad can't find me here."

"That's a pretty far distance to run."

"The further the better."

I stabbed at the food on my plate. Suddenly I was not feeling as hungry as I was before. Something about exchanging traumas left a sour taste in my mouth.

"That's why there's no record of anyone living out this way," I said, mainly to myself but Sergei was nodding along anyways. "Has anyone ever found you out here?"

He shook his head. "I'm not found unless I want to be."

"And...you wanted me to find you?"

"Technically I found you."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, yes, but you brought me back here. And don't say that's because I fainted, because you could've just stayed with me in the woods and left when you knew I was alright. You're okay with me knowing that you're here."

For the first time, Sergei turned away from me. Now it was him who was unable to meet my eye.

"I don't meet a lot of good people," he finally said. "Out here, there's a lot of poachers and hunters. There's never anyone who is just trying to connect with nature. You...intrigued me, for a lack of better words."

I almost wanted to laugh. This man was living off grid in Russia, in a huge sanctuary that once belonged to his mother. He was able to communicate with animals in one way or another, he was completely self sufficient, and, once again, he was probably the most gorgeous man I had ever laid my eyes on. And yet he was saying that I was the intriguing one, just because I wasn't trying to destroy the nature.

When my food was gone, I reluctantly pushed my plate towards him. "Thank you, again. For...well, everything. I guess...I should probably get back out there."

Sergei nodded. "I guess."

I went to stand, when he added, "Or you could...you could stay a bit longer. If you'd prefer. I know it's not exactly camping here, but...there's no jaguars."

"That's a pretty good sales pitch."

He smiled. "It's up to you, but I don't often get company out here that I actually like. I...I wouldn't mind getting to spend more time together."

I tried to seem nonchalant. I shrugged my shoulders, as if I couldn't be bothered with the decision making, and mumbled something along the lines of, "I guess I could."

But Sergei could see right through me. The look he was giving me was enough to completely shatter the facade. "I would love to stay, Sergei."

In fact, I didn't care if I ever left.

[no-144444]

the grid: meet-cutes!

Day 2 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, Alex Albon, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Charles LeClerc

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Oscar Piastri: 

Oscar Piastri was an easy child to be around. He was sweet, polite, and didn’t kick up a fuss about anything. 

That was, until you sat beside him in Ms. Smith’s Grade 3 class. You were the quiet, shy, new girl who didn’t really want to make new friends. You were in Australia for one thing, your skating career. Even at age 8 you were incredible, there was even talk of you going all the way to Russia to train with the best of the best, but all that would come later. 

“Hi,” the boy beside you smiled. 

“Hi,” you mumbled back, not exactly looking at him. 

“I’m Oscar,” he held out his hand to be shook (much too formal for an 8 year old boy, but whatever) and you shook it. 

“Y/n,” you answered simply. 

“Where are you from?” he asked. 

You didn’t answer, uninterested in making friends. You had friends, even if you only spoke to them through a phone screen, you still had friends back home. 

“Where are you from?” He asked again. 

“Why do you care?” you asked. 

“I want to be your friend,” he answered simply. 

“Why?” 

He went quiet and a slight blush appeared on his cheek. “I think you’re pretty.”

“Well, that’s-”

“Oscar! Y/n! What are we talking about?” Ms. Smith scolded. 

“Nothing Miss,” you answered. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“Oscar just told Y/n he loves her!” Ryan, the boy sat to the left of Oscar, shouted. The classroom was soon full of ooo’s and aww’s, and you were left shaking your head while he hid his head in his hands. 

You two did become friends though, then best friends, then boyfriend and girlfriend. Then you two got married, and he spoke about that very moment in his vows.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Lando Norris:

Clubs weren’t your thing but when it was the second last night of the family holiday, you somehow got away for long enough to find yourself in one. Your little brother was driving you insane, and you genuinely couldn’t keep up the fake smiles anymore with your parents constant bickering. This was supposed to be your holiday, where they celebrated your graduation. You’d just finished aerodynamics in Cambridge and you were sick of the numbers, and your family. You just wanted to get away. 

Suddenly, your dancing was cut short when a guy decided to spill his drink all over you and not notice. You huffed as you dragged yourself to the bathroom, only to find the longest line ever. Quickly, you looked around, then dipped into the empty men’s bathroom. 

You lined your top up with the hand dryer, and waited as it slowly dried. 

Empty men’s bathroom, or so you thought. Then, the door to one of the cubicles opened to reveal a very tanned, very pretty, and very confused man about your age. 

“Oh shit did I go into the women’s bathroom?! I-I’m so sorry-” he immediately began apologising but you cut him off with your own embarrassing truth.

“Nope,” you sighed, accepting your fate as the ‘strange girl who went into the men’s instead of the women’s to dry her stupid top after some stupid guy spilled his drink on her’ “This is the men’s, I just… needed to dry my top.” 

“Oh, alright, carry on,” he nodded, relief filling his voice. You chuckled at the absurdity of this moment. 

“You’re not going to ask me to leave?”

“Should I?” he asked. 

“Probably,” you informed him.

“I’d just be worried about you to be honest,” he finished washing his hands. “Guys are creepy. Just be careful.”

You nodded. “You’re an actual gentleman,” you laughed. 

He smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

“Do you wanna dance?” You asked. 

He nodded, biting his lips to stop himself from grinning like a little boy. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Then let’s go,” you smiled, taking his hand and dragging him back out to the dance floor. Wet top long forgotten…

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Max Verstappen

You weren’t exactly supposed to have run out of your father’s office, nor were you supposed to have ended up at the media shoot for the new Toro Rosso drivers, but you did anyway. 

“Y/n!” Carlos smiled, wrapping a hand around your waist in a hug. “It is so good to see you!”

“Hey Carlos,” you smiled. You’d met Carlos already, at one of those boring galas your dad had sent you to. I mean, you were only 17, what was he expecting? You to enjoy spending time with rich old dudes who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves? I don’t think so. “How are you?”

Behind him stood Max Verstappen, no him, you’d heard about. Though, he didn’t seem as intimidating as you’d imagined him to be. He seemed kind of… normal. Just like any other random teenage boy your age. Kind of awkward, kind of annoying, and pretty good looking. 

“I’m good hermosa, you?” Carlos smiled. You caught Max staring at you, and offered him a soft smile. His eyes darted away from you both. 

“Good thanks.”

You took the initiative and went up to him, holding out your hand. “Hi, I’m Y/n Horner.”

“Max Verstappen,” he shook your hand, avoiding eye contact. 

“Max thinks you’re pretty,” Carlos smirked, drawing a laugh from you, and a harrowing look of betrayal from Max. 

“Carlos! Why don’t you even shut up?!” He whined, making you laugh harder. 

“What? It is the truth, no? You think she is-”

“Carlos!” Max scolded. 

When you’d finally stopped laughing, the pair of them had been called to go back in for photos. Before he walked away you slipped your number into Max’s hand with a smile. “I think you’re pretty too,” you whispered, leaving him flushed and flustered. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Alex Albon:

You weren’t exactly privy to all the goings on of an F1 garage, but you knew well enough to not touch the cars, or get in anyone’s way. 

Somehow, you failed both of those things within about 5 seconds, all because of one man. James Vowels, that stupid idiot bumped into you as he laughed and sent you flying into one of the engineer’s desks. 

“Sorry!” you immediately rushed out as someone helped you up, telling you that it was alright and there was no harm done. 

“To be fair, that was James’s fault,” Terry, one of the engineers, pointed out. 

“Excuse me?” James’s voice went up four octaves. 

“You knocked right into her mate!” he laughed. 

“It’s impressive that you missed someone that beautiful,” Alex chuckled at his boss, then stopped after he realised what he’d said. “Oh my god I’m so sorry-”

The garage was alive with laughter as Alex stuttered through an apology, and you chuckled along, desperately trying to end the whole ordeal. 

“It’s alright,” you cut him off. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, blushing madly. “And I’m sorry- again.”

“Ask her out!” One of the engineers shouted. 

“I’m so sorry, I absolutely won’t-”

“Yes,” you agreed in a split-second decision. 

“Yes?” He confirmed with you. “Alright then!”

“How did you manage to accidentally get a date?!” James laughed. 

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George Russell: 

“George, this is your new race engineer, Y/n Y/l/n,” Toto announced. George’s other race engineer had just taken maternity leave after his wife had given birth to a beautiful baby boy just days prior. 

“Hi,” you smiled, holding out your hand. He stood there, just staring. 

“George?” Toto nudged his arm. “George.”

“Yes? Oh-umm, sorry, very rude of me, I’m George,” he was flustered. Lando watched from the other side of the room with a smirk on his face. His friend was in love, how sweet?

“George?” Lando called over. “Did Toto matchmake you?” 

Your professionalism was already thinly wound because of the hoops you had to jump through to get the job in the first place, and now two men who were being fucking annoying and dickheads were testing you. “I’m his new race engineer,” you explained with a pleasant smile. 

“Really? You’re pretty enough to model,” Lando smirked, playing up the sleeze so that George could swing in and be your ‘knight in shining armour’. Well, knight in… black and turquoise armour. 

“Lan, what the hell are you saying?” George gawked. 

“I’d love to ask the same question,” you nodded. 

Lando broke character and laughed in your faces for a solid minute. At least he’d broken the ice. 

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Lewis Hamilton:

You walked into the room with your head held high. Your client was nowhere to be seen, probably busy doing cocaine in the bathroom, but you didn’t care. This was the afterparty. No cameras, no inhibitions, and no babysitting. 

You sat at the bar, ordered a martini, and fell back into one of your favourite past times, people watching. You watched as celebrities you used to idolise,  danced on each other the same way horny teenagers did. You watched as the time ticked by before you could leave. 

“Long night?” he asked, a kind smile on his face. 

“You have no idea,” you chuckled. “Celebrities aren’t easy to deal with- no offence,” you smiled. 

“None taken,” he chuckled. “I find them all pretty difficult to be around too.” 

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “I don’t know if you get to say that when you are a celebrity.” 

“Sure I do,” he shrugged. “At least I can keep my hands to myself, unlike Mr. Styles over there,” he chuckled, ponting out some of the most awkward pairs out on the dance floor. 

You laughed, trying to hide it with a sip of your drink. “We probably shouldn’t say that,” you chuckled. “Even if it is true.”

“Why not?” he smirked. 

“Not all of us are celebrities Mr. Hamilton, some of us may lose our jobs,” you smiled. 

“Who’s your client?” he asked, catching onto the fact that you weren’t a glitz and glamour-y actor or singer. 

“You don’t even want to know,” you sighed, chuckling lightly. “He’s the actual worst.”

“Oh, so it’s one of the old ones?” he guessed. 

“I’m not answering that,” you shook your head. 

He smiled at you. “How about a bet? If I can guess who it is by the end of the night, I get your number.”

You smiled. “Deal.” 

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Charles LeClerc 

Charles may have been one of the most well-rated drivers in Formula 1, but his parallel parking was… abysmal. It was embarrassing, to be honest. 

You walked out to your car after another 12 hour day at your gruelling office job, already on the verge of crying thanks to your asshole boss screaming at you for getting her coffee order wrong, and apparently the dickhead who parked beside you, decided today would be the day to back up into your car. 

“Fuck!” you groaned as you watched him do it. “What the hell are you doing?” You asked, going over to the window. 

“I am so sorry!” he immediately apologised. 

“Holy shit, you’re that Formula 1 driver,” you stated, taken aback. 

“I am so sorry about your car, it was a complete accident,” he explained. “I’ll pay for the damages.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Here’s my number, and my insurance’s number,” you started writing down the numbers on a piece of paper, then handed them to him. 

“I’m Charles, by the way,” he introduced himself, a soft smile on his face. 

“Cool,” you nodded. “Give me a call.”

You turned to go back to your car, it wasn’t bad enough to not be able to drive it home, just a few scratches. 

“W-wait!” he called after you. “I didn’t give you my number,” he stated. 

“I know,” you nodded. “I doubted that you gave out your number to random people.” 

“Well… for the insurance, right?” 

“I don’t care mate,” you sighed. “Sorry, it’s just… it’s been a very long day.”

“It’s alright,” he smiled. “Here’s my number, I’ll give you a call, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks Charles,” you nodded, taking the piece of paper out of his hand. 

“Sorry again,” he smiled. 

“It’s seriously alright,” you nodded. "Just... one question?"

"Sure," he shrugged.

"Shouldn't you be a better driver? Like you're an F1 driver, right?"

He chuckled. "Parallel parking isn't exactly covered in the super liscense."

"It should be."

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Daniel Riccardo

You sighed as you walked through the paddock. Being Adrian Newey's protege was slowly sucking the soul from your body ever since he'd left. You were now the saving grace for everyone, and you had no idea what you were up against next season. Aston Martin would be throwing money at the wall, and you were unsure of whether you could build the fastest car.

"Y/n, for fuck's sake," he demanded. "I needed these numbers done yesterday and you didn't finish them! That's just plain disrespect!"

"Sir, I finished what I could with the data you gave me, I can't make equations with no universe to place them in, it doesn't work like that," you explained, done with this 2 hour long meeting.

There was a knock on the door and you internally blessed whoever it was to end this hellhole of a meeting.

Daniel's head popped through the door. "Christian, what did you want me for?"

"We're in a meeting right now," Christian growled.

"Not anymore," you deadpanned. "I have some maths to do, goodbye Christian."

"We need to talk about this!" he called after you.

"No, you want to complain to someone, and talking to a brick wall would be easier than trying to explain how fucking impossible your 'dream scenario' is. Goodbye Christian."

With that, you left the meeting room, making a reminder in your phone to send Daniel a bouquet as a thank you gift.

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[maidservant-hecubus]

My father is an Ashkenazi Jew. His parents were first generation Americans. Their parents escaped the pogroms in Russia and Ukraine and came to find their American dream. They fought in wars and opened businesses and assimilated and my generation barely has a few words of Yiddish between us. My mother is as much of a WASP as it gets. American Revolutionaries and Signers and some household name civil war feature players. Not old money, but old America and undoubtedly white. I'm patrilineal. Not a Jew to a lot of Jews. Not a Jew to a lot of my Jewish family. Even though i was raised Jewish. Even though I look like my father. Even though i got enough of something in my DNA to get asked "What are you?" more often than not. More often than I'm just accepted at face value as "white". When i was little we lived in an Irish Catholic neighborhood. Like the 5-10 kids in every family sort of Irish catholic neighborhood. The kids calling me a christ killer and refusing to play with me because they heard it from their parents sort of irish catholic neighborhood. For some reason my parents tried to send me to the catholic school down the street. I lasted less than a week because i didn't understand their rituals and their language and they found out my father was a Jew and they couldn't have a christ killer in their midst. I was just sad i didn't get to wear the cute plaid skirt anymore. So i went to the public school and my well meaning shiksa mother who never converted but learned the Chanukah prayers and helped cook Seder dinners came to the school to teach the class about Chanukah. She taught them songs and all the kids got dreidels and had so much fun spinning the top for chocolate coins. It was nice to feel normal. A few weeks later a boy in a higher grade attacked me on the way to the bus and smashed my art project (we had made pig noses from solo cups to celebrate reading charlotte's web) into my face and called me a filthy jew. I didn't understand, i was more upset to lose the project i was so proud of. Other things happened. Things I wont talk about because putting them in context would doxx me. But a million reminders that i wasn't one of them. I wasn't welcome because i was Jewish. My parents divorced. My mother left. Far away so I'd only see her a handful of times growing up. And I went to live with my Dad in a city that seemed like it was overflowing with Jews. Everyone knew my holidays! In public school the teachers looked like my family and had familiar sounding names. We had the high holy days off just like christmas or easter. We sang Chanukah songs in the winter recital and nobody's mom had to come teach them to the class. Finally I belonged! My friends and cousins started planning for their b mitzvah celebrations and i asked for my own. I asked to go to hebrew school so i could be more like the people i belonged with and celebrate the things i loved about myself and them. "But you're not jewish." My father would say. This was news to me. The christ killer. The filthy jew. But a 10 year old has little power over their lives. So i didn't go. I didn't have a bat mitzva while my cousins had theirs. It was okay because i still belonged more than i ever had. But i was still jewish enough to keep the holidays and pray and fast and get sent with a box of matzo to my WASP grandmothers for easter, and have matzo packed in my lunch to eat in AP algebra in 7th grade and get asked if I'm a "Yid" by the teacher. And still to this day not know if it was endearment or insult but by then I knew even in this magical city being a Jew wasn't always safe. in highschool I tried to take hebrew lessons with a friend in a similar situation as me. She was also hungry to reconnect. I don't remember why the classes or the friendship fell through, but they did. My next "friend", a goy raised catholic from another neighborhood, liked to accuse me of being money driven when i picked up a penny on the sidewalk or tried to ask who was going to pay for the zine's she wanted to publish.

 "What are you?" I'd get asked a lot on the street by curious strangers, "Where are you from?" "Are you Italian?" Always Italian. I never really understood that, but its become code in my head for "You look like you're white but something about you is very not white and I just can't place it, so Italian seems safe and polite." I'm not here to unpack the Italian part of all that. I don't even know what I'm unpacking for myself by writing this except I've been sick for days and I'm so tired and this is all that my foggy brain can wrap itself around. Later I'm an adult and on my own and getting bloodwork done. The Nurse is a black woman and so sweet to me. She can tell I'm nervous about the needles because I've already stumbled through my apologies for my herd to find veins. So she distracts me with small talk. Where do i live? I tell her. She looks worried for me. Tells me that it used to be a nice neighborhood before white people took it over and she warns me like she's my own mother to be careful because they aren't safe. I doublecheck the skin she's putting a needle into. Whatever she sees isn't white. I love her for it. For a moment I belong there with her. She doesn't ask what I am or where i'm from, but she knows what i'm not. I'm the only one keeping the holidays with my family. We celebrate Passover because I go home to my fathers and cook the dinner and print out the Haggadah and lead the Seder to the tune of my drunk catholic stepmother eating my food and telling me i'll never be a jew. She's more of a jew than I'll ever be because she grew up in a jewish neighborhood and her friends were all jews and she married a jew and i was just playing pretend. I stopped going home for holidays and they stopped observing anything except Christmas. I marry a goy. "Is he a jew?" is the first thing my father asks and he's disappointed when i say no. He's abusive, i run. I end up living in the attic of this older old money WASP couple who need a live in house sitter. They're pillars of their church and they know someone from the WASP side of my family very well and its a funny coincidence and they think i belong there. I know from their divest from Israel bumper stickers that i don't. Then they find out I consider myself Jewish and i see the light in their eyes die and its replaced by something hard and disappointed. Now, while writing this, i can laugh about being the jew in someone's attic. But then, it was only a few months after that they started coming up with excuses for why I needed to move out. I did, their excuses never manifested into reality. I got married again. A jew this time! a Jewish medical professional liek grandma always wanted. She's a convert and her ex was a rabbinical student. I think maybe i'm home finally. She has to understand. I'm not Jewish enough for her. We don't keep holidays at home because i'm not a jew. I cry every year when pesach comes and goes and i haven't recited the plagues or eaten matzo piled high with horseradish. She insists on putting up a christmas tree. She turns abusive. I run.

I'm alone now and no longer in that magic jewish city. I'm far away and surrounded by mega churches and cows and the bagels suck and people quote the bible at me like some call and response that i don't have the cheat code for and I don't belong here at all but i'm finally finally free to light my menorah and recite the plagues and study torah with the group i found here on tumblr who love and accept me even though i'm patrilineal. Oct. 7th happened a few weeks after I moved here. I worry about my family back home and i think no one will look for Jews here among the cows and mega churches, so I can be a safe place for them to run if things get bad again. But i still don't fit in here. I don't look right. The last name I have now is common here and too white for whatever people see when they look in my face. I get interrogated about it a lot. But i learned quickly how to smile and say "have a blessed day". I hide my menorah when maintenance comes to work on my apartment. I flew home last month. Just for a visit. I've never been away from home this far or this long. And I'm the type that covers nerves and anxiety with chattiness, so at the airport i made a for-now-friend while we both waited for the plane to board. She's Puerto Rican. We talk about our lives. Our families. Her twin sister and i go by the same nickname and so we're family now. We talk about food. So much food and how much we love cooking and how important food was at home. "Are you Italian?" she asks as we're stepping through the hatch into the plane. Why always Italian? I wonder for the millionth time in my life. And I freeze up for a moment between fighting my carry-on over the gap and terror that I'm about to see the light go out behind her eyes and i'll lose this for-now friend. "No," i laugh but its not a real laugh and i see the concern in her face as we squeeze through the aisle because she can hear the apprehension in my voice, "I'm Jewish." And something strange happened because her face lit up and she smiled and said "No way?! You guys have GREAT food!"