#explains why they have contacts with australians

[dragonroilz]

i guess im doing more of these.

meet the female scout! she's the daughter of a crime family from los angeles. speaks with a bit of a valley girl accent(of course), and has a keen interest in fashion and money. luckily for her, the gravel wars have a lot of the latter. not so much of the former.

the female scout is similar to the scout in that she's not so much a fighter as much as she is a very good athlete. the perks of coming from a rich background means that she has a wide array of proficiencies, from sprinting to croquet(her favourite game), she's perfect for her role as a scout on her team.

before her time as a mercenary on RED, the family which the female scout is from took a favour from Saxton Hale, helping them gain more power in Los Angeles by giving them firearms. Saxton thought that they were going to use them to take more control by force, but it turns out that they just sold the guns for money. He didn't mind though, seeing as how they owed him and he was going to get his money back one way or another.

And he did come back eventually, looking for payment for the loans. Not wanting to actually pay him back, the family gave them their only daughter, soon to be known as the female scout, as an asset to the company.

Saxton, having no need for her, took her in anyway and gave her off to Miss Pauling for the Gravel Wars instead. The female scout has been fighting ever since.

the female scout wasn't exactly told why she was going to the war, other than she needed to "prove herself to be a worthy member of the family" and to take her first steps into the adult world.

well, if the adult world consisted of having piss thrown at them and people running around naked and covered in honey, then she was more than prepared by the end of her first week. however, despite the female scout's more snobbish personality, she has a bit of a strange way of viewing the world.

coming from high crime, she's not unfamiliar to the more dubious surgical practices of the medic and is only surprised that he actually puts his patients back together instead of burying somewhere remote. blood and guts is all game as long as it doesn't stain her clothes. good thing everyone wears red.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tears III

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: A slow morning

The day that Mami and Jenni break up starts with rain.

They'd sat you down on the sofa and explained that they weren't together any more. They loved each other but they weren't in love with each other.

You didn't understand that, not really, but you pretended that you did because that would make Mami and Jenni happy.

Jenni left the house. She left the house but she also ended up leaving Barcelona too for Mexico but she explained that even though she wasn't in love with your Mami anymore, didn't mean that she didn't love you with all her heart.

You think that you love Jenni too even though she left the country and the house.

You don't love any of the Barcelona girls nearly as much as you love Jenni so training was now difficult. You didn't understand them well. You were painfully shy and with Jenni gone, you stuck close to Mami. You branch out to Teeny's mummies sometimes because they have Teeny and Teeny's your favourite but that's about it.

You were getting better though, of that Alexia was sure. With the World Cup callup and everything going on, there was no choice but to take you with her.

Any progress you seemed to have made, immediately disappeared. You clung to Alexia like you thought something was wrong. When it wasn't her, it was Jenni.

It was like you didn't even know who the other Barcelona girls were. You clung so firmly to Alexia and Jenni that neither quite knew how to cope.

You had always been like this, skittish and scared and maybe Alexia enabled it a bit too much but she could never get the image of you in your incubator out of her mind.

You were so, so tiny and so, so sick and she was so scared to lose you that she caused this behaviour in you now.

"Mami," You say softly one morning.

You're tucked under Alexia's arm as the early morning Australian sun filters in through the curtains.

This is probably one of the other bad habits that Alexia had enabled. There was something in her that just couldn't sleep properly if you weren't tucked up next to her.

You didn't get any proper skin-to-skin contact until seven weeks after you were born and even then, you were still sickly so it was never for long.

Alexia had started cosleeping with you the moment it was safe. It grounded her. It soothed her to know that you were safe and protected in her arms.

"Hola, pequeñita," Alexia coos, sliding open her eyes," Do you want to get breakfast?"

"Please, Mami."

It's a rest day today and Alexia is more than happy to do whatever you want. This whole World Cup has been stressful on you and she's trying her best to make sure the rest of it runs smoothly.

A few of the other girls are already at breakfast and, like clockwork, you hide behind Alexia's legs as she loads up your plate.

"Pequeñita? Do you want to go and choose a table for us?"

You glance around the room and the way your Mami's teammates have already spread themselves out. You shake your head and move closer.

"Are you sure?" Jenni's voice from behind shocks you and you turn around to look at her. "Why don't we choose a seat so your Mami can fill her plate?"

You let go of Alexia's hand to take Jenni's as the adults swap plates.

It's more so Jenni choosing the table you sit at, partially filled with some of the Barcelona girls but it's the least filled in the room and at least you semi-know them.

You give them all a little wave because that's polite before you hide yourself in Jenni's neck. Her arms wrap around you easily. She used to hold you a little like this when you were littler and it makes you feel incredibly safe.

She feeds you bites of your breakfast as she speaks to the other Barca girls and she doesn't coax you out of your hiding spot and force you to interact with them.

Mami arrives soon after and takes the seat next to you and Jenni. She doesn't have to do much but eat her own food, though she keeps glancing at you.

Alexia can tell that you're still a bit sleepy, the type of sleepy that can only be fixed by a nap rather than waiting longer for you to wake up properly.

You're practically dead of the world on Jenni's chest but still awake enough to whine when Alexia takes you into her arms.

"No," You whine," Jenni." Your hand reaches out for her, finding purchase on the fabric of her t-shirt.

"It's okay," Jenni says," Go with your Mami. I'll be there to see you later."

"Promise?"

"Of course I promise. When have I ever broken a promise to you, pequeñita?"

"Never."

"That's right, never. I'll see you later."

You rest your head on Alexia's shoulder as she walks you back up to your room and get settled in bed again. She cards her fingers through your hair.

"Did you miss Jenni?" She asks.

You nod pathetically. "Miss Jenni."

"I'm sorry, pequeñita, but at least she's here now, huh?"

"We see Jenni later?"

"Well, she promised. You know she won't break a promise to her favourite girl."

"We can see Teeny too?"

"I'll have to call Ingrid but maybe, yes. Would that make you feel better, seeing Teeny?"

"Teeny and Jenni."

"Teeny and Jenni, that's right."

[rafeandonlyrafe]

just add water

words: 5k

warnings: brief illusions to sex but no smut, mermaids (like h2o mermaids), tropical storm/bad weather, really fluffy hehe, australian!reader, lots of kisses omfg these bitches in LOVE!

it's one of the few things rafe does to calm himself down. sandals held in his hand, feet pressing into the cool sand with every step.

rafe looks down the beach, the moonlight reflecting off the water as the waves gently lap against the shore. he squints into the darkness when he sees movement, hoping his relaxing walk isn't going to be interrupted by someone's public intimate moment.

he continues walking, the same stretch of beach he always does, passing by familiar houses of friends and old classmates.

his vision clears as he gets closer, eyes widening when he sees you, knees pulled up to your chest as you stare into the water.

“hey.” rafe says when he's a couple yards away, not wanting to spook. you, but it fails as you gasp and jump up to standing.

“sorry.” rafe holds his hands up, trying to show that he means you no harm. “im just taking a walk on the beach.”

you take a step back, like you're making room for him to walk past, for him to continue to leave footsteps in the sand, but rafe looks closer at you as the moon shines down, light slightly illuminating from the rows of houses with porch lights or bedroom lights left on before bed.

“im rafe.” rafe can't seem to keep walking, his feet planted firmly as his eyes roam over your face. “i don't think we've met before.”

“just moved here.” you explain quickly. “im y/n.”

“you're australian?” it's more of a statement than a question, but you nod, the accent clearly giving you away.

“i was wondering why i haven't seen you before. it's a small island, everyone kinda knows everyone.” 

“yeah.” it's a signal to end the conversation, polite but firm, but again rafe can't help himself, drawn close to you looking out onto the water just as he does.

“would you like me to give you a tour of the island? tomorrow or whenever you're available.”

“that would actually be really nice.” you smile at rafe. you were worried about leaving everything you knew in australia when your parents moved you across the country, and it's perfect luck that you meet someone your very first night in the outer banks willing to show you around.

“here.” rafe pulls his phone out of his pocket. he puts it on do not disturb for his walks, pretending it's not there, not allowing it to distract him, but he needs your phone number, needs to see you again, to see if your eyes are the same enchanting twinkling of the water in the daytime.

you take his phone and put in your name and number before handing it back, hand briefly touching his, feeling warm against your slightly chilled skin, making you realize you probably should have put on more than just shorts and a tank top for relaxing at the shore at night.

“ill text you.” rafe says, giving you one last look over before taking a step back, not turning away yet, keeping his eyes on you, as if you're an apparition thats going to disappear the minute he blinks.

rafe finally turns away to walk home, not looking back. he smiles. he can feel your eyes on him.

--

you sigh as you step into the bath, sinking in as your legs morph into a tail moments after the water makes contact with you. you never realized how much you loved showers until you couldn't take them anymore.

you have a love hate relationship with your abilities. being able to manipulate the shape and volume of water, as well as enhanced breath and super speed swimming, is amazing. but having your bottom half turn into a mermaid tail every time water touches you is a hard accomodation to make when your parents love the ocean.

you wash yourself off quickly, knowing you have to get totally dry before rafe gets here to show you around the island. 

--

two weeks in the outer banks. the time feels like it's flown by. you're surprised how much you don't miss australia. your parents tended to jump around from town to town to surf, so you never developed a close group of friends either.

two weeks spent with rafe, first showing you the popular parts of the island, then his favorite areas, the spots only locals know about, filling you in on all the nicknames that can't be found with a simple google search.

the only place he hasn't shown you yet is anything out on the water. you refuse every time he offers to take you out on his boat, and his sad face breaks your heart.

“wanna go out on the boat today?” rafe asks, just as you're thinking about it, like the idea transferred from your head to his. you hope that's not a new power developing.

“sure.” you finally concede, heart fluttering when rafes face breaks into a wide smile. you are taking things slowly, despite what is clearly forming. “but no swimming.”

you hate having to lie to rafe, pretending like you don't wake up every morning and explore the waters of the outer banks before hiding under a pier to dry off. you told him you were afraid of the water, that you didn't like going in it, merely enjoying looking at it.

rafe is excited to take you out, so much so that wheezie gives him a weird look before shrugging, deciding to herself that crushes make boys do crazy things, because she's never seen her brother act like this, so enthralled.

“here, ill help you.” rafe reaches his hand out as you step into the boat. you don't want to let go as he guides you towards the bench behind the helm, allowing you to sit down as your fingers finally disconnect.

“im gonna show you everything.” rafe undoes the lines quickly before returning to you. “and by the end of your boat tour, you'll realize that the outer banks is so much better than australia.”

rafe places an arm around your back, not caring that he now has to navigate with just one as you giggle and tuck yourself into his side.

the ocean calls to you as rafe shows you different spots, the outer banks feeling so different when looking back at the land.

rafe anchors the boat at a sandbar. you look over the edge, surprised how crystal clear the water is in this area.

“there's a spring in that marshy area over there.” rafe points towards a cluster of grass. “it feeds out into the ocean here. one of the best spots in the obx.”

“it's beautiful.” you say honestly. the sun is warm against your face, tanning your skin and relaxing you, keeping you dry enough to not turn whenever a drop of water splashed over the side of the boat onto your skin.

it's dangerous to be on the boat, but you can't help it with the way rafes eyes light up as he looks at you before ripping his shirt off over his head, catapulting over the side into the water.

“rafe!” you shout as a plume of water splashes up, soaking your arm.

rafe smiles at you as he resurfaces before his expression quickly shifts to a frown when he sees you furiously rubbing a towel against your arm.

“y/n, the water isn't dirty.” rafe didn't realize how deep your fear got. he climbs back onto the boat as you stagger back, face twisting in fear as you look at rafe.

“shit, im sorry.” rafe takes a step towards you, but you back away.

“take me back, please.” you sit down at the front of the boat, making your position clear.

rafe nods, glad the water covering him is hiding the tears that well up in his eyes as he pulls the anchor.

you stay sat far away, towel wrapped around your shoulders to protect you from getting wet as rafe drives back in silence, not speaking until he has the boat tied back to the dock, now completely dry and donning his tshirt again.

“hey.” rafe kneels in front of you. “im really sorry.”

you open your mouth to reply, to tell him it's okay, but rafe continues speaking. 

“you said no swimming. i should have listened. i saw this-” rafe places a glimmering queen helmet conch shell in your lap. “at the sand bar and wanted to get it for you. so you could remember this day.”

rafe stands up, figuring this is the last time he'd see you after his mess up. “so you can remember me.”

you stand up quickly, but make sure to carefully set the shell on the seat next to you. before you can second guess your actions, before that cautious voice in your head can convince you otherwise, you press your lips against rafes, having to rise to your tiptoes to reach.

rafe hesitates for a moment before kissing back, arms wrapping around your waist, tugging you in tight to him.

--

“this is a cute spot.” you snuggle into rafes side, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, showing all of the obx that he's taken, and you're the one who's captured his eye.

“it is.” rafe hums, looking around the diner. it's not his usual place, but rafe wanted somewhere casual to take you, so you didn't have to worry about dressing up or proper etiquette for your first official date.

you order a stack of pancakes as it's around brunch time, rafe ordering a cheeseburger for himself. you smile at the waiter as they walk away before looking to rafe. “im totally gonna steal some of your fries by the way.”

“fries and pancakes?” rafe twists his face up as you giggle.

“potatoes go with everything.” you explain, like it's a commonly known fact.

“what's your favorite food?” rafe asks. he's dying to know everything about you, wanting to sit you down and run through the list of questions in his head, but he knows it's best to take things slow, to allow things to progress naturally despite wanting to ask you about your favorite color, past boyfriends, whether you're a cat or dog person and so so much more.

you're about to answer when a passing waitress stumbles, her tray of waters heading to a crowded table dumping over you, getting your entire side wet.

the waitress goes to apologize, but you're already on your feet, mental timer starting in your head as you rush to the restroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you realize it's just a single stall as you lock the door behind you moments before you fall to the ground as your tail appears.

“y/n?” rafe must have run after you as he jiggles the doorknob.

“im okay!” you call out. “just drying off. give me a minute.”

“are you sure?” you can picture rafe standing outside, ear pressed against the door.

“yeah. ill be out soon.” you try to reach up to the towel dispenser with little luck. “you better not eat all the fries before i get back.”

you're relieved to hear rafes laugh as you finally get the motion sensor to work, rubbing it over your side, letting out a sigh of relief when your tail finally transforms back into two legs.

you stand up, always feeling a bit wobbly at first, but you want to get back to rafe, to your date and most importantly as your stomach rumbles to your pancakes and fries.

“aussie cheesy potatoes.” you say as you slide into your seat. “my favorite food, aussie cheesy potatoes.”

--

i miss you

you send the text to rafe, smiling when his response bubble instantly appears.

i was just about to text you the same thing

you know you're in the honeymoon phase of your relatively new relationship, but you can't help the giggle that escapes from your lips, the way your heart starts to beat faster.

meet you halfway? rafe sends back before an image loads of a dark beach, camera pointing down the shoreline towards your house.

on my way <3

you quickly touch up your makeup in the mirror, deciding to stay in your pajamas since they're just a loose long sleeve shirt and comfortable shorts. you hesitate between putting on a pair of sneakers or sandals, ultimately deciding more coverage is the smarter option.

you are quiet when leaving your house, just in case your parents are awake. you doubt theyd care anyways, they probably haven't noticed how much you've been gone lately. you are an adult after all, but they stopped being protective the minute you were in your teens, letting you surf solo for the first time the day after your thirteenth birthday. 

you walk down the beach, keeping your steps fast as you look for rafe, breaking out into a jog when you finally see his figure emerge from the darkness.

you throw your arms around rafe as he twirls you, tucking his head into your neck, pressing kisses to your delicate skin before pulling back to connect your lips together.

“hey.” rafe smiles at you, lowering you carefully back to the ground.

“hey.” you peck his lips again in another kiss.

“you look beautiful.” rafe says earnestly, the words falling from his mouth. you're beautiful to him during the day too, but there's something about night time that makes you shine, like the moon calls to you.

“not too bad yourself handsome.” you let rafe string your fingers together before beginning to walk, back in the direction of tanneyhill.

you chat about your days as you stroll, mostly with what rafe was occupied with as he helped his dad, spending your first day away from each other since you arrived on the island. safe to say you're both falling fast.

“stay the night with me?” rafe asks when you're standing in front of tanneyhill, the large house frightening imposing.

“i don't know…” you trail off, but the smile on your face tells rafe you clearly want to.

“at least lay with me on the hammock for a while.” rafe tugs on your hand, and you find your feet following him. he lifts the mosquito netting up as you duck under, toeing your shoes off as rafe lays down.

you snuggle in next to him, sighing as you rest your head against his chest, the fabric squeezing the two of you together.

you both enjoy the gentle quiet, the sound of the waves and wind rushing through the leaves the only thing breaking into your peaceful silence, not needing words, just each other. 

sleep takes you both, warmed by your bodies wrapped together.

--

you're not sure what jolts you awake, but you're glad it happens as your eyes snap open, a drop of water hitting your cheek.

“shit…” you mumble, quickly pushing it off your skin as you look up at the gray sky, the events of last night coming back to you as you realize you're still in the hammock next to rafe. you don't want to move, you're the most comfortable you've ever been in your life, but the skies threatening to open and dump it's rain down on you has you scrambling.

“baby?” rafes voice is deep with sleep as you rush to put your shoes on, knowing the dew on the grass is going to turn you as you look towards the house.

“i-i need to pee!” you yell quickly, pushing out of the mosquito netting as you run, the rain beginning to fall. you're aware of every drop as you push some away with your abilities, but ultimately you can't stop nature as a few drops hit your back.

you aim for the glass doors, praying they're left unlocked as you burst inside, eyes widening when you see not just wheezie, who you've come to know pretty well, but the entire rest of the cameron family milling around in the kitchen.

you're seconds away from transforming as you find your voice. “bathroom.” you simply say before rushing into the closest half bath, glad you accepted the full tour from rafe one day when both ward and rose were away from the house.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath as you hear through the door that rafe has come in after you, mentioning something to his family about rain coming before the tropical storm set to hit in the next couple weeks if it doesn't change direction.

you grab the towel, neatly embroidered with their last name as you rub your back, glad it's only a couple drops as you're quickly able to exit the bathroom.

“sorry about that.” you say awkward, clasping your hands in front of you.

“i was wondering when you lovebirds would wake up or if the rain would do that for you.” ward smiles, eyes flicking between you and rafe. you let him lead the amount of affection as he walks and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“stay with us for breakfast, y/n.” rose says. clearly someone told the couple about you, most likely wheezie tattling on her brother. you just hope she said nice things.

“yeah, id love that.” you say after rafe squeezes your shoulder to let you know it's okay.

--

good morning gorgeous 

you smile at the text, grabbing your phone the second you were awake.

you quickly reply, a string of emojis that only lovesick you would type out.

there's a party this friday. come with me?

you glance at the calendar hanging on your wall. not a typical one filled with appointments or birthdays, but one charting the phases of the moon, letting you know when it's safe to be out at night. you let out a curse when you realize friday night is a full moon.

sorry baby i can't :( parents want me home to call my grandma back in australia

you can come after, yeah?

sorry rafe 

you leave it at that, hating telling him no, but you need to stay inside during the full moon.

you should totally go though! spend some time with your friends

rafe doesn't mention the party again when you meet up later that day.

--

“i got the party changed to saturday.” rafe says, his head sat in your lap as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“what?” you question, raising your eyebrows. you're sat in your bed, the afternoon sun pouring in from the open windows, watching some show on tv neither of you were truly invested in, just background noise as you look into each other's eyes.

“the party this friday. you can go saturday right?”

“yeah.” you nod, smile stretching across your lips. “yeah, i can.” you shouldn't be surprised rafe changed everyone's schedules just to fit yours, the party is at his friend's house after all.

you're excited to finally meet them, you've heard bits and pieces from rafe, but have never gotten to actually see them.

you spend the entire time you're locked in your bedroom on friday night choosing exactly what to wear, curtains drawn tight closed, even blankets thrown over for extra precaution, not allowing any of the full moon to peek inside.

you realize you made the correct decision when saturday night comes and you open the door to rafe, his jaw visibly dropping.

--

“oh my god, i was totally picturing someone different when you were talking about topper.” you whisper to rafe after walking away from his friends to find a quieter spot. you didn't even have to tell rafe that you were starting to get overwhelmed, he seemed to sense it and pulled you away, not caring that kelce was still going on about something.

“what did you picture?” rafe asks, hoping the talking will distract you from all the excitement of the party, finding an empty guest bedroom and sitting down on the bed together.

“i don't know why but dark hair.” you shrug. “and i always pictured glasses.”

rafe laughs as he leans against you, your hand coming to his hair to scratch at his head, the soft movements of your fingers comforting you just as much as rafe.

“thanks for meeting them. and coming here with me.” rafe says earnestly. he's always liked parties of course, going wild and getting drunk or high or whatever he felt like that night, grinding against different girls and ultimately taking one to bed. rafe never put together how all of that was just a distraction, that he wasn't truly happy.

“you make me happy.” rafe says, turning to look at you, eyes still twinkling, reminding him of the ocean, the moon, the most stunning gemstone, and something so uniquely you.

“rafe.” you coo, pressing your lips together. you don't come out of the guest bedroom until the morning after, giggling quietly as you sneak out of toppers house, your hair a mess and clothes askew.

--

“i just realized ive never seen you in a swimsuit before.” rafes eyes look carefully over your body, having just taken off your coverup once your arrived at the spring again, rafe vowing not to jump in again, simply enjoying laying out and tanning on the boat.

you smile at rafe, gesturing for him to get closer.

rafe crawls over the bed area at the front of the boat to hover over you, pressing his lips tightly against yours. your hands feel his muscles, skirting from his chest down to his defined abs.

“you know, there's no one else out here.” you smile up at him as you reach lower.

“naughty girl.” rafe chuckles, glancing around to make sure no boats were within view.

once you're both finished, tired and panting, skin sheened with sweat, rafe finally brings up a question he's been dying to ask.

“why don't you like the water?”

you place your chin on your hand as you turn to look at rafe, taking a moment to formulate an answer. you hate having to lie to him, but you don't want to reveal your secret yet, for rafe to look at you any differently.

“i used to love to swim, to surf.” you say honestly. “but then something happened… and it's turned me away from it. i don't even like pools.”

rafe doesn't push for more, but his face does turn to a frown, thinking about whatever happened. he's guessing you got caught in a riptide or had a near drowning experience, he would never in a million years guess that you fell into a cave exploring an island after a fight with your parents and swam through a mysterious pool to get out, waking up to surf the next day only to transform into a mermaid.

“im sorry baby.” rafe says honestly. he wishes he could fix whatever happened, to enjoy riding on a jet ski with you, or relaxing on a sandbar.

“it's okay.” you shake your head. “i like being on the boat with you.” you say. “you make me feel comfortable.”

rafe pulls you back into him, not caring if you get an uneven tan line as he kisses you again. he swears you taste like honey with the slightest hint of sea salt.

--

“we got cyclones all the time back in australia.” you tell rafe, looking out your window. the sky looks normal, no sign of a tropical storm that's supposed to be blowing in soon, thankfully it never upgraded to a hurricane.

“do you want me to come over for it anyways?” rafe smiles at you as you finish braiding your hair. “hold you just in case you get scared.”

you laugh as you stand up, dramatically falling onto the bed, placing a fanned hand on your forehead. “oh, save me rafe cameron, save me!”

rafe laughs as well, pulling you against him. your shared laughter always turns into shared kisses. it's been months now that you've been in the outer banks. you swear your accent is even diminishing ever so slightly.

but you don't miss australia. you love your life here. spending nearly every day with rafe, exploring the island and the waterways, trying out different food spots and even letting rafe give you golf lessons, despite your inability to hit the ball straight.

--

you open the door as soon as there's a knock, expecting rafe, but your face falls when you see ward standing there.

“y/n, is rafe here?” he questions, entire body soaking wet from the storm, now covered by your front porch, dripping onto the welcome mat.

“no.” you shake your head. “he should be here any minute though…”

“shit.” wards eyes are wide with worry. “he took the boat out. i was hoping he docked it here.”

“the boat?” your voice rises as your anxiety does as well. “what is he doing on the water in this storm?”

“he likes to go to the spring at the start of storms to watch them roll down the coast, but he's always back before it hits. something must have happened to the boat, i don't know.” you can tell ward is rambling. “maybe he ran out of gas or got caught in something-”

“you have to go out there and save him! the waves-” you don't need to tell ward, you're sure he knows how bad the water is going to get, how violent the storm will make the sea, even in the shallow area rafe is in.

“i can't.” he shakes his head. “i already tried the coastguard but they won't go out until the storm is over.”

“he's your son!” you argue. “you go!”

“i can't.” you can hear the pain in wards voice. “if something happens to me, sarah and wheezie will have no one.”

you know it's not an appropriate reaction, but you're so mad, so worried about rafe being out there in this mess that you slam the door right in wards face.

you walk back through your house, past the empty kitchen and dark dining room to your living room, the glass doors revealing the storm raging outside. you make a decision in that split second, opening the door and barely shutting it behind you before you take off, rain hitting you in the face. you send out a prayer to the moon to allow you to reach the water before you transform. you make it onto the sand before face planting, having to awkwardly pull yourself forward into the water.

the second you're submerged, you take off, using your speed swimming abilities to navigate through the waters and strong tides. you go faster than ever, heading in the direction of the spring and sandbar, desperate to find your boyfriend and make sure he is safe.

you see through the rain at the surface of the water his boat, letting out a sigh of relief when you see he's anchored in his usual spot.

“rafe!” you call once your surface. “rafe!” you shout again, hoping he can hear you over the roar of the wind and rain.

rafe pops up, looking over the edge, wrench in hand, clearly trying to fix whatever is wrong with his boat, a smear of oil on his forehead not washing away with the rain.

“y/n?” rafe shouts. “what the fuck are you doing?”

rafe drops the wrench, rushing closer to the edge as he looks at you. your tail flicks up. there's no hiding it anymore. you don't want to anyways. 

“babe, get out of the water theres-” rafe blinks, his eyes squinting as he realizes its not some strange fish, but in fact covering your legs.

“get in the water rafe im going to swim us back home.” you shout, eyes turning to the sky, looking down the coast. the worst of the storm hasn't hit yet thankfully. with the size of the waves coming, it's sure to capsize his boat.

“baby-” rafe swallows harshly before jumping over the side. he may not understand what's going on, but he trusts you.

you grab onto rafe, keeping his head above the surface as you swim. it's slower getting back pushing him with you, but you go as fast as your tail will allow.

“you're a mermaid.” rafe says simply when you get back to shore, deciding to go to your house instead of tanneyhill, just in case ward is looking out his windows for rafe to return.

“go inside, ill be okay in the water.” you tell rafe, just needing to make that final couple steps onto the sand.

“im not leaving you out here.” rafe simply says, glancing to your tail before back at your face. he scoops you up in his arms, holding you tight to his chest as he carries you onto land, despite how heavy your tail is.

you hold onto rafes shoulders as he brings you inside. he sets you down on the plush rug in the living room as gently as possible.

“the tail doesn't go away until im dry again.” you lift your fin up and down as the rain pounds against the windows.

“ill get some towels.” rafe is ridiculously calm, coming back and patting you down in silence until your legs reappear.

“im sorry for not telling you earlier.” you say with a whisper, hand reaching out to hold rafes, shifting to sit up. “i-i love you rafe, but i understand if you want to break-”

you can't even finish your sentence as rafe leans in, pressing your lips together. “i love you too.”

--

“is that the right part?” you ask rafe, leaning yourself against the ladder as he fixes the engine on the boat, somehow it managed to stay anchored at the sandbar.

“we'll see right now.” rafe cranks the key, letting out a cheer when it turns on.

you smile as he jumps over the side in a dramatic celebration before resurfacing and shaking his wet hair out of his face.

“okay, you gotta show me again.” rafe stands on the sandbar as you swim around him, tail flicking back and forth.

you concentrate on a spot of water, lifting it into the air before popping it like a bubble, sending droplets raining down.

“you're the most amazing person ive ever met.” rafe says. “most amazing mermaid.” you correct him with a giggle and a splash of your tail.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut

[natailiatulls07]

Haunted house

Oscar Piastri x female!reader

Summary - McLaren are doing a haunted house halloween video and Oscar manages to rope in his girlfriend

Warning - Blood (fake), swearing, chainsaw (fake), clowns, spiders and a mention of the exorcist??

A/n - Another first timer today!! I love Oscar!! 🤍

23 Halloween season

-

When Oscar told me that McLaren were doing a Halloween challenge video for their YouTube channel and had offered Oscar to rope me in, I was excited. Growing up I Ioved Halloween; dressing up, getting free sweets and watching spooky movies, they were just so exciting to me.

Naturally I grew up but yet I still held that love for the holiday. So that’s why I agree and now I’m in the passenger seat of Oscars car on our way to the secret location.

Every so often he was gently rub his thumb across my thigh, we were have a light conversation between ourselves.

Eventually, Oscar pulled in a car park when the McLaren social media team and Lando were stood around just talking and most likely waiting for our arrival. “Ah the couple has arrived!” The Brit was the first to notice us and announce our arrival.

Getting out the car, I was grateful that I decided to wear a large cream wool sweater because the weather felt nippy. “Hey dude!” Oscar and Lando greeted each other with a quick fist bump. It was soon followed by a quick side hug between me and Lando.

-

The McLaren pr manager was quick to fill us in with the details of the video; we all would be going into the haunted house, go through the different sections and then come back out at the end. Simple as that.

At this point though, thats when my nerves kicked in. I started to get anxious but I didn't want to show that emotion, knowing that if I did Oscar would make me not do it.

The team started to film, before Lando and Oscar explaining the video to the viewers. "Hey guys! So today me, Lando and Y/n are going to do this super fun haunted house!" There's sarcasm in his voice when he says 'super fun', which makes both me and Lando laugh together.

Lando manages to compost himself. "There will be multiple different sections to the house, however we don't know what the sections are and what they're like" I look over to the entrance of the house and cringe. "So let's go!"

We all start to walk towards the entrance with the camera man behind us. "Ladies first..." As if insync, Lando and Oscar move to allow me to walk in first which I quickly say thank you to and walk inside despite my nerves.

Once inside, it's pitch black. I can hear distant noises which I cannot describe, foreign noises. A hand goes to grasp mine and I jump at the sudden contact. "It's me, sweetheart" Oscars australian accent comes from behind me in the darkness.

"Oh god...we're two steps in and Oscars already being all lovey dovey" The Brit from what sounds like behind Oscar complains.

"You're such a child!" Oscar moans as to which laugh along with him.

After walking about five steps through the darkness, we come to another door. Making our way through the door, I'm greeted with walls decorated in thousands of tiny orange, blue and green glow in the dark dotes. "Oh this is cute!" I comment but immediately regret my words when a glow in the dark clown starts jumping out on us.

"AH FUCK!" Lando shouts, even though he is the furthest back out of the three of us. The bright clown laughs hideously and starts making his way towards me.

I'm suddenly pull back by my hand, the hand that Oscar has ahold of. Colliding with his chest I feel him quickly moving us past the clown onto the next section.

Just as we made it past the clown, the two of us hear Lando again. "You ain't scary bitch!" There's a pause. "AH Wait fuck, maybe you are!"

Oscar leans his head down, so that his mouth is next to my ear. "Are you okay?" He whispers, and in that moment I feel alone and disconnected from the world with him.

Nodding my head. "Yeah, it was cute and then that fucker came. But yeah I'm okay" I lean up to give him a quick kiss on the lips before looking around at the next section.

There's a bloody operation table, laid on top is a little girl dressed in a long white gown. Her hair long, black and extremely tangled. Around us, looks like an old operating room yet the walls, much like the table, is covered in crimson blood.

You know instantly when Lando has entered because of his uncontrolable reaction. "EW! WTF" I find myself laughing at his childish reaction to the section, Oscar laughs along with me.

Lights start flashing and we all turn to the girl on the table. Noticing how she is now slowly moving up into a sitting up position. "Oh and she lives, just fucking brilliant!" McLarens British driver comments sarcastically.

Once she sits up, her waist turns so she is now facing us. "Help me! Help! He's going to kill me!" Just as she finishes her sentance, we all hear the whirring of a chainsaw behind us as to which we all turn. Coming face to face with a tall and broad man, in his hands there's a chainsaw and much like the rest of the room covered in blood.

He jumps forward, more so my way, causing me to scream out in fright. "I need another body...yours will do" He smiles disturbingly.

“Yeah fuck this, no way are you coming after my girl sir!” This took both me and Lando by surprise as Oscar was never one to react this much openly. He quickly moves us out of the room, Lando still behind us when he says “Yeah that’s right bitch! Back off!” Followed by his high pitch laugh and a high pitch scream, also from Lando.

-

We all collectively make our way through the rest of the haunted house, coming across a spider themed room and a exorcist themed room. As usual, Lando is making little comments and screams the whole way through.

Admittedly on some of the room, either me or Oscar join in Landos terrified comments.

I push through the long bunting across the door way, we come out of the haunted house. A camera team is set up awaiting our post haunted house reactions.

“That was fun!” I comment which earns me a dirty look from Lando, and a laugh from Oscar who has his arms wrapped around my waist.

Both Oscar and Lando are quick to make a outro, wrapping up the video. After talking with the media team and Lando, me and Oscar get back into his car making our way home.

“Thank you for inviting me today baby” I say, looking over at Oscar who is focusing on the road.

“It’s alright, plus I needed someone to put up with Lando so thank you!” Pulling up to a red light, Oscar takes my hand and kisses my knuckles gently.

-

Tag list - @ilovechickenwings @carlossainzwho @ipab @erikasurfer @soph1644

[lovewithmary]

THE ENGINEER | MCU X FORMULA ONE CROSSOVER

summary: hell hath no fury than a woman scorned. or, where viviana is pissed.

previous

fc: gabbi garcia

author’s note: I lowkey want to write viviana doing interviews solo and with other drivers? like a 'who knows me better' with mick, max, and viviana then mick and max compete to see who knows her better. would you guys like to see that?

btw i put the potential guys viviana might end up with as tags, so if you want to see who she might be with, go ahead.

twitter (i WILL NOT call it the other name)

"Mick!"

Mick turned around upon hearing his name being called from behind, only to see Lando and Oscar. "Have you been on Twitter today?" Lando asked, and Mick shook his head no.

Lando sighed, causing Mick to worry about what could possibly be on Twitter to make him and Oscar go to him. "It's bad, mate. People have been accusing Viviana of boosting you and Max," Oscar informed him.

Mick's eyes opened wide, not expecting that. He expected more of the dating rumors considering it's all he's been able to see on his timeline. They were admittedly funny but also concerning, considering they ranged from Viviana dating one of the guys on the grid behind his and Max's back to Viviana being in a poly relationship with all the single guys on the grid.

He had to block the person who made the latter rumor since the image was too specific for him to not think about it. Mick could barely make eye contact with anyone that day.

"Do you think Viviana has seen it?" Lando questioned, and Mick shook his head no.

"We would've known by now if Viviana had seen it, she hates whenever someone says that one of her friends used her for an advantage," Mick told them.

There was one and only one time that Viviana had been genuinely used by someone for their own benefit. She had met someone in Peter's High School (she was in college at that point, getting her 2nd degree) and she had thought that he genuinely liked her and vice versa.

But it turned out that he just wanted her to put in a good word for her dad, and she ultimately dumped him and blacklisted him from getting any Stark Industries job in the future. To her, she claimed, "If he had to use me to get a chance with the company, then he wasn't good enough to get in by pure skill."

Mick looked at both McLaren guys and hesitantly asked, "do any of the other guys believe the rumor?"

Both Oscar and Lando shook their heads, relieving Mick since he didn't want to ruin any friendships he had with the guys just because of a baseless rumor. "We all agreed it was a pretty shit rumor, to be honest," Oscar commented.

Mick quirked a smile upon hearing that, amused at the Australian. He then felt his phone buzz, which made him realize that he had to look for both Viviana and Max in order to warn them. "Sorry, guys, I need to go find Viviana and Max," he excused himself.

But before he could leave, Lando blurted out, "Are Viviana and Max dating? I know they said they weren't but they act like boyfriend and girlfriend,"

"Viviana and Max... have a different relationship. I don't really want to say a lot because it's not my story to tell, but Viviana helped Max with a lot when it came to Jos since she was the only one willing to stand up to him. And when Tony became Iron Man and then the Avengers happened, Max was a really big help to Viviana," Mick tried to explain.

"And how about you?"

"I'm the one that helps out the both of them, just like they do to me,"

Viviana was currently on a phone call with potential investors for Stark Industries, which was why Max offered his driver's room for her privacy. And in an effort to try and waste time while he had nothing to do, he was walking around the paddock.

Which was where Carlos, Pierre, Charles, Daniel, and Alex saw Max, which prompted the Redbull driver to talk to them.

"Did Viviana come today?" Carlos questioned, and immediately, Max was suspicious of the two Ferrari drivers.

"She had a call for her company, so she's currently in my driver's room," Max explained.

"I thought she wouldn't come because of the rumors about her," Charles carelessly said.

"What rumors?" Max questioned.

"Oh, you haven't heard the rumors yet..." Charles awkwardly said.

"What rumors?" was all Max repeated.

"People have been saying that Viviana is the reason why you and Mick are in the position you guys are in," Alex explained.

"What?! That's ridiculous," Max said.

"Which is what we said, but a lot of people on social media are saying otherwise," Carlos said.

"MAX!" Mick yelled out, capturing the attention of the group of drivers.

"Did you see—"

"Let me see the tweet," Max demanded and Mick wordlessly gave him his phone, which already had the tweet up.

"No way FIA would investigate something based on a rumor,"

"FIA have investigated for less,"

"Do you think?—"

"Parang hindi nila alam na kahit wala ako, magaling sila. Mga bobo." It's like they don't know that even without me, they're still good. Idiots. Viviana said, practically marching towards the growing group of drivers, evidently mad.

"Nakita mo to?" Did you see this? Viviana said.

"Vi, you're speaking in Tagalog again. And no matter how much we try to learn, we still can't understand it whenever you speak fast," Mick told her, reminding her she had to calm down.

"The tweet. Did you see the stupid tweet? I mean come on, we only revealed that we're friends this year but suddenly I'm the reason why the teams aren't performing the way that they should? It's not my fault other teams aren't that good!" Viviana ranted.

A cough from behind Viviana was heard, making the girl freeze. She swore silently to herself before turning around, only to see a couple of drivers that belonged to said teams that weren't good, according to her.

She awkwardly laughed, amusing some of the drivers who thought that this was a nice change compared to her usual composed professional self they'd always seen on the rare time she was being interviewed. "I'm sorry, but only because you heard me and not because of what I've said," Viviana honestly told them.

"Good save, Vi," Max said, enjoying the fact that his best friend was making what was originally an angering moment for her turned awkward.

"Shut up, Max. Anyways, what should I do with the rumors?" Viviana asked.

"I don't think you should say anything," Daniel spoke up, causing everyone to look at him.

He looked unsure for a second because of the sudden amount of eyes on him, but once he looked at Viviana, who was confused at what he said, he elaborated, "Whether or not you say something won't change anything. These people are convinced you did something, so you should stay quiet for now since you did nothing wrong,"

"Who are you and what have you done with Daniel Ricciardo?" Pierre jokingly said, causing the other drivers to laugh.

"Hey, I can give out good advice!" Daniel tried defending himself.

"Yeah, but they usually come with back up plans A-Z," Charles said.

"Well, it can't be any worse than my original plan," Viviana thoughtfully said.

"What was your original plan?" Alex questioned.

"Make a F1 Team and buy my way in," she nonchalantly said, shocking those around her.

"What?!"

"Well, I'm obviously not going to do that. But, I would try to prove people wrong and it'd send a message of, 'you'd know if I did something' but people would probably get angry because of who I am and my last name," she rolled her eyes.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

the sun (in your eyes) ☀️

🍊 a landoscar fic 🌷🏙️ florist!oscar and ad agency!lando au 🖋️ 11.2k words 🔗 read on ao3

written for @maaxverstappen as part of the @f1playlistficexchange

preview:

The two of them stand: one behind the florist counter, endlessly patient. Lando, feeling vaguely warm in the face and wondering why he hadn’t left yet. “Didn’t get your name?” Lando says, hopefully. “Oh. I’m Oscar. Piastri.” Oscar Piastri runs a hand through his hair. “Ah! That explains the pi symbol?” Oscar grins, then. It’s slightly slanted, and his front teeth are slightly too big. The overall effect is very endearing. “Exactly. Anyway. Not sure why I felt the need to give you a last name. But there you go. If you need to like, contact me for legal reasons or whatever, you have that now.” “Thanks. I’m Lando. Er, Norris. I am not currently wanted or convicted of a crime in any country.” “Good… to know.” “The Australian immigration form did ask.” “Once again. Good to know.” “I’ll keep you informed if I do commit a crime. Don’t get caught at the scene, or anything.” Lando winks. “See you ‘round, maybe?” “Sure. Bye, Lando.” “Bye, Oscuh.” Oscar smiles again, dimples showing at the side of his face. Lando tries not to think too much about why it tickles him inside when that happens. On the way back to the office, Lando frantically googles things like shortest lifespan Australian wildflowers and vintage Ducati motorcycle facts and is love at first sight a real phenomenon like actually whatthehell. Then he almost drops his phone on the curb, and has to settle for shoving his phone in his pocket and trying to dodge the mass of cyclists that have inconveniently spawned on the road right for some reason. Very rude of them to do that at rush hour.

[fxrmuladaydreams]

Logan fluff! You work within the team and both constantly are blushing and giggling together (sometimes Logan tries to play it off as casual with a fist bump after you tell a joke but he’s blushing when you touch his hand), he tries contact with you a lot like that, an arm around the back of your seat when you’re sat on a sofa together, lingering hello and good bye hugs, hands touching the small of your back and or stomach as he squeezes past you, and accidental hand touching that leads to hand holding and a kiss goodbye?

!! logan weekend requests are now closed !!

Physical touch had to be Logan’s love language. You were sure of it. There was no other way to explain it.

Logan had a tendency to be a bit of a touchy-feely person when it came to you. He was always touching you in some small way whenever you were around each other. If you were walking somewhere together, he kept a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. If he needed to get past you he would hold your waist as he slipped by.

You wanted to believe that meant something special, like he was giving you special attention. You had had a crush on Logan for a while now, his handsome face, introverted personality, and dorky sense of humor drew you in. The more you got to know him, the harder you seemed to fall. You thought his being so touchy with you was a sign he might’ve felt the same way.

You were a little disappointed to see Logan sitting so close to Alex during one of their video, so close that their shoulders were pressed together. Then even more disappointed when you saw him walking through the paddock with Oscar, an arm thrown over the Australian’s shoulders.

So maybe he just liked physical contact. Maybe you weren’t as special as you’d hoped.

That’s why you try to not get your hopes up right now. You’re sitting on a couch next to Logan, his arm is over the back of the couch, resting behind you. He’s sitting so close, you could lean your head on his shoulder if you wanted to.

You aren’t really listening to what he’s saying, far too focused on the warmth you feel coming from his body. A beeping coming from your watch pulls you from your trance as well as quiets Logan. It’s a notification reminding you that you have a meeting soon.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” You sigh.

Logan nods, using his arm that’s behind you to pull you closer.

You’re used to his goodbye hugs. You thoroughly enjoy them, being wrapped in his arms and breathing in his cologne. However you aren’t used to him kissing you.

Your eyes widen when you feel his lips against yours. Just as soon as the kiss starts, he pulls away, an equally shocked expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I shouldn’t have done that.” He shakes his head. His eyes are filled with worry as he pulls his arm away from you.

He turns his head away, looking at the ground, mumbling to himself about how stupid he seems to think he is.

You reach out to hold his cheek with your hand, turning him to look back at you. You throw caution to the wind and lean forward to kiss him, hoping to wash away all of his doubts as well as your own.

[bellezaycafe]

Get Your Shit Together - Chapter 7

genre: 2024 and onwards AU, with the 2024 starting grid.

pairing: Romantic!oc x that triangle y’all voted on. Platonic!oc x the whole grid.

warnings: swearing, mentions of physical crimes, discussions about gangs, mentions of bars and alcohol. Besties arguing. talk about the accident in chapter 4.

context: Part 1 and Masterlist…

comments: here’s the Max and Sadie content I promised. I like to reveal details slowly, as you can tell. Also, I’m writing Oscar like he’s a genius because I can see him putting the pieces together before anyone else.

Also, I'm not referring to AlphaTauri as Visa Cash App Racing Bulls or whatever their rumoured name is.

The three time World Driver Champion grumbled as his phone buzzed. He was tired of people texting him. He wanted one day of peace.

Lando: you should have told me

Max: Told you what?

Lando: why sadie disappeared

Max froze and knew his peaceful day was gone. Either Lewis had spilled, which was unlikely, or Lando had found the Australian girl.

Max: Who told you?

Lando: she did

Lando: you should have told me

“Goddamn it, Lando,” he muttered and pulled himself off of his couch.

Max: I take it you found her

Lando: by accident

Lando: but yeah we found her

Max sighed and tapped the call icon. This would go so much faster if he wasn’t wasting time typing.

Lando picked up in two rings.

“Witness fucking protection, Max,” he greeted.

“Is she with you now?” It was the first thing on Max’s mind.

“No.“

He couldn’t see Lando’s face but Max could hear him pacing.

“Lando-“

“Witness protection, Max. Gangs! Attempted assault!” The boy was raging.

But Max picked up the details Sadie had never told him.

“She’s told you more than she did me. What attempted assault?”

Lando didn’t reply as another voice, faint from distance, interrupted them.

“No, I’m not giving you the phone. Go ta- Hey!”

There was a scuffle and Max Fewtrell’s came over the line.

“Max, mate. Can you stop this dumb fuck from doing something stupid?”

“It’s Lando Norris,” the Dutchman commented.

“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem.”

There was more background arguments which had Max impatiently tapping his foot.

“Right, I’ve got the phone now,” came Oscar’s accent. “And you’re on speaker. Do you want me to explain?”

Max grunted an affirmative.

“Right. Sadie works a bar at a restaurant about 45 minutes drive from here. Lando and Max went there for dinner because Daniel said it was good and low key. Lando recognised her, she recognised him. She drove him back to my mums house and apparently ‘explained what she could’ on the way.”

Max could hear irritation in the young Australian’s voice and wondered why he was riled up.

“Okay, and now she’s gone again?”

“Yes,” Lando whined.

“And she left without giving you a way to contact her,” the Dutchman guessed.

“Yes,” Lando grumbled.

“Sadie has our numbers,” Oscar added. “Lando’s and mine.”

“She’ll text you if she wants to.” Max tried to reassure.

“Will she?” Oscar asked.

“I don’t know,” the Dutchman admitted.

“She unpredictable,” Lando observed.

“No shit,” came Max Fewtrell’s voice. “She took your fucking car to the leg for you. If anything is unpredictable, that’s it!”

“Right, I’m going. You three can argue amongst yourselves, but trust me on one thing. Don’t chase her. Sadie is scared and she would rather hurt you than risk herself.”

“I don’t believe that,” Lando stated. “She risked herself for me once. She did it without thinking, she-”

“Lando, she was doing her job.” Max cut him off and he flinched at the harshness of his own voice. “I’m going. Don’t do anything stupid.”

And he hung up.

Then pulled up a contact he hadn’t touched since the beginning of November.

She answered faster than Lando had.

“He called you, didn’t he?” Sadie’s voice was a little distant and Max could hear the road noise. He knew her car had bluetooth and wasn’t concerned.

“Yeah,” Max sighed out the confirmation.

“Did you give him my number?”

The distrust stung.

“I swore that I wouldn’t. Kid, I haven’t even given it to Lewis.”

He heard Sadie sigh.

“Just checking,” she grumbled.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” A lie.

“Kid-“

“Max, I’m 21.”

“Don’t care. You keep lying to me and I’m gonna keep calling you kid.”

Kelly walked into the kitchen, still in her pyjamas despite the late morning. She immediately knew who he was talking to. She raised an eyebrow at him and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Max flicked the phone onto speaker.

“I’m fine, dumbass.”

“You’re not.” But he wouldn’t push, he’d learnt not to.

“I will be.” It was always the same answer, again and again.

“Alright well, check in with me like usual okay?”

Sadie muttered a confirmation but Max knew that she was debating a disappearing act.

“Sadie,” -he hoped using her name would connect with her heart, rather than her fear- “just the check in. You know you don’t have to do more.”

“I know that I don’t have to do anything,” she quipped. It wasn’t a snap, she’d never snapped at Max. “But okay, I’ll text you in December.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a good day, Max.”

Max rolled his eyes. Of course she had already worked out the timezones.

“Have a good night, kid.”

To be fair, he had too.

The call disconnected and Kelly placed her hand on Max’s. It was a silent reassurance that Max appreciated.

“Penelope will finish her TV time soon,” Kelly said as she kissed his cheek.

He snaked a hand around his girlfriend’s waist and drew her close.

“We should go out for lunch,” she added.

“Thank you,” Max said into her lips.

It was a grateful sentiment that held far too many layers for his tired mind.

——$——

December landed while Max was battling it out in Qatar. Oscar had taken Saturday's sprint, again, and fought hard during Sunday's race. The Dutchman had defended through the final four laps, fending off both Australians in cars that shouldn’t have been outperforming the Ferrari’s or Mercedes’.

But Oscar had pulled an impressive P2 for a second year in a row, and Daniel had been all smiles as he'd pulled his AlphaTauri into P3.

But as Max hauled himself out of his hotel bed on Monday morning, thoroughly hungover, he found a text from Sadie.

She'd set her own contact name in his phone.

Ego Crusher: All safe and okay here. I know that Qatar was this weekend, saw that you won. Congrats on another win. Congrats to Oscar for beating your slow ass in the sprint. He's good at keeping you on your toes.

Ego Crusher: I didn't tell you until now because I wanted you to focus on Qatar, but the trial started last Wednesday. Should finish Monday my time. I'll let you know what the result is. This is the last four.

Max hissed out a breath, both at his aching skull and her news. He checked his time in Qatar, 9:30am, and did the mental maths for Melbourne time. Sadie would just starting work, 5:30pm, if she had shifts during the trial.

The Crushed: Thanks for letting me know you're okay. I hope the trial is going well.

The Crushed: I know you said you don't want to leave Australia but if any of those dicks are acquitted I'm sending someone to get you.

He left his phone on the kitchen counter, poured himself a glass of water and contemplated his capacity for the energy of Daniel Ricciardo that day.

Max's phone chimed. He cursed at the sound's affect on his headache and flipped it over.

*new message from Ego Crusher*

So Sadie wasn't at work.

Ego Crusher: Yeah, yeah. You said that already. Tell Kelly I say hi and give P a hug for me when you next see her.

The Crushed: Will do.

The Crushed: Update me.

Ego Crusher: Will do :)

Max flicked his phone onto silent, texted an update to Kelly and went to put it back on the countertop. Before he let it go, it vibrated again.

*new message from Oscar Piastri*

He cursed in Dutch.

Oscar Piastri: I know you're in contact with Sadie. She told Lando and I about the trial back in Melbourne. We haven't heard from her and we're worried.

He swore again.

Max Verstappen: She'd kill me if she knew I told you.

Oscar Piastri: You just confirmed it but okay

Max Verstappen: If I said nothing Lando would try to find her again and then we'd all be worried.

Oscar Piastri: You're not wrong

Max Verstappen: She updated me overnight. Trial is still going but so far so good.

Max Verstappen: How long have you known?

Oscar Piastri: Figured it out after you hung up on Lando in Melbourne. You spoke about her like you knew her.

Oscar Piastri: And thank you.

Max finally set the phone down, sighed and cursed, again. His life had never been simple but he didn't know if it had ever been as complicated as it was since Sadie had appeared.

He had siblings. He had Victoria. He had quite a few of them amongst his father's numerous marriages. And he was familiar with the protectiveness that came with being an older brother, and essentially a step-dad.

But he wasn't quite sure how to protect someone who didn't want his protection. Or wasn't actually his sister.

----$----

I did promise some Sadie and Max. I didn't promise it was going to be sunshine and joy though.

@snubug @cmleitora @izzy-marvel @aquangxl

a few came up with “no blog found” so i hope they worked

[neo-my-geo]

HELLO THERE I RLLY RLLY LIKE U GUYS AU AND IM JUST REALLY WANTING TO GNAW AND TRASH IT AROUND LIKE A DOG WOULD WITH THEIR FAVORITE TOY!!!!!!!!!!PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE USE YTHIS ASK TO RAMBLE ABOUT THE AU AGAIN!!!!

Don't mind if I do!

I took the last rambling ask to share fun facts about the mercs, so why not use this one to talk about the side characters (and also some other stuff)?

Saxton and Bidwell

By the loosest of definitions, these two are a guild. They're the only members, granted, but they still take missions and get them done all the same. They also rank shockingly high for local guilds despite their small numbers.

Saxton is a Cleric/Barbarian goliath who loves to take on contracts to fight monsters. He and Heavy share the philosophy of "yeah, I could use a sword, but why would I?" He also stands at a whopping eight feet tall.

Bidwell is a Bard/Warlock tiefling who's in charge of pretty much everything that isn't applying fists to faces.

These two travel the countryside together, hunting down the most difficult bounties they can find. They have no set guild location, so Pauling receives their mail and gets in contact when locals want to hire them.

They're also the only two adventurers who have Mags, Goddess of Spring's, direct blessing. That might explain how they've managed to make it this far.

Pauling

Operating under the direct blessing of the Autumn goddess, Miss P is an incredibly powerful caster on her own.

She has a fungal network surrounding the guild in a ten kilometer radius, allowing her to keep tabs on and communicate with pretty much anyone within it with ease. She can also reach people outside of the network, but it gets much less efficient the further your go.

With a few exceptions, Miss P was the one who was in charge of gathering the mercenaries for the guild. They had a "power first, reputation second" approach to it, which was how Ludwig managed to squeeze his way in.

Other random tidbits

Sniper can't speak common fluently. Oddly enough, Faerun's direct Australian English analogue was Deep Speech. Dell can speak it and Pyro can understand it, so he's getting by until he's figured out the local language.

Ludwig can transform into a bat. He and Archimedes go on night flights together.

Scout keeps elixers of the electric eel on hand which he uses to supercharge his punches.

[cellarspider]

5/30 The pseudohistory of Prometheus

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to a movie I wish to send on a journey down the Kola Superdeep Borehole, Prometheus.

And my insanity truly begins in this segment. We are only 1/10th of the way through the movie so far. Content warnings for discussion of racism in pseudoscience and historical anthropology, Spider getting hung up on logistics and space nerd stuff, and pictures of Yuri Knorozov, the most sour-faced man to ever live.

The cast sits down for a briefing. This is a scene with an easily identifiable narrative function: providing exposition to the theater audience. The act of doing a briefing makes sense. It is the last thing here that will.

We are introduced to a hologram of Peter Weyland, the financier of the expedition. The name means all sorts of Lore to the series, but what’s intensely distracting is that we seem to have caught Weyland halfway through applying his zombie makeup.

Weyland is played by Guy Pierce. As of the filming of this movie, he was somewhere around 45 years old. Yes, they smothered this Australian in old man drag so that he could play this character. This is a baffling decision, that only gets slightly less baffling if you know the production history of the movie, which I did not at the time.

Guy Pierce was hired to play a younger Peter Weyland. There’s a promo video out there of him giving a fictional TED Talk in the not-to-distant future of next Sunday AD 2023, there were various plans for him to appear in the movie proper. None of those scenes are actually in the movie. They refused to double-cast the role for some reason. While the practical effects in the movie are generally excellent and it does make the tiniest smidge of sense that a hypercapitalist asshole would be portrayed as a literal rubber-faced movie monster, this, like many things in Prometheus, made the movie a very weird sit. One where I was increasingly less open to going along with the movie’s fiction. You are telling me that this is an actual human man. I am not buying it. He looks far less human than David, the only non-human there.

Speaking of David, Weyland calls him “the closest thing to a son I will ever have”, and then immediately says David is an inhuman lesser being, who does not appreciate the specialness of his existence because he does not have a soul.

Which is funny, because I think you can see David’s soul leaving his body at this exact moment.

Weyland then tries to mash in some existential weight to the movie: they might finally get an answer for “why are we here?” and all that jazz! He also tries to explain why naming a ship Prometheus is totally not like calling it Titanic II: Don’t think about the part of the myth where Prometheus is chained to a rock and has his ever-regenerating liver eaten by an eagle every day! Think about the bit where he brought fire to mankind! We’re gonna bring back that bit!

And then the archaeologists take over the briefing, and this, THIS, is the bit where they entirely lost me. My suspension of disbelief had already been strained by multiple oddities up to this point. My skepticism about these characters in particular was already a bit elevated by their implied invocation of the ancient astronauts concept.

Turns out, only Vickers, Shaw, and Holloway know why they’re here. 

Two years away from Earth. On a massively expensive expedition that intends to make first contact with an alien culture, the first alien culture that humankind has ever found evidence of. Nobody has been briefed up until this point.

This is lunacy.

Explanations have been figured out by fans since then: this is a passion project by Weyland, an annoyance to the rest of the corporate structure that nobody else believes in. The movie eventually intimates this, through Vickers. 

Fans have thus speculated that Weyland was just quarantined off to do his little alien hunt, with no logistical support that would make it actually functional. He believed a crazy theory put forward by Shaw and Holloway, and everyone else wasn’t actually best-of-the-best, they were just whoever would take a big paycheck to do fuck-all for nearly five years of sleeping their way to and from their destination.

I am willing to consider that this was intentional. The movie possibly tries to confirm this with Mr. “I’m here for the money” Fifield, but none of the other characters have enough characterization to determine if this is the general trend.

How could we make a story that more clearly spells this out? Maybe Millburn the biologist could encounter more of the crew talking about the payout from taking the job, or reveal that he himself has some project he needs money for. It would also chip away at the dearth of character-building dialog for most of the cast.

As a result of those deficiencies in characterization, a lot of my discussion of plot points is going to be focused around what they do, rather than why. …Except when it is about the why, at which point the main commentary will be “WHY.”

In any case: while it makes sense, I'm still not certain the film meant for this character motivation. Prometheus is just so loudly explicit with so many of its plot points that it doesn’t seem like this is the case. The movie certainly believes in the sincerity and correctness of the archaeologists, though.

Unfortunately, it also immediately tells me that they’re a couple of wingnuts. I’m not sure if it intends to, for reasons I’ll get into after I foam at the mouth for a little while.

They present a series of artifacts to the crew: Egyptian, Mayan, Akkadian, Sumerian, Hittite, Hawaiian, and their Scottish cave painting. All of them feature “men worshiping giant beings”, who are pointing to what stargazer nerds call an asterism: a pattern of stars. Shaw and Holloway believe that these are aliens that engineered humans into their current state. Shaw literally says “it’s what I choose to believe” as the entirety of their justification for this.

Again: I knew the movie wanted me to take this as truth, within its universe. That’s the implicit deal the movie has made with the audience, this is truth. You are supposed to be contemplating the "whys" of it all. But the movie had also smacked me in the brain so many times in the past five minutes, that I, like Millburn the Biologist, was ready to call bullshit.

I appreciate him for doing so, and it shows he could have been a smart character, but sadly, he is in Prometheus.

Because he is a fictional biologist and I am an actual biologist, I will expand on his argument, as I descend into ranting for the rest of the post.

Millburn objects on the basis of evolutionary history, which the movie only partially succeeds in papering over: the implication is that evolution on Earth was directed with the deterministic outcome of creating something like humans.

This opens up a whole new can of worms that the movie doesn’t get into–when exactly did this engineering start? When great apes evolved? When mammals did? Tetrapods? Skeletons? DNA itself? After all, we know the aliens, now dubbed Engineers by the archaeologists, have DNA. Did they seed all life on Earth? How did they evolve? Our last universal common ancestor is believed to have already been using DNA 3-4 billion years ago, evolving out of a likely RNA-based genetic standard. Hominins diverged from other apes around 15-25 million years ago. What sort of culture would undertake a project that required at least 15 million years on the extreme low end?

All excellent questions! The movie is not concerned with them. I am, and that is part of why this movie still lives in a special, awful place in my head.

This isn’t actually what made me become actively hostile toward the archaeologists, though. What managed that, well! It was their archaeology. Anybody who had an Ancient Egypt Phase in their childhood should be able to articulate multiple reasons why the academic community would’ve laughed these guys out of the building.

Bigness in ancient egyptian art does not indicate literal size. It indicates importance. In fact, the artifacts the movie uses exclusively come from artistic traditions which feature hierarchical or non-literal scale. Do the Engineers turn out to actually be eight feet tall? Yes! Am I still annoyed by this? ABSOLUTELY.

You know what else is a big problem? Many of the cultures they reference here had written language! A LOT of written language! They include Egyptian, Sumerian, Babylonian, and Mayan art in their evidence, all of which not only wrote a LOT of things down, but had a habit of annotating a lot of their art with labels to tell you what was going on! You can actually see some on the props they used in this scene!

Beyond that, they had very prescribed formal styles, where you can follow the action entirely through gestures, held objects, attendant symbols, and clothing! If all these cultures, as implied, had actual, direct contact with aliens, recorded in the art presented here, we would know what they were told.

Skipping ahead of the movie for a minute: the Engineers were apparently not telling humans “we’re here in these stars, come find us”, they were telling humans “settle the fuck down or this is where the hurt’s going to come from”. 

Here's the thing. Ancient peoples weren't stupid. They wouldn't just not talk about this. If giant aliens came down from the sky and gave them a stern talking-to that contradicted their religion, that would be a big deal. And these characters specifically say the Engineers are being "worshiped" in these images! They're apparently taking onboard what's being said!

It is certainly possible for information to be lost. Over long time scales, that's unfortunately the rule, rather than the exception. But again: half the artifacts have writing on them!

I chose to believe that Shaw and Holloway simply did not attempt to read any available translations of attendant texts, and they were thus cursed for their foolishness by the ghosts of Mayan Studies pioneer Yuri Knorozov and Egyptologist Jean-François Champollion, and the still-extant spirit of Assyriologist Irving Finkel.

Knorozov knows your sins against Mayan Studies. Knorozov is a vengeful god. Chapollion and Finkel are likewise very cross.

Two last things stood out to me in the theater. One of them was extremely petty but tied into some very serious issues with pseudoscience, and the other one was not.

Pettiness first: the asterism shown in the artifacts is a pattern of six stars. The movie wants you to believe that it is very spooky that the only asterism that precisely matches this pattern are six stars that are too faint to see with the naked eye. This is laughable, both because the asterism is so generic-looking that I can think of several very visible asterisms that are good matches for the pattern, but it also recapitulates a bunch of really fucking annoying stuff from pseudoscientific bullshit. 

First: Pseudoscience and pseudohistory likes to make a big deal out of the fact that every culture has stories about the stars. Why? 

The sky is very important to every culture’s mythology, because every culture can see the sky. Like, that’s literally it. People can see the sky. They tell stories about it. There’s not much to do at night except look at the sky, when even keeping a fire lit can be an expensive prospect. It is not even the least bit weird when multiple cultures–all of them in the northern hemisphere in this case!–have stories about the same stars.

Second: Cultures varied in their ability to faithfully reproduce celestial landmarks in art and align their architecture, and were not as exact as modern techniques can manage. Pseudoscience will claim that they are exact, when it fits their pre-existing theory, or fudge the difference if they want something to fit their claims.

(This is a photoshopped image, by the way.)

Were the stone age temples of Malta secretly aligned with a particular star that foretold the doom of Atlantis, precisely tracking its location through the sky over thousands of years of Earth’s axial wobbling? No! They were roughly aligned with the sun. Sunlight is important when you don’t have electric lights. Were the Great Pyramids of Giza laid out ten thousand years ago to match the layout of the stars in Orion’s Belt, according to the designs of a legendary lost race of highly advanced non-African people? Were they tapping into the Earth’s magnetic field to generate energy? No! They were aligned with the cardinal directions, and they got them a bit wrong! 

Hell, if we want to play at that game, I found a decent match for the asterism in Stellarium's Egyptian constellation set. Just flip this 90 degrees clockwise and you'll see I'm totally right. Aliens confirmed.

I know the movie is trying to tell me that all the asterisms in the art are precise matches for each other and are thus impossible to explain without intercultural contact (or aliens!!), but it is also showing me that they are not that precise. So, it’s just showing me stars. At least in some of them. Their little charcoal lad from the Isle of Skye may be throwing fruit at his audience.

In fact, there's a further, probably unintentional link to pseudohistorical claims in the artifacts presented: the Maya artifact shown does not actually depict a "giant figure" being worshiped, in fact, it shows one instantly recognizable, known figure in Classical Maya history: It is an altered version of the ornately carved coffin lid of Kʼinich Janaab Pakal I (24 March 603 - 29 August 683), with the top quarter of the carving replaced with a star pattern that looks nothing like the ones on the other artifacts.

The carving shows Pakal in the pose of an infant, entering into death and being reborn. It is packed full of so many symbolic elements that can be easily recognized by those more familiar with the Classical Maya than I am.

Conspiracy theorist Erich von Däniken thought that it showed Pakal rocketing away on a spaceship. Däniken proposed this because he didn't understand the cultural symbolism, but he had seen pictures of astronauts before.

And on that note, 2,400 words into this rant, we get to the actually bad shit. Unfortunately, it ties into the issue I had with the premise to begin with: the real-world context of pseudoscientific claims of ancient alien contact. Specifically, the racism.

We’re going to unspool this more near the end of the movie, because there was further behind the scenes I was not aware of when I first saw Prometheus, and it just compounds this stuff. 

So, when I went on my first tangent on how unpleasant ancient alien theories are, one thing I highlighted is that the further from Western Civilization you get, the more these theories presuppose that fellow humans are incapable of building great works or imagining interesting things. No, they had to be guided, and explicitly shown things that they copied down to the best of their limited capability.

The only european example of alien contact they show is from the Upper Paleolithic, 37,000 years ago. All the examples around the Mediterranean and Mesopotamia range from 5,500-3,700 years ago. The examples from the Classical Maya and Hawaiʻi are from 620 and 680 CE. 

During this period, Tang Dynasty merchants were creating the first paper money as the famous female emperor Wu Zetian was on her way to the throne. The Prophet Muhammad went to al-Aqsa mosque, and we’re only eight years before the birth of Charlemagne’s grandfather. We’re no longer talking ancient, it’s just old.

I want to emphasize that the movie is presenting these not as depictions of myths that have been passed down–though there are more problems with that I’ll get into shortly–these are implied to be contemporary depictions of events witnessed by the artists, who were quite possibly instructed by the Engineers to record a precise pattern of stars. An equivalency is being drawn between stone age Europe, bronze age Africa and the Middle East, and a couple of startlingly recent Mesoamerican and Polynesian cultures. 

But let’s be generous. Maybe these aren’t supposed to be contemporary accounts in these two outlier cases: the movie’s script will certainly indicate later that they have no idea what they’ve implied here. Perhaps these are story traditions that were handed down from the Olmecs and Melanesian precursors of the first to sail to Hawaiʻi. 

Unfortunately, this just recapitulates a different racist trope: that European and more “developed” civilizations invented so much cool and comfortable material culture and philosophy that they forgot the Mystical Religious Truths of the old ways, which were preserved only in Primitive Lands and among Uneducated Peoples, where they never found anything better to do with their time. Oh, if only we had heeded the warnings from those spiritually attuned non-white people!

(Look, I only remember Devil (2010), which has 50% on Rotten Tomatoes, because M Night Shyamalan wrote and produced it, and this was two years after The Happening came out, so I watched it out of morbid curiosity. It's not as unbelievably bad as The Happening, but as shown in the clip above, the spiritually attuned latino security guard Ramirez attributes toast landing jelly side down to Satan. That is an actual thing that happens in the movie. He is proven right.)

But let's be even more generous: someone probably realized that they'd focused near-exclusively on Middle Eastern cultures, and wanted to throw in a couple from elsewhere. Sitting here, having seen the movie in full, this is the most likely option: their inclusion creates a contradiction with a later scene, and was thus probably not checked for consistency. These cultures were thrown in as a bit of background flavor. I list this last, because in the theater, there was no way to know this at the time.

That answer's still not great. Still leaves us in the same position, where Europeans are pretty much given their own agency, while other cultures need to be led.

Oh, and to anyone else who’s made it this far and knows the production history of Prometheus: don’t worry! I know what Ridley Scott told that one interviewer, about a contact between a less-ancient European power and the Engineers. I’m saving that one. I like to save that one, because strategic deployment of that quote made some of my IRL friends scream.

Next time: the Prometheus descends to an alien world, and I descend further into madness. I am going to drag you all down with me.

(Pictured: Yuri Knorozov, and my present mood.)

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

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Citations for alt text ramblings:

https://www.almendron.com/artehistoria/arte/culturas/egyptian-art-in-age-of-the-pyramids/catalogue-fourth-dynasty/

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

Miami Vice S1E23: Lombard

Sonny and Rico must guard a mobster before his court testimony.

We've made it to the S1 finale (although I will reiterate that this should've been the second to last episode and Evan should've been the finale)

I like this episode; I like Dennis Farina; I like Sonny's difficulty with how much he likes Dennis Farina; I like that this episode forces Sonny to think about the humanity of the people he's working "against"

Much like how I'm not a huge fan of the Other Val Episodes after S1, I do not particularly think there ought to have been a sequel episode to Lombard... but Michael Mann loves Dennis Farina a lot, so like, what're you gonna do

Lombard opens with Al Lombard talking with his son Sal Lombard; I could not be more tickled by the fact that for some reason Lombard Sr. is clearly an American-Italian from Chicago and Lombard Jr. appears to be a Hispanic New Yorker. Where did your son pick up his accent, Dennis

Tubbs arrests one of Lombard's goons; I swear the goon is one of the Boat Bears from Made for Each Other

When Lombard gets supinaed (the inciting incident of the episode), Sonny watches him (long before the camera focuses on Sonny) with what reads as intense, almost awed boyishness, like a kid watching their favorite athlete to copy their moves. It's weird, because at this point Sonny believes Lombard ordered the hit on Barbara Crawford (Sonny's old flame from One Eyed Jack) and verbally expounds upon how much he hates him. Nonetheless, from the beginning you get this odd sense that as much as Sonny hates him, he's also deeply fascinated by him

John Santucci returns, playing a different character than Corrupt CIA Agent Dale Menton. He's Lombard's duplicitous assistant here, also making this episode a pre-reunion for Crime Story

Castillo explains to Sonny and Rico that Lombard will end up getting killed if he testifies; Sonny says he hopes that's exactly what happens. He does not sound convincing-- you get the sense that he thinks that's how he ought to feel, but can't quite manage to internalize those feelings having now witnessed even a modicum of humanization of Lombard

I am completely obsessed with the decor in the malt shop Santucci meets his contact in. Why is there a giant cement cake in the middle of the dining room. Why doesn't EVERY restaurant have one.

Switek is apparently eating hot dogs to... lower his cholesterol?

In Lombard's hospital room, Tubbs sniffs a single rose while Crockett berates Lombard; he appears to steal it on the way out

On a related note, Lombard is constantly framed by flowers

While doing surveillance, Sonny suggests Lombard is on the way to the movies and Rico, in what I can only describe as The World's Worst Australian accent, says, "Crockett, never bring more than one suit case to the theater." Sonny responds "Oh really?" in the same accent, because they are a) in love and b) the dumbest idiots on earth

Thus follows a gorgeously moody low-speed chase (so low speed they politely go through a toll booth) set to U2's Wire. The lyrics speak to guilt and innocence and cold fire in a cold man's eyes, seemingly focused on Lombard's criminality. The full song, however, is about suicide by drug overdose. It's a desperate track, ending on the ambiguous lines:

I give you hope Here's the rope Here's the rope Now swing away

Are Sonny and Rico providing Lombard with a little bit of hope, or are they simply setting him up to die? Are the writers equating a life of crime with the self-destructive seduction and allure of an addiction to hard drugs? Are we supposed to hear the pain and need throughout the song as Lombard's, or Sonny's? Or both?

Lombard realizes that Charlie (Santucci) set him up; Sonny (in defense of himself and Lombard) shoots Charlie during the fallout. He apologies, saying he was "just doing his job." Much like the rest of his defensiveness surrounding Lombard, this feels very misaimed-- he was quite literally doing his job.

Lombard, at the safehouse, joking: Well, it's not the Grand bay. / Sonny, still pissed about everything forever: WOULD YOU PREFER THE YMCA

Rico gets sent out for pasta ingredients and Sonny sulks; immediately after dinner Sonny seems to have forgotten he's supposed to hate Lombard. The post-dinner scene reminds me immensely of the scar-comparison/U.S.S Indianapolis scene from Jaws-- three men around a table, making revealing small talk in the still danger of the night, two of whom are positioned as uncomfortable parallels (Sonny/Lombard and Hooper/Quint) and a third something of an outsider (Rico and Brody). Sonny has at this point warmed up to Lombard even though he knows he should hate him, the same way Hooper warms up to Quint even though Quint has been a menace to him up to this point. Sonny and Lombard talk fatherhood, and you get the distinct sense that the issues of being a Vice cop with a child and the issues of being a criminal mogul with a child are more or less the same.

Rico appears not to gamble, which is interesting to me-- we only even get implication and subtext on the topic, but he's really not much into vices. He doesn't smoke, is a vegetarian, doesn't seem to gamble, and drinks progressively less as the series goes on. He's never positioned as particularly moral for this, nor as a stick in the mud. He's just slightly outside the world so many of the other characters are a bit too deep in-- vice doesn't stick to him like it does to others.

Near the end of the episode, Lombard states the theme of the show out loud to Sonny-- you and I aren't that different. Sonny responds with: "Wroooong. I don't murder people."

Which uh

You are a TV cop, Sonny, you actually do do that

And uh, later in the series you. Uh. Well.

We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.

I think what works really well about this episode is that tension. This is the 3rd "Sonny is faced with a parallel that hints at a likely tragic future for him" episode, but unlike with Arthur Lawson and Evan, Lombard doesn't appear to be torn apart by the gulf between his job and his convictions. While the implication is that Lombard may die after the episode ends, Sonny doesn't know that-- his final moment with Lombard ends with a smile and a joke. Sonny sees his own convictions-- loyalty, love of family, living by one's own terns-- mirrored in Lombard, a career criminal, and it doesn't destroy him. He's very much like Sonny in many ways, but he's able to live with his own cognitive dissonance in a way Sonny, Artie, and Evan cannot, perhaps because he is simply able to admit that what he is doing is wrong. Sonny isn't there yet-- he has to be able to believe that what he's doing as a cop is right partially because he doesn't believe he's capable of doing good in any other way, but partially because it's painful. There's a penance aspect to Sonny's career in vice, and from his perspective, Lombard doesn't have to pay it. And despite all this, Sonny likes him-- Lombard shows him another possible vision of the future-- and he just doesn't know how to feel about it. It's still not quite as powerful a season ending as Evan, but Farina and Johnson sell it.

[merryfortune]

Touch Tag

August 14th: Post-Canon | Games | Horror

Title: Touch Tag

Ship: Boreshipping | Jim/Manjoume

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,264

Tags: Canon Compliant, Sports, Touch Starved

   …What was he doing?

   Based on his covert observations from up on the second floor of the dorm looking out over the grassy acres it belonged to, Manjoume had concluded that it was clearly Karen’s playtime but he wasn’t actually sure what game was being played. If it was a game at all. It involved a ball but it didn’t look like an actual ball game. Maybe drills? Some kind of practice?

   Bah, it didn’t matter. He had much better things to do with his time than to watch Jim and his dumb crocodile punt a ball between each other. Surely. Yup, surely, he had something better to do. Like rearrange the dust on his windowpane or something. He was on top of his studies, his deck was as peak as it was going to get, he was certain…

    And, yet, there was not much else to occupy Manjoume in his eight by eight room that he would love to claim that he had all to himself but very much didn’t thanks to the three Ojama Brother spirits who cohabited with him. So, mostly against his will, his brain bricked with boredom, Manjoume kept hovering by the windowsill.

   “If ya wanna play, why don’t ya jus’ go down there an’ play, boss?” Ojama Yellow asked.

   “I don’t want to play some dumb game with Jim.” Manjoume huffed, cheeks going red and his body very much going a different direction to what he had said.

   Ojama Yellow snickered with his brethren as they farewelled Manjoume as he marched himself down the wooden steps and right over to where Jim and Karen were situated. He looked down his nose at the pair as they passed the pointed egg shaped ball between each other, Jim using his hand and Karen batting it back with her tail. Manjoume held himself to make himself look intimidating but based on the blank stare that Jim was giving from underneath his Akubra, it wasn’t working.

   “What’s up?” Jim asked.

   “Not much.” Manjoume replied stiffly.

   The breeze swirled between them and the silence. 

   “Did you… need something?”Jim asked.

   “Grawr.” Karen piped up, seemingly annoyed that Jim had halted her very important playtime.

   “Er, just wanted to know what you were up to, I guess.” Manjoume admitted but he sounded like he was pulling teeth.

   “Just… passin’ the footy ‘round. You want in?” Jim asked.

   “The footy?” Manjoume echoed.

   “Yeah, the footy.” Jim replied and he held up the ball a little higher.

   It was branded to a sports team that Manjoume didn’t recognise but even if he was familiar with the intricacies of Australia’s big teams, it was faded as all hell, too. He could barely make out anything beyond vague lettering and what was probably a diamond shape once.

   “You ever played footy before?” Jim asked and he started to get keen a bit, shook out his shoulders and if Manjoume didn’t know any better, he would describe his eyes as having a gleam of national pride.

   “Do Australians call it football or soccer?” Manjoume said.

   “We call it soccer but footy’s different to soccer and different again to football, if you're imagining the American one, anyway, we call that gridiron and don’t play it much. And it's different again to rugby, if that’s what you're familiar with, but we do like a bit of rugby but I like footy best. Or, y’know, Aussie rules, if you know it by that name.”

   “You are not speaking any language I know.” Manjoume replied after Jim’s little spiel on the intricacies of sport down under and elsewhere. 

   “It's easy, promise.” Jim said. “Just don’t let the ball hit the ground, pass from the side, and since it's your first time playing, we won’t be playing tackle. We’ll play touch, instead, its non-contact, instead, you gotta grab at, uh… gimme a second, I’ve got some hankies we can use.”

   Manjoume watched, puzzled, as Jim made the absolute bare minimum and honestly confusing attempt to explain the rules - and prepare him for the game. He tore in half a pair of handkerchiefs that he was carrying around and gave two strips to Manjoume, who accepted very limply, and the other. He hooked them around his belt hooks, not too tight, Manjoume noticed. All he knew was that his ears pricked up at “touch” and “non-contact” for some reason - and good reason, too, as Jim had a bit more to say on the topic.

   “You're a bit… delicate so this’ll work well for ya.” Jim said.

   “Hey.” Manjoume growled. “I’m not delicate. We can play tackle.”

   “Nah, let’s start with tag, I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt, is all.” Jim said.

   Manjoume’s brow furrowed further, “No, I’m tough, I can totally play tackle.”

   “Alright then big guy, bowl me over. Knock me down. Do it.” Jim coaxed Manjoume, cockily tilting his chin up.

   “I will.” Manjoume replied and without warning, he was straight at Jim.

   Jim, however, was practically yawning. He played with a crocodile for Christ’s sake, no way was the living toothpick which was Manjoume going to knock him over but good on him for trying and he was trying hard. He was grunting and groaning, pushing into Jim’s breast as hard as he could, kicking up dirt clouds behind as all he moved was just his breath. Jim, meanwhile, was rock hard and standing still as a statue.

   “Point proven yet or do you need some more time?” Jim asked.

   “Argh, fine.” Manjoume gave up.

   His hackles went up and he folded his arms crossly. He stared intently as he waited for Jim to explain more of the rules to this touch-tag Aussie rules footy thing.

    “So, the goal is to get the footy across the line to score a point and the other goal is to get me out by taking my tags.” Jim said and he placed the ball on the ground. “When you get my tags, or if I get yours, we pause, we go back to where it happened and do one of these ones.”

   Jim demonstrated what he meant by “one of these ones”. He put his foot on top of the ball, very softly kicked it maybe half an inch behind him and then picked it up. He tapped it against his foot, as well. It seemed like a very odd ritual but Manjoume shrugged.

   “Normally, when you have a team, you pass it back and someone’s behind you to pick it up but for us, this’ll do to slow down the pace of the game. Oh, and if it happens three times, ball switches hands.”

   “Right, got it.” Manjoume replied, chewing on it.

   “Clear as mud, yeah?” Jim laughed. “Let’s get into it then, you’ll pick it up better playing.”

   “Okay.” Manjoume replied, still chewing on all his vowels.

   He glanced at Karen who opened her maw at him then closed it noiselessly. She seemed okay with watching them play rather than participating. But Manjoume felt very awkward about playing a sport he’d never played before.

   Still, he and Jim lined each other up and Jim tossed the ball in the air. Whoever got it, got it. It went up, up, up, and Manjoume scrambled to catch it but with his taller stature and longer limbs, and his experience playing the game as well, Jim managed to catch the ball.

   He hooked it under his arm and he took off. It was only then that Manjoume realised he had no idea where the boundaries or how long the field they were playing in was but Jim was booking it - and so he was, too. He scrambled after Jim but it was too late.

   At just the edge of the schoolyard, Jim dunked the ball down and proclaimed he’d scored a point. It pissed Manjoume off,  of course, but at the same time. The red in his cheeks wasn’t just from running full pelt for basically no reason out of nowhere and same for how his heart raced. Jim just looked so effortless playing this sport,  how he grinned, it was absolutely cheeky. The tags hanging off his belt flapped victoriously as he showboated.

   “Let’s try again.” Jim beamed. 

   “Yeah.” Manjoume huffed.

   They both circled back to where they had started the game. Karen, at the sidelines, thrashed her tail around and growled, happy that her friend was in the lead but her guttural cries inspired Manjoume. He had to do better this time. He just had to. And so, he absolutely had a fire in his belly for what follows.

   Jim punted the football upwards into the air again and Manjoume tried his hardest to get it. He brought all his weight down and jumped up as high as he could - and he felt like he could touch the sky. The sun blinding in his eyes, the salty sweat on his brow. His fingers just brushed the texture of the football but Manjoume didn’t bring it home. He just missed.

   “Unlucky.” Jim taunted him as he once again won the one-on-one scrum.

   He was laughing as Manjoume turned around, skidding on his heel. He full-on bolted. All he could see was the white, dangling fabrics of the tags flying off Jim’s belt loops. And so, he went for it.

   Hard.

   Even though they had established before playing that Manjoume was a twig and Jim was basically a brick wall, he went for it. He smashed into Jim from behind, grabbing the tags, practically frothing at the mouth for them as he tried to pull them off.

   It was a glorious few seconds for Manjoume. Blood pounded in his head. He felt the spirit of sportsmanship deep in the bowels of his soul. He was going to win. Or, bare minimum, he was going to make the point score one all. 

    Manjoume’s arms swung wide. He made his stance low and as powerful as he could. He felt like a raging bull, tail swishing and horns glinting all the same as if they had been real. He crash-tackled into Jim and Jim crumpled. Manjoume hugged him tight around his waist, his head butted Jim’s chest and knocked the wind out of him.

   At impact, Jim twisted the wrong way. His eyes opened wide and frantic. He lost footing and went down so, so slowly it felt. Manjoume grappled him wildly. Hands went everywhere in the effort to find the tags which were attached to Jim’s belt loops. Victoriously, at the end of such a crash, Manjoume did it.

   He ripped free the torn in half hankies and it was glorious.

   For all the couple seconds where it mattered before both landed with a thud. 

   Karen lifted her head briefly and blinked. The noise disturbed the grass and caused a dust cloud to bloom up around them. Jim and Manjoume both groaned as dizziness descended upon them, heavy like a cloak.

   Manjoume had Jim pinned underneath him. The position was compromising. Manjoume had one leg in between Jim’s and the other over Jim’s left leg. He’d taken all the fall on his knees and wrists, the jarring sensation wracked all of him, competing - and winning - over the brewing embarrassment as Jim looked up at him. Surprised. Fully aware of everything with a slackened jaw.

   “What the hell…?” Jim exclaimed in disbelief. “Where the devil were you keeping that, boy?”

   Manjoume’s stare turned intense as his eleventh hour determination began to dawn on him. Jim looked so spindly and vulnerable underneath him, long and lanky body with outdoorsy musculature which strained his grass-stain proofed clothes. He swallowed thickly and felt Jim’s eyes watched, a little too carefully, as his larynx bobbed up and down in his throat.

   Manjoume raked his fingers through the dirt. This was… This was a bit much for someone who wasn’t hugged enough as a kid, Manjoume realised.

   “Oh, uh, sorry.” Manjoume stammered and he scrambled off the top of Jim. Heart racing.

   Manjoume was awkward and gawky, trying too hard to be fast and that slowed him down. He got there in the end but pummelled Jim first as Manjoume reefed himself back and sat in the grass. His coat flounced as he stopped.

   “Er, good game, I guess?” Jim offered as he peeled himself off the ground. He didn’t look at Manjoume as he smacked dirt and grass off himself. “You seemed tuckered out.”

   “Yeah, that took everything out of me.” Manjoume replied.

   Jim smirked and then faced Manjoume forward. He offered his hand to shake.

   “Draw?” Jim suggested. “Not a total wooden spooner if we’re evens-Stephens.”

   “Yeah, sure.” Manjoume agreed.

   He resolved to return Jim’s handshake upon the invitation. If a little reluctantly as he had all sorts of feelings about the climax of their match. Endorphins made his teenage angst fuzzy as he took his sweet time to shake Jim’s hand. 

   His blood droned in his ears as he realised, he was back to the start. Watching Jim a little too carefully for it to be platonic interest. Manjoume hurried up. To get it over and done with even though before he even slid his hand against Jim’s palm, he knew he wouldn’t want to let go afterwards.

   Jim didn’t say a word waiting on Manjoume to hurry up before he finally did. Jim’s hand was firm and calloused. Manjoume’s was flimsy by comparison but he did his best to match the energy of well meaning sportsmanship that Jim was offering him.

   They shook on it but both took a little bit too long to let go.

[serialkilluh1996]

☆The star's rabbit☆

Writer-Billy Loomis x actress- @yourgraveisnothere

Warnings➛: Nothing in particular. It's pretty appropriate besides a few mentions of death and murder/Written in third person

Author's note: this is specifically written for the tagged blogger above, but feel free to read it anyway. This is only a bit of a drabble as I'm having a slight break down. That being said, this may go somewhere further with a part two depending on what my mental state does.

"This script is fucking ridiculous." Ray slams the stack of paper on the coffee table, folding her arms and leaning back into the rolling office chair, sassily letting it spin the other way.

"Ray, darlin', you CANNOT keep throwin' hissy fits every time ya see somethin' in the writing you don't like," her manager, Keith, explains, scratching his goatee as he speaks in a flamboyant Australian accent.

"Well, I can't necessarily focus if he keeps rewriting it." She rolls her eyes. "Listen, honey, you are an ACT-O-RESS. You don't write. You act. Miller makes the characters, you just play them." "Keith, they don't care about Miller or his stupid movies. His last good film was 'WEREWOLF', and he didn't even put in the effort to give it a meaningful name. The only reason people even watch the shit he makes is to see ME." She spins back around, her brown-eyed gaze locking onto Keith.

"Let's just be honest. The people don't want Miller. They want me. My face is on all of the movie cases. I'm the one that brings in all the cash in this establishment, and I expect to be treated as such." She pouts, prompting Keith to release an exaggerated sigh of annoyance.

Every day, he asked himself how much more of her bullshit he could take, and everyday, he took more.

"What. What do you want." He throws his hand up, the question coming out flat like old soda. "I want Miller to use at least a penny of his brain and think of something a little more creative. My brain cannot handle another thousand rewrites before he settles on the same stupid damsel story. Why do I always have to play some needlessly ignorant stuck up bitch who spends half the movie screaming?"

"Ray, you know the gimmick. They're not going to give someone with a face like yours a meaningful story or personality." "That's because people keep letting all these old and disgusting perverts become successful writers." Ray takes another spin in her chair, giving Keith attitude he was already too irritated to deal with.

"On the contrary, Ray. I'm a very desirable and young pervert." Both Ray and Keith turn towards the direction of the shady voice, eyes landing on the beholder standing in the doorway of the lounge. He was definitely desirable. There was something mysterious about him.

He looked about 6'0" with dark eagle eyes complimented by his sharp brows. He had thin, perfectly shaped lips, almost like a doll, hiding a set of killer teeth that could ruin self esteem with even the laziest smile.

He looks like the type of guy your parents tell you to avoid, but you don't because you're simply too drawn in by his crow-like beauty to do so.

"Ah, Forgive me for my vulgar behavior. I'm William Loomis, Co-director and writer. But, please, call me Billy." He circles in on them, hands behind his back as he stares Ray down with his manic, sleepy eyes like a vulture. They look big, almost excited, if not for the dark edges underneath that gave him an eerie glare.

Without breaking eye contact, he smirks, letting that smirk turn into a devilish grin as his eyebrows raised. He leans in on her.

"You must be Ray. I've seen your movies before. Astonishing, really." He reaches out to shake her hand, in which she squints and complies, giving him her freshly manicured hand as a sign of low hostility, even though her heart was beating out of her chest.

"And your hands. They're remarkable." He compliments, to which she snatches her hand away.

"So, you're also responsible for this stupid fifth rewrite of 'STAB'? How the hell are we gonna get this damn movie out there if a group of idiots can't even finish writing it?" She yammers, now visibly maddened by the mere sight of his handsome face. Now Ray was finally face to face with one of her tormentors.

"Fifth rewrite? What? You still think we're doing that mess of a movie?" He yanks the 'STAB' script of the table, carefully ripping it to shreds in front of them, Keith looking absolutely leveled by this new turn of events.

"The fuck are you doing?" Keith asks with audible frustration. " 'STAB' is out of the picture. It was a trash movie and now it's finally going where it belongs?" Billy throws it in the garbage bin.

"After a bit of persuasion, Miller has decided to let me take matters into my own hands. We're making a new movie," Billy leans in uncomfortably close to Ray, his eyes bouncing between her and Keith. "A better movie." He chuckles, pulling back.

Ray and Keith shoot each other a look, both undeniably confused by everything.

"You're sick and tired of being the same basic ass damsel in distress. Sick of being the frightened little girl they make you pretend you are. Don't you want change, Ray? Don't you want... a twist?" He gestures with his hands, knuckles clenching with excitement, Ray raising an eyebrow at the question.

"What if, for once, you get to fight? You're a strong woman, arent you? Playing in all these movies can only make you crave a certain... violence. You start to imagine yourself in the eyes of your attacker." He walks behind her chair, tucking her black and blonde split hair behind her ear before grabbing a handful.

"You see, when you imagine this...you see yourself when you're in your attackers eyes...." he lets go of her hair, crouching down," You imagine what all these fake killers see when they chase you....." He pokes her nose. "A rabbit. A fast bunny with a cute face and quick feet.... You see the appeal. You want to feel what they feel. You want a bunny to chase, don't you? You're sick of being the prey." He pulls out a hunting knife, placing it in her hand before pressing her knuckles down to ensure she gripped it.

"You want to be a predator....don't you, Ray?" Billy asked, looking Ray dead in the eyes as he holds dearly onto her hands, making sure she can't reject the weapon that was quite obviously not one of the props. Her face heats, eyes struggling to focus on his.

Keith looks between them, standing up in a ready stance to break up anything that happens.

"That's enough." Keith says firmly. "No, no. It's fine, Keith. Tell me more about the rabbit. About my rabbit. " Ray is enamored by the look of chaos in his eyes. She knows simply by his anxious glare that shes in for some wild ideas. He gives a hearty chuckle, flashing her with his perfect set of ivory chompers.

"Let me tell you about a woman by the name of Sidney Prescott."

Thanks for reading!

You can support me by liking, reblogging, or cashapping me @ $Fundsbrownie

[vinvantae]

Baby Steps

25/26

<<< Previous part

Warnings - Explicit Language, alcohol and mentions of sex

****************************************************

You were once again in Italy after another disappointing pointless finish for Daniel in Zandvoort. Monza had always been a circuit you loved and a place you loved to visit. You and the driver had found a cosy little apartment to spend the weekend in. You watched as Daniel played cars with Milo, the toddler babbling away as he drove the toys across the floor. Your relationship felt as strong as ever but you still had your secret from him - you just needed to tell him. The feeling of betrayal you were worried he was about to feel was scary, you worried that he would be mad at you for even going to Ferrari, let alone that you were considering it. But it was unfair to keep it from him.

“Daniel, can… can we talk?” You asked, voice quiet.

The Australian looked up from the toddler with a look of his concern on his face at the tone of your voice. After pressing a chaste kiss to MIlo’s forehead, he joined you on the couch - draping an arm across your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I have something I need to tell you about, something I should’ve told you about as soon as it happened.” You sighed softly. “But I didn’t because I was scared that you would be hurt.”

“...now you’re scaring me. Y/n, what happened?”

You took a deep breath, turning to face him a little more. “When I went to visit Carlos, he took me to the Ferrari headquarters and Binotto offered me a job, a promotion.”

“Oh.”

“And, I’ve not signed anything yet but… I just need you to know that I’m considering it.” You admitted, but you refused to break eye contact as you reached up to cup his jaw. “You’re the only person at Mclaren who treats me as an equal, treats me like I’ve earned what I’ve achieved.”

Dan didn’t answer for a moment, his golden gaze flickered across your face - you could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “Is it because of our relationship?”

You frowned. “No Daniel.”

“No, no, I mean… The way they’re treating you, is it because we’re together?” His voice softened. “Because I… I would hate that.”

You let your forehead rest against his, eyes closing a little. “I hope not. But, I just don’t feel the same there anymore. Something’s got to give. I’ve been there my whole adult life but I don’t feel like I’ve been treated that way.”

“I’m really sorry that they’ve made you feel like that.”

“You know that whole spiel Zak went on at the start of the year about how grateful they were for me and blah blah blah… not only two weeks before he chose someone over me for a promotion that I deserved.”

He frowned. “I had no idea.”

“I think that Ben was the reason I stuck around for so long… I felt like I owed him to see my career through with the team.” You explained, feeling so much more at ease to be open about your feelings with the Australian as his thumb brushed gently across your thigh. “But you make me feel safe enough to go out and explore the world a little more, y’know?”

The smile on his face made your heart flutter, all of the worries you had about telling him were long gone. “I’m glad I make you feel that way, darling. I’d miss you being on the team with me but if you feel like Mclaren has nothing more to give you? Then maybe a change will be a good thing. I’d like to think that we’re at a stable enough point in our relationship where you can work for a different team but we can still work.”

You leant in and pressed the sweetest kiss to his lips, holding both sides of his face in your hands. Why had you been so afraid this whole time? This man was the kindest, biggest-hearted person you knew- of course he was going to be supportive.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He chuckled softly. “Hey, don’t worry, I get it. If another team had approached me - I’d be nervous to tell you too.”

His large hands found purchase on your hips, and you raised a brow as he let out a defeated sigh. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“...I’m not sure if I’m going to be around at Mclaren much longer. It kind of feels make or break.” He admitted. “It’s always Lando, Lando, Lando… sure, I have a couple of good races but McLaren took a bet on me and I don’t feel like I’m performing.”

You frowned softly. “Baby, they prioritise him at every turn? Being his race engineer has only cemented that feeling in my mind. And don’t even get me started on the car.”

“Thank you for always being on my side, y/n.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s why I’d miss you so much if you choose to leave. But promise you won’t let that stop you.”

“But mummy! I like orange!” The toddler whined.

You smiled fondly and scooped the toffee onto your lap as he approached. “I know baby, but Uncle Carlos works for the red team.”

“Don’t want to work for red. Want to stay with Danny!” He raised his voice and you frowned - this was out of character for him.

“Milo, inside voice please.” You said, trying to keep your voice calm but Daniel didn’t miss the quiver in your tone. “I know we love working with Daniel but sometimes change is good.”

“DON’T WANT CHANGE! TOO MUCH CHANGE ALREADY!” He screeched, squirming in your arms.

You had to fight back the tears as you shushed him gently, never wanting to lose your temper with him. He was only little and you knew sometimes emotions could be confusing but it did sting when he got angry with you.

“Jellybean, please. Look at mummy.” Your breath hitched at the sight of tears in his eyes but you tried to keep strong. “We will see Danny all the time… he’s not going anywhere. But, Mummy just isn’t happy with her job anymore and what did we say?”

His watery eyes flickered across your face. “Th-that it’s okay to leave if you’re unhappy.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and wiped away a tear that had slipped down his cheek. “And I’m not happy being orange anymore.”

He sniffled and rubbed his nose. “Sorry for yelling, mummy.”

“That’s okay, Jellybean. Thank you for apologising, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this more.”

Daniel rubbed Milo’s back. “You can still be my number one fan in a different garage, bud. And, as soon as the race is over, you’ll be right back with me. Me, you and your mummy are a family now.”

A family. You don’t know why but those words made your heart soar - knowing that Daniel loved you both that much was a feeling like no other. When his eyes met yours once again you couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Both of you… I know it’s still early but no one has ever made me feel like the pair of you have. I feel truly at peace knowing that at the end of the grueling race weekend, my beautiful girlfriend and her wonderful baby boy are waiting for me.”

Your cheeks flushed dark. “You came into my life right when I needed you. I’m so grateful for you, Daniel.”

“Danny, I love you too!” Milo chimed in, hugging him close. “Will always be my Danny.”

“Yes I will, bud. Always your Danny.” The driver whispered, fully engulfing the toddler in his arms, pressing soft kisses to the top of his head. “And you’ll always be my Milo.”

It may not be traditional, but your family was everything you never knew you needed. It was almost as if the universe was giving you another chance to feel normal. So, when you stepped into the paddock hand-in-hand for qualifying, you had a bit of a spring in your step.

The two of you were here without Milo today but you wanted to have both of your heads fully in the game. After last week’s result, you really had to pull it out of the bag - and with the sprint tomorrow, everything was to play for.

“This is gonna be our weekend.” You smiled, taking your place in the garage - turning in your chair to look at him. “Monza is a good track, a great track.”

“Wish you were out on the pitwall.” He huffed a little, squeezing your hips.

“I know but you’ve got this. Can just feel it in my bones.” You kissed him gently. “Now, go get your ass in that car and prove my bones right.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You did your absolute best to give him all the info he needed, making sure that he could maximise the car to its full potential despite his tumultuous relationship with it. It was so hit and miss that when he got into Q3, your heart skipped a beat - a top ten start for the sprint tomorrow would put him in a good place.

“Okay Daniel, keep this pace up and you’re looking at a good start for tomorrow.” You spoke, watching his times flash on the screens - green, green… “you’re matching right with Lando and Max’s times.”

“Copy. Let’s do this.” The determination in his voice ran a chill down the spine.

The team watched as both drivers sped across the line. 4th and 5th. They’d only gone and bloody done it. Out-qualifying a Redbull and both Ferraris. You shared high-fives and celebrations with the team, this was the exact kind of start you needed going into the weekend. You practically ran out of the garage, getting swept up into your boyfriend’s arms.

“Did I do it, or did I fucking do it?” He laughed, almost swinging you around.

“I’m so proud of you.” You hummed, relaxing into his hold. “Such a good start for the sprint tomorrow.”

The driver gently lowered you back to the ground, he leaned in to kiss you but stopped - the corner of his mouth tugging into a sly grin. You turned to look in the direction of his gaze and blushed as you saw a cameraman lurking. “Maybe later, darling.”

You squawked as he pinched your bum and you smacked his hand away - scurrying back into the garage as he laughed almost maniacally. Both of you were absolutely going to get scolded for that later on but Dan didn’t care, if they were going to hide you away in the back of the garage he was absolutely going to smother you in affection whenever he got the chance.

The next day was the sprint, and this time Milo was with you - dressed head to toe in mini Daniel merch. You bounced him on your knee as the cars circled the track for the formation lap. The nerves were beginning to settle in and this wasn’t even the actual race, the sprint was always just asking for trouble. A good qualifying could be completely thrown away with a simple mistake and you could start the race right at the back.

“Mummy, deep breath.” Milo took your hand and squeezed it. “Danny is good.”

“He is, baby, he’s so good.” You pressed the comms button to speak to Daniel. “You’ve got this Daniel. Don’t protect your tires, you know the drill.”

“Understood. Let’s go.”

The roar of the cars filled your ears as they lit up the track, a moment of panic struck when Pierre tagged Daniel with his front wing - sending the alpha tauri driver into the barrier but your man in orange kept going as the safety car was called out. “Keep your head down Daniel, your car is okay. No damage.”

The team were all on edge as both of the boys had got past Lewis and were now in provisional 2nd and 3rd for the race tomorrow with Valtteri being relegated to the back of the grid tomorrow. You continued to feed Daniel the info he needed, trying not to show him just how nervous you felt. But before you knew it he’d crossed the line and the garage burst into celebration. If you thought the buzz from the day before was good, this was better.

Daniel was going to start on the front row.

You scooped up Milo and rushed to join the rest of the team to the barrier to congratulate Daniel and Lando on the result. As the Australian saw you and the toddler he jogged over and pulled you both into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Still got the race yet, anything could happen.” He hummed softly, pulling back to look at you both, a hand coming to rest on each of your cheeks. “Got my good luck charms though, don’t I?”

You smiled. “Every step of the way. You’re gonna win these for us tomorrow as well, yeah?”

Dan pressed his lips into a line and shrugged a little. “I’ve got Max ahead and both Lando and Lewis behind… not super confident.”

“Have some faith.”

The three of you managed to sneak away from the crowd, celebrating the sprint result was the last thing on Daniel’s mind - he wanted to decompress before the race tomorrow so he could be fully focused, and the best way for him to do that was to spend time with his family. He wrapped Milo up in his arms and held him close as you made the three of you dinner.

He looked down at the small boy, the toddler’s cheek squished against his chest. The driver combed his fingers through Milo’s hair and just took a moment to completely relax back into the sofa - his eyes closing, long eyelashes fluttering gently across his cheeks. He was truly surprised at how calm he felt.

Daniel was on the front row tomorrow, for the first time since… well he couldn’t even remember when, and he should be bouncing off the walls but as you come back into the room, you were surprised to see your boys now both fast asleep on the sofa. You smiled softly and moved quietly around the room, pulling the throw off of the back of the sofa and gently draping it across them both. Thankfully, dinner could wait, as you wouldn’t dare wake up either of them from what was a very well deserved rest.

As you tidied up the room, your mind was racing a million miles an hour - much unlike your boyfriend asleep on the sofa, you couldn’t stop thinking about the potential race win tomorrow and what it would mean for the team, mean for Daniel. Words couldn’t even begin to describe just how much a victory would mean for him, his season had been so up and down that having a win under his belt might just settle this career a little.

You would also be lying to say a race win for the team with a driver working with you wouldn't look good - although you’d been with the team for a while, Carlos was the first driver you really got to work alongside with, and unfortunately he hadn’t won with the team. So, a good result with Daniel would show the team just how much you’re worth - especially since you were about to tell Andreas and Zak about the Ferrari offer, that unless they were going to offer you something worthwhile, then you were going to take it. Loyalty to Mclaren wasn’t enough anymore, especially now you knew that Daniel was supportive of your career and the move.

Daniel’s eyes opened slowly, a soft yawn escaping him. “Hi love, how long have you been here?”

“Not long, just didn’t want to wake you both.” You hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “The lasagne is just in the fridge so I can pop it in the oven when you’re both ready. You just looked like you needed the rest.”

“You’re a star. Was just so comfy with the little one.”

“You definitely looked it.”

He gently shifted so you could join him on the sofa, trying his best not to disturb Milo - you opted to sit beside him and let him rest against a cushion you placed across your legs. You smiled down at him, tracing your finger down the bridge of his nose. “I’m really excited for tomorrow.”

“It should be a good race, I’ll be happy with points.” The driver said, making you frown at him brushing off what could be a potential victory. “With Lewis, Lando and the Ferraris behind me? I’m not going to-”

You pinched his shoulder lightly. “Enough of that. You can’t think that way or you’ll never do well… gotta think good thoughts, baby. You passed Lando during the sprint right? Who said you can’t get past Max tomorrow? I have every little bit of faith in you, Daniel. I just wish you would believe in yourself as much as I do.”

“...I’m so lucky to have you.” His cheeks had flushed a soft pink. “My personal cheerleader.”

“If you’re lucky, might even get the outfit to boot.” You teased, making him roll his eyes playfully. “But seriously, I need you to be the positive ray of sunshine you are. Go into the race giving it everything you’ve got.”

The driver relaxed into your touch as you gently stroked his cheek. He really didn’t want to let you down, but there was a lot of pressure on his shoulders to do well. But he knew he had to push it all to one side and just focus and drive the best damn race of his life.

As he stood on the track for the national anthem the next day, bobbing along to the music - he could just about make you out in a sea of orange, holding his helmet in your hands. Even though you were in the garage, you’d insisted at least seeing him get in the car. He was grateful that because you were on his team, you could hang around the track a little longer than anyone else’s VIP.

As you leant over his car to place his helmet down onto the seat, he got flashbacks to the first time he saw you - a spry young thing, leaning over Jenson Button’s car in a little pair of shorts he was sure the team had put you in and grease marks on your fingers. When you’d locked eyes with him, his whole world had changed and the smile that followed had him hooked. If you had told him back then that one day you’d be his then he would’ve simply told you to fuck off, there’s no way but this time, the smile you gave him this time was different. Soft and full of love. You really were his and he was all yours.

After a few obligatory handshakes, he returned to you - gripping your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. Your cheeks instantly flushed dark at the public display but the fact he was willing to show you off despite them hiding you in the garage made your heart flutter a little. Daniel pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“We’re gonna win this. You and me.” He whispered, holding up his pinky finger.

You grinned and linked your pinkies together.

“You and me.”

**************************************************

Next part >>>

There we go! Sorry for the delay, had some major writers block 😬

The next part will be the last, maybe followed by an epilogue if people show enough interest 🧡

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[jungwnies]

partners ✰ 14 friend-zoned

masterlist | next

you knock on the door and soobin opens up.

"y/n, it's late, what are you doing here?" he asks, his eyes a little groggy and closed.

you slightly nudge him to the side and go inside, "i messed up."

soobin closes the door behind him and follows you to the couch where you just plopped down on. he sits down and hands you the throw blanket that was laying on the couch.

"what are you talking about?" soobin asks, confused, but worried. "and why is your hair wet, it's freezing outside, you're going to get sick, you're covered in sand too, y/n, what happened?"

you laugh and shake your head, "he took me to the beach, i kissed him, he pulled away, we left."

"wait wait wait, you kissed him?" soobin asks, shocked.

"yeah, i should've known better." you say laughing.

"hold on, i need to hear more about this." soobin says standing up. "i'm going to make some tea and take out some snacks, if you go into my room you'll find the hair dryer, you can change if you want too." he adds before walking to the kitchen.

you look in the bedroom mirror and laugh at yourself, wow i'm pathetic. you fix yourself up before going back out to soobin who greeted you with tea and snacks.

he pats the seat beside him and you sit there, "so, tell me more about this, do you like him?" soobin asks, holding the cup carefully.

you shrug, "yes? i think? i don't know?" you tell him laughing. "well, yes, i do, i'm just not sure if he feels the same way."

soobin looks at you endearingly, "i think he would be an idiot to reject you."

"i shouldn't have kissed him, it just made things awkward between us don't you think?" you ask, sighing.

"did he pull back immediately or was it an 'oh shit i shouldn't have done that, but i did' kind of thing?" soobin asks, full of curiosity.

"well, he kissed me back before he pulled away, but it's still awkward because he got up and out of the water after that." you tell soobin.

"did he leave without you?"

you shake your head, "we left together, i told the driver to take me here."

"do you think he saw me when i opened the door for you?" soobin asks, leaning back. "maybe he thinks you and i are dating."

you laugh, "what?"

"i mean think about it y/n, it's always been you and i, and a lot of people already mistake our friendship for something else."

"i should just talk to him before we have to mc again, the fans will notice something is off." you explain with stress clearly tainting your tone.

"don't worry too much about it, i'm sure he feels the same way about you." soobin reassures you.

"he called me, his best, fucking, friend, nothing more." you say with a distraught laugh. "a best friend..." you sigh, trailing off and leaning back into the sofa.

・・・

"thanks for letting me stay the night bin, i'll let you know what happens." you tell him waving as you get into the taxi. soobin waves back and the taxi driver drives off.

you pull out your phone and go to jake's contact. you press the dial, and within a few seconds, the familiar australian accent greets the phone. "hello?"

"jake, can we meet up?" you ask, nervously.

"of course, just let me know where."

・・・

the two of you sat on your couch quietly. it was awkward. but of course it was going to be awkward, the last thing that happened when you guys met was a kiss.

"so..." the two of you say in unison. you chuckle slightly and sigh.

"i'm really sorry about last time, i shouldn't have done it." you apologize looking down, but the genuine showing clearly on your expression.

"i don't forgive you." jake says.

word count: 659 | thanks for reading!

taglist: @whoisalexis,@baldi2,@giraffeass,@tlnyjoong,@hanienie,@yelleloww,@ghostiiess,@silcry,@reikofruitloops,@aetzensvct,@ohbeomgyu,@xiaoderrrr,@moonshoon,@kimipxl,@lalalalawon,@iea-tsand,@shinsou-rii,@vanillabeanwaffle,@Blkkgirlmagic, @bubblytaetae,@xuxibelle,@justyx0n,@noascats [open - bolded could not be tagged]

2022 © jungwnies

[thatanimewriter]

...MMM, DELICIOUS.

➳ request: Hellooo! I’ve come to request once again! May I request a scenario in which the reader serves Souma, Akira, Ryo, Takumi and Satoshi (seperatly) ordered food but says they cooked it themself as a prank?Would they know? Would they be honest or would they lie bc they don’t wanna hurt the reader? ~💠

➳ character/s: yukihira soma, hayama akira, kurokiba ryou, aldini takumi, isshiki satoshi

➳ warnings: swearing, hinted australian!reader (soma), lack of knowledge of takeout food chains in japan

➳ notes: omgggg 💠 anon, hellooo ;v; this request is great, i love you. giving me the best fuel for food wars content. you’re welcome back any timeee and sorry for the wait, i’ve been LAZY.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  

── 𝐘𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐀.  

i’d like to think he’d be nice about it

and i’m sure he’d try

but uhhh

he’s not the best ay lying.

so he might as well not have

“hey babe! i’m back,” soma calls out, dumping his paper bag of miscellaneous goods on the table in your dorm.

“hello,” you responded, using a spoon to decorate the plate with the sauce you’d ordered as a side to compliment the steak and vegetables.

“whatcha makin’?” he asked, leaning on the kitchen island as he watched you plate up. you smiled at his curiosity, pushing forward the plate and holding out cutlery.

“why don’t you try and see?”

taking the cutlery from you, he took a bite out of the food you’d laid out for him, he raised the steak to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. a small frown decorated his features as he looked back and forth between you, who was beaming at him - little did he know it was out of amusement rather than pride - and the steak that took up at least half of the plate.

“yeah, it’s... good,” he said finally, but not particularly excited to take another bite.

“no it’s not, you fucking dumbass.”

“what?”

“i didn’t cook it, soma, it’s from fucking outback steakhouse,” you explained, your smile twisting into a smirk. “and for the record, australia does do it better and i do not accept whatever the hell this is as an aussie steak.”

“...make one for me please-”

you ruffled his hair lightly as you took a bite of the steak yourself. “like, now?”

“yes. now.”

sighing, you pushed the steak to the side and fixed your outfit before turning to the fridge, silently thanking fumio for restocking as you laid your eyes upon a nice cut of steak. “alright then. wanna compete?”

“yeah, i don’t think so,” soma responded immediately. “i don’t think i can compete.”

“right answer.”

── 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀 𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐀.  

mean.

he probably considered ignoring it

but you got takeout indian

that was your first mistake

and he can’t allow this by any means

hayama stuck his head through the door at the familiar aroma of curry. he smiled gently as he saw you standing over the stove, lamb rogan josh simmering in a pan.

“mind if i have a taste?” he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and peering into the pan.

internally, you were giggling with your feet kicking in the air because he’s fallen for the trap! but instead you hummed in consideration, avoiding eye contact with him to feign shyness.

“i don’t know...”

“i won’t judge if that’s what you’re worried about,” hayama said, but you arched an eyebrow at him, an amused smile beginning to play on your lips. “ok, maybe i will, but i’m more than qualified to help you,” he added.

“ok then, if you’re sure.”

as he took a clean spoon and fork from the drawer, he tried the sauce first, an intense silence overtaking the room as he tried to register the flavours. he opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it as he reached for a sizeable chunk of lamb.

“how does it smell so nice but taste so off? what the hell did you do?” he demanded, inspecting the curry further as he used the wooden spoon nearby to push the curry around the pan. “you’ve used the right spices but cooked it wrong.”

snickering to yourself, you pat him on the shoulder as you pulled the ubereats receipt from your pocket. “that’s because it’s from the place down the road.”

“they’re white, aren’t they?”

“i don’t know what ethnicity they are, i got it delivered.”

── 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔.

mean pt 2.

you, too, made the mistake of getting takeout

but not just takeout, no no

IKEA CINNAMON ROLLS

he. was. D I S G R A C E D.

“oi.”

turning around, you smiled as you say your boyfriend standing by the doorway. walking around the kitchen island, you pulled the bar stool back and pat the seat, beckoning him to sit with you.

“you’re back earlier than expected,” you commented, taking your rightful place on his lap when he sat down. ryou made no move to shove you off, but he didn’t try to get any closer to you either.

“what’s in the oven?”

“decided to try make some scandinavian cinnamon rolls,” you answered, readjusting your position on his lap.

“why scandinavian?” ryou asked, interest slightly piqued since, y’know. it’s his culture, which turned out to be the reason you ‘made’ them.

“because it’s you!”

“i’m not a cinnamon roll.”

“respectfully disagreed,” you said, booping his nose and hopping off of his lap as the timer went off. using some oven mitts, you took the tray out and left it on top of the stove to cool, but not before taking a shaker filled with pearl sugar to decorate.

“they don’t look right.”

“huh?”

“they look weird,” ryou repeated, scowling at the cinnamon rolls on the baking tray.

“i’m sorry, babe. i can’t control how bread rises.”

cautiously, ryou poked the treats before just taking a bite from one, ignoring the burning feeling on his tongue. “these are fucking disgusting. not sorry. i’ll make some to show you how it’s supposed to be done. watch me destroy your cinnamon rolls.”

“wowwww. dissing ikea so casually.”

“well, that’s why they fucking suck.”

──  𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐌𝐈.

he’d lie

he can’t hurt your feelings like that

it wasn’t inherently bad

he could just... do better

and he would if you just asked him

listen. he physically can’t handle italian food cooked by anyone who isn’t italian themselves, or at least has trained in italian cuisine (preferably in italy). but he’s also the fattest doormat ever. he lets people step all over him if it prevents conflict or him hurting feelings. tonight is a prime example.

you just threw in some spaghetti bolognese from, like, fasta pasta into a pan to heat it up again because by the time it got to you, it was lukewarm. not great. and takumi, like most of the other boys in this post, can recognise the smell of his cuisine anywhere.

when he came in, he paused for a moment because that’s not how he makes it and he’s confused by your methods.

“darling, what are you doing?” he asked, standing beside you as you stirred the food you’d ordered, but expertly set up as if you’d made it.

“making spaghetti bolognese, wanna try a bit?”

“sure.” taking the fork from you, he tasted whatever the fuck you had done, raising his eyebrows as if he was surprised by the taste, but he really did have to fight the urge to become the kombucha girl from tiktok.

“how is it?”

“yeah, it’s good,” he said, forcing another bite. he felt bad at the disappointed look on your face. 

“it’s probably not as good as yours though...” you mumbled. takumi pouted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and caressing your cheek gently.

“i can teach you if you want.” he was taken aback at your sudden jump in mood, blinking obliviously at your smiling face.

“yeah! we’ll see how you go against fasta pasta!”

“wait, what?”

──  𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈.

also lies

except he knows it’s takeout

he just wants to play along

also, he recognises where the food is from

it’s his guilty pleasure food chain-

he heard the crunch of fried chicken and he came RUNNING. pretty much bursting through the doors, he pointed at you, who was just sitting with a plate of fried chicken and chips. nothing incredibly special. but as isshiki demanded to eat some, you had the idea to pretend you’d made it yourself.

“ok, but i cooked it a little while ago,” you said, holding out some for him to take. “might not be as hot.”

“that’s entirely ok, babe, i will have anything you cook.”

you would be mistaken if you thought isshiki wasn’t going to full send the piece of fried chicken. on the first bite, he knew it came from kyochon chicken, because he’s addicted to their korean fried chicken. BUT, he was gonna play along with the concept that you cooked it yourself.

“i’m in heaven,” he stated, mouth still full of food.

“yeah, ok, talk when you’ve finished eating, please,” you said, handing him a napkin.

“make more,” he requested once he’d finished his mouthful. “i need more.”

chuckling to yourself, you shook your head. “as much as we both enjoy kyochon chicken, we don’t need to soak up my money when you know you can make it easily as good.”

“AWWWWW-”

“so, i’m gonna take the rest of this chicken while you make your own,” you added, taking another piece and relishing in isshiki’s betrayed look.

“what?! but i want some tooooooo.”

“babe, i told you, make it yourself, unless you want to pay for some yourself,” you teased, shielding your chicken from the hungry man.

“a worthy investment.”