#ignore the licence plate

[monocle-crow-without-dreams]

my son, they have crucified him

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hi, hope you're alright. I came up with a story idea: the reader is married to Gasly's/Daniel's close friend but their marriage is hanging by a thread. The driver invites her to a few races so she can change the environment, they spend some time together and unexpectedly become lovers. And maybe later her husband is trying to fix their marriage but she and the driver can't stop thinking about each other

His Best Man || DR3

A/N: I took some creative liberties with the plot but I think it does this request justice 💕 ps: never condone cheating, it's horrible and this is purely fictional

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, cheating, smut WC: 7.6k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Daniel’s Reaction

Dinner with James was a quiet affair, though it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Why would your anniversary be any different when his indifference was the only constant at this point?

You watched as he smiled at his phone, something you hadn’t been able to elicit from him in months, before he locked the device and placed it facedown on the table. The sigh that wanted to exhale from your flared nostrils barely remained silent as you focused on shifting the food around your plate, your appetite gone like the connection to your husband. 

“Daniel sent us some passes to the race in Melbourne next month. I thought we could go, make a little holiday out of it?” 

There was no excitement in your tone, it was more a question borne out of politeness because he would have seen the paddock passes sitting on the kitchen side if he ever looked away from his phone. The blasted device vibrated again and his fork clattered on his plate in his rush to read the incoming message. 

“Well?” you asked as his thumbs flew across his screen. 

“Can’t. Work project is going to keep me busy until the deadline,” he answered without looking up. “Take one of your friends, have a girls trip.”

Friends…those people you never saw anymore because James hadn’t liked them, though he never outright said it, those friends who had warned you that you were marrying a narcissist. 

“It’s our anniversary,” you reminded him. “You know, falls on the same day each year.”

“Mhmm, yeah,” he nodded, clearly not listening. “Sounds good.”

You propped your elbow onto the glass tabletop and dropped your chin onto your palm as a familiar burn of resentment simmered in your soul. “The mailman gave me a pearl necklace.”

“That’s nice. Put it on my credit card.” He reached into his back pocket and tossed his wallet across the table, narrowly missing the glass of rosé. 

You opened it and saw the polaroid from your wedding day no longer sat in the clear card slot but was stuffed behind his drivers licence. You shouldn’t have felt hurt after months of being ignored but the pain still surprised you, almost as much as the condom that you found with his cash. He hadn’t bought a box of condoms in at least three years, not since the wedding when you started trying for a baby - something that was probably best that it didn't happen.

“He must eat a lot of pineapples because it tasted delicious,” you murmured as you took his cash and the platinum credit card too.

James nodded and pushed his empty plate away. “Yeah, tasted good, thanks. Need to finish this project.” He rose from the table with his phone and started to make his way down the hall to his office. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You had a trip to plan. 

You weren’t going to have a girls weekend but you were going to Melbourne. He may have been James’ friend first, but no one had the ability to turn a bad day (or year) around like Daniel could. 

When you arrived in Perth you hadn’t expected Danny to be the one personally waiting at the airport. It was impossible to miss him with the amount of people that surrounded him, asking for pictures and autographs before he spotted you stepping out of customs. 

You didn’t need to read lips to see him apologising to everyone as he made his way towards you, holding up a large welcome sign for ‘Roo��. You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you after one drunken night that ended with you tangled in a hammock, your head poking out of the material like a joey in a kangaroo pouch. You were only grateful he hadn’t nicknamed you Joey since the name had stuck over the years.

Your greeting turned to a peal of laughter as he dropped the sign and swept you into a hug that lifted your feet off the ground to spin you around. 

“I’ve missed you, you beaut!” Danny’s smile was contagious and even when your feet were securely back on the ground he still kept his arms around you. “A shame James can’t come, but we can totally make his jealous as fuck for ditching us. One week, you, me, road trip to Melbourne.”

Day One - Perth to Kalgoorlie “I hope you know where we are going.”

Daniel laughed and just winked from the driver's seat of his Ford Ranger. It had been three hours of driving on the highway and you had not passed one town in the dusty landscape. 

“It’s not far, just down the road a little more,” Danny said for the third time. “We still have half a tank of gas and a crate of Vitamin B, we’ll be fine if we need to camp.”

You quirked an eyebrow up as you looked in the backseat and saw the green box of Victoria Bitter beer strapped with a seatbelt.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to camp anywhere,” you scoffed, tucking your knee up as the song changed to another country song from his endless playlist. “Spiders, snakes, dingoes, and your snoring. I think not.”

Daniel laughed and indicated to pull off the road despite there not being another soul within what felt like hundreds of kilometres. 

“I’m sorry I said you snore, please don’t leave me here.”

His laugh only intensified as he turned the engine off and turned to face you. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Roo.”

“Then why have you stopped?” You tested the window but it had powered off with the engine. “It’s a freaking sauna in here.”

“Because you haven’t been yourself all day and there’s no cell reception out here so there’s nothing to distract you.” He took the useless device from your hand and tossed it in the glove compartment. “What’s going on with you and James?”

“Nothing,” you muttered as his brown eyes narrowed. “Seriously, there’s nothing going on with him. We hardly speak anymore and he sleeps in his office when he’s not out of town on another ‘business trip’. It’s just…nothing.”

Daniel’s brows pinched together in confusion as he sucked a lungful of air through his teeth. “But…what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” you exclaimed as you threw your hands in the air, just as clueless. “What do you want me to say? That he’s having an affair, or that one day he just stopped caring, or both?”

You turned away as it wasn’t a bead of sweat that rolled down your cheek when you sighed in defeat. Unable to withstand the heat without the air conditioner, you tugged the door handle and checked the dirt for any unwanted animals before jumping down from the running boards. 

Daniel was already getting out his side and circling the bullbars before you could wipe the tears away but the sob you had tried to suppress clawed its way out when he pulled you against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly as he rubbed your back and let your tears soak into his shirt. “He can be a bit of a cunt, but I never thought he could do that to you.”

“He did and it’s done,” you admitted with a raspy voice that was still strained from the emotion choking each word. “I moved my stuff out last week, not that he even noticed. I thought I could have a break to get away from it all and deal with a divorce when I get back.”

“That fucking idiot,” Daniel said as he pulled his shirt up to wipe your tears away. “He just lost the best thing in the world and he doesn’t even know it.”

Day Two - Kalgoorlie to Caiguna It was another long day of driving but after the broken sleep spent tossing and turning you weren’t much of a companion. You had eventually drifted off to sleep to the country music that Daniel loved so much and dreamt of crawling through fields of watermelons but the paddock soon turned to mud and you sank under the suffocating weight with it filling your lungs. 

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Danny soothed as you startled awake, his quick reflexes throwing his arm out to catch you from hitting the window. You could still feel the filthy fluid on your skin and shivered as you changed the song over and took a shuddering breath. “Bad dream?”

You rolled your shoulders and twisted your stiff neck, groaning at the crick that had come from using the seatbelt as a pillow. “Just weird.”

His eyes darted away from the endless road ahead and saw you trying to massage your neck before he brushed your hand aside. There certainly were perks to his strength training because his fingers were a godsend as they erased the knots that had formed.

“Hmmm, thank you,” you sighed deeply and his lips tipped up at the sound.

“Anytime. Hope you got the rest you needed, there’s a stop ahead and these guys know how to throw down.”

You narrowed your eyes at the horizon that was blurred by heatwaves and tried to see what lay beyond but gave up after a few seconds. “Throw down what?”

“Huh?”

“What are they throwing down?”

“Throw down,” he said slowly as if it would somehow make you understand but you were still confused. “Party, drink, dance. Throw down.”

“Oh, throw down, why didn’t you just say that?”

He laughed at your sarcasm and squeezed your knee. “You could definitely do with a drink or two and loosen up. Then I can get my old Roo back.”

“As long as I’m not expected to sleep in a hammock again.”

The motel was a little rough and run down but it had four walls and the bathroom was clean enough to last one night. Daniel had barely given you enough time to get changed into fresh clothes before he was knocking on your door ready to escort you next door to the bar. Coincidentally, the bar was also the restaurant, service station and grocery store all rolled into one.

You and Danny were by far the youngest people in the place but it didn’t stop the warm welcome from everyone. If any of the patrons knew who he was they hid it well because they treated him just like any other stranger passing through.

“Where ya from?”

“Where ya headed?”

“Watch out for ol’ Deloris, she’ll try take a bite out of ya.”

The questions came in quick succession and you looked around the room trying to figure out which of the ladies was Deloris only to find the name on a plaque beneath a huge crocodile head suspended from the rafters.

“Fuck me,” you gasped as you took a step back, bumping into Danny as he laughed along with the bartender.

“Gets ‘em every time,” he chuckled as he placed two large bottles of beer onto the well worn bartop. “Looks like ya sheila could use something a little stronger.”

Daniel’s large hands landed on your shoulders and started to massage the tense muscles. “There’s no crocs ‘round here, isn’t enough water,” he whispered to calm your nerves. “Deloris was probably a pet.”

“Who in their right mind would keep that as a pet?”

“Probably someone not in their right mind.” His warm laugh tickled your ear before he turned you back to the bartender to grab your drink. “Cheers.”

Daniel found a small table in the surprisingly busy restaurant space and it appeared as if most of the locals were keeping the economy running in the place. It was strange to think that the faded walls decorated with old photographs of the glory days gone by felt more homely than the one you had built with James.

You could easily see yourself placing a coin on the pool table to save your place in the queue or ordering the fresh market fish off the menu without questioning how it was fresh so far from the sea. You could see yourself walking in to see the same faces at the end of a long week and the barman would listen to your complaints as he poured your usual without needing to be asked.

You took a generous gulp of beer that Daniel swore was ‘the good stuff’ and hummed at the hoppy flavour as it quenched the thirst that hadn’t stopped since you stepped foot in the country. It was no wonder why they liked their beers so much, they needed whatever they could to cool their bodies down.

“I like this place,” you said with a smile that Danny returned with pride.

“Thought you might, and tomorrow’ll be even better.”

“Where are we going tomorrow?”

Daniel shook his head and occupied his lips with the bottle so he could keep you in the dark a little longer. You didn’t mind this type of surprise, knowing he wanted to make you smile and was planning everything could to make that happen on the road trip.

The doldrum tune that was playing from the corner of the bar was interrupted as a coin was slotted into the jukebox and Josh Turner’s Your Man came on the machine. Couples around the bar and restaurant left their belongings and made their way to the dance floor. Where you came from no one would do that, and if they did their belongings wouldn’t be there when they returned.

Beneath the table you could feel Daniel’s foot tapping in time to the beat and his fingers drummed on the long neck he lifted to his lips. He caught the longing in your eyes as you watched a grey haired man holding his wife, slowly swaying together like you had imagined you would with James in 40 years.

“Come on, Roo,” he invited as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. His palm was cold and damp from the beer bottle but it was refreshing on your skin with the heat that still lingered with the setting sun. Leading you to the edge of the dance floor he pulled you close and curled an arm around your waist as he started to sing along. “I've been thinking 'bout this all day long, never felt a feeling quite this strong, I can't believe how much it turns me on, just to be your man. I know you know the words, don’t be shy.”

It was impossible to feel embarrassed with him, even if you butchered the song he would still smile like he was listening to his favourite artist live. So, you placed your hand in his and the other rested on his shoulder as you started to sway and sing along.

“There's no hurry, don't you worry, we can take our time. Come a little closer, let's go over, what I had in mind.”

Daniel let go of you and your head fell back with a laugh as he spun you away and pulled you back. You could only giggle as you returned out of step and ended with your back to his chest instead of face to face but he adapted quickly and held your waist instead.

“Baby lock the door and turn the lights down low,” his voice was deep and rich in your ear, intimate and full of promise that hit you unexpectedly. “And put some music on that's soft and slow. Baby we ain't got no place to go, I hope you understand.”

You were glad you weren’t facing him as his words affected you in a way you couldn’t remember feeling for over a year. The very air seemed to thicken in your lungs as you felt every inch of his body fitting against yours. You could feel the veins on his hands as you laced your fingers with his and guided them down to your hips.

This was the first time the lines had blurred throughout the years of friendship and you allowed yourself to feel wanted, if only for a song.

Day Three - Caiguna to Yalata The pounding in your head turned out to be banging on your door and you somehow found the strength to answer it. Bright sunlight flooded in through the crack and you groaned as you covered your eyes.

“Good morning sunshine,” Daniel greeted brightly as he stepped inside. “It’s 7am on another stunning day here in Straya.” 

You playfully shoved Danny and he rolled with it to splay across your bed, the blankets still tucked in from collapsing atop them last night. 

“7am is too early,” you complained as you climbed into the small space he left on the twin sized bed, curling onto your side and throwing your arm over your face to block out the light. “Let me sleep.”

“You can sleep in the car.” His fingers danced teasingly over your ribs and you jutted your elbow back into his hard abs before he could properly tickle you. “Ouch, you’re not very nice in the morning.”

“This isn’t morning, this is still night,” you grumbled as his arm draped over your waist instead.

“The sun is up.”

“Tell that to the people of Norway. It can be sunny at midnight there.”

You could feel him silently laughing at you as it shook the bed. “But we aren’t in Norway.”

“Shh,” you murmured as you snuggled closer to him. “Let me go back to sleep.”

“Fine,” he conceded, making some adjustments to the pillow before shoving his arm under your head, “but just because I’m comfortable now.”

The hangover was gone by the time you woke naturally and you felt refreshed as you stretched lazily. Rolling over in Daniel’s arms you found his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly with soft snores. You raised your head a little to see the alarm clock that was probably considered vintage in the 80’s and saw it was well past check out time. Luckily it didn't appear that the No Vacancy sign was ever used, so there was no rush to leave.

The small movement was enough to wake him and your stomach clenched at the smile that brightened your day more than the blistering sun outside when his honey brown eyes opened. 

“I can’t believe this,” you tutted as you let him pull you closer against his chest. “I was ready to go at 7 and you just went back to sleep…so lazy.”

“How rude of me,” he chuckled. “I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Woah,” you whispered breathlessly as the truck bounced to a stop on the hard sand of the tidal line. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it just,” Daniel grinned as he opened his door and looked across at you. “Coming in?”

You bit your lip as your eyes feasted on the picturesque scene. Big barrel waves crashing out in the bay and white sand welcoming bare feet on the shore, it was a sight pretty enough to make angels cry. Hopping out, you rounded the four wheel drive ute and sat on the metal bar running across the front, distracted by the breathtaking view. “What about sharks?”

Daniel’s door shut and you turned to the sound in time to see him pulling his singlet over his head and tossing it through the backseat window before unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans off too. It was impossible not to stare at the hard planes of his chest or the definition of his abs, and then the thick thighs that were barely covered by his boxers. 

“The chances of a shark attack are less than…” His words trailed off as he looked up and caught you blatantly staring, his teeth sparkling as a big smile grew on his face. “The view is spectacular, am I right or am I right?”

“You or the beach?”

“Spectacular is pretty high in the standards of compliments,” he said as he started to flex his arms, “but if you think I’m spectacular then I would accept that.”

You closed your eyes from the harsh sunlight and tipped your head back to feel the rays on your cheeks as you laughed. “You’ve never had to worry about your ego, have you?”

He sent you a playful pout as he walked towards you, his thongs flicking up golden sand behind him with each step. “It would take a hit if you didn’t come swim with me.”

You hadn’t realised quite how many types of heat there was until that moment. There was the heat of the bonnet from hours of driving beneath you, the heat of the sun in the sky above and the heat of his hands that landed on your knees. It was the heat of his hands that seeped into your blood and spread throughout your body, increasing to boiling point as they slowly ran up your thighs.

Your knees unconsciously parted for him and he stepped into the space so you were eye to eye and his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “There’s nets out past the reef, you’ll be safe with me.”

You took a sharp intake of air as his fingers caught the hem of your shirt and his knuckles grazed your skin. “Well?” he asked quietly. “Trust me?”

You swallowed deeply as you nodded and he rewarded you with another of those smiles you had come to love before he lifted your shirt up and left it on the hood of the truck so he could grab you around the waist and haul you over his shoulder.

“Daniel!” you yelped as the world was suddenly upside down and he kicked his thongs off before jogging towards the water. “Don’t you dare dunk me.”

You expected the next sudden shift when the water reached his knees but as quick as he tossed you up off his shoulder he caught you again with a booming laugh. His arms were bound around your thighs and your hands planted on his shoulders as you looked down at his amused face. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” he promised as he eased his grip, your body sliding down his until you were once more eye to eye. “I just want to make you smile.”

Day Four - Yalata to Port Lincoln  As much as you had found yourself enjoying the historical rich motels in the outback, you were just as happy to find the accommodation in Port Lincoln was a five star resort on the waterfront. The sun was just starting to set when you arrived at the hotel and checked into the two bedroom suite with a gorgeous view of the harbour. 

“I never knew driving could be so exhausting,” you said as you dropped into the swing chair on the large balcony. 

“Don’t worry, tomorrow’s a rest day so you can recover from all that driving you didn’t even do,” Daniel pointed out with a smirk, taking the spot beside you and taking over the leg exercise of swinging it back and forth. “We can do whatever you want, just can’t miss the boat to Adelaide tomorrow night.”

It was nice spending so much time alone with Daniel on the road, comfortable conversations rolling like the tires on the highway, but a change of pace would be welcomed. “What is there to do?”

“Hmm,” he frowned and stood up. “Let me go see.”

Daniel disappeared out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a stack of brochures that he had taken from the tourist stands in reception and you met him on the couch inside where the pleasant offshore wind couldn’t whip them away. Together you flicked through them, separating them into three piles of yes, no and maybe. 

“Sure you don’t wanna cage dive?” he teased as you threw that particular brochure across the room. “You could get up close and personal with a Great White. Once in a lifetime opportunity right there.”

You snorted and shook your head. “Once in a lifetime because it would kill me. Not happening.”

“Here, that’s a yes for you.” 

You took the advert for a farm park where you could hand feed the animals and added it to the yes pile. “Maybe next year we can go to your farm…unless James gets you in the divorce.” Your lips turned down at the idea and you realised you had hardly thought of your husband, but now that you had he had disturbed your peace even though he was thousands of miles away.

Daniel reached over the coffee table to the stationary set, grabbing a hotel engraved pen before pulling his shoe off. “It’s just like Toy Story,” he said as he waved the pen in your face. “Put your name on me first.”

You managed a small laugh as you took the pen and clicked the nib out. “Should tattoo it so it doesn’t wash off.”

Daniel squirmed on the couch as the pen tickled his foot and you grabbed his ankle so he couldn’t move too much but he started to giggle uncontrollably as the nib ran over his instep. “How long does it take to write Roo?”

You laughed and kept going before he wretched his foot free and crossed his leg over his knee to see your full first and last name on it - maiden name, not married.

“For legal purposes,” you said as you clicked the pen nib away and tossed it on the table.

“Fair enough.” He grinned at the writing everytime he looked at his crossed leg and draped his arm over the back of the cushion as you returned to the seat. “You can come by the farm anytime, don’t have to wait for next year.”

“Except for shearing season,” you smirked as you remembered that mistake where you were roped into helping the jackaroos round the sheep up and shave them. “I have no interest in losing all feeling in my arms again.”

“Earned that beer though,” he said with a chuckle as he started to massage your neck. “I was so proud, you weren’t afraid to get stuck in and help. I kinda thought you were a bit of a princess ‘til then.”

Your nose crinkled at the endearment James used to call you. “Well I’m glad I got rid of that image. But, out of curiosity, what do you think I am now?”

The smile could only be described as devilish as his hand spread across your nape and guided you closer to him. His eyes held you captivated and his lips parted with his answer but it was silenced by the sound of ringtone breaking the tension and like a puppet whose strings were cut he fell back into his seat. The emotion in his eyes was erased with a blink and you reached blindly for your phone, answering the call without needing to see who it was from.

“Hey, isn’t it like midnight?” you asked as you lifted the device to your ear but there was no answer at the other end. “Hello? James?”

“Fuck, yeah, just like that baby. God, Laura, you’re so perfect.” The phone slipped from your grasp as you heard the muted but unmistakable sound of James’ voice.

Daniel frowned as he picked the phone up from your lap and lifted it to his ear, shock registering before it transformed into anger and he hung up the phone without breaking the screen with the force of it. He discarded the phone and pulled you into his lap in the same instance but you didn’t hear what he said as you buried your face in his neck and grappled onto him for dear life.

Day Five - Port Lincoln to Adelaide You didn’t feel like doing anything other than staying in bed and sleeping the day away but Daniel wouldn’t let you waste another minute of your time because of James. In a way you could understand the logic and as a big ‘fuck you’ to him you were going to get your shit together and go and have fun.

Daniel worked even harder to get a smile or a laugh out of you and kept his camera on hand to capture the moments he succeeded. The animal farm did make you feel a little better and holding a joey as you bottle fed it was finally enough to break through the invasive cloud that had hung over you. 

“Roo and Roo Two,” Danny commented as he moved around taking a million shots of you.

“Need a hand?” a passing couple offered after watching Daniel try and extend his arm enough to get in the shot too.

“That’d be a dream,” Daniel nodded and he handed his camera over before sitting down beside you and curling his arm around your waist. The joey was almost asleep from drinking all of the milk and Daniel grinned at you as he stroked its neck. “Looks like you when you sleep.”

You grinned back, forgetting about the camera. “Cute, right?”

“Yup, that’s, uh, exactly what I was thinking.” He cleared his throat and scratched his neck awkwardly before laughing when your elbow connected with his ribs. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You’re a cutie-tootie when you sleep…it’s another story when you’re awake.”

His laugh was loud enough to wake the joey when you nudged him again with an offended look. “What? You’re beautiful when you’re awake.”

“That’s totally what you meant,” you said sarcastically before rolling your eyes. “Just look at the camera and smile like a normal person.”

He tipped his head to yours and smiled brightly for the camera, but he couldn’t resist whispering, “Bold of you to assume I know how to be normal.”

Day Six - Adelaide to Portland It took a moment to recollect the events from the night before and it wasn’t because of the many wine tastings you had gone to around the Port Lincoln area. Perhaps that had a little bit to do with it, but mostly it was because you had fallen asleep in the truck to the gentle rocking motion of the ferry but now you were tucked into an unfamiliar bed. 

“Danny?” you called out as you tossed the covers back and found you were still in yesterday's clothes. You could hear some sounds outside of the room but Daniel hadn't answered your call so you picked up the coat rack from the corner and quickly opened the door.

“Jesus Christ.” Daniel jumped back as you waved the long pole his way. “What the fuck?”

You sagged in the doorway and dropped the makeshift weapon to clutch your chest. “You gave me a fright.”

“I gave you a fright?” he asked incredulously. “You gave me a fucking heart attack. What were you going to do with this?” He swiped the coat rack off the floor and couldn’t stop himself from laughing at it. “Please don’t give me a concussion before the race.”

“But any other time is good?” you quipped as your lips tipped up now that your heart rate was returning to normal. “How did I get to bed?”

He flexed his arms with a cocky grin. “I tried to wake you up but you were dead to the world. And now that sleeping beauty is awake, how about we go out for breakfast? There’s meant to be a huge market that sells a bit of everything that we could check out after.”

You held a finger up as you looked down at your clothes and heard your stomach rumble, answering the question of whether to shower or not first. “Just give me one minute to change.”

Daniel had obviously been awake for a while being an early bird so he was ready and waiting at the door when you reappeared, his hand held out and waiting for yours. The lines between friendship and more were getting blurrier each day but it no longer felt wrong as you laced your fingers with his and stepped outside.

“Are you limping?” you asked with a frown as he kept his weight on one side the entire walk to the market.

“No, just got pins and needles in my foot.”

An hour later he was still favouring his right foot so you steered him back towards the hotel so he didn’t make it worse before you got to Melbourne. “You should probably see a doctor.”

Daniel dropped onto the couch and stole the remote to choose a movie, patting the space beside him so he could kiss your temple after joining him. “You worry too much, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re quiet,” Daniel commented as he turned off the tv. “What’s got you thinking so loud?”

You chewed your bottom lip as he called you out. He was too observant, or you were too easy to read. “It’s our last night together.”

“You’re still going to stay with me for the weekend, right?” He shifted in his seat to face you and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand as he waited for an answer.

You nodded and he relaxed a little only to freeze as you spoke, “But you’ll be busy, we don’t have time to hang out.”

“I’ll always make time for you,” he promised as he pulled you into his lap. “This week with you has been…spectacular.”

“Spectacular is pretty high in the standards of compliments,” you reminded him, much to his amusement.

His smile softened as his fingers trailed along your jaw and down your neck to trace your collarbone. “Which is why it’s reserved for very, very good things.” 

You were almost certain he could hear your heart racing like thunderous hoof beats in a quiet desert. The blood was pumping around your body carrying the oxygen you needed to replace but couldn’t seem to draw the air into your lungs as he leaned forward.

“You were his best man,” you whispered with the last of your breath as you felt the heat of his lips so close to yours.

“But I’ve always been the best man for you.”

The first kiss was softer than the wind, tentative and testing as you learned how your body responded to the caress before hunger yearned for something deeper. A deep moan rumbled from Daniel’s chest as your tongue rolled across his lips that parted for you and his arms encircled you to hold you tight, as if he were clinging to the spell so it couldn’t be broken.

“Please, Danny,” you sighed longingly as his hands slipped under the summer dress you wore and his thumbs teased you with painfully slow circles on your thighs. “You have never been a patient man, don’t start now.”

His quiet laugh heated the skin of your neck that he kissed with such tenderness you wanted to cry. It had been so long since you had been touched in such a way that you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please,” you begged as you rolled your hips over his cock that was straining against his shorts. You moaned as the hard length brushed over your panties and a reciprocal sound came from Daniel before he stood up abruptly. 

“Fuck, I wanted to take my time with you,” he murmured against your lips as he blindly walked to the closest bedroom. 

“Later,” you promised. “Right now I need you to get me out of this goddamn dress and fuck me.”

Day Seven - Portland to Melbourne “Oh, fuck off,” you growled as your phone rang on the bedside drawers. You rolled back into Daniel’s embrace and wrapped your arms around his waist as he saw at the voicemail notification before it started to ring again. 

“He’s just going to keep calling,” Daniel said with a sigh that turned to a yawn after the late night spent getting to know each other's bodies intimately. “You’ll have to talk to him at some point.”

“I know, I just want to savour this moment before the drama starts. I can’t remember the last time I woke up like this, happy and content. I’m not ready for that to end.”

“What makes you think I’ll let this end?” he teased as he rolled you onto your back and trailed wet kisses down your neck. “I might just write my name on your foot too and call you mine.”

The warmth of the blankets disappeared as Daniel made his way down your body, kissing the entire length of you before settling between your legs as the phone rang again.

“Answer it,” Daniel ordered as his fingertips delicately traced the stretch marks across your hips, committing every inch of your body to his memory. “Or he won’t go away.”

You tried to find any hint of resentment in his face as you reached for the phone but there was only an air of smugness as he made himself comfortable, resting his head on your thigh.

“I think we have been robbed,” James said without even a hello as you answered the call on speakerphone. “Everything in the guest room is gone.”

A huff of amusement bubbled at the image of him standing in the empty room, his face crumpled in confusion as he scratched his head. “It’s at my apartment.”

“What apartment? What are you on about?”

“The apartment I rented before I moved out two weeks ago. The one I will be living in when I get back.” Daniel’s fingers traced the waistband of your panties and your breath hitched as they slipped beneath the lace.

“Bullshit,” he laughed but there was a hint of uncertainty in the sound. “Just come home and talk about this before you make any rash decisions. I know I have been busy with work lately-"

“More like busy with Laura.” The air that hissed between your teeth could have been mistaken for anger but it was entirely from the devilish look in Daniel’s eyes as he bit the soft skin along your inner thigh.

“Laura’s my assistant.”

The laugh turned to a gasp as Daniel pushed the lace aside and ran his tongue through your folds, his eyes rolling up to watch your reaction, the phone falling from your hand as you reached for his hair.  You tugged the strands as his tongue circled your clit and you couldn’t stop the moan from escaping as you arched your back at the growing pleasure.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that baby,” you begged shamelessly and he chuckled as he felt your walls flutter around the fingers he curled into your cunt. “God, Daniel, you’re so perfect.”

A round of expletives filled the air as James heard a real orgasm take over your body but they fell silent as he realised why the words seemed so familiar. You weren’t just accusing him of fucking Laura, you knew. And you were using his best friend to show him.

“Some friend you are, sack of shit,” James growled as you whimpered with the aftershocks of the orgasm.

“Some husband you were,” Daniel snickered as he tore your panties off and climbed up your body to kiss you, sharing the taste of your pleasure on his tongue before he picked up the phone. “You lost the best thing you had, mate. I won’t make the same mistake you did.”

Daniel ended the call stared down at you in wonder as a slow smile started to spread across his face. “I don’t think he will be calling back.”

It may have been the high of the orgasm, or it could have been the knowledge that after a year of enduring the decaying marriage, but you were free - either way, you were giddy with joy as you wrapped your legs around Daniel’s hips and pulled him closer. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” you giggled as you hooked your fingers into his boxers and pushed them over his hips. 

“He had to know who you belong to now, he had his chance.” His voice was pure decadence in your ear as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds before stretching you wide as he thrust forward and stilled. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size and brushed a gentle kiss across your lips before captivating you with his golden brown eyes. “Still want to know what I think you are?”

Your fingers ran softly down his back, feeling each bump on his spine right down to the twin dimples at the base. “Tell me,” you whispered as your hands grasped the firm muscles of his ass, your nails digging in to spur him into moving.

“Mine.”

Melbourne Grand Prix - Race Day The screams of Daniel’s home crowd were intoxicating and you couldn’t help cupping your hands around your mouth and joining in as he parked front and centre of the pitlane having won his home race. Climbing out of the car, stood atop the halo and threw his fists in the air before tearing his helmet off and holding it up too, tapping his finger on the large number 3.

You couldn’t help but notice how he still favoured his right foot after he jumped off the car and rushed towards his team, grappling them into strong hugs that probably crushed the air out of their lungs - not that they cared as they ran on adrenaline after the race.

“Wow, Daniel, what a race! You were absolutely flying!” the interviewer praised after he took his microphone and joined her in front of the Sky Sports camera. “Looking at some of those high speed corners, it looked like you were fighting to keep the race line.”

“I couldn’t brake hard if I tried,” he laughed and combed his sweaty hair back through his fingers. “Got a fresh tattoo and it’s still a little tender.”

“On your foot?” Naomi asked as she pointed to his Red Bull boot. 

“Yeah, glad it wasn’t on my throttle one or I don’t think I’d be up here,” he joked.

“I’m certain I am asking on behalf of everyone when I say, can we see it?” A cheer from the crowd confirmed her statement and your fingers gripped the metal barrier as goosebumps broke over your skin.

“No way,” you mumbled under your breath as you shook your head to get rid of the ridiculous thought you had.

“Sure, I’ll need this off for my shoey anyway,” he said as he pulled the boot off along with his sock. Turning around, he bent his knee so the sole of his foot could be seen and looked over his shoulder, grinning as he found you at the barrier with his team. 

“Aww, look at that, it’s adorable,” Naomi gushed as she saw the basic outline of a kangaroo on the sole of his foot. “What a way to pay homage to your nation!”

You bit your lip from smiling too hard when he started to laugh as she completely misunderstood what the picture meant. “Of course!” 

He excused himself quickly and hopped towards you, not wanting to get the days old tattoo dirty on the ground. 

“You’re actually insane,” you gasped as you slapped his chest playfully, still in disbelief that he had the word Roo tattooed on his foot beneath the picture. 

He leaned in closer so he could talk without fear of being overheard and you inhaled the purely masculine scent of him enveloping you as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “It was your idea, and if you didn’t sleep so much you would have been awake to come and get it done with me.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as his hot hands came to rest on top of yours. “I must admit, I’m a little disappointed that it isn’t my full name.”

“Do you know how ticklish that was? I would have wet myself trying to get your whole name.”

You smirked at him, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening with his growing smile. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Does anyone have a marker pen?” Daniel asked loudly and about half a dozen were thrust his way in an instant. 

“What are you doing?” you asked as you took a step back but the crowd was so tightly packed there was nowhere to go.

“Foot,” he said as he tapped the barrier, “up. It’s not a tattoo…yet.”

“You’re insane,” you laughed as you shook your head but instead he dropped to his knees and caught your ankle under the barrier.

“And you’re mine, I just need to…stop wriggling,” he complained as he pulled your shoe off and bit the cap off the marker before inking your sole. Twisting your foot about you saw his driver number covering the skin and bit your lip at the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he flipped the pen in his hand. “There, that’s better.”

“Is it?” you joked as you slipped your shoe back on. “I would have said spectacular.”

You were always surprised that his smile could somehow brighten, even when it seemed like it couldn’t possibly grow any more. But his smile grew as stepped closer and his hand reached for the back of your neck, pulling you to meet him as much as the barrier allowed.

“Spectacular?” he echoed before crushing his lips to yours until you were breathless and forgot where you were. “Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Daniel's Road Trip Playlist: Cruise - Florida Georgia Line Watermelon Crawl - Tracy Byrd Your Man - Josh Turner You Make It Easy - Jason Aldean Right Now the Best - Zach Bryan Over For You - Morgan Evans Live Like You Were Dying - Tim McGraw Die A Happy Man - Thomas Rhett Butterflies - Kacey Musgraves

Click here for additional part.

Tagging: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @zendayabelova @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery

[sleepyhutcherson]

wish i wasn’t so tired

on your way back home an argument between you and mike gets heavy when the words “this isn’t love, is it?” slips from one of you.

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: argument, use of y/n, miscommunication, angst, reference to marriage, not a happy ending? boygenius lyrics being referenced </3

a/n: tired of writing fluff (jk i love fluff) but i come from a miserable fandom (before i entered the jhutch one) aaand im so used to writing heavy angst. anyway, i should be working on my request not this but :p

What a perfect scenery to go with the intense argument. the rain angrily hits against the window drowning out any sound with the harshness of it. Unfortunately, not enough to drown your voice nor Mike’s, the rain mimicking the aggression and anger of your voices.

“I don’t remember,” Mike repeats, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough his knuckles turned white. He was speeding, trying to get home.

“I just want to know what happened! You came home with your knuckles busted, blood everywhere and you’re suddenly unemployed, and you won’t even tell me what happened?!” You're facing him but his focus is on the road (as it should) and there’s this dull, emotionless expression on his face that makes you feel alone.

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment you think maybe he won’t say anything at all. He continues driving, his gaze fixated on the road while you stare at him feeling so stupid. You close your eyes, wishing you could disappear from this moment. Wishing you could just apologise to him, but you knew better, you had no reason to apologise to him. You were just concerned about him, you just wanted to know why his knuckles were bloody.

You blink when you realise Mike is pulling to the side of the road, putting the car in park.

“This isn’t love, is it?” Mike asks, meeting your eyes now. There’s a sadness to them that you’re familiar with, you see those sad brown eyes whenever he’s overwhelmed, stressed, tired of work, when his aunt calls, when abby ignores him after an argument but never towards you.

And those words. the question. The genuine curiosity to his tone when he asked it.

“W-What?” You stammer, hoping that maybe you misheard him. But you knew you didn’t.

“I mean, all we do is argue.” You sit up straight, turning away from Mike. You stare straight forward, you wish the road wasn’t so empty maybe you could distract yourself by looking for different licences plates.

You swallow, your throat dry suddenly. “Then what is it?” If it’s not love then what it is?

None of you have a response which only makes it worse. You loved mike, you really did, you never doubted that. There was a moment a few months ago where the two of you referenced getting married soon, Mike giddy about proposing, and you were over the moon about the idea.

And now?

Mike loves you, he’s never felt so in love with someone until he met you, never felt more loved by anyone else but you. But recently, his job has been killing him and he’s only worked at it for three days. his sleeping schedule is fucked, he isn’t ever really sleeping like most people do, not in the way that one falls asleep to get rest but in the way that he’s going back to the same dream every night looking for something—or, someone, in his case. His aunt is trying to take custody of Abby and he can’t let that happen but God he’s so fucking scared.

But he won’t say any of this to you. Not about how stressed he’s been, how tired, how scared and sad. Fuck’s sake you don’t even know that he could lose custody of Abby.

“Maybe it isn’t,” You say, not daring to turn to look at Mike. “But can…can I at least pretend that you love me?” Your voice is small, ready to break.

Mike’s brows furrow, he can hear the hurt in your voice. He hates hurting you. He can never just shut the fuck up can he? He didn’t mean to say what he did, he really didn’t. “Y/n, I… I do love you, so, so much.” Mike reaches for you, cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are watery, full of tears that are ready to spill.

“You do love me?” You ask, looking up, your eyes locked with Mike’s. He frowns at your words.

“I’ll always love you. I hate hurting you. I’m so sorry.” He says through a clenched jaw, his words a little sharp layered with a desperation to get you to believe him. He pulls you in, peppering kisses on your face. it’s not enough, he thinks, you deserve so much more than this—than him.

“Then why do you?” You whisper, bringing Mike to halt. He pulls from you, staring at you with the most hurt expression you think you’ve ever seen. “I just…just want to know you—to help you, but you’re always pushing me away.”

He looks down at his bruised knuckles with shame, falling quiet suddenly. You know about his brother, about the entire incident, and about his parents but he never told you just how much it all affected him. how it still affects him.

You place your hand over his, gently rubbing over the healing bruise. They looked nasty even after days, too vicious for Mike. He loves how you touch him, he doesn’t care that his knuckles sting at the touch because he longs for your touch, desperate for it. He becomes more needy for it while you two are arguing, he wishes he could just pull you in while you were biting at each other, wanting nothing more but to be held by you. He would allow you to continue to bite, he wouldn’t mind if you continued to sink your teeth into him; he would take the pain, endure it even…if you just held him.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say, “I wish I wasn’t so tired...” he exhales, trying to keep his voice steady. “But I’m tired.” It comes out weaker than he hoped, his words falling and breaking.

“oh, Mike,” you sigh, reaching up and now it’s your turn: you cup his face, your other hand reaching up to run it through his curls. “Talk to me. you know that’s what i’m here for.” You keep your tone gentle, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb.

Mike knows this. he knows that if he could talk to anyone that it would definitely be you. He just can’t. he doesn’t understand it either, doesn’t know why he can’t just open up.

He doesn’t want to talk, not really. He doesn’t want you to think he’s broken. he doesn’t want you to know how much of a mess he is, how he thinks his life is slowly falling apart right now. How he might lose custody of his little sister. How he’s looking for his brother in his dreams that are turning into nightmares. How he thinks he may be losing you, too.

“Can we just go home?” He croaks, his eyes welling up with tears. He doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want you to see him cry either.

You frown. You just wanted to be there for him, you wish he would let you help him, if that’s too much for him then you’ll sit there and listen. You just wanted to know what was hurting him, who hurt him. God, you just wish you could read his mind.

You frown when he pulls away from you starting up the car. You just wanted to help. You wanted to take whatever struggles he had, most of all you wanted to know what he was struggling with. What was bothering him? If only he talked to you. But clearly he wasn’t going to open up anytime soon.

You force an “okay,” accepting your loss.

[sisaloofafump]

** could be a different word of a similar theme.

Ignore canon. What do you think should happen?

[pullhisteeth]

knight in a navy blue boiler suit | eddie munson x reader

part 1 | part 2

summary you take your car in for fixing and the mechanics are a**holes about it. Eddie, though, saves the day. [1.8k]

contains misogynists >:(, generally a bit of a nervy situation in an autoshop, mechanic!eddie, fem!reader, male saviour trope (sorryyy), use of y/n, fluff! big fat set up for a part 2 lol x

-

“Hello?” you call out. You’re hesitant to walk further than where you’re hovering in the doorway because you’re surrounded by suspended cars and tools scattered on the ground, and knowing your own tendency for being reckless underfoot you think it best to stay where you are. Also, though you desperately want to think good of everyone you meet, you’re a woman in an auto shop. Alone.

“You alright, miss?”

To your left, a young guy rolls out from underneath a car and stands. He’s short and covered in what you assume is oil, but he has a kind face that puts you at ease.

“Hi,” you say, trying your best to sound more confident than you are. “I, uh, my car’s busted, I think.”

He walks over to you, wringing his hands with a scruffy rag, and you try your hardest to not shuffle backwards.

“What’s up with it?”

“It, uh, stutters, I guess, when I turn it on. Sometimes it takes a few goes to get it goin’.”

His face moulds into a hard, concerned expression, before cutting into a grin. His whole face scrunches when he does, and you try to ignore the way you sense the kindness slipping away.

“We’ll take a look at it for ya, no worries. You got the keys?”

You dig your hand in the pocket of your jeans and when you drop the key in his hand, he seizes yours and says, “we’ll get it sorted, don’t you worry.”

His words tone drips with a saccharine sweetness that claws under your skin. You pull your hand from his grip with a small, “thanks,” and he says, “come write your number down for me, babe, and we’ll give you a call when we’re done.”

You follow him quietly through the shop into a small office at the back. It’s lit by ugly white lights and made up of dark faux-leather couches and a makeshift wooden counter, where there’s a book open. He hands you a pen and you write your name and your number, as well as the make of your car and the licence plate, and try all the while to ignore his eyes boring holes in the side of your face.

You don’t see any other mechanics as you walk back through the shop, except a floppy mass of dark, curly hair poking out under another car.

-

The phone rings at half four that afternoon. You’re on the couch, house-bound without a car to get you anywhere, wasting the day away with daytime television and a book.

When you answer the phone, the voice on the other end isn’t the one you spoke to earlier. It’s softer, kinder, and you can tell that whoever it is, they’re tired.

“Hey, is this y/n?”

“Hi, yeah. That’s me.”

“Hey, your car’s ready if you wanna come pick it up.”

“Thanks, yeah, I’ll be there by five?”

“See ya then.”

The line goes dead before you can say goodbye back.

-

By the time you reach the garage it’s half five and dark. It’s that weird time of year, at the break of fall, where the days are warm and the dark brings blistering cold. So, naturally, you’re freezing, late and embarrassed.

You tread over the threshold at the garage and, just like earlier, hesitate before moving any further. There are more men here now – five or so of them, dotted around the room. There are two in the corner, both tall and broad and a lot older than the one you met before, and they turn to look at you when you arrive.

You see them utter something to each other – they’re too far away for you to hear, but they make sure to keep themselves quiet anyway and it sets your teeth on edge.

“Hey, darlin’, what’s up?” One of them, the taller of the two, calls over to you. The rest of the men turn to look at you when he does, and if you didn’t feel like a deer in headlights before, you certainly do now. 

You scan the room and you know how wide-eyed and nervous you must look. There are six men in total; in the other corner, you see the one who took your keys earlier on.

You wonder who you spoke to on the phone.

One of them, whose hair you recognise from when you left, is the youngest. He’s maybe a couple years older than you at most, and unlike the rest of them he isn’t sneering at you, or smiling at all, actually. If anything, he’s looking at you with eyes as wide as you think yours are.

“I’m here to get my car,” you declare, not sure exactly to whom you should be speaking. You direct it vaguely at the guy who acknowledged you, who's walking over to you with a smug smile that turns your stomach.

“What kinda car was it?” He’s stood right in front of you now, too close for comfort, and you have to crane your neck up to look him in the eye.

When you answer his question he chuckles, shaking his head slightly. You’re not sure what’s funny.

“Yeah, yeah, follow me,” he says through bared teeth. It makes the hairs on your arms stand on end.

He takes you to the office where he roots in a box for your keys. As he hands them to you he places his hand on your lower back and guides you out of the office and back through the garage. His head is hanging low, mouth by your ear, and he’s telling you in a low, somewhat theatrical voice that there’s nothing wrong with your car, and that it’s okay, girls like you make these mistakes sometimes.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, we won’t charge ya.”

He stops walking when you reach the middle of the room. He rounds on you, towering over you in a way that kicks you into a stressed stupor. You’re not sure how to deal with this situation, with a mean man twice your size domineering you like this in a room full of other men who’d likely do the same if given the chance.

Underneath it all, though, there’s an anger simmering lowly. You’ve been driving for a few years now, and you’ve learned a thing or two about cars in that time. It’s unfair that they can be so condescending just because you’re a woman.

You want to fight him on it, argue your case and say that can’t be true, you haven’t looked properly, I know what I’m talking about. But you don’t – or can’t. You’re left speechless, mouth opening and closing like a stupid fish out of water.

And then he laughs at you. It’s not like the snide chuckle from earlier; this is a full laugh, laced with cruelty and condescension. And as he does, he looks up and around the room, and the other men laugh with him. You’re trapped in a room filled with misogynists who are all laughing at you.

“Cut it out, guys.”

His voice cuts across the room like a gunshot. It’s irritated and cold but you recognise it as the one you heard down the phone. You turn to look at where it came from and find the younger man stalking miserably toward you.

His hair is wild, you notice. Even when he’s upright and not laid flat under a car, it seems to have a life of its own. He’s tall, though he has nothing on the guy stood beside you, and the arms of his boiler suit are tied around his waist to reveal a filthy white t-shirt. When his eyes meet yours they soften irresistibly and suddenly you feel the desire to run begin to dissipate.

As he reaches you, the laughter starts up again. He stops a few feet away from you, a silent invitation for you to meet him halfway so he doesn’t get as close as the other guy. You do, stepping over to him, and he leans down and says warmly, “Sorry about them.” As he turns toward the door, he adds, “I’ll show you where your car is.”

You follow silently, trying your hardest to tune out the now boisterous and unyielding laughter behind you. He takes you out onto the street, where you see your car parked a couple spaces down, but he stops when you reach the wide doorway and turns to give them a glare.

He looks back at you, where you’re stood with your arms crossed around your middle to guard from the cold, and says, “seriously, I’m sorry ‘bout them. They’re a bunch of assholes.”

You struggle to find words, focus instead taken by the way the orange streetlamp makes his hair glow like the sun.

“Are you okay?” As he asks this, he brings a tentative hand to brush your shoulder, as if to lightly shake you awake.

“Yeah,” you say, voice almost a whisper. “Thanks.”

“Here,” he says, gesturing to where your beaten-up old car is parked lazily by the curb. “I didn’t get a chance to look at it, but if you want…” He hesitates, stumbling a little over his words, a complete contradiction to the white-hot confidence he’d just displayed in the garage.

You look up at him, hoping your face is enough to encourage him to continue. It seems to be, because he meets your gaze again and smiles.

“I can have a look at it for you, if ya want. Not here,” he adds quickly. “You can bring it to my place. Only if you want, of course.”

His politeness and the extension of completely unnecessary kindness feeds a warmth that spreads from your scalp down your spine. You beam up at him, and attempt to soothe what you think are his nerves by saying, “that’s really kind of you, thank you.”

“Okay, just, uh… I’ll get your number from the book if that’s cool.” You nod your head at him a little too enthusiastically.

“Oh,” you gasp, realising you have no idea who this man really is. “I’m y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” he says with a grin that’s got none of the artificial flavour of the man you saw this morning, and you realise he knew your name already because he's the one who called you. You feel a familiar heat travel up your neck and spread across your cheeks, but he just chuckles at you. “’M Eddie.”

“Eddie,” you repeat in a breath.

He walks you to your car, which is approximately fifteen steps, but the gesture spreads that warmth even further. He’s handsome and kind and he’s going to fix your car for you; what’s not to like? 

“Thanks again,” you say quietly as you open the driver side door. You stand inside it for a moment and look at him. He’s looking back with a lopsided smile and you can’t help but admire his big brown eyes and the dimples in his cheeks.

“Sure thing, sugar,” he slurs in response, taking the top of the door and opening it wider for you to slide in. Your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck and then the thick silver rings on three of his slender fingers. They make a metallic clink when his hand grips the frame of the door.

You get in, and he leans down to say, “see ya soon,” before shutting the door for you.

[beardedmrbean]

As the world's attention focuses on the prospect of a regional war in the Middle East, 31-year-old mother of two, Arezou Badri, lays in a hospital bed in Tehran, seriously wounded. 

Iran's authorities said police opened fire on Badri's car on July 22, as she was driving in northern Iran's Mazandaran province, because she ignored orders to stop.

But human rights activists say the authorities targeted her because she refused to wear the hijab.

She has undergone two surgeries. It's unclear whether she has her mobility back, or ever will fully regain it.

Badri is, according to human rights groups, another example of the Iranian government's escalating violence against women over their defiance of the compulsory head covering, the hijab.

"Since April, we have had a very serious crackdown on women who are unveiled," says Roya Boroumand, the executive director of the Washington-based Abdorrahman Boroumand Center, which works to promote human rights and democracy in Iran.

On April 4, Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei described unveiling as "a religious and political sin". It set the stage for more stringent laws and powers allowing Iran's authorities to target women who defy the state's orders.

Shortly after the speech, the country's general police chief announced the use of city cameras and face-recognition technology to identify women who violate the hijab law.

Iran's government, Boroumand argues, feels "more comfortable" cracking down on women who unveil while attention is focused on the war in Gaza.

"[The regime use] facial recognition, multiple summons, confiscation of cars, detentions and repeated fines, but also we have a crackdown against posting on the Internet, whether it is people posting photos of themselves unveiled or posting anything that bothers the state," Baroumand says. 

But she believes the 2022 uprising, sparked two years ago by the death in custody of 22-year-old Kurdish-Iranian woman, Mahsa Jina Amini, fundamentally changed how young Iranians view the regime.

Amini died on September 16, 2022, in a hospital after her arrest by the country's morality police for allegedly not wearing her hijab properly.

Her death sparked nationwide, and global protests, known as the Women, Life, Freedom movement.

It had spurred talk of another revolution – both on the streets of Tehran and major cities around the world where the Iranian diaspora who fled after the 1979 revolution reside: what if Iran's people had the freedom to choose? To choose if they cover their hair or not, what they wear, what music they listen to, what political views they hold and who they go out with?

Two years on, the protests may have died down, but many Iranians continue to defy their Islamist rules, and continue to ask, what if?

'Women assaulted for not veiling'

For those who argue that the election of a new president, Masoud Pezeshkian, could result in more reformist policies, human rights groups point to what's happening on the ground.

Amnesty International campaigner Nikita White also says they have gathered widespread reports of a continued assault on women and girls by Iranian authorities.

She says the authorities use surveillance cameras and reports from plain clothes agents patrolling the streets and using police apps to report licence plates of vehicles with non-compliant female drivers or passengers.

Continued

[xoxoalette]

talking about reddie, i remember you saying eddie drives a gtr and sai said ren also drives a corvette (i'm ignoring his motorcycle rn lol). do they ever meet cute at traffic stops? go to local car meetups? do they race diva and teo down the 101? do they have the glove box to themselves like the passenger princesses they are?

and do eddie and diva have custom licence plates? any specific decals for their cars like tinted windows, color wraps or seat covers? i think diva would be the type to have custom star shaped exhaust pipes.

sorry for so many questions. no need to answer them all but i'm curious :p and if its not too much trouble can i be 🚗 anon?

CAR QUESTIONS? Omg… apologies if this is all over the place, my thoughts are messy

Eddie likes cars but he isn’t much of a social person so he wouldn’t go to any car meets, and although he knows how to race, he doesn’t really race much but will if Diva or Ren drags him to one!!

But most definitely has a princess compartment for Ren, but sadly Ren doesn’t trust Eddie to drive for some reason unknown (Eddie never bothers to asks, but it is a bit odd when they’re taking HIS car).

Eddie doesn’t have a custom plate but Diva most definitely!! It’s probably DIVASTAR with a star replacing the i (is this possible? Idk but I think it should be) AND YOURE 100% RIGHT SHED HAVE A STAR EXHUAST

Eddie’s car is squeaky clean always, they both take good care of their cars! Eddie probably doesn’t do much to his car, maybe a few moderations just for functionality. Diva is the car girl that decorates her inside and out. Diva has two cars, one her grandpa gifted her and the other she got herself which is shimmery pink (OBVI).

Diva def has like little hello kitty plushies hanging on her rear mirror and some other plushies along the dash board or in the back. And sometimes she puts them in the seats with their seatbelts on. She also has her own compartment with emergency feminine products and makeup.

I think if Eddie really was going to have some form of decorations? Probably some Polaroids of his loved ones on his dashboard but he’s bland 🩵 both twins also have their windows tinted!! A bit too dark… like 35% (if I remember, the percentage is how much light can go through).

Oh oh and Diva def has rbg lights somewhere. And her headlights and taillights are stars 😼

[minniethemoocherda]

Iridescent: Chapter 3

Summary: When Jazz is promoted to Head of Special Operations, the last thing he expected was to have to work with a face from his past.

A/N: So I've now decided that I'm going to be alternating between POVs and this chapter is going to be from Prowl's perspective! Hope you guys don't mind! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

Prowl had not been happy when Blackout died. 

He hadn't been particularly devastated either.

Due to their respective positions, they had both had to work together a fair amount during the short time that Prowl had been promoted to head of tactics. And during that time they often come to disagreements. Then again Prowl did tend to have disagreements with most people.

Still Prowl couldn't deny that Blackout had been excellent at her job and that her loss was a devastating blow to their command structure. He was sorry to hear the news of her passing by the hand of Megatron. 

Unfortunately the Autobots didn't have the luxury of wasting time to mourn so Optimus Prime had appointed a new head of Special Operations barely a week after Blackout's passing.

There was only two real options for Blackout's replacement and of the two, the one Prowl had voted for was not the one to have been selected. He did have to concede that the one Optimus had chosen did have more experience, even if he had more infringements of subordination and disregard for rules, which Prowl did raise concern over. Ultimately it was decided that the mech's skills outweighed his infringements and thus Jazz was appointed as their new head of special operations.

Now Prowl was not one who cared about appearances. As long as you were presentable and did your job then he could not care less what a mech looked like. Therefore his embedded battle computer did not deem it necessary to search for an image of this Jazz when debating their merits. Something that Prowl now intended to rectify in the future as he recognised the mech standing- no leaning- in front of him.

" You ." Prowl stated, his usually monotone voice ice cold.

"Hey officer." Jazz grinned, infuriating him even further.

"Optimus I must inform you that before I attempted multiple arrests on this mech." Prowl stated, turning his attention to the Prime.

"But ya didn't!" Jazz retorted, mocking the fact that he never actually managed to slap a pair of cuffs on him.

"That does not change the fact that he is a criminal."

"A criminal?!" Red Alert shrieked, having now tuned into the conversation. At least someone was taking Prowl's concerns seriously.

"Oh come on, most of those were for busking without a licence."

"And for aggravated assault of an officer." The scar under his forearm plating burned with the reminder. Prowl turned his attention back to the mech, who's grin now had an edge to it that wasn't there before.

"Hey we're all enemies of the state now pal."

"Jazz is right." Optimus interceded before Prowl could argue back. "From the moment all of you joined the Autobots you broke the law. Regardless, our past is in the past. What matters now is how we chose to help others."

"But-"

"If it is Jazz's character that you still question then I can assure you that he has my personal trust."

That hardly settled Prowl's plating. The entire reason he quit the force in the first place was because of those in power only giving it to their friends.

Jazz must've realised the implications of those words too as his grin briefly fell into a cringe. It soon returned though as Optimus continued the meeting, going over the logistics of transferring Blackout's previous responsibilities to their new head of Spec opps.

Prowl ignored Jazz's optics on him not wanting to allow himself to be further goaded into a confrontation. Instead he kept his own eyes focused entirely on Optimus briefing as they all should have been doing.

When the meeting was over, Prowl saw Jazz heading straight for him, but Prowl did not have time for his petty grievances. Unlike some people he took his responsibilities seriously.

He marched straight off to his office where Sideswipe was still scrubbing graffiti (if you could call the colourful depiction of what Superion was doing to Megatron graffiti) from the door.

"Is it true you got into a fight with Jazz?" Sideswipe asked, prodding him with the end of the brush instead of cleaning with it. 

Prowl pushed past him, resisting the urge to groan. One day he was going to find out whoever was responding for spreading gossip on this ship and give them a punishment even then twins would deem to be too far. 

"Scrub." Prowl told him. But Sideswipe had never been one to listen to authority.

"How'd you even get Jazz into a fight anyways? He's like the chillest guy around! He's the only one who doesn't get mad at me and Sunny's pranks."

That hardly put more faith into Prowl's assessment of Jazz.

"Fetch your twin to clean up the rest." Prowl ordered, knowing Sunstreaker wouldn't care enough to pester him about pointless gossip.

Sideswipe wasn't going to argue with getting let out of his punishment early and changed into a lamborghini in his haste to speed down the corridor.

Prowl shut the door behind him, putting the new datafiles from the meeting into order on his shelf when he heard a knock.

Assuming it was Sunstreaker reporting for punishment, Prowl opened the door.

"We need to talk." Jazz said, the grin on his face in contrast to the seriousness of his words.

Prowl tried to slam the door shut but Jazz had once again weaponised the art of leaning, using the curves of his black and white frame to keep the door open.

"Look I'm sorry for giving you the run-around all those years ago. But in my defence I did not want to go to prison." Jazz grinned. 

Prowl was one more snarky comment away from called security.

Jazz must've seen that in his face as in a blink that grin of his had vanished.

"In all seriousness, we both know that OP-

" Optimus Prime "

"- ain't the type to promote someone just because we’re mates. You really think the only reason he chose Ratchet as CMO is because they're BFFs and not that he's the best medic still alive?"

It was hard to argue that Ratchet did not deserve his position. However one example was not an adequate sample size to prove results. Plus Prowl's issue was not with Optimus. It was with the bot standing in front of him.

"Obviously we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe we can start over? What do ya say? Friends?" Jazz asked, stepping out of the doorway with his hands held up in peace. 

Prowl shut the door in his face.

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Leia's Wedding

Summary: Jay never knew how much Leia truly means to him before she nearly walked down the aisle and married somebody else.

Pairings: Leia Forman + Jay Kelso

Main Masterlist | Jay + Leia Masterlist

Jay met Leia Forman when he was 15, but he didn't know how much of an impact Rec and Kitty Forman's granddaughter was going to have on his life.

When Leia came back for her summer visit in 1997, they ended up sleeping together. It didn't take long to get around the group.

And Leia never heard the end of it from Gwen.

But, she dropped the bombshell of the decade on the gang when she arrived in Point Place, Wisconsin in 2002. She still drove her father's old Vista Cruiser, but a man was sitting in the passenger seat.

Saying that she was going to be getting married at the end of the summer.

And Jay didn't like her fiancé.

Not one bit.

He was an arrogant asshole who looked down his nose at anyone in town, her friends, him, her parents but especially her grandparents.

Mainly Kitty.

He doesn't know what he has against Leia's sweet grandmother, who went back to work years after she retired and watched over the gang throughout their high school years.

Jay decided it was his last chance to win Leia back. But, he found her sobbing in the bridal holding the cufflinks that were special in her family (he remembers her saying they were 'blessed' by... someone... she didn't know the whole story).

"Leia?" Gently shutting the door behind him so he doesn't startle her, he walks along the plush carpet wearing the new dress shoes he bought for this occasion. "What's the matter? You're getting married in 10 minutes!" He tried to sound enthusiastic, but he knew his heart wasn't in it.

"He had this whole plan, he was going to move us to Australia! I'd never see my family again. Or you... guys."

Jay wanted to rip the asshole's head off. It was obvious that Leia loved her family. Kitty obsessed over the arrival of summer and Leia's time in Point Place. He may not show it that often, but Red loved spending time with his granddaughter. He's the one who went down to the dreaded DMV after her 15th birthday (even after getting pulled over by the police for expired licence plates) and got her learner's permit and started teaching her how to drive. Despite being 'half dumbass', she passed the first time.

"Oh, Leia. I'm so sorry," no matter how much he hated Leia's now ex-fiancé, he knew she loved him. And the fact he was willing (almost happy) to tear her away from her family and friends, seemed to have pulled the veil away from her eyes.

There was thudding coming from the corridor, followed by repeated knocks.

"Leia! Please, just listen to me! I know we can work our way through this!" The asshole was trying to make Leia see his 'sense'.

Not on Jay's watch!

He got up from where he was and sat on the floor with Leia, ignoring her please for a moment and threw open the door. Leia's ex came face to sternum with Jay (who had a shocking growth spurt and stood well over a head above Leia).

"There's no way in hell, Leia would ever go back to you. Not if it's the last thing I do."

"Jay, just let me speak to him," Leia had come up behind him. When she stood next to Little Kelso, she came just above his heart.

Jay let out a deep breath, as Leia came around him, staring up at her ex-fiancé with a look Jay didn't recognise - but the sly smirk on his face made him bristle. He thought Leia was going to take the asshole back until-

Thwack!

Leia punched her ex square in the face. "I never want to see you again."

Through Gwen, it was determined Leia would get the non-refundable honeymoon to the Maldives.

Gwen also suggested that Leia take Jay with her.

Unsurprisingly to either the gang or Leia's family, Jay and Leia had gotten back together.

And this time, it would stick.

[aith-art]

Yeehawgust 2023 - Day 7

Tall Handsome Stranger

“Hey, Jules. I hate to break this calm you’ve suddenly found. But we’ve got company.” Izzy’s voice was fraught with worry. His hand moving towards the echo device in his bag, hoping to digistruct a weapon. 

Jules surveyed their surroundings. A hand resting on the engraved 9mm on their hip. They knew there was no point using the sniper on their back if they were already caught. For a moment she saw nothing, and then from the bridge at the 188, a glint of a sniper's scope. The crunch of footsteps from behind them. Two sets. Moving steadily towards Jules and Izzy. Jules pulled out her pistol, and made it clear that they were placing it on the floor, followed by their Anti-Material Rifle and then a grenade Rifle. Izzy followed suit and placed his echo on the ground with the weapons. 

“We’re really gonna just surrender? We haven’t even tried fighting.” Izzy horsley whispered to Jules as the strangers footsteps came to a stop. Jules continued to face the trading stop, wanting to face the potential of death head on. Though they doubted that those who had captured them would kill them. The strangers’ tactics were too well thought out to be Vipers, or Feinds. A sniper was never the Legion's way to assassinate. These people could have been NCR, but Jules suspected they were bounty hunters. Which came with implications Jules didn’t necessarily agree with. 

Izzy, who had extensive experience working with, around, and against, bounty hunters had drawn the same conclusion. 

“Jules?” The stranger's voice was gentle, deep with hints of gravel from extensive desert travel, but it spoke their name like it was a delicate butterfly that they didn’t want to hurt. Slowly, Jules turned towards the stranger. Challenging the strangers soft look with one of cold, hard, taught resolve. 

Jules ignored his companions, challenging the one who had said their name. He was tall. Not that it was difficult to seem tall to Jules’ 5 foot 3 ass. When she looked at his face, they looked into the eyes of the man from the poster. Dark hair pulled back beneath a tattered old cowboy hat, beard shorter than that depicted in the poster. Wearing his NCR riot armour, coat and all, he could easily be mistaken for a ranger. Above his eyes, he had a scar Jules recognized all too well. A scar that Jules herself had. The reminder of a reckless decision. A scar given to them by the very gun Jules had just dropped. A reinforcement that Jules was not in their world. This was not their Mojave, it was his. 

The stranger took a second to look over Jules, this Jules. They weren’t the person he had run with. She had died. He was certain of it. The Jules that stood before him was younger, slightly shorter. Their hair, a more wild and frizzy, but shorter, version of what he remembered. If it wasn’t for the shape of their face, and something in their eyes that screamed they’d been through hell and back, he would have thought they were a sibling to Jules. Their entire outfit was different. A long tattered trench coat, a vest top that revealed the top of an autopsy scar. Jeans that were ripped and repaired all over. But the bag, the bag was the same. Almost. It was missing a patch, the brotherhood insignia. The one thing his Jules swore to never remove. 

As the first stranger started to tear up, Jules turned their attention to his companions. Only to stare into the dumbfounded face of Arcade Gannon. Looking exactly like he did when Jules had last seen him at the fort. Blonde windswept hair kept short. The same white lab coat. The same glasses. The same man. Except this Arcade thought Jules had died. Had seen Jules die. 

A whirring a beeping from behind him consumed both Jules’ and Izzy’s attention. A mechanical sphere, bigger than one of their heads, though not by much. With attachments and rods sticking out of it. Patched up with pre war licence plates. Izzy was fascinated by the mechanics of the small robot. While Jules smiled, looking at her oldest companion. The eyebot didn’t seem excited to see them as it had done in the past. With the heavy realisation that this wasn’t her ED-E, Jules let herself tear up, though only slightly. 

For a long time, no one spoke. Izzy understood it was a moment of remorse for everyone around him, and so took a step back and silently observed the others. Still he questioned the capabilities of the small robot but left questions for later. He recognised the stranger from the poster. More handsome in person. But definitely the one credited with killing their companion. 

“Jules, it’s. It’s really you?” The stranger, Leroy, questioned as he stepped towards Jules. “I. It can’t be.”

“Cause you killed me?” Jules was blunt. They knew this wasn’t their world. But the anger at it all, at whatever cosmic joke it was that had dragged themselves and Izzy into this Mojave. That anger was building up within them again. Holding their intellect and rationality hostage and leaving Jules with nothing but that anger. 

“What?” Leroy wasn’t as quick witted as Jules, but he was perceptive. Pointing to the paper balled up in Jules’ hand he commented “You found one of my posters.” 

Jules stared at him. Stared like it was high noon in a western township. They didn’t break or falter, neither of them did. Leroy took a step towards Jules, Jules moved two paces back. Moved away from their guns. Perhaps their rational thought had returned. Though it’s equally as likely they hadn’t noticed. 

Leroy stopped. Lowered his head, accepted defeat. 

He knew this wasn’t his Jules. He knew she was dead. He wanted to understand what was going on. But if this Jules couldn’t trust him, he’d have to gain their trust. He turned to Arcade and ED-E, “Can one of you get Boone. Tell him we’re all good.” ED-E bounced up and down, as if nodding in confirmation, before zooming towards the 188 trading post. Leroy turned to Jules and Izzy (who he couldn’t help but thinked look completely out of place in the Mojave, though he couldn’t work out why) and tried to start the process of gaining their trust. “So all this has been weird. We’re gonna look at setting down a camp in one of the buildings just a ways up from here. Feel free to join us. I find it’s always safer to travel with a group.” 

Izzy answered for the pair, “That sounds like a plan, we could use a rest and a catch up on who, what, wheres, and whens of everything. I’m Izzy, by the way.” 

Jules nudged Izzy’s elbow, “Maybe you need the whats, wheres, and whens. I just need the whos.” And after a moment. “And I suppose a good rest wouldn’t be a miss.” they turned to Leroy. “I don’t trust you. I’m not about to start trusting you. But I need somewhere to sleep that isn’t sand. So lead the way. Oh and if you cross us, I will kill you.” 

Leroy blinked for a second, absorbing what Jules had just said before nodding, turning and walking in the direction of Camp McCarran. Jules and Izzy picked up and equipped their weapons and echo device before following after. With Arcade bringing up the rear, strangely silent about the current turn of events.

[barneyandthepoetrymuse]

Down mainstream…



Mainstream believer are you getting the facts…

They’ve tinted the windows fifty shades of black…

It’s you in the paper and it’s the news staring back…

It’s static on the wireless and dormant in the rags…

Shots in the dark, bulletins in your back…

Freedom of speech is under attack…

Where do you get your information and what does it lack…?

The state of the nation’s already been hacked…

Is the influencer in the sky really Murdock…?

Get your news on the sly with fox…

Resist taking a scoop as soon as it drops…

Tempting you with cookies, catching up on the box…

Sitting on your laps, held out in your hands…

Consumers in our cars, delivers in our vans…

Headlines on full beam lighting up your cans…

Spinning the real thing, the other side is banned…

3G in your spectacles, rubbish in your bins…

There’s isn’t world war and if there was we’d win…

It’s right there in front of you tattooed in print…

They’ll summon you when they care about what you think…!

Stay off the tube but get ready to Rumble…

Navigate the media, out there it’s a jungle…

The Legacy of media has got a body double…

It won’t lead you down rabbit holes, deeper into tunnels…

You’re all in your fish bowls, they’re in the tanks…

You’re paying the bill, they control the banks…

Don’t confuse global warming with warnings and facts…

The world is on fire due to explosions and impacts…

Keep your feet up, carry on eating your snacks…

Ignoring the battle plans drawn on their maps…

Flick through the channels your concentration’s lapsed…

See through the flannel, the system’s collapsed…

Take back your impartiality, do it on mass…

Don’t drink from the same bottle, sip from the flask…

Don’t be part of a the next unsavoury past…

Find your own way, choose your own path…

Roll up your sleeves, get prepared for the bomb…

You’re just on a ride they’re taking you on…

Your government lies, they’re the new lexicon…

It’s a web and it spies on the backside you’re sat on…

The circles go round but aren’t concentric…

You do the maths and challenge the metric…

The plates are shifting, the after shocks are seismic…

The missiles they’re firing are going ballistic…

Be part of the algorithm or be part of the fix…

You won’t find the answers on Amazon or Netflix…

Help build the divide or challenge the rhetorics…

Take down the walls and examine the bricks…

Sound the alarms but no need to panic…

We’re all divine Christian’s, they’re all satanic…

Information is war, propaganda the planet…

The world won’t be here soon or anyone to man it………

Pay up your licence fee, check your subscriptions….

Climb down the money tree you’re up for conscription…

Consent isn’t required and neither is permission..

We’re all in denial and we’re all in remission…

What they want you to know they’ll send out by pigeon…

Administer you drugs for social conditions…

They’ll separate the facts with a tiny incision…

And provide you the manual in its current edition…

[mot-expert]

The Complete MOT Test Checklist: A Guide For Vehicle Owners

What is MOT Testing?

MOT is an abbreviation for Ministry of Transport test. Important components of your car will be examined during the MOT to ensure they adhere to regulatory requirements. MOT Testing applies to England, Scotland and Wales. So, one of the most crucial things to remember when owning a car and a service is your MOT.

MOT guides and inspection manuals issue clear directives as to different things to be checked on the basis of the type of vehicle. The MOT test examines several automobile components, including the brake and fuel systems, seatbelts, wipers, mirrors, lights, and exhaust.

The condition of the clutch, gearbox, and engine are not examined.

All of the country's authorised test locations, which all sport official blue signs with three white triangles, conduct MOT inspections.

Why is the MOT Test Important?

Until you have a scheduled MOT test, it's against the law to drive a car on the road. If you're stopped while driving and the car is found to not be MOT Tested, you will definitely risk a fine.

You won't be able to drive your car off the lot that day if it has a dangerous flaw. Instead, you'll need to choose a reputable garage to handle the required repairs. The garage where you had your MOT test will, more often than not, be able to handle the repairs for you. But, if you want to make sure you're getting the greatest value for your money, it can be worthwhile to compare prices for MOT repairs in your area.

What Happens If My Vehicle Fails The MOT Test?

If your vehicle fails its MOT, the test centre will issue you a VT30 Certificate, which will list the reasons why it failed. The defects will be categorised in the certificate as dangerous, major, or minor.

How Is MOT Test Different From Servicing?

MOT: As mentioned above, a MOT Management is a legal obligation that your car must undertake to be considered as roadworthy and safe to drive. It's crucial to remember that a MOT Management is not the same as a service. A vehicle must pass a MOT, which is a visual inspection, in order to avoid being considered unsafe and prevented from operating on the road until the problems are resolved.

Service: A car service is unique to your vehicle because it is outlined by a car maker rather than by the government. A service is much more thorough than a MOT. Your engine coolant, brake fluid, and oil levels will all be changed by a professional. While some of these items may not need to be changed right away if they are low, running out of them might result in serious problems. You may feel secure about how well your car is operating by getting a car service done.

Don’t Underestimate The Small Issues

It's common to ignore little issues that develop over time with your car. Yet, seemingly unimportant issues can result in a failed MOT test. For instance, if the inside or outside of the front door handle is damaged, it is an immediate fail. The same goes for a washer fluid that doesn't spray properly.

MOT Test Checklist:

The following items are checked during a MOT Test checklist:

Brakes

Bodywork

Doors and openings

Exhaust and emissions

Horn

Lights

Seats and seatbelts

Steering

Suspension

Tow bar

Vehicle identification

Wheels and tyres

Windows and mirrors

Some Careless Reasons For Vehicles Failing The MOT Management Test

The vehicle was filthy or cluttered. It’s advised to clean up the filth in the trunk and cabin, then quickly wipe the windows and mirrors.

A problem with the licence plate. For instance, the plate was dusty or completely missing, or it had the wrong typeface or spacing. Make sure your personalised plate complies with DVLA regulations if you have one.

The screenwash is not replenished. Don't be surprised by this simple chore. It only takes a few minutes.

[mariacallous]

Serbian Prime Minister Ana Brnabic condemned the decision by her Kosovo counterpart Albin Kurti to appoint the president of the Progressive Democratic Party, Nenad Rasic, as Minister for Communities and Returns in the Kosovo government, while President Vucic called the Kosovo PM “terrorist scum”.

The appointment follows the mass resignation of Kosovo Serb officials in a dispute over Serbia-issued licence plates.

Brnabic said the appointment was non-democratic and went against the Brussels Agreement, as hardly anyone voted for Rasic in the last elections.

“The appointment of Rasic is not only in contradiction with the Brussels Agreement but also with the will of the people expressed in the elections, which is the most important will,” said Brnabic.

She also condemned the EU’s mild reaction. “This kind of reaction is a shame for the EU. We were waiting to see what the Union would say about the appointment of Rašić and we received another shameful statement,” she said.

Kurti appointed Progressive Democratic Party head Rasic as Minister for Communities and Returns and opposition politician Rada Trajkovic, a harsh critic of the Belgrade-backed Srpska Lista party, as Rasic’s advisor.

EU spokesman Peter Stano said that Pristina must respect all the necessary steps when appointing ministers representing the non-majority communities.

“We call on both sides to work urgently on the return of Kosovo Serbs to all Kosovo institutions, in accordance with the binding agreements on dialogue, and all interested parties to refrain from any action that would lead to an increase in tensions in the already fragile security situation,” he said.

But Brnabic said that, “after such a shameful statement by the EU”, Serbia would not participate in the Western Balkans Summit due on December 6 in Tirana.

“Either the EU starts respecting the values ​​it propagates, or there is no longer a need for Serbia to participate in this kind of farce. I ask again – after 10 years, Pristina did not implement the Brussels Agreement of which the EU is the guarantor, after Serbs in Kosovo and Metohija were denied the right to vote this year twice, to which the EU reacted with one sentence in the Progress Report, and after that Pristina, by appointing Rasic, continues to ignore the clearly expressed will of the Serbian people in Kosovo and Metohija”.

“So I ask the EU – where are these European values, where is democracy, where does the rule of law disappear?” Brnabic said.

Kurti’s decision also drew a furious reaction from Serbian President Aleksandar Vucic who called Kurti “terrorist scum” and Rada Trajkovic, who was appointed Rasic’s advisor, “Serbian scum from the bottom of the barrel”.

“The election of Rasic, a man who won less than 1 per cent, as well as Rade Trajkovic, who was on his list, shows that they want the persecution, expulsion and disappearance of Serbs in Kosovo and Metohija,” Vucic said.

Reacting to the Serbian officials’ insults, Rada Trajkovic called them “hysteria”.

President Vucic “appointed 28 ministers of the Government of Serbia according to his will and desire, but precisely because of that one minister in the Government of Kosovo whom he did not choose and whom he does not control – complete hysteria,” Trajkovic commented on Twitter.

In Pristina, Vucic’s abusive comments drew angry reactions. Jeton Zulfaj, an adviser to Prime Minister Kurti, said this language “suits a former Minister of Milosevic” in a reference to Vucic’s past as a Minister under Slobodan Milosevic’s regime during the war in Kosovo in 1998-99.

“He also cancelled participation in the EU-WB Summit in Tirana. Wonder why? Because the Declaration condemns Russian aggression on Ukraine,” Zulfaj said on Twitter.

Vlora Citaku, deputy head of the opposition Democratic Party of Kosovo, PDK, also called Vucic’s comments unacceptable.

“I am in the opposition and I work to beat [the ruling party] Vetevendosje in the next elections. There are way too many things I disagree with them. But to have President of Serbia referring to Kosovo’s PM Kurti as ‘terrorist scum’, is unacceptable and disgusting,” Citaku said on Twitter.

Vucic’s opponents in Serbia criticized the wording of his attacks against ethnic Serb opposition politicians appointed by Kurti, claiming that the same smear campaign was conducted against Oliver Ivanovic, a Kosovo Serb opposition leader, assassinated in 2018, before his murder.

[scribblelark]

Vignette 2

I carefully made my way down the lane, almost wading through the deep snow that had drifted there over the last few days. At times I worried that my wellington boots would be filled by the snow, but so far that hadn’t happened. 

I was about two thirds of the way down to the main road from my cottage when I saw the car. It was almost buried in the snow, but a sliver of its windscreen and the roof above was clear, presumably because the weight of the snow above had slithered down, leaving this portion bare. I couldn’t help worrying about what I’d find inside. Was there someone trapped, or more likely dead given the low temperatures we’d been experiencing during the blizzard. 

I let go of the traces of my sledge, then moved closer to the car. Taking a deep breath of the sharply cold air, I swept the snow clear of the driver’s window and ducked my head to peer inside. A rush of breath left me, formed a cloud in front of my face, as I realised that the car was empty. I could only hope the driver had made it safely to the main road. 

I grabbed the traces of my sledge and began to move past the car, but as I passed it I noticed that the boot wasn’t quite shut. My rampant curiosity – which my friends called my besetting sin – refused to ignore it and I let go of the ropes of my sledge once again, then moved across to the rear end of the car and lifted up the boot.

A gasp escaped me as I saw the contents of the boot: a shivering, bedraggled dog. A Border Collie from the looks of it. It was curled into as tight a ball as it could manage and I was surprised that it was still alive, even with the boot open for air. 

Shaking my head in despair at whoever had abandoned this dog, which looked like quite a young dog, I spoke softly to it, reaching a hand in for it to sniff. The sniff was perfunctory at best, but I hoped that it meant that it wouldn’t object to me lifting it out of the car. I grabbed my sledge first, turning it to face back up the lane, then carefully reached into the boot and scooped the dog out, before lowering it onto the sledge. It whimpered a little but was alarmingly passive. I grabbed the blankets that the dog had been lying on, then wrapped them around it, before closing the boot again. Then I took a photo of the licence plate so I could report it to the local police station before I grabbed the traces of my sledge and began to make my way back up the lane. 

As soon as I reached my cottage I left the sledge where it was, for the moment at least, and bent down to scoop up the dog and its blankets, then carried it inside. I’d left the wood burner on before I went out, so the sitting room was reasonably warm. I set the dog down on the rug in front of the wood burner, leaving it bundled in the blankets for now, then made my way into the kitchen which opened off the sitting room. 

I grabbed a bowl and ran some lukewarm water from the hot tap into it, then grabbed a plate and chopped some of the cooked chicken left over from yesterday’s Sunday roast onto the plate. Then I carried both over to where the dog was waiting, its head lifted to watch me as I approached. I couldn’t help hoping that was a good sign. I set the plate and the bowl down in front of it, watching as it began lapping at the water. Then it began to eat the chicken. Surprisingly, it didn’t gobble it down, but rather ate at a steady pace. 

I left it to its meal and went to get myself a cup of tea to warm myself through before I phoned the police to report the abandoned car (and dog) and the vet to get some advice from Jemima. 

An hour later the dog was sound asleep, and my calls had been made. I breathed a sigh of relief, then considered what to do now. I really needed to go out and get some supplies as I was getting low on a good many essentials. I just wasn’t sure about leaving the dog in my cottage. Since she was fairly young, so far as I could tell, I wasn’t sure if she’d wreak havoc by chewing on things. 

I filled up her water bowl again, then put some more chicken on the plate, then wrapped myself back up again in coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and wellingtons. I would just have to hope the dog would do nothing more than sleep and eat while I was gone. 

I glanced back at her for a moment before letting myself out of the cottage and locking the door behind me. Jemima had promised to come out tomorrow to see her, providing we didn’t have any more heavy snow overnight. None was forecast, but you never can tell where the British weather is concerned.

Prompt 

(I didn’t check back for the exact wording of the prompt before I started writing, so the lane is snowy rather than muddy!)

[my-writings-and-musings]

i read the ask where Max hurt Whirl's amica and i both loved it and it broke me because I love angst but also I love whirl and you're not getting rid of me that easy

so could you please write a continuation after he wakes up and they survive because oh god whirl im so sorry im okay im here i promise i wont leave you :,,,D

thank you so much!!

Yessss that one was one of my favorites as well! I shall try to do it justice!

Something about seeing Whirl on the medical slab deeply disturbed you. Beyond the freshly welded injuries cross crossing his battered frame and the countless tubes and wires keeping him alive, the big bot just looked wrong lying so still, as if he didn't appear to even be himself without his usual level of movement. Regardless, you knew the feeling in your stomach wouldn't go away until he was up and awake.

Sitting atop the little tray at his bedside, you admittedly weren't too mobile yourself. Between the many braces and casts you could only move short distances at a time, and generally preferred to be totally still to avoid any additional pain. That fateful day in Rung's office had left its mark on the both of you.

A small shift in his claws got your attention so fast the movement hurt your neck. Ignoring the pain, you watched like a hawk as he twitched again, this time nodding his helm and making a sound so small you couldn't confirm you actually heard it. Pushing yourself along the tray, you placed a tender hand upon his shoulder. Even if he was still too far gone to hear you, hopefully your presence might do him some good. A resulting murmur raised your hope that he could.

In rapid succession, he went from twitching to cracking open his optic to rolling it about the room in bleary confusion. When it rested on you at last, the yellow orb brightened and opened wide. Whirl made an obvious effort to sit up in a rush before flinching at the resulting pain, which was great enough to make him lie back down and settle for groaning in your direction.

"Did you get the licence plate off the bot that hit me? I want to slash some tires..."

Despite everything, you chuckled at the comment, and weren't certain if the resulting tears came from joy or pain. Regardless, you scooted closer and embraced what you could reach of him as happy sobs continued to pour forth.

"Hey, don't get your organic salt all over me... I've got no rust protection..." he said, so weak his usually teasing tone was barely perceptible. The gentle touch of a claw to your back at least made it clear he didn't want you going anywhere. Wiping away your tears, you looked up to see his optic wavering with emotion. Though he couldn't fully raise his head to a comfortable angle, the big bot was looking at you with all the emotion he usually reserved for private moments, no doubt experiencing the same whiplash you had upon first waking. Both of your last conscious moments had been far from pleasant...

"You're okay..." he said suddenly, the full memory dawning on him like so many painful injuries. His patched together chest told the story well enough, how he'd torn himself from the floor to avenge your apparent death, nearly killing himself in the process... You squeezed his claw to assure him you were real, and not the figment of some pain induced hallucinations. "You're not dead..."

"No, I'm not. I'm not going anywhere, in fact."

Though Ratchet was going to be furious, you clamored carefully onto the big bot despite your injuries, settling on the small and uninjured part of his chassis like a cat. The move caused you both some minor pain, but was well worth it. He held you close with a single digit. You were indeed here, and alive, and real...

For once, fate hadn't dealt him the worst hand it could. That was a first. One he'd hopefully get used to though.

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Scotland unique place with an inimitable spirit…..Whisky. Just in Scotland to experience it.

Sassenach’s Delivers!

He said, Spirit of Home? Which one? L.A. show us he coexists living very well with them without displacing to his house in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 when is never there unless he has to be or someone calling him back.

It is looking to attract new customers and build a local presence in the L.A. area? Driving his business with a combination of a billboard in a delivery box truck, a publicity boy that re-targeting abilities to grow his business 🙄 with a massive picture of the last year whisky campaign. What reach does he pretend behind this?

Thinks, that we believe in him rolling a road distance between New York to Los Angeles around 3000 miles (ca. 4,828 km) 40+ hour journey across America coast to coast? No! 🤔

Sam is just copying what other actors have done for their alcohol businesses. He spoke about mezcal in his visit to Bloomberg. This idea was in the head. But It took a long time for Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul to make Dos Hombres Mezcal happen.

Did his Billboards Work? He explored his options in Glasgow and London, advertised across the busiest parts of the city before, and no one stopped the traffic to see his business. No one didn't.

If his whisky business is suitable, need a delivery box truck 🛻 drove by SH himself as a promoter? Well, is surprising enough. He’s still a brand-building but he thinks is huge. Just because Sam shot a photo on a box truck doesn’t mean that he had Sassenach bottled and ready for the shelves.

Whisky 🥃 advertising has to speak to the customer, so targeted messaging is essential. Even within the Scotch category, his brand is not recognisable to a UK consumer, and his brand is not the biggest selling Scotch.

He must keep in mind, He’s not very well known in the US (just for his Outlander’s fans) will take several “touches” with a potential client or customer before they consider buying from him. How regularly one person will see his advertisement or outdoor ad. means his outdoor advertising will not get seen every time.

His shop in America is his OL Fandom, makes pay off for him? buying his stuff, mommies made him a NY Times best-selling author, (without having written the book) following him wherever he is, pampered out loud 🤣 🙄.

It’s where he’s going that counts.

Insinuating deliberately and unclear about driving coast to coast is ridiculous in this remodelled delivery box truck with no licence plate or equivalent temporary registration permit to drive on the USA highways; it is unusual not to require one, including for a parked vehicle as well, also no rounded mirrors. Maybe, he’s waiting for a private personalized plate ‘Sassenach‘.

The motorist must rely on only two side mirrors to see where other vehicles are. He couldn’t travel in that truck. We doubt he has a a vehicle operator's licence driving alcoholic beverage — dangerous cargoes- Who does he think he’s fooling? He doesn’t really want to stop inventing things for attention.

Sassenach’s Delivery 🚚 must remain vigilant to Highway Code when he back to L.A. next time.

THE SPIRIT OF SCOTLAND IS WHISKY 🥃 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 He must never ignore, Where Home is…. SCOTLAND.