#motorsport halloween

[subaru-copilot]

ANATOMY OF A HAUNTED HOUSE

A young man steps out, approaches and enters through the front door. [...] He spits on the carpet. He's moving through the first floor, breaking and exciting things. He goes to the basement and stands at the top of the stairs. I'm angry at him so I slam the door and he falls down. We can feel his bones snapping.[...] We can feel him being ground up, dissolved and torn, splitting and shredding. I leave the door closed. I close my eyes and try to sleep. The teeth continue growing on me until there is nothing left on me but teeth, and gums, and sinew.

images sources - x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x // text - Anatomy by Kitty Horrorshow // editing - @subaru-copilot

Post made for the halloween fest (@motorsport-halloween)

[1425fivefive]

I'm kind of cooking with this Interview with the Vampire-inspired Lestappen fic. The premise is that Charles is a 500-year-old vampire and Max is human and they first meet in Amsterdam in 1662. Charles turns Max into a vampire and the fic is a series of vignettes of their tumultuous relationship in various years/locales from the 1600s to the present. I'm tentatively titling it After Me, the Flood.

Posting a (lightly NSFW) snippet of their first meeting below to keep myself accountable to finishing this for Halloween:

“What’s your name?” Max asked.

“Charles.” Charles thought, briefly, about giving Max one of his many pseudonyms. But he had so little of himself to offer to Max. He wanted to give him at least one real thing, however small.

“Charles,” Max repeated. He said it the way all Dutch people said Charles’s name, with a tch sound at the beginning and the s at the end. Normally it irritated Charles but he found he liked the sound of his name in Max’s throaty voice.

“And yours?” Charles asked.

“Max.”

“Ah, a strong name,” Charles said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “The name of an emperor.”

“Yes, that’s why my father picked it.” Max winced as he said father and Charles knew there was something dark there. It wasn’t particularly surprising to have a poor relationship with one’s father, in a pub like this.

“What’s your business in Holland?” Max asked, clearly wanting to move on from the subject of his family.

“No business”—Charles flicked his eyes down to Max’s plush lips—“only pleasure.”

Charles watched as Max’s throat bobbed at Charles’s words, watched as the flush rose in his cheeks and spread down his neck, disappearing beneath the high collar of his jacket. Charles wanted to tear the jacket from Max’s broad shoulders, lick a stripe up Max’s neck, savor the pulse of Max’s carotid artery under his tongue.

Charles felt an aching pressure in his gums, his canines fighting to lengthen. He forced them to retreat, reminding himself of the merchant he’d drained only hours earlier.

“Would that interest you?” Charles asked, trying to tear his gaze away from Max’s neck.

Max stepped closer to Charles, Charles’s thigh sliding between Max’s legs. Charles wanted to tug Max down to his lips, but he knew even a pub like this had to ensure plausible deniability.

“Of course, Charles,” Max murmured. “Of course, I’m interested. You’re”—Max broke off, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips—“you’re beautiful.”

Charles reached out, grazing the back of his fingers down Max’s stomach, startling a gasp out of Max. “You are quite beautiful, as well.”

Max scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

Charles frowned, confused. Max was beautiful, so beautiful Charles couldn’t understand how people hadn’t told him so constantly. Charles had lived for centuries and he’d never seen someone who looked like Max—the broad, strong features that, together, transformed into an almost searing vulnerability.

“I am not lying,” Charles said firmly. “You are gorgeous, Max.”

Max flushed, his whole face turning pink. “Stop.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Charles asked, running his fingers up and down the fabric stretched across Max’s stomach. “Because I think you would enjoy hearing how beautiful you are.” Charles paused, wondering whether to push further. But Max was staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted, and Charles added, “Perhaps you would like hearing how gorgeous your perfect lips look, wrapped around my cock.”

Max sucked in a gasp, before nodding, eager and honest. “Yes, Charles, yes, I’d—yes.”

“Good,” Charles said, smirking. “Now finish your drink.”

Max obeyed, tipping his head back and draining the last of his beer. It was a heady feeling, watching Max follow Charles’s orders. People followed Charles’s instructions all the time, but Charles couldn’t remember the last time someone had done it of their own free will, without Charles needing to compel them.

When Max slammed the empty glass back on the bar, Charles feared that he would never be able to let Max go.

Also fun fact, this scene is set in a bar that serves primarily gay clientele in 17th-century Amsterdam, and these did in fact exist in parts of Europe in the 17th century! I'm not sure whether they existed in Amsterdam specifically, but ... we ride.

[latecomersprivilege]

You know when you read something and you do a physical shiver in a hot damn that was dark and beautiful and can I blend the author into some kind of huel and absorb what they did here and how their brain works way? That.

my other @motorsport-halloween entry, somewhat less horrific than the first one. Featuring Mad Scientist!George, Igor!Alex and the potential pitfalls of cloning yourself for efficiency gains.

three's a crowd

Rated Mature

Fandom F1 RPF

Pairing Alexander Albon/George Russell

Length: 15k

Summary:

“Hi there. I’m Alex.”

“I know.” The clone swallows, and sounds slightly less like a drowned cat when he speaks again. “Memory transference was up to 98% effective to biological age, and 87% effective for discrete knowledge thereafter.” His eyes slide across to George as he makes the pronouncement. If he’s looking for approval, he doesn’t find it.

Read on AO3

[motorsport-halloween]

⇨ AO3 COLLECTION | ROUND ONE ⇦

☠︎ another superstition by @emillians - Max/Daniel, 25k, rated T (complete)

“What the fuck is wrong with your house?” Daniel manages to wheeze out. “Fucking hell, you’re like turbo haunted.”

☠︎ Listless Playthings of Enormous Forces by @mercurial-vroom - George/Alex, 15k, rated E (ongoing)

“I’ve waited six years for that to happen again,” Alex says, tucking himself closer into George’s side. “Didn’t realize all it would take was the end of the fucking world.”

☠︎ After me, The Flood by @1425fivefive - Max/Charles, 5k, rated E (complete)

Charles is a 500-year-old vampire. Max is a human. They meet in Amsterdam in 1662.

☠︎ Daniel's Ghost Adventures by @onboardsorasora - Max/Daniel, 12k, rated M (complete)

Daniel was a ghost hunter, a good one– nay, a great one, but not particularly by choice. Ghosts love him, but he does not like them back. Daniel wasn’t so much a ghost hunter, as he was… bait.

☠︎ left a calling card so they would know that it was me by @xxxdeerlordxxx - Oscar/Carlos, 6k, rated E (complete)

Because of course no one believes him. But Carlos knows that Oscar’s to blame. Just not in the way people might think.

☠︎ this is not a dream by @officialmood - Max/Daniel, 5k, rated E (ongoing)

When he was awake, Daniel couldn’t summon the pain. He knew it had hurt, and badly, but awake he couldn’t feel it. But when he was asleep, he could.

☠︎ sweet dreams (are made of this) by @freeuselandonorris - Lando/Oscar, 6k, rated E (complete)

The bad feeling goes away for a couple of days, and Oscar lets himself forget about it, concluding it must have been an unusually vivid nightmare, his body reacting to some perceived threat. Nothing to worry about.

☠︎ Me and my shadow by @latecomersprivilege - George/Alex, 3k, rated E (complete)

They’d put George in the tyre store. Shov had explained something about the fewest points of entry and exit, and George had done his best not to read into it. It’s just a precaution, anyway.

☠︎ Bury A Friend by redscarez - Max/Daniel, 6k, rated E (complete)

Freshly retired, Daniel lets Josh drag him to a Halloween matchmaking party. Things escalate.

☠︎ in midnight's jaws by @testarossa - Oscar/Carlos, 15k, rated E (ongoing)

Surely there is a perfectly good reason for Carlos to have woken in the dirt the morning after a full moon, with no idea where he is or how he got there.

☠︎ The Curse of the Scarlet Prince by @seafoampearlygirl - Lewis/Seb, 6k, rated G (ongoing)

So David sends six of the sport's most controversial figures - the warring Mercedes drivers, ex-lovers Mark and Fernando, Seb, and Jenson - to a desolate castle on the Italian coast, said to be haunted by the ghost of the greatest champion Ferrari never had...

☠︎ I might take you home with me if I could, to knight by @tiredeg - Max/Daniel, 5k, rated E (complete)

Daniel’s been knighting people all evening. Half of the people at the party have knelt before him, bowed their heads laughing while Daniel moved his toy sword over one shoulder then the other and made them kiss his knuckles dramatically.

⇨ JOIN US NEXT WEEK, OCT 29, FOR ROUND THREE! ⇦

graphic by the incomparable @racecrafting

[freeuselandonorris]

sweet dreams (are made of this)

lando norris/oscar piastri, rated E (succubus!lando, demonfucking, dubious consent, horror elements), 5.8k.

👻 for the @motorsport-halloween fest! 👻

The bad feeling goes away for a couple of days, and Oscar lets himself forget about it, concluding it must have been an unusually vivid nightmare, his body reacting to some perceived threat. Nothing to worry about. Until, a week later, he opens his eyes into the darkness of his room and swears there’s someone in there with him.

read on AO3 (archive-locked 🔐)

[vetteldixon]

happy halloween from georgina!

[onboardsorasora]

Daniel's Ghost Adventures

summary:

Daniel was a ghost hunter, a good one– nay, a great one, but not particularly by choice. Ghosts love him, but he does not like them back.

Daniel wasn’t so much a ghost hunter, as he was… bait.

tags: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Ghost Adventures, POV Daniel Ricciardo, Daniel Ricciardo Needs a Hug, Suspense, Horror, Demonic Possession, Witch Max Verstappen, Ghosts Like Daniel But He Does Not Like Them, Scared Ghost Hunter Daniel, Fluff and Humor, I promise there is fluff, Getting Together, Boo the Dog, We Love Boo, Happy Ending

thank you to the lovely Mods for putting on Motorsport Halloween Fest this year! This was a personal challenge, but I think it came out lovely.

[kigieri]

20 Little Horrors

There might be something haunting the paddock and its drivers. The feelings growing, eating one of them after the other, none able to help themselves. Or may it simply be part of the human condition? Something they cannot escape because it lives and grows within them.

A/N: A Halloween fic!🎃 I got inspired by @motorsport-halloween to tip my pen into horror. Since I'm not that big on gore and murder, I challenged myself to more of a psychological horror approach. A little fun fact, as the wonderful and supporting @mariclerc already knows, I almost forgot the Ferrari boys. I had 18 drivers and was deeply confused who was missing. It was simple, the two men under the prancing horse.

This story on AO3.

It started with Logan. Dark circles under the eyes, fingers that rubbed slowly at his temple. The paranoia was palpable. Questions and doubts encircled him. Eating at him. His skin became thinner and paler. What shall one do without certainty, without a stable ground to stand on. You will fall.

The tick of Kevin's neck was something people got used too quickly. The outbursts he was able to excuse for a time. Then came the twitching of his fingers, not knowing what they wanted to do. He didn't control them. Crazy, he did not know if good or bad. He steered himself into the wall and into the abyss.

With time, there was a new aura around Daniel, one he couldn't hide. His eyes had a sheen to them, even while a smile graced his face. He felt heavy and they could see it. They saw all his moves, they saw what broke him down, and they saw him never standing up again. He felt as broken as they called him.

Questions got fewer for Nico. He didn't notice right away, but then a feeling of unease creeped in. Strategies that disregarded him, meetings he was never invited to, and then an entire part of his car's programming that was never implemented. They forgot him, slowly but surely, one after the other, until Nico himself questioned who and what he was.

The knuckle cracking was something Lando should stop, as was the lip biting, but he could not. Every race result crawled under his skin, bit at his inners. The self-doubt was hot and searing. He wanted to scream and cry. Never the finish he wanted, the one he needed. He wanted to rip out his hair. Not good enough, never on the level of his rivals. He would land in oblivion, as so many before him did.

A smirk had found its permanent place on Pierre's face. A contract signed, a seat secured, nothing to stop him. No one would or could stop him. His career would rise, he would have a legacy. Arrogance may drip off of him, but who could deny his qualities. His time would come, it was already long here in his mind. He was better than the rest of them. There was nothing that counted apart from that.

It weighted heavy. Regret followed Sergio everywhere. It stood at every corner he took. Opportunities missed, challenges failed and his dreams slipping through his fingers. Should he have done things differently, could he have? It strangled him.

It was unimaginable in Carlos' mind. They left him behind, to fend for himself. Without warning or help. They would regret it, he would make sure of it. Revenge may taste bitter in the end, but it flooded him hot and painful. He wanted to rip them to shreds, and he would do it. No matter what happened to him.

There was nothing Lance could not and would not ask for. Who would deny him something? His seat was secure until he decided that he was finished. There was no one better than him for it anyways. He thought some narcissism was good on occasion, and when that occasion became his day to day, why should he care? It was not his problem.

Life has uncountable facets. Valtteri, after years of focused dedication, became lost in them. There was not one thing he did more than another, it was one after the other, always something new. It excited him, as it distracted him. A life without a core will become void.

Sleep did not come easy to Lewis and the more stressed he was the worse it got. He followed his passions, in racing and other pursuits. He himself, however, stood to the sidelines. His health was important, but he could work with less sleep, there was so much to do. With time, the edges of his view became blurry and dark spots found their way into his vision, but there was more to be done.

Zhou didn't feel real, he had not for a long time. It was as if people saw through him, as if they reached through him, not remembering he was corporal. They called out for him when he stood right next to them, as though they could not see him. He had felt invisible in his childhood. He had felt invisible through his career. Now it was tangible, felt deep within him, the all encircling non-existence.

It was permanent for Esteban, something that had been there since before had sat in a kart. Some didn't like him, some did, but no one ever wanted what was best for him. They wanted him to stumble and fall. His distrust of the world around was no problem for him, he may be alone, but who needed people. He did not. They would only betray him anyway. That's what he told himself again and again as he drove them away.

Fernando watched himself as he rose to highs and fell to lows. Always from the outside, he could not remember the last time he had controlled his own actions. They came to him, they possessed him, and he let them reign. He did not recall how to perform these simple actions alone. There came times he became thankful for the mindlessness, the fact he did not need to steer any longer.

There was nothing left for Max. His goals had been achieved. He had done what he sat out in life to do. There were other pursuits open to him, but non tasted as sweet as the one he had already embarked on. He had resigned some time ago and was simply waiting for other people to notice. He was finished with it all.

Alex was being crushed under the weight on his shoulder, slowly but surely. Expectations for him were high, and his performance not so much. He could not sleep, could not eat, stress was clinging to every fiber of his being. He considered, while waiting for lights out, if being crushed was not the better solution.

There was rage within Yuki. It had come out in the car at the beginning, but it became more and more tangible outside of it too. People noticed, he noticed. Everything around him tinted red. Anger never left him again. There was no stopping the insults, or, at last, his fists.

George was simply better. His talents did not only lay on track, but in racing he had made it far, hard work and sacrifices paying off. He could maneuver the car, could use chances, and if someone else bottled his race that was by no fault of his own. There were non better than him and he would show it. Why should he learn new things or get better, when his work was already superior.

A silent child, that's how his mother described Oscar. He was never one for screaming or crying, complaining or expressing joy. His expressions changed, his face was stoic, or he smiled, or rolled his eyes, but his mouth stayed shut. He saw little need to express himself with words. With time, he forgot how to do so, little by little.

It had gripped Charles's tight and never let him go. The pressure was unbearable, it ripped at him, crushed him mind and body. There as a constant nausea, fear of failure, fear of disappointment. He loved it all, more than himself, and this sport would eat him alive.

All of them were haunted.

Logan was packed by paranoia.

Kevin went crazy.

Daniel was a broken man.

Nico was forgotten.

Lando drowned in self-doubt.

Pierre was arrogant.

Sergio felt regret.

Carlos was consumed by revenge.

Lance was a narcissistic.

Valtteri got lost.

Lewis did not sleep.

Zhou turned invisible.

Esteban distrusted.

Fernando got possessed.

Max was resigned.

Alex was crushed by expectations.

Yuki felt rage.

George felt his superiority.

Oscar was silent.

Charles felt the pressure.

In the end, none of them could escape.

@kigieri 2024. All rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate or repost any of my work.

[gggreengoblin]

Escaping Twenty-Seven (ongoing, E)

(CW :: dark, magical realism, cult, alcohol and drug use)

Summary

His thoughts were spiraling. How he had been so stupid for taking that damned deal. He had been a fool—too hungry for his own good, for everything he had dreamed of. At twenty-seven years old, with the world at his feet, the devil was coming to take what Daniel had been promised to him.

“So you are both sure that I will die this year,” Daniel whispered.

“There is a way for you to get out of this.” Christian said, leaning forward. “A life for a life. You could find a ‘new blood’ as your replacement.”

Chapter 1 :: Curse And Sigil

Daniel learned the price he had to pay for his success—the consequenc of his deal with his lord.

[subaru-copilot]

screaming crying throwing up (being invaded by so many ideas for the motorsports halloween fest but lacking the illustrator+photoshop skills)

[meganmarshall]

I work as a children’s balloon modeller (weird job I know lol) and some kid just showed up to a Halloween event I’m working dressed as Max Verstappen! Loved it

[ctimenefic]

the living and the dead

A little entry for @motorsport-halloween fest that's the closest I've got to actual horror.

It's too short to summarise without giving the whole game away, but, uh, warning for character deaths? Plural? And ritualised violence, and blood, and dismemberment, I guess.

It hadn’t made any sense, how right Albon seemed. They always come back wrong. 

He misses Logan’s call because of a sponsor event; six hours later, when he’s staring blankly at the blood oozing down from the ragged hole in his kitchen wall, Albon’s call comes through loud and clear.

“Oscar,” he says. His hesitance sounds pathetic. “Don’t do it.”

“Fuck you,” Oscar replies, and hangs up. When he flexes his hand, the serum-shiny clots on his knuckles break open. 

It takes him a while to realise the ringing isn’t in his ears again. 

“Really,” Albon says, more certain now, insistent. “It’s not worth it. Don’t do it.”

“You’re there, aren’t you?” Oscar asks. Even to himself he sounds flat. Finished. “Grove. You fucking watched.” He hears Alex swallow round his tombstone teeth. 

“I- He was okay. He understood. Oscar, seriously, don’t do it. He won’t thank you for it.”

“Fuck you. Don’t bury him deep,” he warns, and ends the call. 

He’d liked Albon, is the thing. When he’d first been in the F1 paddock, as a reserve, he’d expected something a bit more gruesome. Something wrong. But Alex had smiled, and cracked bad jokes, and touched his mechanics and other drivers without making them shudder. Even close up, he looked normal. His t-shirts sat high and tight on his neck, sure, but that was hardly uncanny. He sweated. He breathed. He hadn’t looked like Ocon, red-eyed, waxy and sallow and so obviously desperate to rip out Pierre’s throat that Renault had wired his jaw shut. 

It hadn’t made any sense, how right Albon seemed. They always come back wrong. 

At Monza ‘22, Oscar had assumed the subterfuge had been stretched too thin. He didn’t want to dwell on it, but he’d had a vague idea of something out of The Exorcist, Alex crawling across ceilings, spewing bile. After all, a dead man couldn’t have appendicitis. 

Except, it turned out, he could. 

He’s dwelling on it now. 

Oscar had missed Logan’s call, so he’d found out through notifications. First:

George Russell has removed Logan from the GPDA Drivers Chat

Then

BREAKING: Logan Sargeant CULLED as Vowles rededicates Williams

And

WATCH THE VIDEO: Grove ceremony called a “bloody mess” by F1 legend 

Another one slides onto his screen now, right under another call from Albon he declines.

George Russell: Do you want to know how?

He hits the autoreply that WhatsApp prompts: Yes

There was no doubting that Albon had been culled. Oscar had seen the pictures, nineteen and in awe of what Red Bull would do for victory. (It had only been photos, no video. The rumour was they’d had to drug him, that he’d stumbled to the altar and still fought there, and it’d be a bad look to have their sacrifice calling for his mum.) 

They’d cut his throat to the white of the bone. The blood had flowed down across the bodywork of the cars – both of them, Alex’s and Max’s – before it hit the earth. Oscar had wondered if it made the sponsors happy, the evidence of Christian’s commitment splattered bright red over their names. So much blood, it couldn’t be denied, couldn’t be fake. And anyway, there was the last picture, of Albon pale and split and unmistakably dead, curled over the halo, the candlelit shallow grave just visible in the background. 

And yet. Come 2022, he smiled. He joked. He touched. 

Somehow, George Russell had dragged Albon’s filthy corpse into Grove and brought him back whole. 

So it can be done. 

George is still in Monaco. Oscar rings round, has a private jet refuelling on the tarmac in Nice, a helicopter ready for him in twenty minutes. George had said it wouldn’t take long to teach him. 

They meet on a beach by the helipad. There’s not much moon left – and it makes it worse, that Vowles couldn’t wait a week for the new moon and an auspicious time before sharpening his knife – but what little light there is makes George stark against the pale sand. His shadow stretches back almost to the cliffs. 

“Terrible business,” he says in greeting. “I’d thought they’d go for retirement.”

Oscar swallows round the rock of guilt in his throat. He’d thought it too, since almost the start of the season – that Williams would let Logan go, and Oscar would have to bully him into wielding the knife, carving through his wrists. Not ending up like Latifi, too stubborn to see he’d run out of track, culled by default, an afterthought disposed of somewhere in the winter break.

He’d have cut off Logan’s hands himself to keep him. Pressed kisses to the stumps. Hell, Fernando still drives like a champion with his prosthetics, and yes, maybe he casts two shadows now, but that’s better than culling. 

“I’d’ve thought James could cut more cleanly,” George adds, a disapproving note in his voice. “Ruthlessness needs a steady hand.”

“Can we not?” Oscar interrupts. “Just- what do I need to do to get him- what do I need to do?” 

“Well, you’ll need the body first. Can’t do anything while he’s still inside her. Try to get as much of the dirt off as possible. You’ll want to check his mouth.” George pauses, and Oscar shoves his hands deep into his pockets to avoid picturing mud on Logan’s white teeth, his blue lips, his limp, cold tongue. 

“She’s clingy,” George adds. It makes Oscar feel uneasy, hearing him so dismissive, flippant, about a power so beyond knowing. “We called her Gaia, at Williams.” A little smile plays at the corner of his mouth, like it’s a secret. Like Oscar cares about names right now. 

It’s mostly common knowledge, anyway. Red Bull call her Mother, because they don’t much go in for subtlety. McLaren use Terra, which Oscar thinks fits better. Terror. That’s what she is. 

She’s had many names. Only one state, though. Hungry. 

The earth is hungry. They pump out her blood, rip her flesh, burn her in their cars and she wants recompense. 

“That’s the easy bit. After that, you have to consider the price.”

Oscar squares his shoulders. The lights of Monaco are all behind him, only the black of the ocean ahead. The entire city could wink out of existence, and he wouldn’t know. 

For all he cares, it already has. They filmed Logan’s cull, they put it on the internet, but Oscar’s just as dead without him. 

“What is it?”

George’s smile has too many teeth. “What do you think?”

He thinks of the earth’s anger, how the McLaren might fade away underneath him, like the Mercedes does to George. How it might snatch his home race, his poles, give Lando an advantage he doesn’t deserve. He could live with that. 

He thinks of the way George talks about a WDC sometimes, like it’s a decade or more out of reach. Like twenty years in the sport won’t wear the flesh from his bones, and take his hands at the end of it all the same. He could live with that. 

He thinks of Latifi, face down in the dirt. There hadn’t been a video then either. Toto had been busy, skiing – someone else had stepped in, carved him up. The photos hadn’t captured their face, but the long arm had worn a sponsor’s watch. 

He could live with that.

“Anything. I’ll pay anything.”

George chuckles. It sounds wrong.

“Are you sure?”

He turns to argue, shout, punch it out of George if he has to. George doesn’t move his body at all. But his head turns. His eyes are too large. Too dark.

Before Oscar can speak, a large wave breaks too close, a crack of saltwater against rock and sand. Sea foam races up the beach, drenches Oscar’s thongs.

A perfect ring around George’s feet remains bone dry. But where the sand is wet, things squirm under the surface. Hundreds of lugworms raise wiggling paths away, away, away from the shape of him, the cast of his shadow. 

Alex smiles-

but not at George. 

He cracks jokes- 

but not with George. 

He touches-

but not-

He came back right. But he hadn’t walked out of Grove alone. 

George unhinges his jaw. A thousand voices speak.

Deep in his pocket, Oscar’s phone starts ringing. 

“Are you sure?”

---

Logan Sargeant rots in a shallow grave and a dead man wins a championship. 

---

“Hey. It’s me. Obviously. Uh. So. It’s not gonna be an easy retirement like we thought. They- they think she’s too hungry. After the crash. The factory shook and- well. It’s my job. But, um, if you can get here. Before- I’d like that. I miss you. I will miss you. I’ll keep my cell on, so- yeah.”

[motorsport-halloween]

⇨ AO3 COLLECTION | ROUND ONE | ROUND TWO ⇦

【 FIC 】

☠︎ Happy Death Race by @powerful-owl - Carlos/Oscar, 7k, rated E (ongoing)

Oscar is in a time loop and Carlos won't stop dying.

☠︎ Aisling | Nightmare by @metallicinterests - Max/Daniel, 9k, rated E (ongoing)

It isn't just on Samhain, when the Sidhe can cross through the veil. They manage to slip through on all of the holy days. Midsummer, Ostara, Imbolc. Beltane. Daniel's fucking done with this shit.

☠︎ run boy run by @leafitoutmate - Lando/Oscar, 15k, rated E (complete)

Lando might have gotten in too deep when he discovers the darkside of his new sugar daddy. Or maybe he's discovering something dark deep within himself.

☠︎ Tender by @speciallivery - Max/Daniel, 2k, rated M (complete)

Red Bull has a well gaurded secret that allows them to stay on top. It's Daniel's time. Despite everything, Max is tender, Max is kind.

☠︎ The Great Dreadful Multiverse Joy-Ride of Charles Leclerc by paradoxsoup - Charles/Max, 3k, rated T (ongoing)

Charles wakes up in a reality where he is a Red Bull Racing driver, which is bad, and where Max Verstappen is a Ferrari driver, which is worse.

☠︎ in the woods somewhere by @dannyricrolled - Max/Daniel, 4k, rated M (ongoing)

Daniel needs a break from the city and its distracting hustle and bustle. When his editor offers a cabin in a small town in the middle of the woods, Daniel takes it, hoping to write the novel he's promised.

☠︎ the lion and the mouse by kashoot - Max & Charles, 2k, rated G (complete)

Max and Charles finally complete their FIA-mandated community service.

☠︎ Careful what you wish for by @sequinsandfins - Max/Daniel, 8k, rated E (complete)

Daniel finds himself in a world in which he never left Red Bull, and is still teammates with Max, but they are no longer friends, so it's a shock when Max pushes him up against a wall and drops to his knees.

☠︎ use my body, baby by @astonstrolls - Fernando/Lance, 7k, rated E (complete)

Fernando, Max and Charles wake up in the wrong bodies. Lance, Lewis and Pierre have very different reactions.

☠︎ Slacken, Tense by @rockyteriyaki - George/Alex, 10k, rated E (complete)

George finds a genie. He doesn't know what to do with him.

☠︎ Sound The Alarm Let It Begin by @saapphicx - Max/Daniel, 2k, rated E (ongoing)

Daniel’s edges have been blunted and filed down to nothing. Luckily for him, Max still has his.

【 ART 】

☠︎ Neptune and the Lighthouse by @subaru-copilot - Lando/Oscar

☠︎ another superstition fan cover by @fast-burn - Max/Daniel

⇨ JOIN US ON THURSDAY, OCT 31, FOR THE GRAND FINALE! ⇦

graphic by the incomparable @racecrafting

[latecomersprivilege]

I got tagged by @ctimenefic to share the last 6 sentences of my wip for @motorsport-halloween, which may in fact be the only bit of it that ever sees the light of day because it is killing me unsoftly, but....

___

They had been on the boat for five days. The wind was fine and the weather fair as they’d made their way out of Great Yarmouth, but as the shore faded from the horizon a rising swell slapped the figurehead and made the smiling young woman weep. From there it had been rough going. George had sat for most of it with his head between his legs on a soaked stool in the bowels of the boat, too sick to stand and preach like Toto on the main deck. God had fixed his legs to the planks; even as the boat pitched and heaved he stayed upright, one hand only gripping a frayed loop of rope hanging from the rafters whilst the other was thrown out in invocation to the wary crowd. 

One day, George might be so favoured.

[pumpkennpie]

Tag game!

I was tagged by @jaecantwrite to share a snippet from something I’ve written recently!

So, this is the first time in sharing anything from this fic on tumblr. This fic is going to be my magnum opus, but this snippet is more slice of life in the fic than anything groundbreaking.

Still, I hope y’all enjoy!

I don’t want to put the title out yet, so I’ll just let you know that I refer to it as “orpheus”.

[fogaminghub]

https://www.fogaminghub.com/post/survive-the-north-yankton-nightmare-ludendorff-cemetery-awaits

🎃👻 Are you ready to face the North Yankton Nightmare? 🧟‍♂️ 

Join the new Ludendorff Cemetery Survival mode in GTA Online where the undead await you! Survive waves of terrifying foes, complete community challenges, and unlock spooky rewards! 

💵 Earn GTA$100,000 and special masks while you battle through three chilling waves! 

Check out all the details and get ready to fight the zombies!