#my two pence

[realkaijuhavecurves]

New concept for Gävlebocken/The Swedish Christmas Goat in Gävle:

Something along the lines of 2023, where the goat was naturally worn down (eaten) by birds. Make the goat biodegradable in some way that benefits the local wildlife and looks cool/eye-catching.

In that way, also acknowledging that the farming practices that produced the straw which made up the preceding goats are outdated and incompatible with climate change and the switch to a sustainable society.

[conkers-thecosy]

Not to be That Guy, but I've noticed a lot of posts floating about lately with a certain disdain for fanfic readers, in respect of "not interacting with fanfiction the right way" and I just really wanted to say that as a fic writer myself, it kind of bothers me.

Like, I understand that it can be frustrating when you work hard at writing a fic and don't get the response you're after, but these reams of rules and complaints are genuinely just going to kill positive interaction entirely. It's going to make folks scared to say or do the wrong thing, so they won't leave comments or share or drop a kudos in case they offend someone.

And who can blame them, really? The tone of some of these posts... it's very "fanfic authors don't owe readers anything" and like?? Sure, I guess??? But that's pretty unpleasant aside from anything else, don't you think?

You can air a grievance, of course you can, but let's not make sweeping statements, be hostile, or make demands of people.

We're all here to have fun and share our love of whatever source material. Maybe instead of focusing on the things and people that annoy you, try showing and sharing your appreciation with those that are as excited as you are.

Trust me, fandom is way more fun like that.

[mattxosc]

i glow pink in the nighttt

in my rrrooomm

idek i kinda dont like thsi

[artificialac1d]

tuppence

[marietheran-archived]

My hot take is that there is a problem with the lyric "We would pick a decade we wished we could live in instead of this/I’d say the 1830s but without all the racists" but it's not the one everyone thinks it is. The "without all the racists" addition is just dumb. Pandering. Everyone knows that when you're fantasising about a time you'd rather live in, you are thinking of a hypothetical version of it with morals you would accept, and higher medical standards, and less actual work to be done... it's a game. You're talking more about fashion than anything else... maybe with a smattering of manners and customs.

The second half of the lyric smacks of almost OCD-like overcorrection (I have it, I can say it). Yeah, Taylor Swift would have gotten slack about it from the people who police those things for the slightest lack of clarity in terms of "what she might have meant" if she had left it out. She got it anyway.

[danwhobrowses]

Since it's being brought up a bit again - at least from what I've seen - in the Critical Role fandom I'm just gonna vent some stuff about C3 mainly regarding the indecision of the god stuff. I will point out beforehand however that I still really enjoy C3, I love the characters, I like getting lore even from the gods and there's been a lot of great moments, but there are of course frustrations as there has likely been with every campaign

Spoilers just in case, up to 109 and a small 10th Oct 4SD mention

Okay so, the whole god stuff has been done a lot this campaign. I understand why Matt pushed it because it is a grand scale situation where a 'right answer' can differ from person to person, and I'm fine with the fact that there are members of the Hells who don't like the gods, because it's realistic that people who grew up differently would feel differently about these kinds of topics. But with us nearing 110 episodes, I am frustrated with how we're continually entertaining the idea of just doing Ludinus' plan after killing him, mainly in order to chase the pantheon away whether they want to leave or not, we've done the 'Is Ludinus right?' 'No he should be stopped' loop a lot of times now, to me this is just another flavour of that and while we have seen the gods do some shady stuff, I still don't buy the idea that them leaving will fix anything, let alone using a god eater entity to do it.

What frustrates me currently about this is that the Hells seem quite in unison that Ludinus should be stopped, they won't sacrifice one another, and that the gods shouldn't die, but for some reason these three valid points don't get focused on when deliberating the presented options of releasing Predathos. On 4SD Robbie got struck by a moment of clarity when asked how Dorian - notably on the anti-God side of things - feels about potentially sacrificing his friends Fearne and/or Imogen in an effort to make them - despite their preference to not be - a vessel of Predathos, and while it's perfectly fine that they suddenly realised this it does show that the majority of the Hells are experiencing a bit of tunnel vision and focusing on their ideal outcome rather than a compromise they can all unite on. It's not that it's bad to try and unearth more information about the unknown factors, but his reaction makes it apparent that the right questions still aren't being asked to the group;

"Are you willing to sacrifice Fearne and/or Imogen?"

"Are you okay with being just as bad as Ludinus and Zathuda by doing what they plan(ned) to do?"

"Is this what FCG sacrificed himself for?"

If any of the Hells - minus Braius since he doesn't know the group so well - would answer Yes to these I'd be shocked and honestly feel a little betrayed, because it's not in any of their established characters to do that. Believing that they'd answer No to all however bodes the question of why we're even considering releasing Predathos?

The whole plan has so many reasons it should've been shut down already, which is why I personally don't enjoy them talking about it as an option; not just because of the many unknown factors regarding vessels and Predathos, or the fact that Orym and Imogen know just how all-consuming Predathos' pull is, or because it'd mean betraying their allies in the Accords, or because it means risking one or two of their own, or because there's no plan for what comes after by any party, or because we've seen how at the mercy of Predathos' power all Ruidusborns have been both at the Key and on Ruidus itself, or even that the Matron's suggestion that Love - which while unlimited in individual willpower is not omnipotent - will allow the Vessel to subdue Predathos is a limp argument because unlike the previous Death God who allowed the Matron to usurp them Predathos very clearly doesn't want to be contained. All those reasons should've killed the idea anyway but one of the big and more personal reasons the Hells shouldn't be doing it is because releasing Predathos would vindicate Ludinus. All the horrible things he's done and all the people who he has let die all for the plan, the very things the Hells have tried to hold him responsible for would be justified by completing his plan, regardless of whether he lives to see it. Plus the encounter with the Matron once again reiterates that there will be gods who won't run, that some will choose oblivion fighting for this world over abandoning it. Since the Hells don't want the gods to die - including Ashton and Dorian, who want them to leave or at the least be accountable for their actions - releasing Predathos should be nixed here too. As a last resort it is valid but only as a last resort, when all better options - and that is a long list - have failed.

I understand that the table enjoy tough decisions and conflict, and that the majority of them are not in the same mind as the characters they are playing when it comes to the gods, and to reiterate the God lore has been juicy - I loved Downfall - but we are over two thirds through the usual lifespan of a campaign now and the group isn't even locked in on what they should do! I know others want it but I don't believe that a big PVP or an argumentative shouting contest is needed so close to the final arc either, it'd only risk breaking the group apart at a key moment, but at the same time it does need to be addressed to find a point of unison again, and discuss what outcome the characters can live with - what can be abided and compromised on and what cannot.

Matt has been vague with a lot of things this campaign and while in some cases that provides wiggle room for autonomy, exploration and creativity, it also means that when the god topic comes about we tend to go in circles, because everything is still vague and unclear. It doesn't help either that the way Matt has crafted god encounters so far have the ones who want to fight for Exandria either not contacting the Hells - seriously the Stormlord must be frothing to speak with Imogen right? How much more fighting does she need to do? - or in the Wildmother's case are only speaking to people they know won't argue or debate with them. It's kinda apparent that no god so far is truly humbling themselves right now; even the Matron and Arch Heart felt the need to test the Hells before presenting their stance on the situation to them, which is equally frustrating given that they need their help - plus given how the two are conspiring against the others, and Asmodeus is trying to deceive Braius, not even the gods are in unison about an end goal...but still have the audacity to let Lolth rip through Opal's memories and personality and kill Cyrus for the sake of maintaining their truce.

It is easy to point fingers from this side of the fence though, Matt is but one man and he has taken on a massive social and theological argument upon his shoulders which hits very close to home for many communities, but while there is intrigue on what the solution could be it does at times feel like we're pushing only the bad options. For instance, before the Arch Heart visit the plan seemed to be set that we stop Predathos from being unleashed, the Hells were content with it and we got all parties present in Vassalheim to agree to it too. This felt like and still feels like the best course of action because it achieves all 3 united points the Hells have while also preventing more needless bloodshed and establishing diplomatic relations with the now liberated people of Ruidus, it's not easy but it's the path of least unknowns, so why doesn't it feel like it's the prioritized plan anymore? Gods like the Arch Heart don't need Predathos to leave, it's just an excuse they're weaponizing to force the others to be as cowardly as them while also avoiding accountability as Predathos and whoever releases them are left with the blame. But, providing that Predathos remains sealed and new measures are put in place to perhaps further confine and banish it so a repeat doesn't occur, there's no stopping them from just stepping down, passing on their domain to another or simply releasing it back to where it initially came from, while also just chilling in a place close to their family - that still feels like it's possible. But at the same time, their followers are owed an explanation, whether the gods want to stay or leave they should be held accountable for their position and current stance, as well as their absence and/or selfishness, and they can't expect to just run or hide away from criticism for making such a call. Whatever the outcome Exandria cannot go back to how it was, the events of C3 has shaken Exandria to its very core and a new paradigm and direction will need to be taken to create a better tomorrow both mortals and gods alike envision for it, but you can't rebuild or improve things by being absent or by holding a gun to someone else's head, and it can't do either if nobody can agree on anything. Indecision and division has allowed Ludinus to get this far, even when that was spelled out everyone still seems to be falling for that same trap, which is why it taking so long to reach a decision grows more concerning the closer we get to having to fight him on Ruidus one last time.

On top of all this, the indecision isn't the be all and end all to the plot as a whole, deciding on a path doesn't mean the path will not have obstacles or go exactly to plan (when has it ever?) it just means you know where your A to B is, if the Hells decide on what path they take there is still an absolute wealth of things outside of Ruidus still needing to be done too; amassing allies not currently at Vassalheim, saving Ryn wherever they are, getting some more relics, dealing with all the magical items we have to see what to use/sell/absorb, getting to the bottom of the people who were trying to capture Chetney, PopCon, telling FRIDA, Dancer, D, Milo and Joe about FCG's death, laying FCG's remains to rest since most of him is still in the bag of holding, Ashton lore in general (they passed their last Path feature level wise so we'd need a new avenue for them to get Luxon/Dunamancy lore, also can they and Fearne talk to their titan shards for Titan lore? They helped seal Predathos too, is there more to tell about their family or the Hishari? Ashton feels like a gold mine or lore that often stays untapped), Chetney/Orym paternity test, Orym owning up to what his deal with Nana was, potential follow-up stuff with the Kryn or the Unseelie (or just Yu, if we can pry them from Ghosting in Yotei), plus all the previously imprisoned criminals and monsters let loose unto the world by the solstice's undoing of magical seals.

I trust Matt and the players, and I acknowledge that their entertainment is the priority over mine as a spectator, but I'd be lying if pretended I wasn't irritated by this stuff, especially with so much exciting and creative things left that we can do that isn't going back to the 'Is Ludinus right?' argument for the umpteenth time.

[libdeminomenon]

There are a few posts on here about Ed Davey, leader of the Lib Dems, having a terrible voting record. People say the same about Rory Stewart, an ex-Tory, now most known for The Rest Is Politics podcast with Alastair Campbell.

I think people are too stuck on voting records. We need to remember the role of whips, and the consequences of disobeying them. Several Labour MPs, including Zarah Sultana, were recently suspended from the Labour Party for voting in favour of removing the Two-Child Benefit Cap.

While some people have supported their voting against their party, as the MPs are being true to their own beliefs or perhaps following their constituents' views, this display of division weakens parties as we saw with the Tories over Brexit, or with Labour and its split between the centre-left (Keir Starmer) and the further left (Jeremy Corbyn). This is probably why Starmer suspended his MPs - he can't afford for his party to look any weaker.

Getting themselves suspended is not going to help these rebel MPs remove the Two-Child Benefit Cap. They are now much less likely to be put in key positions under Starmer when they return, from which they could have had more of an influence on this matter and others.

While you may not agree with voting for things you believe to be wrong, you can surely see why people like Ed Davey, Rory Stewart, or even Nick Clegg felt that they had to do that. Davey and Clegg obviously did not want to raise university tuition fees - it was against what they had promised! But they had to compromise this in order for the government to continue to function and to show a strong, united front. They likely believed that it was better for the country for them to stay in power, to block as many austerity policies as they could, even if they lost on tuition fees.

I think we should be more sympathetic to UK politicians' voting records. We shouldn't write off the Lib Dems because of the coalition - coalitions are a very Liberal and very Democratic concept, where as many voices as possible are listened to, instead of just having one party in power - and this makes it clear why Nick Clegg entered the coalition, despite knowing he would have to concede things to to Tories. What do you think?

[conkers-thecosy]

You know, not to put anyone on blast over here, but sometimes when someone says something negative about whatever I'm creating, I like to remind myself that there are genuinely folks out in the world who (and stay with me here) don't like dogs.

DOGS.

They just?? Don't like them???

It baffles me.

So! My point here is that really, if there are people who don't like dogs, then you really can't please everyone, nor should you try to.

[conkers-thecosy]

idk I just think that folks respond to authenticity, you know? And I think authenticity gets easier as you get older, not so much because you stop caring about what other people think, but because it just gets so fucking exhausting to pretend for so long to be someone you aren't.

[drmsofanabsolution]

like when tommy’s mum was going through a divorce why was she just arguing with dream stans on twitter if it was a serious time in her life?? why waste time on twitter arguing with people who disagree with your son (which you don’t exactly know the full story about probably) when you’re going through something like that??

[my-chemical-rot]

Back in the states I downloaded a few supernatural episodes to watch on the plane, watched them on the plane, got re-invested in season 3, then landed in France and found out supernatural isn’t on French Netflix. so now I’m watching Sherlock season 4 instead. And for a minute I genuinely forgot there are only 3 episodes instead of 4.

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter six | formula one imagine

chapter six: fireproof

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

testing is finally here and after the car launch, y/n is not looking forward to the mercedes garage

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

the day and a half after the car launch before max was called into the factory by red bull was a slice of peace y/n had longed for for three years. but also one she couldn’t help think would be the last bit of peace she would be afforded this season.

the pair woke up the morning after the launch, bundled up together and hair sticking up in every direction.

“good morning” y/n said, words smothered by max’s chest. the dutchman grumbled to himself as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter.

“max, your phone won’t stop vibrating - please tell whoever it is to fuck off”

max groaned, flipped over and grabbed his phone. with his eyes shut, max jammed a couple buttons and suddenly the gravely voice of helmut marko rung out.

“max! where are you? the team have just informed me that you left early and are not at the hotel?”

the dutchman finally opened his eyes. he pulled y/n back into his side and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“helmut, it’s too early for this many questions.”

“i asked you one, very straight forward question, max.”

“i’ll be at the factory tomorrow, don’t worry.”

helmut sighed down the phone, “wherever you are, make sure you’re not late and not spotted doing anything untoward.”

“me? untoward? helmut, i didn’t know you thought so low of me.”

“the only reason i believe you is because you’re on your best behaviour with y/n back, maybe we should add her to our payroll as well.”

y/n couldn’t stop herself before she burst out laughing. she smacked a hand over her mouth but it was too late. helmut hummed.

“i see. good morning miss y/ln. make sure he’s in top condition for tomorrow.”

“will do, helmut.”

max hung up as soon as he could and threw his phone down the bed. he smiles down at y/n, “that’s not exactly how i pictured my first morning in bed with you.”

“so you’ve pictured this?” y/n questions, raising an eyebrow.

“no? yes? maybe? i definitely have but i don’t want to creep you out so what do you want to hear?”

y/n laughs as he buries his head in the pillow, whining in embarrassment.

“maxy…” she sings and pokes his back.

“don’t look at me! i’m a freak!” max yells, muffled in the pillow.

“but you’re a freak for me?”

“isn’t it obvious?”

y/n finally gets max to lessen his grip on the pillow and look back up at her. there’s a dusting of pink on his face and a concerned look in his eye.

“don’t worry, i like it. as long as you’re only a freak for me.”

max ducked his head again, “as happy as i am to hear that, can we refrain from saying it like that? i was proud i managed to wake up without morning wood and you’re really testing that resolve right now.”

y/n’s laugh reverberated around the room. without the needy meows of brando, the pair could stay snuggled in the bed for much longer than usual.

“max?” y/n asked, the dutchman had rearranged them so that he could be the little spoon and had his head resting on her chest, “please don’t be sorry for your feelings. they don’t make me uncomfortable and unlike others you didn’t just assume i reciprocated. i like what we have and i want to see where it could go, but i want to take it slow. i don’t want people butting in and adding their two pence. i just want you - and our furry babies.”

y/n could see the smile breaking out on max’s face before he even lifted his head from her chest.

“i said i just want to exist with you,” max said, “that will never, ever change.”

the dutchman’s eyes flicked down to her lips and the blush returned when he realised he wasn’t too subtle about it. y/n gives him a small nod and max leans in.

“can i?”

“please,” y/n whispered as max’s lips connected with hers. it was a small peck, just a press of lips, but it was enough. both pulled back and smiled, happy to breathe the same air for a while. y/n’s hand wrapped around his nape and pulled him in for another one. this kiss lasted longer, the pair pouring their years of pining into it, communicating something words could not describe.

for a moment y/n wished that she hadn’t returned to formula one. she wished that this would be her life. happy in her coop in west london with her and max’s cats waiting for the dutchman to come home, far away from her past ghosts and the sport that nearly killed her.

“will you still find me attractive in mercedes kit?”

“that’s a stupid question. you’re the most beautiful person in the world. yes, i would prefer if it were my number and my colours, but i’ll live with it if it means seeing you at every race.”

y/n giggled, the dutchman pressed another kiss to her lips because he could.

“i know you’ll be rooting for kimi this season, but i’ll win every race for you. even if the red bull is a shit box, i’ll fight everyone to bring that trophy home to you.”

“my singular monza trophy is a little lonely,” y/n said, “but your wins are yours, not anyone else’s”

y/n pushed back the duvet and started to get out of bed, much to the chagrin of max. despite his attempted puppy-dog eyes, y/n shuffled into her slippers and made her way to the kitchen.

“find something good to watch, i’ll cook up one last cheat meal for you,” y/n’s voice called from the hallway. max stayed led in the bed, a dumb smile on his face. it all felt a bit too good to be true and he hoped those in the paddock who had already caused some trouble would stay out of this.

despite another night of snuggles, max did not want to leave for milton keynes the next morning. y/n had made him a breakfast sandwich for the ride, but it did little to console the young dutchman even though the pair would be apart for just two days before they’d reunite in monaco and fly out to bahrain.

“i don’t wanna go… i want to stay here, you’re so much nicer to look at than christian!”

max was dragging his feet as he made his way to the hire car. he even tried to delay his departure by roping frank into a conversation but y/n had thought of that and rung down to reception in advance.

“it’s like you want me gone!” max cried as he put his bags in the car.

y/n laced her fingers in his, “you know i’ll miss you, but i don’t want to hear helmut’s voice any more than i have to, so you have to go. i’ll see you in monaco.”

max pulled her into one last kiss and reluctantly got into the car. y/n waved him off as he disappeared into the streets of london.

“finally!”

a yell boomed out in the garage, making y/n jump and stick her keys out as a makeshift weapon. frank stood at the entrance of the garage with a huge smile on his face. y/n calmed down when she saw the older man.

“frank! that scared the shit out of me! how long have you been there?”

“long enough.”

frank looked very smug. y/n made her way to the entrance, pointedly ignoring the older man.

“don’t be mad, i won’t tell anyone. i’m just glad you finally realised what was right in front of you.”

did everyone see it before her? it certainly seems that way.

“we’re taking it slow, so i’d appreciate if you kept this under your hat, frank.”

“of course, miss y/ln. would you like me to arrange for another parking spot for your flat?”

y/n tried to keep a stern look but she just couldn’t help it and smiled at the older man.

“that would be lovely, thank you.”

her apartment was quiet without max. she didn’t want to say she missed him just yet, but she had to busy herself with something before she fell down that hole. she needed to pack and get a flight back to monaco so she could spend a little more time with the cats before pre-season testing kicked off the season.

y/n’s phone buzzed with a message.

kimi: y/nnnnnnnn huge favour to ask! george can only give me a lift back to london before we go to bahrain so could i maybe get a lift to brackley???

y/n: if you buy my coffee at each stop you’ve got a deal.

kimi: yes, yes. i know your order - THANK YOU !

she better get to packing.

the italian stood on the side of the road, wrapped up in two coats, a hat and a scarf. ollie stood beside him in just a t-shirt, some shorts and a pair of flip flops, showing off his british aversion to the cold.

y/n pulled up beside the pair and winded down the window. “don’t you know hitchhikers are dangerous?”

kimi smiled and gave ollie a quick hug, popping the boot and shoving his small suitcase in. the italian slipped into the passenger seat and waved at ollie.

“why didn’t i have the idea to ask you to be my mentor?” ollie whined, “esteban is great and he has already given me a ton of lifts but you’re you!”

“snooze you lose” kimi said, poking out his tongue.

“esteban is great ollie, don’t believe all this shit about him being a bad teammate. he’s lovely and will be more than happy to help you out. however, we do need to go because i need to drop off this princess and get a flight to monaco. ciao!”

y/n stood on the gas and flew off down the street. from the corner of her eye, y/n could see kimi studying her. this wasn’t too strange for the italian, he often just stared at her, amazed that she had even agreed.

“i can feel you staring kimi, do you have a question?”

“why are you so happy?”

y/n laughed at the bluntness. the italian sputtered, “i mean i’m happy you’re happy, but i can’t help but be suspicious. i haven’t heard a peep from you since the car launch… and a little birdy told me you left with a certain someone.”

“it’s been two days, kimi!”

“you’re still smiling, you can’t stop and considering you smiled maybe twice in the first couple days i knew you - this means something!”

“fine! you caught me. i did go home with max. i’m not saying anymore than we’re happy and we’re taking it slow. i’m telling you because i believe for a good mentor relationship i should be completely open, as should you. also you’re like a quasi-son to me so there’s also that. do not tell anyone else, i’m serious. not even ollie.”

kimi whined at that, “but i tell ollie everything!”

“well not this. you saw how some of the people, including your teammate are with me and max, i do not want to give them any ammunition, okay?”

kimi hummed to himself, his brain whirring so loudly that even y/n could hear it over the music and the road. “speaking of those who WILL be without ammunition because i WILL keep my mouth zipped shut… how are we actually planning on tackling george this season?”

y/n was making the turn off of the motorway and towards brackley as she chuckled, “aside from physically tackling him at testing? i am joking, by the way. kimi, i don’t want you to worry about george anywhere but the track. he talks a big talk, but he’s very easy to frustrate when he’s not winning. don’t give him the rise he’ll want, okay?”

the tension rose in the car, it had all been fun and games up until this point, cocktails parties and car launches. but now it was getting real. y/n had the voice in the back of her head that worried that her off-track drama with the other drivers could impact kimi’s career.

“please stop worrying, y/n. i know what you’re thinking, but i am capable of handling it myself. i may only be eighteen but i’m not afraid of anyone.”

y/n pulled up outside of the mercedes factory and turned to kimi. she grabbed his hands, “promise me, kimi. promise me that if the drama with me gets too much, you will say something. i know it’s your dream to work with me, but make sure i do not interfere with your career.”

kimi scoffed, “them being afraid of you will never be your fault, you know-”

“it doesn’t matter if my fault or not, if their pettiness fucks with you, i won’t be able to forgive myself…”

just as they spoke, george pulled up beside them in his mercedes. the brit wasn’t alone in his car however. a brunette woman sat in the passenger seat, and much like george, her eyes narrowed at the sight of y/n.

“that’s carmen, george’s girlfriend. she doesn’t usually come to the factory with him?” kimi gasped, “maybe she’s here to stake her claim on george, as if you’d want him anyway…”

y/n laughed as kimi got out of the car. the italian grabbed his stuff from the boot and walked round to the window. y/n rolled it down and the two did their handshake.

“enjoy the prep, bunny, don’t make too much mess. see you in bahrain!”

the moment was cut short by someone clearing their throat. carmen had rolled down her window and was looking at kimi, less than impressed. the italian squeaked a quick goodbye and shuffled towards the entrance.

y/n tried not to make eye contact with carmen as she inputted the airport’s address into her gps. she was baffled by the news that george even had a girlfriend, not that she wanted kimi or the couple to know that. how long had they been together? did she know about y/n and about george’s weird feud with her? too many questions and not enough answers.

george and carmen made their way past y/n’s car and stopped just in front of the entrance, pointedly in y/n’s eye line. the two kissed, messily for people their age, and just to sum up her return so far, george kept eye contact with y/n the entire time, his hand wandering lower and lower on carmen.

2025 was the year of psychological warfare it seemed. y/n could work with that.

she sped out of the car park with new vigour. if psychological warfare was what george was ordering, y/n needed to know everything about everyone. she had stayed away from the drama surrounding formula one in her three years away from the sport, but it was time to go full gossip girl.

it’s crazy how much you can find in an hour in an airline bar about your former colleagues. y/n’s phone started ringing loudly, earning her some dirty looks in the lounge.

“maxy! did you know that george dated nyck’s sister?” y/n said, shovelling the free nuts in her mouth, “and that lando and pierre once liked the same girl in dubai?”

“why oh why are you telling me about this?” max said.

“because that prick wants psychological warfare, so i have to know everything!”

max hummed, not convinced. “am i like missing something?”

“i took kimi to brackley this morning and was treated to a lovely show from george and carmen. the weirdo kept eye contact with me the entire time! so if he wants to play it like that, i gotta know my enemies.”

“as weird as this all is, i’m glad to see you’re so into all of this, miss detective.”

y/n laughed, “i know i’m reading way too much about all of this, but i swear to god if he tries to fuck with kimi or you, i’ll play dirty if i have to. i mean i just don’t understand why he’s being such an asshole now about everything i supposedly did when he has a girlfriend - insecure much?”

max laughed down the line, they really were so much more alike than people would think. hearing her now, max wished she was back in the paddock for qatar and abu dhabi last year just to see what kind of revenge she could’ve thought up.

“anyway, maxy, are you still at the factory?”

“yeah, we’re just on a break, i’m outside getting some air and i didn’t know whether you were on the plane yet or not - you know you could’ve taken air max if you wanted to?”

y/n smiled, “i didn’t need your plane for a trip to monaco, silly! i’ll only be on the flight for a little while anyway and i’m only going because i’m having withdrawal symptoms from my babies!”

“why would you say this, now i want to see them!”

the boarding sign popped up, “ah! i gotta go maxy, i’ll text you when i’m back at yours - what time does the cat sitter go?”

“she will have left like an hour or so before you get back. stay safe, i -”

there was chatter in the background, “i gotta go, bye!”

max hung up quickly. y/n was left to her thoughts again and just how much life can change. this time three years ago she was making notes about the season coming, turns to watch and previous first lap incidents and now she’s compiling gossip on the grid’s personal lives? part of her wanted to be ashamed, but in the same vain, she knew that her adversaries hadn’t spared a moment for introspection.

max’s apartment in monaco was alight with the impatient meows from brando, sassy and jimmy. the cats yowled like they hadn’t been fed in days, although clarissa, the cat sitter, had sent max and y/n nearly hourly updates on them.

“oh my babies! momma missed you so much!” y/n said, abandoning her suitcase at the door and ushering the cats towards the couch. once she was sat, brando bullied his way onto her lap, his spot, and jimmy and sassy snuggled up beside her as closely as possible.

she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of herself and the cats and sent it to max.

max: all my favourites in one place, you’re making listening to christian drone on even harder

y/n: you better keep listening, maxy, don’t want anyone else winning this season do you?

max: i do hate losing…

y/n smiled to herself, there was no lying to now, this place with the cats and max felt like home. the most at home y/n had felt for years.

“right, momma needs to shower and cook, babies!” brando did not look impressed but consoled himself by going back to grooming an equally unimpressed jimmy.

y/n rustled around max’s wardrobe trying to find a smaller towel for her hair. max wasn’t the most organised, especially with a wardrobe where he could just shut the door and forget the mess behind it. she finally got the towel loose, but with the last yank, a small book came flying out of the wardrobe.

the book was a small leather-bound book, clearly loved, bursting at the seams with use. y/n flicked open the book, scanning a couple of the pages. she could recognise the handwriting anywhere, was this max’s diary?

y/n flicked through a couple more of the pages before she landed on a page that boldly stated “fuck lando” in bold capitals. oh? the page was dated for a day in january 2020, just before she started her formula one career.

she knew this was a massive invasion of privacy, but max had never mentioned having a bust up with lando around that time - her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

i don’t know what lando’s problem is? i was on a discord call with him, george and alex this evening and he was in such a mood with me. it was all about y/n as usual with him, he’s being proper weird about her. of course we’ve already started training and discussing racing lines? we’re best friends. it’s almost like he knows i have feelings for her? but i know i haven’t been THAT obvious, at least not as bad as him and george. they think i don’t know, but they must think i’m dumb or blind (or both). he’s going to ruin his friendship with her if he’s not careful. i have loved y/n for as long as i can remember, but i don’t ever intend on making that her problem - why would she ever want to be with me? they assume because they’ve known her so long that they have this weird claim on her. i don’t know - i have a bad feeling about how this might all play out… i’ll just be there for y/n, she’s going to need it…

y/n slapped the book shut, feeling guilty about just how much she had read. max had liked her for that long? even when she was a jittery rookie with hormonal acne and way too much to say. and lando has always had this problem? there was never any chance of them being good teammates was there?

it feels like there’s a surprise around every corner since y/n reopened the pandora’s box that is formula one. how much was there left to reveal? to hurt her? can she handle what other secrets the sport has waiting for her?

but on the other side, if she had stayed in the shadows, y/n would’ve never known about max’s feelings and would never have the opportunity for what she feels right now.

y/n tucked the book back in the wardrobe and tried to wash the guilt off in the shower.

bahrain international circuit

testing was a boring affair for everyone that wasn’t in or working on the car. y/n was on her third coffee of the morning just out of pure boredom. kimi was in the car for the morning session and despite him paying her salary, toto did not seem like he’d make good conversation based on the frown on his face.

y/n saw sky making their way back down the pit lane and ducked back into the drivers’ rooms. because timing and fate loved y/n, george was leaving his just at the same moment.

it took a concerted effort not to roll her eyes as she forced out a quick good morning. george stopped in his tracks.

“good morning to you too?”

y/n gave him a nod and continued to kimi’s room, george grabbed her hand.

“are we going to have a problem the entire season? all of kimi’s career?”

“why would i have a problem, george? is there a reason i should have a problem?”

george huffed, “listen to me. we used to be so close… i wasn’t the one who crashed into you, why are you treating me like this?”

“george i’m not treating you like anything! 19 other drivers didn’t hear from me, you’re not special.”

y/n took a sip of her coffee, trying to school her heart rate, “you may have not crashed into me, but you hardly said much afterwards. you didn’t even come and visit me in the hospital? you didn’t post or say a single thing about me? you barely could bring yourself to say my name, so please spare me the lecture.”

george opened his mouth to respond but stopped, he tried to make eye contact with y/n but she avoided it.

“i didn’t think you wanted to see anyone to do with formula one! and you’re you! you hate dumb shit like instagram dedications and all that stuff…”

“you and your little partner in crime seem to be baffled about how max was the one who slipped through the cracks and stayed in my life. well read between the lines, idiot! his dedication to me is still pinned on his account, my number is on his helmet and he made the effort after the crash! you did nothing and you still expect me to coddle you?”

george tried to interject, “no! i think you’ve said enough already, george. you say all of this shit about how i led you on, but now you’re bringing up old drama when you’ve been in a relationship for years? so what’s the real reason? because so help me god, you fuck with kimi and i burn this whole place down.”

just behind george, y/n saw toto come into view. the austrian’s face told her that he had heard everything.

“well wasn’t that just great, thank you, you two. next time you have a domestic at track, please lower your voice, the entire garage now knows your business.”

“toto, i can assure you i will be nothing less than professional this season. winning with mercedes is my top priority, y/n will learn her place in this garage.”

even toto seemed taken aback by george’s words. y/n turned, her shoulder knocking george’s on the way past, “i think toto is well aware of who he hired and i know my place, just like kimi knows his… don’t crane your neck too much looking up at him on the podium.”

y/n shut the door to kimi’s driver room, and slid down to the floor. it was only the first day of testing and she’s exhausted. just outside the room she can hear george and toto still talking.

“i’m just saying i think it’s insane and honestly a little disrespectful that you hired her to begin with, toto.”

“i hired her because she was a talented driver and is willing to mentor kimi. i was not aware you two had a problem, and the fact that i’ve heard so much about it now without knowing what it actually is makes me think that the problem was in fact YOU. now calm down and get ready for your session.”

okay, maybe not all hope was lost. but y/n knew that this was just the start, the real racing had yet to begin and who knows how far george could take it, especially if the mercedes is competitive and especially if he finds out about her and max.

y/n popped open her laptop to keep track of kimi’s times on track but found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. by the time her impromptu nap had finished, kimi was making his way back into the garage, finishing the morning session. y/n made her way back into the garage to greet him as he made his way out of the car.

the session looked positive for the italian, but the pair were still anxious to see how george would perform, considering both were on the same program for the day. when kimi lifted his helmet, the two made eye contact, the italian’s eyes were so expressive that y/n could already hear the excited chatter.

“oh my god, y/n that was amazing! i know i’ve driven f1 cars before but knowing it’s actually mine for the season? wow!”

“well i’m glad you enjoyed it, let’s get some electrolytes in you before we sit down to analyse everything.”

the pair headed for the mercedes hospitality, with the other morning drivers doing the same throughout the paddock. during y/n’s nap she had missed the only real incident of the day, but a certain spaniard was about to make sure she knew.

“hey! antonelli!”

kimi’s head whipped around to see an angry carlos sainz charging towards him. the spaniard was clearly taking advantage of the lack of media outlets allowed at testing, getting in kimi’s face.

“you might be a rookie, but you’ll stay out of my way, got it? impede me like that again and we’ll see what happens!”

y/n pulled kimi behind her and jabbed her finger at carlos’ chest. “you self-important asshole, he didn’t impede you it’s testing. i know you’re at williams this season, so you’re going to have to invent a storyline for yourself, but trust me, this is not the one you want.”

“stay out of this y/ln, why don’t you stick to hopping into whoever’s winning’s bed, huh?”

y/n let out a sarcastic laugh, not caring about the small crowd forming around them. “your glory days, well whatever you call being stuck in charles’ shadow, playing politics with daddy to get given wins at ferrari only to be cast aside when you got a bit too big for your boots, are over. don’t be the bitter old bitch that makes rookies’ lives hell? oh wait, you’ve always been that way haven’t you?”

“you are a perpetual victim, y/n. that was years ago, get over it.”

“and yet you still act the exact same way. telling, really.”

carlos stayed quiet this time and y/n took that as the chance to guide kimi to hospitality. with their backs turned, “she won’t always be there for you, rookie! she can’t sleep with all of the stewards and she won’t be in the office to bat her eyelashes. so watch your back.”

y/n kept walking despite kimi tugging on her arm, wanting to retaliate. “stop. let him make a fool of himself.”

despite y/n trying to de-escalate the situation, max was less willing to do so. the dutchman had only heard a fraction but that was enough to rear the head of mad max.

“you think you’re so cute with this shit don’t you, sainz,” max said, looming over the spaniard, “you people never change, it’s pathetic.”

“the only thing that’s pathetic here is you, being her lap dog - and we’re meant to be scared of you? all we gotta do is flash an ankle or raise a hand and you’ll be eating out of our palm.”

max’s hands were shaking by his side and it took everything inside of him not to lunge at carlos. y/n’s grip on kimi tightened when jos was brought up, the crowd around them tensing as well.

“i don’t know what she does for you, but you surely can’t still be falling for it all these years later. i remember at toro rosso when you’d wake up the whole camp screaming in your motorhome and you’d call her crying. a four-time world champion and you still go crawling back to her.”

“she’s worth more than you could ever wish to be. i don’t know what propaganda your dad or lando has been feeding you, but you’re a grown man, you’re too old to be falling for it. now leave her and kimi alone. i’d threaten you, but it’s unlikely that williams will be anywhere near me this season.”

max gave one last look to y/n before running back towards the red bull garage. the crowd that had formed chattered amongst themselves and started to disperse. carlos looked enraged but backed off, not without one final glare towards the italian.

“i didn’t know formula one was just this dramatic,” kimi said, “i need to work on my insults!”

y/n laughed, but a voice from behind her stopped her dead in her tracks.

“always the centre of drama, aren’t you y/n? always looking for trouble.”

zak brown.

fin.

note: wow this took me so long to write and i kinda hate it! i am in such a rut rn idk what to do ? but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!

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[yoakkemae]

holmesdepot. { reposted for beta. }.

it didn't take a genius profiler to see what ethan was doing ( and spencer knew ethan ) , and the anger he feels bubbling up because of ethan's actions surprises him. ( he wants to punch ethan , he wants to scream , he wants to throw something because he's still trying to pick up the pieces of himself after maeve , and he knows that he would not survive it if he failed ethan too , if he had to watch ethan die -- ). the vibrancy of his anger , the violence he wants to unleash ... spencer spins around with a harsh breath in an attempt to control himself , his fists clenched and by his side , shaking.

it's not like him , he knows , but he's still brittle , still on shaky ground , still trying to reinvent himself again after the most recent loss. he knows ethan is trying to help in his own way , that he wants spencer to be confident in himself again , but ... he had used the wrong words so little time ago , has faced a failure so catastrophic that he knows he should have left when he turned thirty before any of this could have happened. maybe that would have saved maeve. ( and it's irrational , but ... maybe if his team members had taken a shot -- ).

he lets out a breath , and then another one , trying to suppress the rage. ( he can almost feel ethan's eyes on him , and spencer tries to feel shame about showing so much weakness , but ... it's ethan. there's no weakness that spencer would ever be afraid of showing him. he's already seen spencer at his worst. ).

when the anger is under control , when he's pushed an iceberg overtop of it , spencer turns back around. ( spencer can't see it , but his eyes are hollow. there is not just confidence lost ). ' you know where i am right now , ' he says quietly , voice breaking. ' and i can't ... i can't lose you. ' i can't trust myself , i can't trust them , is what goes unsaid , but they both know it ; it's why ethan is here. ... he wishes ethan could have done anything but this.

@holmesdepot

[scarbleu]

i'm lucky to even hit that </3

this site is beautiful.

"youd do numbers on tumblr" girl i am on tumblr and the numbers? 4

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[obaewankenope]

American to English translation for fic

So I read and write fanfic, as do lots of others, and I've noticed that when it comes to British shows or movies, Americanisms or American terms crop up often. It's mostly because most don't know we have specific terms for things in the UK, and I've seen references here and there before, but I've decided to write one of my own. Feel free to add to it tho! I'm gonna put it up on Ao3 too and any additions, I'll reference the tumblr and link them on Ao3 too.

AO3 link is here!!

Anyway, here we go I guess.

Some Americanisms to English-isms

Gas = fuel/petrol/diesel (we tend to specify the type of fuel the vehicle uses, diesel vehicle or petrol vehicle for example)

Gas station = petrol/fuel station

Gas court = petrol/fuel court, or sometimes forecourt (not often with this one tho)

License plate = registration plate/reg

Diner = cafe

Fast-food = takeaway (this is sort of interchangeable. McDonald's is called fast food, a meal from a pizza place that delivers is takeaway)

Motel = hotel

Side-note: We tend to use specific named hotel chains like Premier Inn (or Prem-Inn for short) or Holiday Inn or Travelodge. We also have Britannia Hotels and several others. If the fic is based in a specific place, local hotels or famous ones may be better options. For example, in Liverpool, we have The Shankly or Adelphi.

Cab = taxi or black hac for a specific type of taxi.

Side-note: These are what you see in BBC Sherlock, for example, and are a UK staple. They're less popular or common-place nowadays but there are dedicated taxi companies that use them. There's on in my town that operates until 4pm each day. They are also usually more expensive than a car taxi but they have oodles of space and you can have a pram/buggy kept upright rather than folded-down in them which is brilliant.

Cop = police officer

Side note: more informal, colloquial terms include "copper", "the fuzz", "tit-head" (because of the nipple hat okay, just look up the hat, it's hilarious), "bobby", "rozzer" (pronounced r-o-z-er not Row-zer), and "the bill" (there's an actual show called this btw. It can be a good reference for anyone writing crime fic in UK). There's more but those are the most common. Older terms do include "peelers" and "old bill".

Second side-note: the police have a whole host of terms, colloquial and slang that can be a great thing to include in fic, which I'll link a glossary of here. It's not all UK centric but cross-country policing is a thing so that may just be a boon imho. Also the short-hand acroynmns used are useful so here's a link to the Metropolitan Police glossary of those too!

Patrolman = constable or police constable

Antenna = aerial or TV aerial

Fall (season) = autumn

Bill = banknote or specifically "tenner", "fiver", "twenny" (not "twenty"). We don't have single banknotes like a dollar bill. We have pound coins

Dimes, nickels, etc = pound coin, two-pound coin, fifty-pence, penny, two-pence, five-pence, ten-pence, twenty-pence (link here about the coin currency)

Drug store = chemist or pharmacy

Optometrist = optician

Primary care physician = GP (general practitioner) here's a link about UK medical terms for doctors etc

Side-note: here's a link about medical terminologies etc between American and UK

Social security number = national insurance number

Liquor store = off-license or, specifically, Bargain Booze™

Liquor = spirits (usually)

Store = shop

Target, Walmart, etc = honestly, it's probably gonna be Tesco, ASDA, Morrisons, ALDI or Lidl

Superstore = supermarket

Shopping cart = shopping trolley or just "trolley"

Yard-sale = car-boot/car-bootie/car-boot sale

Attorney = barrister or solicitor (solicitors you go to for legal help, barristers tend to be involved in actual court matters, like a the Crown Prosecution Service), here's a link that explains it better

Janitor = caretaker

French-fries = chips (although McDonald's French-fries are just that, French-fries)

Intersection = crossroad

Highway/freeway = motorway

Interstate = usually an A-road or a motorway, we don't really have interstates here)

Overpass = flyover

Turnpike = toll motorway

Windshield = windscreen

Trunk of a car = boot or car boot

Hood of a car = bonnet or car bonnet

Truck = lorry

Sedan = saloon car

Blowout = puncture or flat tyre

Pavement = road

Sidewalk = path

Subway = underground (like the London Underground)

Drapes = curtains (though we do use "drapes" we tend to say "curtains" more)

Pacifier = dummy or "dodo" or "dodi"

Diaper = nappie or a pull-up (if its like underwear for toddlers)

Baby crib = baby cot (though we do use "crib", we tend to say "cot" more)

Baby carriage/pushchair/stroller = pram or buggy (more specific type tho, here's a link about the differences)

Trash/garbage can = bin, dustbin, rubbish bin

Garbage/trash collector = binman/binmen

Mail = post

Mailman = postman

Mailbox = postbox

The movies = cinema or pictures

Movie = film (less common nowadays with influence of Americanisms but I still use "film" and a lot of people my age and older do too (25+)

First floor = ground floor okay, it's the ground floor because it's on ground level

Sneakers = unless they're Converse, it's probably just "trainers"

Baggage = luggage

Purse (as in the bag) = handbag, or "purse" but that tends to be the thing you put your money and cards in then put in your handbag

Vacuum cleaner = hoover or a specific brand like Henry Hoover™, which you'll find we tend to just call Henry (though I have a John Lewis hoover I got from George, ASDA that I've named 'George' and yes, I do say "I need to use George in a bit to hoover" regularly)

Sweater = jumper or, if it buttons up it's a cardigan or cardi

Closet = wardrobe

Elevator = lift

Call collect = reverse charges

Schools = we have primary/infants (11yrs)and secondary/high school (11-16yo) with some high schools have sixth-form college (16-18yo) or actual independent colleges for the same ages

College = university

Semester = term

Vacation = holiday

Kindergarten = nursey/reception

Flashlight = torch

Wrench = spanner

Backyard = garden

Cookie = biscuits

Chips = crisps (like Walkers™ or Lays™ in the States)

Pants = trousers

Cottoncandy = candyfloss

Dude = bloke/fella/mate

John Doe = John Smith

Exhausted (tired) = knackered

Cell phone = mobile

Cell data = mobile data/4G/5G

Bathroom/restroom = loo/toilet (informal term "bog")

Thanks = cheers

Soccer = football

Y'all = "you lot"

Fuck off/hit the road/go away = bugger off

Some slang phrases too

Bits and bobs = stuff, usually random

Take the mick/mickey = making fun of someone or over-exaggerating

Bob's your uncle = there you go, basically

Bog standard = typical, run of the mill kind of deal

Gutted = feel upset, disappointed

Dull as dishwater = basically really, really fuckin boring

Chinwag = basically "shooting the breeze" or just having a talk/chat

.

If you have any others that you think of or want added, reblog and add em! Tags too if you'd prefer but reblogs would be easier ☺️