#pat steiner

[alexturntable]

Helmet pats (+ tyre pat)

[giuseppe-yuki]

emotional support animal

yuki tsunoda x bunny shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.3k

warnings: a few curse words, a little violence

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you're labelled as yuki's "emotional support animal" until you become a little more than that

picture credits from pinterest :)

“ughhh!” yuki groans dramatically into the decorative pillow. as he lies face down horizontally across the sofa, he kicks his feet like a baby throwing a tantrum. you sit stool on the other side of his drivers room, sipping a sugar-free red bull, unimpressed. outside, the sun has just risen above the skyline, marking the beginning of the day.

“get up!!” you scold, “michael says you have to be out of the room and onto the track in the next ten minutes- or else!” 

face still buried in the pillow, he mutters out a response. “do i have to? when i have workouts, especially in the morning, it just ruins my whole day.” 

“um, yes?” you say incredulously. how michael italiano ever got yuki to do anything physically demanding, you would never know. “besides, you’re not even working out today- you’re just doing your track walk around red bull ring.” 

your boyfriend turns around on the sofa, hair ruffled and team kit fairly wrinkled. he stares at the ceiling for a second, as if contemplating something. suddenly, he pushes himself up off the couch and shuffles towards you. “what if… you do that bunny thing you usually do so i can carry you around the track? that way you can come with me on the track walk, and it’ll make it less boring.” 

to an outsider, it sounds like a loving boyfriend wanting to be with his girlfriend. but you knew yuki too well. “you’re only saying that so you have an excuse to leave if michael asks you to go to workout after the track walk, aren’t you?”

he pouts. “no i’m not! i swear” he says unconvincingly.

“okayyy, baby” you reply. "whatever you say." you take one last sip of your drink and turn towards the door. “let’s go.” 

by the time yuki arrived at the meeting spot with michael, you had already fallen asleep in his arms. it was quite comfortable actually, with yuki’s hand cupped protectively underneath your paws, body in loaf position, and head tucked into his side. since it was still early into the day, the heat radiating off his body felt so good against the chilly morning air. his arms rocked you gently while he walked, which only gave you more of a reason to fall asleep. 

it wasn’t until he giggled a little too hard about a joke that michael made about bottoming that you finally awoke from your slumber. 

yuki notices you blinking your sleepy eyes immediately and smiles at you in his arms. he leans forwards, gives you a kiss top off your fluffy head, and whispers into your soft ears, “fell asleep huh? And you were the one getting mad at me for trying to take a nap on the couch!” 

you nibble a little bit on his shirt to show your annoyance, but he just giggles and gives you a few pats on the head.

michael looks onto the scene with an amused look on his face. “i originally wasn’t gonna ask, but what’s up with the bunny?”

“err, well shes my…emotional support animal.” yuki says, giving you a few extra pats for emphasis. 

emotional support animal? that was a new one.

yuki carried you everywhere the rest of race weekend, after the news of his new "emotional support animal" circled around the paddock. people approached you both often, causing you to reach a point of mini stardom with the paddock staff and younger fans, with guenther steiner asking to pet you, suzie wolff wondering if she could hold you, and little girls dressed in full ferrari attire requesting a picture of you. honestly, you didn’t mind it one bit, because you just had to sit in yuki’s arms and you could get free pets and head scratches the whole day. he even brought you to the media pen to keep him company. it wasn’t until a vcarb fan event that it started getting a little rough.

“yuki, may i pet your bunny?” a sweet looking little boy says, approaching him. yuki had placed you on the ground because was mostly signing posters and taking pictures, so you hopped closer towards the boy, as if saying yes. he throws a glance at his mother, who is chatting up your boyfriend about the results that weekend, and then promptly throws himself at you. you hop back in surprise, but he has already caught you in his arms. he roughly pets you, and even yanks on your ears, hard. 

you let out a squeak of pain, and that’s when yuki immediately snatches you back from the boy’s arms. he holds you close against his chest, comforting you. “do not do that.” he chastises the boy. his mother, realizing what he has done, grabs the boy quickly, apologizes, and rushes off. 

if that boy held you for a second more, you surely would have bit his finger off, you thought to yourself. you hesitantly let others pet you, but stayed on high alert. it wouldn’t happen again, right? 

this time, a man in full vcarb attire stumbles his way towards yuki. in his hand is bloody mary, topped with a piece of celery and lemon on the rim of the glass. he’s clearly a little drunk. still, your boyfriend smiles at him kindly and offers to sign the cap that the fan is wearing. the drunk fan yanks his cap off of his head in rush to give it to him, accidentally sloshing some of his drink onto you.

are you actually kidding me right now? you think, a little pissed off. that’s gonna be so hard to get off of my fur!

you turn around, thumping your foot, and nibbles on the fan’s shoelaces as a warning. the fan immediately notices this, and roughly knocks you aside with his boot. 

your eyes widen, and you scurry back behind yuki’s feet.

yuki immediately drops his sharpie and the fan’s hat and picks you up. “bro, what the fuck? you did not just kick my bunny,” he says angrily. “she was chewing your shoelaces because you just spilled your drink all over her!” he points to the red liquid and piece of celery leaf clearly stuck to the side of your fur.

“it doesn’t matter; just sign my hat. i paid a lot of money to be here!” the fan responds, nonchalantly. “besides, its probably some stupid wild bunny that climbed out of the trees from around the circuit. why do you care anyways?”

sensing an issue, daniel, who was signing caps next to yuki, stood up and called security over. fans in line had their phones out, recording the drama that was unfolding. you shrink back into yuki’s arms, a little offended from the fan's words.

before yuki could respond, the man reaches forward and pushes him, hard. your boyfriend stumbles back a few steps, but catches himself. 

you gasp internally. oh there is no way that guy just touched my man like that! you launch yourself out of yuki’s arms and directly at the man, claws out. you scratch and bite every surface you could reach. by the time security arrived, the man had a big cut on his face, multiple bite marks and a torn up shirt. 

when news of the incident circulated around the paddock, you were rebranded as yuki’s “attack bunny.” you laughed when you found out that night, lying horizontal on the plush hotel bed on yuki. you hold out your phone to his face level, showing him the new article on your phone.

“look baby, i’m not your emotional support animal anymore; i’m now your attack bunny!” you giggle, head in his lap.

yuki laughs too, and tucks a strand of your hair behind your face. his face immediately morphs into one of concern though. “are you sure you are okay though?” he asks for the thousandth time that day. “i know i asked you after the incident but i want to make sure you are actually okay, and you don’t have any secret broken ribs or anything.”

“yes, i’m fine,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “that weirdo just scared me, that’s all. i’m pretty sure he’s the one that’s not okay after i was done with him!” 

 “okay,” yuki says, smiling down at you in his lap. “i guess now i know i don’t need security anymore- i have a reliable attack bunny to protect me!” 

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 3)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: don't come for me. i love daniel. it's all for plot. (also, if the timeline seems odd it’s bc creative liberties have been taken 😌)

P3 - stairmaster endurance

As you walked down the steps to the Drivers Gala in your stunning red dress, you were unaware how one Ferrari driver couldn’t take his eyes off you. Looking at you smiling elegantly to one of the reps who greeted you, Charles realised just how much of a mistake he had made. Carlos was at his side, saying something that was back ground noise. All Charles could focus on was you. Your flowing hair, your eyes glinting in the light as you smiled your beautiful smile at whoever was talking to you. You always spoke with such passion. Charles always loved that about you. He would always love every little thing about you—

The alarm went off. 

You blinked and stopped the timer notification that essentially shook you out of the deep rabbit hole of F1 fanfiction you had found yourself falling into. Closing the purple app, you wondered why you still remained on Tumblr even after the 2013 hype of it died and everyone shifted to Twitter. Let alone the fact that your Tumblr had become your closeted way to fangirl about the sport you had dedicated your life to.

Then again, what were you to expect? The algorithm clearly picked up on your interests. That or the government was listening in and knew that Formula 1 was your day-to-day. That would explain how, one day, you were simply scrolling through the random, niche memes and BAM! You were met with the completely random gif-set of Arthur Leclerc and Oscar Piastri sat in an interview for Prema. 

It had caught you off guard, seeing that come up on your phone screen. It had also been a while since you had seen Arthur. For the whole duration of that single and endless moment, you didn't know how to react.

So your thumb double tapped the screen.

And maybe it was your fault for liking it, for encouraging the algorithm. But you could’t help but smile at the gif of Arthur confident and proud of his 18 hour screen time. That boy had no filter and never gave a fuck about the social norm. That and he often just didn’t read the room. Even after all these years, and his climb up the motorsport ladders, that youthful element about him had remained. It made you smile. You always liked that about him.

However, with that gif-set came more stuff. Innocent stuff. More F2 bits - you really missed those boys - and then everything else. Funny bits of Max at Red Bull. Carlos and Lando. All the Guenther Steiner moments. It was a little weird to be liking gifs of a team principal, you were well aware, but if anything it just made you feel proud of how far the German-Italian had come.

Back in the old Red Bull days, Guenther would always tell you about his dreams of directing his own team. It was nice to see him finally achieve that. It was also an endless source of amusement for you.

For example: the day Kevin had shattered the door.

When it happened, though, it was definitely not a laughing matter. You had been just finishing up the lunch service at the Haas motorhome - making sure to pack up some food for the drivers and mechanics who still were in a meeting - when you had heard the loud noise. Mack, the sous-chef, had stopped and looked at you with wide eyes.

You had both exited the kitchen to walk out to the main space of the motorhome and see other Haas employees equally as confused and whispering. Not getting a clear answer, you patted Mack on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen to finish plating up Kevin and Romain’s lunch for later. 

Fifteen minutes later, however, and you had gotten your answer when Guenther stormed into the kitchen fuming. “He does not slam my fucking office door! What am I going to do? Call Gene and tell him his drivers are some fucking idiot babies?!”

You had simply stared at him, blinkingly.

Guenther had then spied a plate of food sitting on the bench. “That fucking driver doesn’t deserve any of your fucking food!” And he picked the plate and dumped plate with its contents in the bin.  

“Guenther," you had began in a calm voice, "that was my lunch. Kevin’s plate is in the fridge.”

“Well eat his fucking food! Or—" Guenther reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and slammed it onto the table in front of you. “Go to a fucking five star hotel and have lunch there on that fucking idiot baby's pay.”

And the two of you had actually done so.

Even after he calmed down, Guenther had been adamant to take you to lunch which, admittedly, wasn't the most odd thing ever. Guenther was removed enough from all the driver drama and you had known him a for long time. You were the reason he had helped in the debut in 2016 anyway.

Still, no matter how Guenther Guenther was, Kevin was still a driver. You knew how it might look.

Said driver, however, had thankfully just dismissed it when you offered to pay him back. "Make me those mini pizzas next time you're with us and we're good."

And so when you clocked on this morning to see you were covering Haas, you immediately smiled and went to make good on your promise to K-Mag.

You always loved working in the Haas motorhome. If only half the stuff you saw Guenther did and said ended up in gif-sets on Tumblr.

Pushing yourself off the stool, you pocketed your phone and grabbed the oven mitts to pull out the mini pizzas. You had made extra for the engineers since there was an issue with Nico’s PU and knew they would be up late working on the engine. It wasn’t a secret that your pizzas were a coveted snack, being low-carb and high protein enough for even the drivers to consume. You were half expecting Fred Vasseur to pop in and steal some. He did love these pizzas. Any time you were stationed at Alfa Romeo, it was a guarantee you would be making them at his request.

Though, now Fred was moving to Ferrari. So you weren't sure if he was still going to be nice to you. Mattia Binotto had always treated you like the fucking plague.

"Ah, Y/N. For fuck's sake!" You heard the German accent and felt your mouth curve up into a smile as Guenther arrived on scene. He was dressed in the Haas gear for 2023, lanyard around his neck. "You still here running the coffee when you can beat any of these idiots in the car."

You gave him a fake two finger salute. "If I drove, no one would stand a chance."

"Well maybe you could help us score some fucking points." Guenther said. Immediately, he got down to business. "Harry Kane did well last night. Scored two fucking goals."

You snorted. One of the many reasons you and Guenther bonded so well was that you one of the few people amongst this Paddock that took football seriously. Almost as seriously as Formula 1. Almost.

"Didn't see it." You said, shaking your head. Bundesliga was lower on your list of priorities when it came to games. You only paid attention to the German league when it came to teams making it into Champions League. Besides, Guenther should’ve known what game you were watching last night. Still, you reminded him. "The Reds were playing."

He rolled his eyes, though unsurprised. "Of course you're going to watch English fucking football."

"Hey, only because of Salah.” You reminded him and hit your chest proudly, “I gotta represent."

"That much is fucking obvious." Guenther said. One of the many reasons you liked working in Haas so much was that it was by far the most relaxed garage out of them all. For example, you hadn't yet taken off the hoodie you wore which had, on top, the number 10 Liverpool jersey. It looked unprofessional, having a t-shirt over a jumper like that, especially mixed with the headscarf you had tied on your head like a durag, but Guenther couldn’t care less. If anything, he was probably just offended at your choice of EPL team.

“United is fucking Red.”

"Ah, Guenther. You know my heart really lies." You reminded him.

Your uncle, with his love for football, had brought you up following the iconic Real Madrid. He literally visited the hospital with a teddy bear and Bernabeu membership, adamant he would get his newborn niece into the sport. No matter what.

From the moment he found out your number one team, Guenther was salty. “Los Blancos.” He scoffed. “The fucking villains of football." He came round to see the circular pieces of bread covered with sauce and an array of different toppings. Guenther picked one up - and immediately dropped it. "Fuck!"

"It's hot." You said, dryly. You took out another tray and set it down. You closed the oven door and turned it off. You flipped the towel over your shoulder as you watched Guenther now at the sink, running water over his burnt fingers.

"You don't fucking say." Guenther blowing on his fingers.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, bringing up your hands to your head to fix your headscarf.

Guenther ignored that comment. "Fred fucking loves these things. Don't tell him you made them. I don't want him in here stealing them."

You said nothing and turned around to pretend to busy yourself with the trays of mini pizzas. It was best to just remain quiet sometimes. Bahrain testing had kept everyone occupied and at that start of the season F1 Hospitality were usually running around after Stefano Domenicali and the FIA Co. for last minute set up. It was only into the race calendar that Hospitality were eventually went around to the teams.

So, no. You hadn't seen Fred. You hadn't seen anyone. You were just grateful that your first race of 2023 was in the safety of Haas. Nico and Kevin were older and, therefore, a little more out of it when it came to driver drama. If they knew anything, they were old enough to be mature about it.

Though, that couldn't be the same of others from their generation. You were already losing sleep from the feelings that arose from seeing Daniel in Red Bull gear. It didn't help that the last time you two had spoken, things hadn't exactly been civil.

You were on the stair-master. The clock on the machine read 37:48. The sweat was dripping off you.

Your grey jumper had darkened in shades, wet from the sweat. You kept your hands on your head as you stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped. Angsty rap music blasted into your ears. Tinnitus was likely to worsen, but you would take that over the shit storm that was currently breaking all over the Paddock. 

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press statement late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract for Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year. 

Oscar hadn’t even yet joined Formula 1 and he was already stirring trouble. That was a problem. For you. You were supposed to lay low. The whole point of this was to lay low and not drawing any attention to yourself. The agreement was that you could still be there if only in the role of Hospitality. 

And the idiot had tweeted that and then, ten minutes later, decided to follow you.

How he even found your Twitter was surprising? It wasn’t very personal - your profile picture was solid black - so no fans would be able to recognise you. But the Paddock? The FIA and your bosses? They were raising confused eyebrows that Oscar Piastri would drop that bomb and then follow you.

You could already imagine what Otmar was going to say. God, the 2023 season hadn’t fully started and you were already dreading walking into the Alpine home. And then Jos Verstappen was rumoured to be attending more races this year and who could forget about Daniel coming back to Red Bull? The universe apparently needed to give you some character development, it seemed.

Your legs ached, begging to stop. Your mind thought about pressing the red emergency button, to just end it. But you knew better. You knew this was all a mind game. Pain is an allusion. Keep going. Shit hurts but you push through. Keep going. Keep going. Keep fucking going. It's what you always told yourself. It's how you got yourself through everything. It's how you'll get through all of this. If you can push through the pain of the stairmaster, then you can push through the pain of anything. You had learned that pain was temporary and it was just a mind-game. You could always go longer than you thought possible. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. So, right now, it was just practice. Each step you took right now was practicing the endurance of pain from this stairmaster fucking filling your legs. If you could get through this, you would be able to handle any drama in the future.

Unfortunately, drama walked through the door before you could make it through the current pain of said stairmaster.

Daniel Ricciardo stormed into the Driver’s Only Gym, knowing all too well that this was where you would be. He had been the one to tell you about this fucking place in the first place. Before everything, you had always loved working out and exercise was part of the reason you two ended up as you did. Now, you didn’t have the luxury you did before. You didn’t have the lanyard.

So, now, you had to workout in the shadows.

That didn't mean Daniel didn't see you. Didn't hear you. Didn't know what you were doing every single day of every weekend the both of you avoided each other at the Paddock. He knew you still wore your sneakers according to the race location. He knew you still wore headscarves when in the Middle East and covered your tattoos when in Japan. He knew you still avoided Charles just he like he knew you still avoided him. He knew you.

So Daniel knew you woke up at 4am every day to work out. And after Zak Brown told him the news, he spent the night dealing with his spiralling career through a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then he had the idea to come out from the four walls of his hotel room and see you.

Because Daniel knew you had made your pancakes for the rookie, that fucking Oscar Piastri. And Daniel was one of the few people who knew, who fully understood just what that meant to you.

Drunk and emotional, Daniel planted himself right in front of the stair master. He stared at you, caught like a deer in headlights and got right to it.

“You must be fucking happy.”

It was the first time he had directly spoken to you in five years.

So it took you a second to process what was happening.

Daniel Ricciardo was right here, in front of you, at 4:50 in the morning as you sweated your body weight out through the repeated steps you took on the machine.

Suddenly you were aware that you had rolled yourself out of bed with a little less motivation than the norm. You had been extra tired, hitting snooze more than twice. You hadn’t washed your face and you wondered if Daniel would be able to spot the stain of egg yolk on your hoodie. It had been some time since he had been this close to you and you were in bike shorts and currently on a bulk. Suddenly, you wished you were on a cut. Why did the one time he came this close to you had to be so big and puffy?

"Excuse me?" You found yourself saying, shifting one headphone off your ear. “Can I help you?”

"Did you know?" Daniel asked. He didn't give you a chance to respond. "Of course you fucking did."

Without even thinking, you pulled the red plug your mind had obsessed over and jumped down. The pain was already here so there was no point going through any more than necessary. You looked up at Daniel, panting. He, too, was exhaling a little heavier than normal. Too angry and, judging by the smell of his breath, drunk to be stable.

There was no point lying to him. Aside from the fact that Daniel was emotionally charged (and drunk - and he got super passionate when he was drunk) you knew he would immediately pick up on it. You don't spend three years with someone and not know them like the back of your hand. And, unlike him, you can safely say that you hadn't really changed since 2018. If you lied, he would know.

"I signed a NDA, Daniel." You said simply, walking to your gym bag sat on the red bench. You picked up your bottle to take a sip, your throat dry. You tried to keep yourself calm and not shaky. Do my legs look too big? God, Please don’t let me smell like BO. Your thoughts were still running rampant. Despite the extensive cardio, your body was buzzing from the anxiety of having Daniel so close.

Daniel. To think you had once been so deeply in love with the man stood before you.

"Fuck off." He spat. You recoiled. "No one gives a shit about that."

"I do." You said, trying to keep your voice from growing small. "Sorry I care about my job."

Daniel let out a sardonic laugh. You braced yourself, knowing what was to come. You had experienced this many times before during your fights. "What? Making coffee and fucking washing the dishes? Yeah, great job you got there, babe."

"Don't call me babe." You spat back. "And can you not be a dick for two fucking seconds, Daniel."

You said it. His name. When was the last time you had said it? It made you both take a second to process what was happening, to acknowledge how long it had been since the two of you had actually spoken to one another, how long since you had addressed the other as a human being that actually existed.

In that moment, Daniel finally seemed to lose a bit of anger and, instead, show a glimmer of vulnerability. "I lost my seat. I don't know what I'm going to do."

You looked down at your shoes at show of helplessness. New Balance 350s. Red and yellow. They had been on sale. You liked them for stable LISS circuits but hated the colour way. Now, they were the most interesting thing to look at.

Everyone knew that Daniel Ricciardo was always all smiles and that, no matter what, he was optimistic. Happy. He never showed any weakness.

Except, you had seen him when the smiles fell away and the laughter died. In the safety of your private hotel rooms and Daniel could just be, you saw him vulnerable, you saw him hurt, you saw him stress, worry, cry, swear and be open to how he was really feeling. Like right now.

“Daniel I—“

"You didn’t even think to fucking tell me."

You looked up at the change of tone and how he was frowning-- no, sneering at you. This made you change and any remorse, any pity, you felt for the man in front of you immediately vanished. You weren’t in a hotel room. You were in the gym. And it had been five fucking years.

"Are you fucking blaming me right now?"You snapped back. "What the fuck do I owe you, exactly?"

"I’m the reason you’re here!"

By now, your heart was racing. And not from the exercise. This, this was it. You finally had your moment to say it.

"Yes, exactly, Daniel. You’re the reason that I am, as you said, making coffee and fucking washing the dishes! If it weren’t for you, we both know where I would be right now. But you got fucking scared of Max and blamed me for it!"

This hit a nerve. "I was not scared of Max! I outperformed Max!"

"Yes, on the weeks I fucking trained you!"

"Fuck me,” Daniel was shooting straight daggers at you despite the wry grin on his face, “do you really think that was all you?" 

You put your hands on your hips and squared up to meet his eyes, narrowing your own. "Considering how your teammate took me on as a trainer and then became the number 1 driver, yes, I will take some fucking credit for that." Daniel's face dropped when you said it. And you knew it was a low blow, but you couldn't help the words before they tumbled out from your mouth. "The world’s fucking moved on from Monaco 2018. Maybe you should too."

"Fuck you!" He shouted.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back. You grabbed your phone and found yourself tapping onto a recent chat and speedily composing a text. You hated how your fingers shook. You also hated how you were texting for help.

"Well, clearly you haven’t moved on from Monaco if you’re bringing it up." Daniel said, no longer shouting, but his tone still as icily. "You’re going to be mad about that until the end of time?"

You closed your eyes and willed your eyes not to think of the image of him with her, the pain you felt walking in and seeing that. Instead, you opened your eyes and stared him dead in the eye and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Jos Verstappen will be coming to the races more often this year. That means I won't be able to work in the Red Bull garage. If I'm at AlphaTauri, do not fucking come."

Daniel ignored this, undeterred. Instead, he kept grinning down at you thinking he found something. "You seriously aren't over it, are you?"

"No, the memory of you putting your dick into another woman still keeps me up at night." You rolled your eyes despite how it still did admittedly hurt. You pretended it didn’t and hoped he believed it. "Please stop thinking so highly of yourself. Remind yourself of why you're here, right now, talking to me."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the doors opening had him closing it. You grabbed your gym bag and finally made a move to turn around and escape the gym.

Ignoring the looks of one very confused Carlos Sainz as you breezed past him.

"I have to go deal with idiots who can’t tell me what’s wrong with the engine." Guenther said. You had brought forth two plates and slide two pizzas onto each.

"Here. For you and Nico." You said, knowing Nico would join the meeting about his car. "I'll bring a tray in a little bit for the rest of the engineers."

"Make me and Nico some coffee, please." Guenther said, taking the plates. "And pour in some fucking whiskey." You laughed and watched him disappear down the hallway of the offices set up. Haas' lack of financial support meant their motorhome was mediocre at best. Still, you loved being here more than anywhere else. It was the safest, really.

Wiping your hands on the towel, you went outside to where the coffee cart was situated. Another example of Haas' lack of funding was needing a Formula One coffee cart and not having an in house machine like everyone else did. You went about preparing the coffees like how you knew Nico and Guenther liked - as well as making yourself one while you were at it.

"No Real Madrid today?"

You found yourself jumping at the familiar Spanish lilt of the other Ferrari driver. Carlos Sainz was someone you never really paid any close attention to. He wasn't close enough to either Daniel or Charles' circles to ever have been on your radar. He had left Red Bull before you did and since he was Ferrari associated, it meant you never really had much to do with him.

Still, he was pleasant and nice. He always had been. He was one of those drivers that if word had spread to him - and it was very likely that it had - he didn't show it. Or care enough about it. Any time Carlos saw you around the Paddock, it was with a warm smile and a quick small-talk question about your thoughts on Real Madrid's latest match. But that was really ever it.

Until that time he had walked in at 5am to see you and Daniel Ricciardo screaming at each other.

"Uh, no. Liverpool was playing yesterday." You said, wondering if he knew you also cared about the Scouse team. Admittedly, you didn’t have the same love for them as you did for the Spanish legends, but you couldn’t have Egyptian heritage and not care about Mo Salah.

"You're Egyptian, no?" He asked. You focused on frothing the milk, unable to really look him in the eyes so soon after this morning.

"Yes." It was there in the mix, yes, but you really weren't up for explaining the complicated heritage of your ethnicity this morning. Looking at the milk circling in the silver jug, you realised your face was heating up. You were slightly surprised he even knew you were Egyptian in the first place. Unlike with Guenther or the splattering of other football fans in the Paddock, you and Carlos only ever had brief snapshots of Real Madrid small talk.

Still, this wasn't an odd conversation, you had to remind yourself. You were talking about the one thing you and him ever talked about. But, again, this was after Carlos had walked in to see you, a Hospitality worker, arguing with a driver.

"Please don't tell anyone about me being in the gym." You finally said, turning off the frother to gently tap the metal jar against the bench and settle the bubbles in the milk. "I could get into a lot of trouble since it's only for drivers."

Carlos waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. When it was clear he wasn't going to, you breathed a small sigh of relief. But then he leaned against the cart and you felt yourself starting to get anxious again. There was a quiet moment for a second as your poured the latte for Nico. Carlos' eyes followed your hands.

"I will say something if Ricciardo upset you." He said in a quieter voice.

You immediately shook your head and finally looked him in the eye. "Please don't. There's enough complication with... everything." You finished lamely.

"So I've heard." Carlos said.

You looked away. He knew.

"So then you'll know I don't need anymore complications." You said through gritted teeth, hating very much the confirmation that word had spread about what had happened.

"You haven't done anything wrong, though."

This caught you by surprise. It was the first time anyone - or, at least, a driver - had said those words to you. At the start, everyone had immediately pointed fingers at you. You were shunned and blamed. Some saw your position with the Formula One Group as part of Hospitality too light a punishment for what had happened. For the longest time, it was the confusion as to why everyone had reacted that way that did that hurt you. You hadn’t thought you had done anything wrong. Not really. You struggled to understand why no one else saw it that way. Least of all any of the drivers that knew what had happened.

Hearing Carlos say that really threw you for a short second. Carlos even caught it. He said your name and you finally looked up at him when you heard him say your name.

"Sorry it’s just - uh, Carlos, man.” You laughed a dry laugh. “You're probably the only driver who thinks so."

"I'm not." Carlos crossed his arms. "I might be the only one who has said so, but if I've understood correctly... then I'm not."

You looked down at metal jug in your hand with the extra milk you had frothed for yourself. Suddenly, you didn't feel like any caffeine. Your anxiety was already through the roof.

"Do you want a coffee?" You asked, sounding, again, very lame as that was your response to Carlos' comment.

The Spaniard looked back down at the spoon and jug in your hands. He nodded. "Have you had one already?" You asked. He shook his head and so you went about pulling down another paper cup to make his piccolo.

"You remembered." He said, laughing slightly.

"First coffee is a piccolo. Second and third are black." You recalled his order. Carlos smiled at you as you poured the milk. "I know everyone's coffee orders."

You didn’t catch how his smile lessened slightly at that.

You looked back at him and tried to ignore the thought of whether his kindness was exaggerated for your sake. A pity thing or something. Carlos accepted the coffee and then he actually offered a thank you in Arabic. You found your lips turning up hearing the marhaba on his Spanish tongue. “Es un placer.” You came back with his own native language.

You don’t work in Formula 1 without picking up a few things here and there.

Hence how you could recognise the German swears that sounded from within the motorhome as Guenther suddenly appeared.

“Where is that Y/N? Liverpool fucking tops the league and thinks she can take her time with— ah, you Ferrari fuckers!” Both you and Carlos looked to where he had come up behind the driver and slapped a friendly pat on his back. “Tell Fred he can’t have any pizza.”

“Pizza?” Carlos asked and looked down at you. “You made your pizza?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before some Haas engineers appeared behind Guenther and called for you and him. Carlos took this as his sign - he was technically on Haas territory - and nodded at you and Guenther, holding up his piccolo in salute. Guenther had already taken the coffees you’d made for him and Nico and disappeared behind the sliding doors. You made a move to follow when Carlos called out.

"I want to try some famous Y/N pizza!” He said, turning on his heel as he walked backwards and called out to you.

You smiled and shook your head, walking back into the Haas home. You went back to the oven and set about plating up the pizzas to be a little more presentable to them. You also made sure to put some aside especially for Kevin. This was supposed to be for him.

You thought idly of saving some for Carlos when some Haas engineers you vaguely recognised walked past.

"Oh nice!" One engineer said, coming up and immediately reaching for one to stick it in his mouth. You watched him do the same blunder that Guenther did.

The other engineer, a woman with a thick Irish accent? was staring at you. Smug. "Damn, who got you smiling like that, missy?"

"What?" You asked, eyes going wide. You hadn't realised the wide smile on your face that was likely the direct result of one Carlo Sainz. Your face became hot again and it took every ounce of will to not seem affected by her words. “No one.”

"Mmm. If you say so.” She said in a sing song voice. “Well and me Mr Cool over here,” she gestured to the the other engineer trying to breathe through the hot pizza, “are heading to the garage now to see Kevin. Can we take them?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not saving some for anyone?"

"No." You shook your head firmly. "Take them all."

< prev ch [2] | next ch [4] >

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3

@hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej

[lovelytsunoda]

time after some time // mick schumacher

kisses underneath the collar of a turtleneck sweater

mick is gone a lot because of his job, which makes the moments they share all the more special. especially the moments shared in the half light before he has to go and catch his next flight.

pairing: mick schumacher x female reader

the room was still dark, echoing with the sound of rain tapping against the windows. mick's arms were heavy around her body, holding her tight as he snored lightly against the back of her neck. angie was curled up at the bottom of the bed, her fluffy body weighted against y/n's legs.

the clock radio on her nightstand chimed, softly tuning into the oldies radio station, playing a duran duran song. she kissed mick's hand softly, slipping out of bed, turning off the alarm and reaching for the hoodie she'd thrown over her reading chair.

angie stirred, leaping off the bed and nuzzling against y/n's legs.

mick was still fast asleep.

"come on, girl. let's get you outside." she chirped, patting angie on the side before leading her out of the bedroom and towards the heavy glass patio doors. despite the light rain, angie was eager to run around the backyard and stretch her small, canine legs.

she kept an eye on angie through the bedroom window as she slowly dressed for the day, a chill rising on her skin as she pulled a turtleneck sweater over her head, pushing the cowl over the bottom of her face as she shivered.

mick stirred in bed, a pretty little groan escaping his throat as he rolled over, pulling the duvet over his shoulders.

"morning, sleepyhead." she giggled, leaning over to kiss the side of his head gently. "angie's already outside."

mick grimaced, burrowing into the pillow. "you let her run outside in the rain?"

"we got an apartment with a backyard for a reason, babe. she's a smart girl, she knows to stay on the covered patio."

mick relented, hands gentle on her waist as he pulled her onto the bed. "i love you." he mumbled, voice low as he kissed her, repeating it in between kisses.

there was a muffled bark coming form the other room, followed by a tapping on the patio glass.

"can you let angie in? i'll go start breakfast." she hummed, kissing mick again. "i want you well fed before you get on that plane."

mick laughed, sitting up and letting the duvet fall away from the white tank top covering his sculpted torso. "babe, i'm flying to florida, not switzerland."

"it's still the other side of the country." she laughed, playfully hitting him in the shoulder.

the pair had relocated to texas whilst mick was still with haas, and even after guenther steiner had fired the poor boy, they had fallen in love with the property and the landscape. they lived right near the water, with plenty of walking paths for angie. more than that, it had become home.

"is your mom meeting you in daytona?"

"yeah, she and gina will meet me at the track."

she frowned, brushing mick's messy, blond hair out of his face. "sorry i can't make it this weekend. if work wasn't so hectic, you know that i would."

"i know." mick sighed, kissing her palm. "doesn't change the fact that i'll miss you like hell."

angie barked again, growing impatient as she sat in front of the sliding patio doors. the couple laughed, sharing a soft kiss before breaking apart, one going to let angie back inside and the other to make breakfast.

the kitchen was soon filled with music and the smell of grilled vegetables as y/n started making a frittata, a cyndi lauper album playing softly in the background. her hair was pinned up with a plastic claw clip, the faint smell of a bath and body works spray soaking into her skin. she hummed the words, smiling to herself when she heard the telltale clacking of angies paws on the hardwood floor, followed by mick's laughter as he chased after her.

"you're all wet." she whined as mick hugged her frmo behind, his arms a comforting weight around her midsection.

"take it up with angie. she's fucking quick." mick laughed, nuzzling into her shoulder. "i never stood a chance before she was shaking the water off everywhere."

his nose was cold as he trailed his face over the bare nape of her neck, gently nosing underneath the collar of her sweater before placing a soft kiss at the top of her spine. his hands moved from her waist to the collar of her shirt, holding it out of the way so he could kiss her some more, a show of intimacy that made her heart melt.

"ich leibe dich."

"i love you more."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @httpiastri @clemswrld @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @lorarri @thatsdemko @userlando @twinkodium @oscnorris

[paddockbunny]

The Gloves are Off

Summary: Mick’s downside was he was too nice. So it falls upon you, his girlfriend, to stand up to Guenther Steiner Rating: 16+. Pairing : Mick Schumacher x Reader. Word Count : 1,212 - ONE SHOT! Trigger Warnings : 16+, NSFW implied, adult material implied, anger discussion, “bad” boss vibes, slightly toxic work environment, bad language, this isn’t explicitly an 18+ and only has a little bit of sex talk at the end Images : found on Pinterest 💕 Authors Note : again, I forgot to reply to this as a request

List : List A Prompt : 1 - “You want to kiss me so badly right now don’t you?”

You watched as your deflated boyfriend was brought back to the garage on the back of one of the safety mopeds. He had kept his helmet on the whole time as he pushed through the disappointed team members. From what you could tell it wasn’t his fault. The front left tyre locked up, he was nudged from behind by Albon and there was really nothing he could do. You were just thankful he wasn’t injured.

As a few dejected technicians and mechanics patted him on the back as if to say “hard luck” or “don’t take it too hard, it happens” you spied his Team Principle Guenther Steiner furiously charge across the pit lane from the grid wall. Mick had only just reached you and began to remove his helmet when his name was shouted. You saw the look on Mick’s face as soon as he heard Guenther call his name. To everyone - including you - Mick was Mr Nice Guy. It was how his parents had raised him. He always kept his cool, stayed calm and not once had you heard him raise his voice to anyone. You watched as his trainer took his helmet from him and he ignored his angry boss as he removed his gloves. Being a life long F1 girl you begged to see a glimmer of his father in him. Michael wouldn’t stand for being shouted at and publicly humiliated. You were always praying Mick would find his fire and his flame and bite back, just once.

But as he sheepishly turned round to face the metaphorical music you knew today wasn’t going to be that day. Instead you watched your boyfriend take the blame for something that was pretty out of his control. He remained reserved when Guenther harped on about how much the car rebuild would cost the team and how Mick needed to think of his future as his crashes were becoming more and more expensive. “You know, I need to call Gene and have words about this Mick. We might decide not to keep you next year because you cost us too much money.” And although that wasn’t Mick’s breaking point, it certainly was yours.

“No, no, no…” You moved so fast Mick couldn’t grab you in time. Guenther had already taken off back toward the pit wall and you rushed to get in front of him. You knew the cameras would catch your interaction and replay it over and over again but you didn’t care. “You can’t talk to him like that. That crash wasn’t his fault. The front left locked up and then Albon smacked into his rear. Everybody saw it. You can’t blame him for something that wasn’t his fault.” You had to shout to be heard over the noisy sound of the race happening only meters behind you. Guenther seemed shocked that you - Mick’s sweet, polite girlfriend - was having a pop at him.

“I don’t have fucking time for this. We still have one driver left in the race.” He tried to wave you off and it only frustrated you more. “Fuck you Guenther!” You hissed at him “It isn’t Mick’s job to fund this team. It’s yours and if you’re struggling to do that then maybe Gene should fire you instead.” He looked down at you and his face was a mixture of anger and pure shock. You doubted anyone had bit back at him, especially not so publicly. You knew he had something to say about how you were questioning his authority. Something like “what the fuck do you know?” was probably most accurate but regardless he was trying to hold back from making a scene in the middle of a heavily camera covered motor-race.

Mick’s hands were suddenly around your upper arms and he started pulling you back toward the garage. You had a lot more you were prepared to say to the middle aged team principle but you let Mick remove you from the situation before you could get him in anymore trouble. He practically frog marched you in the direction of his drivers room and. Glancing round at him you could tell he was unhappy and you suspected it was due more to your outburst rather than his race being ruined. You knew now you had severely overstepped and you might never be allowed back into the Haas hospitality area. Even if you did some serious ass kissing.

Mick didn’t let up on you. He pulled you the whole way till you were practically jogging to keep up with him. His hand was like iron around your wrist and it was kind of beginning to hurt. When he pushed open the door he let go of you so you would go in in front of him. You hesitated but conceded to his wishes. This was it. You were sure Mick was about to scold you, tell you you embarrassed him, and the worst thought of all, break-up with you.

You noticed how hard he was breathing. How quickly his chest was rising and falling gave it away. He had this mad look on his face but he just continued staring at you. The tension made you feel nervous and when you felt nervous you ended up giggling or saying something stupid. This moment was no exception. “You want to kiss me so badly right now, don’t you?” You scoffed playfully. Never did you think you were so right on the money.

“Yes.” He practically lunged at you. He cross the space between your bodies so quickly you didn’t have time to register what was going on. Mick’s hands were either side of your face holding you where he wanted you as he roughly smacked his lips to yours. Mick was the possessive type - in private - and incredibly passionate yet this still took your breath away. The way he kissed you so roughly, his tongue dominating yours effortlessly had you vibrating with anticipation. The adrenaline from yelling at his boss only minutes ago was being replaced by a pure pleasurable thrill from his wild side coming out. As he pushed you back against the door to his drivers room you gripped hold of his race suit. The white material rippling in your hands. You loved him in his uniform but you liked him in his fireproofs even more so you wasted little time pulling down the zipper for him. His hands roamed from your cheeks. They trailed languidly down your back before he tore them away to remove his arms from his suit. His lips also removed from yours and it was in that moment you needed verbal confirmation to what you mentally already knew.

“Do you wanna fuck?” You we’re gasping. Mick had stolen all the air in your lungs. “Yeah.” He nodded once, as it it were already obvious to you and you suddenly admired the fire bubbling away inside the man in front of you. He might not have been the type to get angry and frustrated in public but in private he could switch quicker and harder than anyone you had ever met. He might have been angry with how you handled things but evidently his horniness was a far more important matter that needed attention first. And you were more than willing to oblige him.

[sydsaint]

More of my fav NXT himbo <3

Summary: Adam Pearce tasks the reader with making sure that Bron is ready to sign an exclusive Raw contract instead of signing with his rival Nick Aldis on Smackdown.

"So you're all set for tomorrow night?" Pearce has a chat with you at the end of RAW. "I set it all up and let Shawn know that you'd be there." He adds.

"I've got it down boss." You assure Pearce. "My flight leaves tonight. I'll be in Orlando in a few hours and sleep it off at the hotel. Then tomorrow night Bron Breakker is all mine." You grin to yourself, a smile that slightly worries poor Adam.

Pearce rubs the back of his neck and grabs your arm. "You're there to get the kid to sign to Raw before Nick Aldis can get his hooks in him, YN." He reminds you. "Not scare the poor guy into Aldis' arms."

"Adam! I've got it." You laugh and pat Pearce's arm. "Trust me. I'm going to make that unsuspecting hunk an offer that he can't refuse." You flash a wicked grin.

Adam sighs and shakes his head but lets you go anyway. You scare the poor man sometimes. But if there is one thing that Adam is sure of. It's that you are damn good at your job, despite your youth.

You catch your flight out to Orlando and game plan on the trip over. After some quick chats with a few of your girlfriends from NXT you've made the determination that Bron and Cora have been broken up for a while. And you've also been informed that Rick Steiner's ridiculously hunky son is back on the prowl for a new girl as of late.

The next afternoon you head into the center where NXT is filmed and swing by Shawn's office for a quick chat. Pearce let Shawn know you'd be coming by, and that you're out scouting new talent as well.

"Shawn! It's good to see you again!" You greet the NXT executive when you arrive. "And Ava! Congratulations on the promotion to GM!" You notice Ava Raine is present as well.

"It's a pleasure seeing you again, YN." Shawn shakes your hand. "Adam Pearce let me know that you're here to scout some of our talent?" He asks you.

You nod and shake hands with Ava as well. "Yes. After Mr. Aldis went ahead and scooped up Miss Straton, Pearce didn't want to wait until the next draft." You explain.

Shawn nods and you talk with him and Ava for a bit. Shawn dismisses himself to take care of something a bit later and you're left alone with Ava.

"So, do you like the GM job so far?" You ask Ava.

"Yeah!" Ava nods. "It's nice to be in charge of stuff. Plus the pay is great!" She jokes. "So, who do you have your sights set on?" She asks you.

A hint of a smile plays on your face at Ava's question. "Don't tell Shawn, but I've actually got my eyes on one man and one man only." You inform her.

"Oh?" Ava replies with intrigue. "Who?" She asks you.

"Bron Breakker." You answer Ava's question with a grin.

Ava giggles and nods her head. "Good choice." She compliments you. "He's got his own locker room just fyi." She adds suggestively. "I can show you where it is if you want?"

"I like the way you think, Ava." You laugh and nod.

Ava shows you down to the locker rooms and down to the one with Bron's nametag stuck to it. The two of you stop a bit down the hall and turn to one another. "Well, good luck." Ava wishes you luck. "He's scheduled for a match at the end of the show so you've got about two hours with him." She adds. "Oh, and a piece of advice? Bron may seem all mean scary. But he's all bark no bite, trust me." She offers you some last-minute advice.

"Oh, really? My favorite." You grin. "Thank you, Ava. And good luck with the GM position." You shake hands with her again before Ava heads off.

You turn toward the locker room door and stride up to it. You knock twice sharply on the door and wait for an answer. You can hear rustling on the other side of the door for a moment before the locker room cracks open.

Bron answers the door wrapped in a towel and dripping wet from the shower. "Oh, well aren't I one damn lucky girl." You muse.

"YN?" Bron stares at you with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Heya, Bronson. Miss me?" You ask with a grin and step over the threshold of the door.

Bron instinctively takes a step back as you approach him. You take the chance and kick the door shut behind you. "Umm, yeah sure. What are you doing here?" He asks you.

"Oh, I'm on some business for Adam Pearce from Raw." You explain.

"Well, yeah." Bron replies. "I kind of meant what are you doing in here?" He asks you. "In my locker room."

You meander around the locker room with a shrug, making Bron watch you curiously with every step. "Well I guess that I'll get right to business then." You stop back in front of Bron. "Rumor is Nick Aldis has been sniffing around you as of late. I'm here to make sure his sniffing ends here and now. Because you aren't going to waste your time on the B show Fridays." You speak matter-of-factly.

"I'm not?" Bron asks you, still clearly confused.

"Oh no, baby." You shake your head. "You and those insanely distracting broad shoulders of yours are coming with me to Raw."

The bewilered look plastered on Bron's face makes you smile and you have to stifle a laugh You were expecting the guy to at least put up some sort of fight. A little verbal sparring at least. But you've got Bron caught like a deer in headlights.

"We-I-Umm, alright." Bron stutters as you step toward him.

"Atta boy, Bron. That's what I like to hear" You pat his chest. "Now as for the rumor that you and Cora Jade aren't together anymore. Is it true?" You ask him.

Bron nods, clutching onto his towel for dear life. "Yeah, we've been split for a while. I've actually been back in the game for a few weeks now." He adds."

"I heard." You nod. "Well, you're in luck Bron. It just so happens that if you were to sign with Raw instead of Smackdown, you get me as a signing bonus."

"You?" Bron replies.

You nod again and your hand dances up Bron's damp chest. "Mhm. And we both know that you've always had a thing for me, Bronson." You insist. "So really it's a win-win situation for both of us." You explain.

"Right." Bron nods. "I mean...I really can't argue with anything you've got going on here, YN." He admits."

"I know!' You giggle. "Isn't it great how easy I make things?" You tease him. "Now! Get dressed and enjoy your last night as a member of the NXT roster. You'll find an email waiting for you with all the travel information you'll need forr Raw. And I will see that adodrably perplexed face on Monday night." You lean up and kiss his cheek. "Chau, handsome."

Speechless, Bron watches you turn on your heels and exit his locker room as swiftly as you come in. He walks over to his phone and sure enough, there's the email you mentioned. Sent over an hour ago. Bron laughs to himself at the confidence of the move. But he likes it. You're right, he's always liked you. And to have you show up to his locker room and insinuate that you're just as into him and he is in you is all that Bron needs to know he'll for sure be on Raw Monday night.

[rowinablx]

The Badger and The Snake: 1

Note: All the first years are fourteen and graduate Hogwarts at twenty in this, Derek is sixteen while Stiles is fourteen

Tagging: @axelwolf8109 @ozzypawsbone-princeofbarkness @lynsrosegarden @pollyna @taechnology777 @greek-freak101 @thebejeweledwatercat

Board by the talented af @ravenclaw-seeker

Eventually pairings: Stiles x Derek, Allison x Lydia, Issac x Scott, Ethan x Jackson, Aiden x Cora.

"Let me look over you" Noah Stilinski fretted over his son, Stiles was slightly uncomfortable but kept it in. To be fair, neither of them knew Stiles was a wizard until about two months ago.

"You write letters to me whenever you can okay?" Noah held his son's shoulder. "Of course dad" Stiles got surprisingly choked up. Noah hugged him close and let go after a minute.

"Give them hell kid" Stiles laughed and boarded the train.

He walked to the first compartment he saw. "Can I sit here?" "Sure" A tan skinned kid smiled politely, his companion rolling his eyes but not saying.

"I'm Stiles" "I'm Danny" Danny turned to his friend. "Jackson" The other kid rolled his eyes again. Another boy ran in, hiding in a corner. "What did you do this time McCall?" Jackson grinned.

"Might've angered the Steiner twins" He squeaked. "I told them Slytherin and Ravenclaw are for smart people and they aren't smart"

"One of this days you're gonna get punched" Danny laughed.

"Yeah yeah, I'm Scott by the way" He held out his hand to Stiles who shook it. "I hope I'm in Slytherin" Jackson said. "Ravenclaw" Danny said.

"Gryffindor" Scott sighed. "I don't really have one I want" Stiles shrugged. "That's smart, you won't be disappointed then"

Stiles giggled and even Jackson cracked a smile. "Hey Jackson" A young girl with long black hair walked in. "Hey cus" He teased.

"Stiles, Scott, Danny" He introduced quickly. "This is my cousin Cora" "Hi" She waved politely. "So Derek and Laura are definitely trying out for Quidditch this year"

"After they flew into our house twice?" Cora laughed. "I still can't believe my dad's gonna be the potions teacher" Jackson hid his face.

"Peter Hale?" Scott tilted his head. "Uh yeah" "Damn dude"

"Am I supposed to know this? I'm technically muggle born" Stiles muttered. "The rest of our family died in a house fire when we were babies, my dad and cousins survived, it was rumored that a rival wizarding family did it" Jackson said bitterly.

-----

"What if I don't get sorted" Scott whined nervously. "Maybe they'll keep you because of pity" Danny joked. "Ha ha"

Stiles couldn't hear anything, not the headmaster who Jackson was glaring at, not the fricking hat singing.

"Allison Argent!" A teacher called out. Jackson looked like he was about to throw something, Cora glared. Two teens from the Slytherin table looked away like she was beneath them, a teacher clenched his jaw but manages to look unbothered.

"Ravenclaw!" The hat yelled out. "That was awkward" Scott said.

"Cora Hale!" Cora took a deep breath. "Slytherin!" She whooped and ran to her brother and sister, who Stiles deduced were Derek and Laura.

"Isaac Lahley!" A young boy with curly blonde hair but too pale skin walked up shaking. "Gryffindor!"

"Lydia Martin!" A girl with strawberry blond hair skipped forward with confidence. "Slytherin!"

"Danny Māhealani" Danny patted Jackson on the back. "Slytherin!" "Aw man"

"Scott McCall!" Scott squeezed Stiles' arm, Stiles squeezed back

"Gryffindor!" Scott almost ran to the table with the Sorting hat on, the Slytherin teen boy that Stiles saw earlier, Derek, covered his mouth to keep from laughing.

"Aiden Steiner!" Aiden shoved past Stiles. "Ravenclaw!" "Wait what?" Aiden's twin said scandalized. "That's what happens when you act like a fool" Jackson whispered to Stiles who laughed.

"Ethan Steiner!" Ethan looked absolutely miserable. "Slytherin!" "They can separate twins?" "I guess"

"Stiles Stilinski!" Stiles was happy that it apparently didn't show his full name. 'Hmm, you're definitely loyal and smart, let us see' The hat said in Stiles' head. "Better be, Hufflepuff!" Stiles went to the table that was clapping for him.

Scott gave him a thumbs up and a grin. "Jackson Whittemore!" "Slytherin!" Peter Hale smiled genuinely and clapped for his son.

"I'm Kira!" The prefect sitting by Stiles shook his hand. "This is...wow" He grinned at all the food. "The head of house is my mom"

"That's so cool!" Stiles grinned.

Allison Argent was laughing with a few other Ravenclaws, Scott was arm wrestling with another Gryffindor, and Jackson and Danny were flirting with a couple of Slytherins.

------

"Boys dorm is here, you'll have to room with Boyd and Liam" Kira said. Stiles was looking around the Hufflepuff common room in awe. "I love plants" He grinned. Kira smiled fondly.

"Yo" Boyd waved from his bed, Liam looked at Stiles with a small glare. "Hi" Stiles waved.

"We're second years, you're our only first year so..." Liam mumbled. "He's just cranky because he wants to cuddle with his boyfriend from Gryffindor. I still says Theo is crazy enough to be a snake!"

"Shut your face" Stiles laughed and sat on his bed, taping a picture of his dad onto the headboard.

Day one of Hogwarts had done well, hopefully the next months did too.

[ace-disgrace-on-the-case]

(I'm placing this here so as not to clog the rp blog, but it is relevant to the events unfolding there)

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not I know you expressed interest in the events that have been going on for the past few days (and will continue for a while longer) eventually becoming something of a group-authored fanfic. I decided to take a crack at what that might look like and concatenated the events of one of the scenes from a few days ago (the bar meeting) into a single, readable chapter. It's a bit difficult given the mediums are different, and there was some overlap to untangle between conversations different characters were having at around the same time, but I think I've put something together that makes it cohesive and contains as much as possible of everyone's writing.

If this works, it should be a great way to bring everything together! I've included it below the read more for your reading pleasure.

This is still a rough draft, so I do apologize for that, but let me know what you think!

Melissa, in her SLDF dress uniform, walks into the bar of the Unity City Grande alongside Karrie DeLacey. The Marten-Steiner siblings notice an immediate commotion as every SLDF soldier in the bar stands instantly to attention, remaining so until Melissa salutes the officer nearest her and says, "At ease."

She shakes her head in amusement as the two newcomers walk over to Theodora and Dieter at the bar.

"We are here," Melissa says to the two possibly-former Steiners.

Theodora stands, offering a handshake. She's wearing her LCAF uniform, but with any patches and insignias removed. Without it all, the uniform looks empty; nothing more than a cobalt tunic and white pants, with empty rank epaulettes on the shoulders.

"Greetings, Melissa. It's good to see you."

"Good to you two as well," Melissa says. "I apologize for causing this to occur," she says solemnly.

Theodora waves her hand, as if to swat aside the general’s words. "You made this happen no more than I did. The Archon chose to revoke my nobility, so the blame lies with her, and her alone."

Dieter, however, merely nods, eyes fixed on Melissa's new rank. He's obviously distressed, but he's trying to hide it. After a moment, he snaps out of it, looking to Karrie.

"And you'll be Ms. DeLacey, I suppose?"

"I should be Ms. DeLacey, last I checked!" Karrie quickly adds. "And I do offer you my condolences again. Fucked up that they decided to hit you like that for doing the right thing." She shrugs. "Nobles."

Dieter chuckles, shoulders sagging.  "Indeed. My cousin has always been... a stubborn woman, but I hoped I could make her see sense. I maintain my noble status for now, but news of my involvement will reach her sooner rather than later, then it will be done for me." A savage gleam enters his eye. "Lucky for me, I've been preparing for something like this to occur."

“I don’t know what kind of promises I can make but if you ever want some help with that sort of thing, ha… you know how to find me is all.” Karrie pats Dieter on the back in a rough gesture of affection. “But cheer up, my noble friend! That’s tomorrow’s nonsense! Tonight’s is drink.”

Dieter holds up his half-empty glass, giving a wry grin. "Amen to that. What's your flavor? I'm buying tonight."

"Oh! Right, thanks." Karrie glances over at the bar for a moment. "If they do those here I like a Dark and Stormy. Bit of rum, bit of ginger beer, and a lime. It's a nice change of pace." She points at Dieter's glass. "And you? Someone of your means's gotta be drinking something interesting."

"Tonight? No," he says, taking another drink. "Tonight the only objective is get shit-faced, and do it quick. To that end, I've got the bartender coming over with a new glass of Glengerry Reserve every five minutes. Eventually, I fear I'll just have to buy a fucking bottle service, 'cause he came two minutes ago and I'm already done with this one."

"Does being a Lyran come with an iron liver or is that an acquired skill?"

"An acquired skill, gained over years of dealing with politicians, morons, and a sister with a death wish."

Theodora nods and gestures to the empty chairs at the table, opposite her and Dieter. "Please, sit, order something. We must celebrate your promotion, no?"

"I suppose we should," Melissa says, sitting next to Theodora. "But before we do that," she says, smiling with her voice, as even her somewhat modified beak makes that expression physically difficult, "here." She pulls out two small grey velvet boxes.

One she places in front of Theodora. Theodora pauses, poking at the box as if it's likely to explode. "Thank you for this gift of... a box? It's not going to blow up if I open it wrong, yes?"

"Neg, Theodora," Melissa giggles. "Just open it." She places the second box in front of Karrie.

"Shit, me?" Karrie says, taking it. "Damn, I must be magestrix of the universe or something the way everyone's being so nice tonight." She flashes a sly grin, looks to Melissa one more time, and opens the box.

Inside are the twin sapphire rank bars of an SLDF Warrant Officer.

"They are yours, should you want them," Melissa smiles. "You would be both a MechWarrior as a member of my Command Supernova Trinary, and the Chief MechTech for the Regiment.

 "I have seen enough, and heard enough, about your handywork and 'Mech skills to know you would excel at both at once, let alone either on its own... You need not say aff immediately, Karrie. But do think it over tonight. It would come with more than just rank, of course."

Karrie stops trying to cheer up Dieter for a moment and stares in shock. She's hard to read; her body is tense, but her face is pensive, almost wistful. Finally, she manages to speak. "I...I don't know what to say, Star Captain. That's a big offer for someone like me. I'm flattered. Just—completely floored flattered." Her drink arrives along with another of Deiter's glasses of liquor, and she takes a steadying sip. The expression on her face is strange; Melissa can’t quite tell if she’s crying, but she’s certainly staring at the sapphire bars like her life depends on them.

Theodora opens her own box, though she does so carefully, still not entirely convinced of the box's non-explosiveness. Dieter also braces somewhat, as if he expects the box to spontaneously combust.

Inside are two sets of twin emerald "bar and dot" rank devices - the rank of SLDF Major.

"They are yours, if you wish," Melissa says. "And technically, it's a promotion. I cannot have my prospective Nova Captain outranked by actual Captains, quiaff? It would come with more than just the rank, of course. You may not be Lyran nobles any longer, but you can be Star League nobles."

For a moment, Theodora, too, is silent, eyes fixed on the emerald insignias, running her hand through her hair. Before the moment becomes awkward, however, her training kicks in, and she straightens, snapping a crisp Lyran salute.

"I'm honored, Commanding General. I accept."

Melissa salutes back, the casual salute of an officer returning a subordinate's gesture. "Now then, Major Marten-Steiner. Theodora. We have several things to discuss. Firstly, you'll need a new paint job on your Atlas. How does SLDF Green and Black Watch tartan sound to you?"

"It'll suit me just fine, sir." Theodora pins the rank badge in place, straightening it to parade-ground perfection. "So, what's the plan? Given your shiny new rank, I suppose it's to be total war?"

"Indeed. I am told the First Lord will be issuing our orders within the day. The SLDF will deploy. Before that, however, we must attend to more personal matters," she says. "We need to refit, reprogram, and re-serial your Atlas, get you your new uniform, and most importantly, get you your new citizenship. You and your brother," she says, looking over to the still drunken Dieter, before smiling and looking back at Melissa. "And please, Theodora, just call me Melissa."

"Yes, sir. Er, Melissa."

Dieter points at Melissa, brows creased. "First, we're drinking. You're a damn general, now. And that's worth celebrating," he grins. "Unless, of course, the great Commanding General is too good to drink with us lowly soldiers and diplomats?"

"Absolutely not, Dieter," she says, sitting down at the bar. She waits for a bit, letting Karrie think, sipping her own pint of Timbiqui Dark, conversing with the bartender, who seems at once terrified, starstruck, giddy, and incredulous at just who he's suddenly serving beer and bar snacks to. Eventually, looking over at the still staring Karrie, she chuckles.

"Terra to Karrie? Terra, calling Karrie... Are you all right, Karrie?"

Karrie starts. “Blake’s sake! Scared the shit out of me.” Her face immediately twists into a shape of regret as she remembers where she is. “Oh! Shit, that’s…that’s not proper decorum at all, I’m so sorry about that.” She takes another sip from her drink and shudders.

“I’m…gonna have to think about it, Star Captain. It’s a lot to take in, is all.” A half-hearted look of mischief crosses Karrie’s face. “Tell you what: we both survive this, Star Captain? I’m yours,” she says, draining the last of her cocktail and looking around for someone to ask for another.

"Very well, Karrie," Melissa says. A look of contradictory, dead-serious mischievousnesa crosses her avian features before she continues, "I'm still making it temporarily official, though. I need a good MechTech and pilot to back me up. And you're much better than just "good", from everything I've heard. We'll need to talk about getting your Awesome up to SLDF standards. That means a full teardown and rebuild if needed. And she will get a new paint job. We will need jump jets as well."

"And it's General now, Karrie," she chuckles, switching to a more lighthearted tone. "Great Father's bones, don't make me remind you every time, quiaff?" she continues, mock-exasperated, handing her new cocktail.

“General! Agh, I—sorry about that. Won’t forget again!” Karrie laughs. “In that case, General, I just hope I’m every bit the woman you’re counting on.”

She lifts her glass in the air. “I think we’ve all got something to toast to, then,” she says, elbowing Dieter out of his drunken stupor. “To…something new! Whatever it’s gonna be. And to friends!”

"To new adventures, and new friends!" Melissa toasts.

[lboogie1906]

Gerald Veasley (July 28, 1955) is a jazz bass guitarist.

He was born and raised in Philadelphia, where he played in R&B groups as a teenager. He worked with Joe Zawinul from 1988 to 1995 and began releasing his records in 1992. He has done extensive work as a studio musician. His 2008 release Your Movehit #12 on the US Billboard Top Contemporary Jazz Albums chart. He has worked as a smooth jazz DJ on WJJZ in Philadelphia.

He founded his Bass Bootcamp in Philadelphia with Roxanne Veasley and Lee Patterson. The camp has served over 700 bass players from all around the world as well as other professionals like Marcus Miller, Stanley Clarke, Michael Manring, Victor Wooten, and many more. The camp lasts for 2 days and students are taught many important musical skills by the instructors such as: learning how to groove, creating bass lines, improving your ear, optimizing practice time, and playing live with a drummer. In addition, they teach music theory topics like covering scales, arpeggios, modes, etc., as well as an “All-Star Concert” which takes place at The Ardmore Music Hall featuring Gerald and various special guests.

He joined a jazz fusion band called The Zawinul Syndicate featuring keyboardist Joe Zawinul, a former member of the group Weather Report. He was featured playing bass on an album with Philip Bailey called “Dreams”. The album featured many artists such as George Duke, Marcus Miller, Pat Metheny, and Gerald Albright. He was invited on stage as a guest with Victor Wooten, along with Anthony Wellington at The Keswick Theatre.

He was invited to Ridley Park, Pennsylvania to play at Ridley High School at their yearly “Jazz Night”. The night featured 3 performances done by Ridley Elementary, Middle School, and High School Jazz band with Veasley playing with each group, as well as the high school acapella group; Rhapsody. The middle school performance featured 4 of the 6 members of the Philadelphia jam band “Refrigerator” DJ Callahan on Drums, Cole Steiner on Auxiliary Percussion, James McKinney on Baritone Saxophone, and Jeremy Leafey on Bass Guitar who he ended up having a bass duet with on their opening song. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[ravygravywrestling]

MONDAY NIGHT RAW HOT TAKES 7-22-24

The show kicks off with Gunther calling out Damian Priest. Gunther degards The Judgement Day, calling them “Street Trash”. Damian comes out in full force and brings the heat to Gunther. A brawl starts and Priest is not backing down even with security. Jackie Redmond/ Cathy Kelley tried to get a word with Gunther and the attack continued from Priest. I am loving this feud. As much as I love Gunther, I think Damian is going to put him in his place! This match is definitely something to look forward to next saturday.

Bron Breakker VS Ilja Draganov

This qualifier match for the Intercontinental Championship. Both men put out everything they had. Many great counters by Draganov that were absolutely flawless. I am really starting to enjoy Ilja. New name for Bron’s move coined by Pat Mcafee, “Breakin Steiner”. Draganov was able to get Breakker on his shoulders and slam him on the ring edge. Breakker comes back and Ilja lands on his head wrong, resulting in a TKO and Breakker winning. Hoping Draganov a speedy recovery and hope it was nothing serious.

It's Tozawa’s birthday!

Wyatt Video pops up about Nikki Cross aka Sister Abigail

Dom and Mami argue about Jey. Balor suggests a match and Mami say no, as there is no reason to start a war.

CM Punk comes out to announce he is finally medically cleared to wrestle! He is such a good promo talker and watching him interact with every fan in the crowd is amazing. Punk asks for Drew McIntyre to come out and fight. Drew makes his way to the ring and says he doesn’t want to fight. Punk leaves the ring to go after Drew, Adam Pearce comes out with some news. It will be CM Punk VS Drew McIntyre at SummerSlam!!! But there’s something else that is going to be very interesting about this match. If at any point Drew or Punk attack each other before SummerSlam, the match will be called off. But that’s not all!! Seth Freakin Rollins enters the ring to announce he will be the special guest referee!!! This match is going to be crazy. I can already predict the chaos we are in for!

The Judgement Day goes on the hunt for Jey Uso, Dom gets stopped by Liv Morgan. Finn catches them and takes Dom away.

Sami Zayn in an interview said he is not concerned about Bron Breakker. He wants Bron to take him seriously, and he will do the same. He wants 100% put into the match so Breakker doesn’t make the same mistake twice. In the middle of the interview, you hear some banging, so Zayn goes to check it out only to find Carlito and JD McDonagh attack Uso. Sami chases them away which then brings the main event for the show. A tag match with JD and Finn VS Zayn and Uso.

Otis, Akira Tozawa and Xavier Woods VS The Final Testament

With Kofi out, Xavier needed some tag partners. Karrion Kross has been trying to recruit Woods into the Final Testament for weeks. Akam and Rezar were dominant in the first half of the match. Woods tags in Tozawa and he is absolutely annihilating the big guy. Otis comes in and unfortunately they end up losing the match. This match was a decent mid card match. Otis and Tozawa really showed off that they can do things without Gable. Over all domination from the Final Testament but hopefully they continue this story line further.

Chad Gable and the Creed Brothers come out to talk to Maxxine Dupri, Otis, and Tozawa. “YOU SUCK” chants boom around. I love that we are treating him as we did with Kurt Angle. Otis says when things get juicy and dangerous, Gable leaves his “friends” to be attacked, like last week with the wyatt sicks. Gable tries to ask the group to join back with him, and Otiss tells him no! Otis then attacks the Creeds, then tries to attack Gable before the brothers stop him. Lights go out, the Wyatt Sicks appear at the enterance with no Uncle Howdy. Howdy is behind Gable and gets his attention. We finally get to see Howdy’s in ring gear. He takes out Gable with Sister Abigail. Almost as flawless as Bray. He would be so absolutely proud of what Bo has created and continued.

Bronson Reed VS Pete Dunne

This match was made by the attack last week on Sheamus. The bell didn’t even ring yet before Sheamus came to attack Dunne. Sheamus gets 10 beats of the bodhran on Dunner before Reed sets his sights on him. In my opinion, this was an unnecessary match. Hopefully this leads to maybe a triple threat match but even then, the story line isn't fully developed yet. The Feud grows, but I would like to see more character development on Dunne’s part.

Mami is very upset that the boys went and attacked Uso anyways even when she said to leave it alone. Carlito mentions that Dom ran into Liv, Mami drags Dom and says “Lets go to the ring”. Once in the ring, Mami calls out to Liv, “You want him, come get him!”. Liv is in the crowd asking Dom to say the 3 words she's been waiting to hear. Dom says “I hate you!! Get out of my life! You have ruined everything!”. Morgan then starts to cry and leaves the crowd. Rhea brings the whisper back, then proceeds to LICK DOM ON THE FACE!!!!!! This storyline has been absolute perfection. I can’t get enough of this. I really am hoping that something is going to happen between Rhea and Jey. Her even posting the artwork of them in waffle house just gives me a little bit of hope that she is just using Dom to her advantage at this point. And I love it!!

Jey Uso and Sami Zayn VS JD McDonagh and Finn Balor

Balor and McDonagh dominate the first half of this match. Sami Zayn did a moonsault off the top rope into ringside that was perfectly executed. Carlito gets involved and slams Zayn into the ring post. Zayn again showed how impressive he is by performing a Thunderbomb on JD. Tag is made on both sides, Jey superkick and slaps Balor around. Another tag is made Zayn gets set up for his finisher. Dom interferes and stops the Helluva Kick. JD with a Spanish fly reversal almost takes the win. Zayn and Uso double teamed, performing a 1D to JD. Cover and Balor breaks it. Zayn is down and Balor tags in JD before executing the Coup de Grace, followed by JD doing a moonsault. He goes for the cover and it is broken up by Zayn. Zayn finally gets his Helluva kick into Balor and dives at him outside the ring to keep him down. JD is down and Uso hits him with the Uso Splash, clenching the victory against the Judgement Day. While celebrating, Breakker comes and spears Zayn to give him a taste of what he’s going to get at SummerSlam. I am glad they are keeping up with the Breakker Zayn feud, but I really enjoyed Zayn and Uso as a tag team. Good to see them back in action together. Hopefully we see more of it in the future.

[princesssarisa]

"Little Women" Posthumous Reunion: Final Resting Places of the People Behind the Novel and Its Adaptations

As a fan of the YouTube channel Hollywood Graveyard and the "Posthumous Reunion" pages on FindAGrave.com, I thought I would make a similar tribute to the people behind Little Women and its best-known screen adaptations. This is a guide to the burial sites (if they exist) of all the adaptations' leading actors and creative team members who have died, as well as those of the Alcott family and their friends, for anyone who hopes to visit them someday.

@littlewomenpodcast, @joandfriedrich, @thatscarletflycatcher

Arlington National Cemetery – Arlington, Virginia, USA

John Davis Lodge (John Brooke, 1933 film)

Cementerio de Benalmádena – Benalmádena, Spain

Paul Lukas (Friedrich Bhaer, 1933 film)

Ceder Hill Cemetery – Hartford, Connecticut, USA

Katharine Hepburn (Jo, 1933 film)

Cimitero Flaminio – Rome, Italy

Rossano Brazzi (Friedrich Bhaer, 1949 film)

Cimitiére Communal de Montrouge – Montrouge, France

May Alcott Nieriker (real-life Amy) (site unknown)

Forest Lawn Memorial Park, Glendale – Glendale, California, USA

Edna May Oliver (Aunt March, 1933 film)

June Allyson (Jo, 1949 film)

Elizabeth Taylor (Amy, 1949 film)

Robert Young (Mr. Laurence, 1978 miniseries)

George Cukor (director, 1933 film)

Mervyn LeRoy (director/producer, 1949 film)

Max Steiner (music, 1933 and 1949 films)

Adolph Deutsch (music, 1949 film)

Forest Lawn Memorial Park, Hollywood Hills – Los Angeles, California, USA

Jean Parker (Beth, 1933 film)

Leon Ames (Mr. March, 1949 film)

Holy Cross Cemetery – Culver City, California, USA

Mary Astor (Marmee, 1949 film)

Inglewood Park Cemetery – Inglewood, California, USA

Samuel S. Hinds (Mr. March, 1933 film)

Kensico Cemetery – Valhalla, New York, USA

Henry Stephenson (Mr. Laurence, 1933 film)

Mortlake Crematorium – Richmond, Greater London, England

Pat Nye (Hannah, 1970 miniseries)

Mount Hope Cemetery – Hastings-on-Hudson, New York, USA

Lucile Watson (Aunt March, 1949 film)

Oak Hill Cemetery – Lawrence, Kansas, USA

Alf Whitman (real-life Laurie)

Pleasant View Cemetery – Lyme, Connecticut, USA

Joan Bennett (Amy, 1933 film)

Savannah Cemetery – Savannah, Tennessee, USA

Elizabeth Patterson (Hannah, 1949 film)

Shiloh Cemetery – Shiloh, Illinois, USA

Mary Wickes (Aunt March, 1994 film)

Sleepy Hollow Cemetery – Concord, Massachusetts, USA

Louisa May Alcott (author and real-life Jo)

Abigail May Alcott (real-life Marmee)

Amos Bronson Alcott (real-life Mr. March)

Anna Alcott Pratt (real-life Meg)

John Bridge Pratt (real-life John Brooke)

Elizabeth Sewall Alcott (real-life Beth)

Henry David Thoreau (possible real-life Friedrich Bhaer)

Sparkman Hillcrest Memorial Park – Dallas, Texas, USA

Greer Garson (Aunt March, 1978 miniseries)

St. Leonard’s Churchyard – Hove, East Sussex, England

C. Aubrey Smith (Mr. Laurence, 1949 film)

Valhalla Memorial Park – North Hollywood, California, USA

Mabel Colcord (Hannah, 1933 film)

Westwood Village Memorial Park – Los Angeles, California, USA

Janet Leigh (Meg, 1949 film)

Cremated, Ashes Held Privately or Scattered

Frances Dee (Meg, 1933 film)

Douglass Montgomery (Laurie, 1933 film)

Peter Lawford (Laurie, 1949 film)

Patrick Troughton (Mr. March, 1970 miniseries)

Jean Anderson (Aunt March, 1970 miniseries)

Dorothy McGuire (Marmee, 1978 miniseries)

Richard Gilliland (Laurie, 1978 miniseries)

William Schallert (Mr. March, 1978 miniseries)

Virginia Gregg (Hannah, 1978 miniseries)

Angela Lansbury (Aunt March, 2017 miniseries)

Michael Gambon (Mr. Laurence, 2017 miniseries)

Sarah Y. Mason (screenwriter, 1933 and 1949 films)

Victor Heerman (screenwriter, 1933 and 1949 films)

Merian C. Cooper (producer, 1933 film)

Donated to Medical Science

Spring Byington (Marmee, 1933 film)

Unknown (Not Made Public or No Information Online)

Ladislas Wisniewski (real-life Laurie)

Richard Stapley (John Brooke, 1949 film)

Stephanie Bidmead (Marmee, 1970 miniseries)

Frederick Jaeger (Friedrich Bhaer, 1970 miniseries)

John Welsh (Mr. Laurence, 1970 miniseries)

John Neville (Mr. Laurence, 1994 film)

David Hempstead (screenwriter, 1933 film)

Elmer Bernstein (music, 1978 miniseries)

[blorbocedes]

POV: it's q1. there's 7 minutes remaining. ur a chirlie lurking outside of charles' real home: the toilets. he's dancing from foot to foot and he's got a hand between his legs as he approaches. "yasssss gurl, go piss!" u cheer as he approaches. this is the show u came for. who cares that the mclarens just touched and suffered quali-ending damages after a failed tow - a desperate attempt to reach q2? charles looks conflicted. he's so close, but then he turns back to towards the garage. oh no, this will not do. "noooo gurl, what are u doing? piss girl piss!" you plead as his eyes dart between the direction of the garages and the direction of his beloved toilets. "i can't-" he chokes out, voice anguished. an interesting turn of events. did xavi threaten to put him on wet tyres for a dry race as a consequence for pissing mid-q1? you check ur phone. there's only 5 minutes of q1 remaining now. "why can't you?" you ask, concerned. "what if log sarg knocks me out of q2?" he lets out a pained groan as his bladder spasms. u contemplate how the mighty have fallen, both as il predestinato fights for his dignity right before u, and as routinely backfield williams climbs from the ashes to fight ferrari. "u pull a cheekco" -u say, sly smile appearing on ur face- "q1 exit, piss-oop i mean pass everyone in the race, automatic driver of the day." he seems to consider it. time is ticking. there's only 4 minutes of q1 remaining now. suddenly, he looks at u, his mouth forming an o-shape, and ur standing so close u can hear it before u see it, the unmistakable hiss whizzing beneath his driver's suit. those wet tyres might come in handy now, u think as u step away from the puddle forming on the ground. charles looks mortified, tears pooling in his eyes but refusing to fall like the piss coating his lower half. "i'm sorry-" charles starts, voice shaking and breaking, but u wave him off. "save the apologies for the fans. they're going to want an excuse for the great il predestinato, the amazing charles leclerc, missing out on q2. not even in the car to try? tut-tut." it's too late now, even if he got into the car all pissy, he would not have time for a prep and a push lap. "mattia binotto sends his regards," u say, sympathetically patting charles' upper arm before turning and skipping towards haas hospitality, where sugar daddy mattia is waiting for u as he waits for guenther steiner to finish this f1 bullshit. ferrari tries to cover up the wet pants with engine troubles. but there is no finger wagging this time, only photos of soggy charlie taking the internet by storm. revenge is a dish best served with golden liquid.

[runicmagitek]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

Oh my goodness, this is so sweet, anon 🥺 I've been having a rough weekend and feeling really self-conscious about my ability/worth as a writer, so this was well-timed and genuinely made me smile. Thank you for sending this!

Ho boy, it's tough to narrow down the to my top five favorite fics, because I have a lot of fics. I love all of them for one reason or another, so this is difficult lol. That said, here's my attempt at a top five, in no particular order.

What Leads You Here A post-canon deep dive into Keitaro's and Natsuno's trauma and how they mourn what they lost and learn to heal and move on together. It picks up immediately where the game ends and explores numerous things I love, from worldbuilding to slice-of-life interactions to delicious angst to heavy hurt with equally heavy comfort. I'm really proud of how I was able to write and edit and post a 214k fic within roughly two years. I put a massive amount of research into this along with using a lot of my own personal experiences and am REALLY happy that those who stuck around til the end thoroughly enjoyed the ride. This story will always have a special place in my heart.

The Lies We Tell Ourselves It's very difficult for me to talk about this fic without ruining the entire game. But I came up with this idea and wrote/edited it within roughly four days?? Like it possessed me and I couldn't focus on anything else until I wrote it. BJ and his journey is extremely heartwrenching and just thinking about what he might have come across and how he handled any of that (or didn't) felt like a story worth exploring. It also has some of my favorite lines I've written in recent years, especially the second to last scene.

The Wings That You Burn Holy shit, I cried a lot when I worked on this fic. It's a Celes-centric fic from Sabin's POV during the start of World of Ruin. I love VI, but in retrospect, I wish Celes was given more time to heal after everything that happened at the Solitary Island. And with Sabin being one of the first people she finds, he's the perfect character to remind her she deserves to live, no matter what.

Burning Bright Yet another fic that made me cry while working on it (this is a trend - I love me some angst). I love Steiner and his friendship with Vivi and (much like Celes in VI) I was really sad there wasn't any like, touch base with Vivi after everything that happened with Black Waltz 3 and the South Gate incident. Trauma and healing are core themes that keep cropping up in my stories, which probably says a lot about myself more than anything lolsob but honestly, I really love seeing characters support one another, despite it all. And I'm genuinely thrilled so many readers said this felt like a missing scene straight out of the game, too.

Long Journey Home You guessed it - this fic also tore out my heart while writing it. There's a reason it's tagged as "sad with a happy ending". Kentucky Route Zero is such a profoundly tragic game and exploring the possibilities of Ezra's past in this fic really hit close to home for me. That and weaving in magical realism and devising fantastical situations were such a fun challenge. This also contains my favorite passage I've ever written (and I very clearly remember needing to get up and walk off the feels for at least five minutes after I wrote this damn line):

She patted his head, much like how he patted the dog’s head. When she left, Ezra stayed and listened to the water carry them elsewhere. He thought of the people he met and those who stayed and those who didn’t and if anyone ever cried for the ghosts of who he used to be.

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 5.10

Beer Birthdays

Edward F. Sweeney (1860)

George F. Wiessner (1860)

Fred Eckhardt (1926)

George Fix (1939)

Marty Nachel (1958)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Fred Astaire; dancer, actor (1899)

Chris Berman; television sportscaster (1955)

Thomas Johnstone Lipton; tea merchant (1850)

Gary Owens; announcer, actor (1936)

Homer Simpson; cartoon character (1955)

Famous Birthdays

Jim Abrahams; film director (1944)

Milton Babbit; composer (1916)

Jean Becker; French actor and director (1933)

Bono; rock singer (1960)

John Wilkes Booth, American actor, assassin of Abraham Lincoln (1838)

Barbara Taylor Bradford; English-American author (1933)

T. Berry Brazelton; pediatrician, television host (1918)

E. Cobham Brewer; English lexicographer (1810)

Maybelle Carter; country singer (1909)

Caroline B. Cooney; author (1947)

Teri Copley; actor (1961)

Fats Domino; rock singer, pianist (1929)

Donovan; Scottish singer-songwriter (1946)

Carl Douglas; Jamaican singer-songwriter (1942)

Sly Dunbar; Jamaican drummer (1952)

Ariel Durant; historian (1898)

Wayne Dyer; author (1940)

Linda Evangelista; Canadian model (1965)

Missy Franklin; swimmer (1995)

Augustin-Jean Fresnel; French physicist (1788)

Johann Peter Hebel; German writer (1760)

Donovan Leitch; pop singer (1946)

Dave Mason; rock musician (1946)

Desmond MacNamara; Irish artist (1918)

Mae Murray; actor (1889)

Lisa Nowak; astronaut (1963)

Konstantinos Parthenis; Greek painter (1878)

Marie-France Pisier; French actress, director (1944)

Hildrus Poindexter; bacteriologist (1901)

George Ross; signer of the Declaration of Independence (1730)

Rick Santorum; political nutjob (1958)

John Scalzi; writer (1969)

David O. Selznick; film producer (1902)

George E. Smith; physicist and engineer (1930)

Max Steiner; Austrian-American composer (1888)

Pat Summerall; television sportscaster (1930)

Suzanne, Duchess of Bourbon (1491)

Dimitri Tiomkin; Ukrainian-American composer (1894)

Sid Vicious; punk bassist (1957)

Nancy Walker; actor (1921)

[screamingforyears]

IN_A_MINUTE:

AN INDIE EXPRESS… “BUILD A BRIDGE” is the official lead single/track from @deeper.band’s forthcoming LP titled ‘Careful!’ (9/8 @subpop) & it finds the Chicago-based quartet of Shiraz Bhatti (drums), Nic Gohl (vox/guitar), Drew McBride (bass) & Kevin Fairbairn (guitar) bringing the nervily ear-wormed goods across 3 ½ mins of prickly astute ArtRawk. @fiddleheadusa are here w/ “SULLENBOY,” the lead single from their forthcoming LP titled ‘Death Is Nothing To Us’ (8/18 @runforcover) & it finds the Boston-based quintet of Shawn Costa (drums), Alex Dow (guitar), Pat Flynn (vocals), Nick Hinsch (bass) & Alex Henery (guitar) bringing 3+ mins of post_hardcoring & small_brown_biking ALtRawk. “SODAWATER” is a new standalone single from @keepva & it finds the ever-reliable Virginia-based quartet of Wes Smithers (guitar), Will Fennessey (bass), Levi Douthit (guitar/synth) & Nick Yetka (drums/vox) once again gracing us w/ another solid slice of six-string laden & sweetly soft_grunging DreamPop. KING KRULE (@edgar_the_breathtaker) is here w/ “FLIMSIER,” the final single in the run-up to their latest LP titled ‘Space Heavy’ (@matadorrecords @xlrecordings) & it finds the London/Liverpool-based artist Archy Marshall stretching his legs while offering up a drowsy bout of lounge-tinged & woozily wonderful PostPop. “IT’s ALIVE” is the official lead single from @ratboysband’s forthcoming LP titled ‘The Window’ (8/25 @topshelfrecords) & it finds the Chicago-based quartet of vocalist/guitarist Julia Steiner, guitarist Dave Sagan, bassist Sean Neumann & drummer Marcus Nuccio bringing the twangy twee across a 3:24 clip of indie_rawking PostCountry.

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TRACKS STREAMING BELOW...

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[nettirw]

QUALIA NOUS, VOL. 2 - $1.99 BookBub, and VOL. 1 discounted for a limited time

QUALIA NOUS, VOL. 2 is currently a BookBub selection. Snag this eBook now through June 21st for only $1.99 in the US, UK, Australia, and Canada.

Qualia Nous, Vol. 2 is currently a BookBub selection. Snag this eBook now through June 21st for only $1.99 in the US, UK, Australia, and Canada. Qualia Nous, Vol. 2 is an anthology of dark science fiction and fantasy edited by Michael Bailey and featuring artwork throughout by Pat R. Steiner. This second volume of the award-winning Qualia Nous series contains short stories, novelettes, and…