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formulavilla7 · 2 years

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Max Verstappen x Horner daughter reader Chapter 6

Here’s chapter 6 of my Max story. I’ve been really excited to write this chapter for a while and so I finished it quite quickly after writing the Hungary/Spa one so I hope you enjoy it. Sorry if it’s a little short but I really liked the idea of making Zandvoort it’s own standalone chapter for a few different reasons. Thanks to @kiimmie33 for her help in a few aspects of this chapter in terms of Dutch culture and customs with the frikandel speciaal and some of the Dutch phrases. Hope to have more regular updates from now on.

Zandvoort. Max’s home Grand Prix. It was the first time he’d ever driven there and thus it was his first proper home race. In previous years, Spa was the closest he’d gotten to a home Grand Prix in terms of Belgium’s proximity to the Netherlands and the fact that he was half-Belgian due to his mother. He’d also been born there but had always felt more Dutch than Belgian and so he chose to race under the Dutch flag. For this reason, he was excited to represent his country on the home stage and he allowed himself to hope for a win. He knew the atmosphere would be electric if he managed it.

He did a track walk with his team, which he never usually did, to inspect it and admired the steep banking that was similar to the old Monza circuit. They’d been supposed to return there the previous year but the pandemic had prevented that so this was his first proper look.

He found himself getting slightly distracted on his track walk though and had to keep forcing himself to focus as Y/N had decided to join them. She was ahead of him, talking to her dad and every so often he heard her laugh. He shook his head and listened to his team again, discussing the track and the possible strategies that they could try.

Max had had a varied experience in practice. In FP1, Hamilton had finished first and Max had finished behind him in second. FP2 was a lot different as Charles Leclerc finished first and Max ended the session 5th. He did finish first in the third practice session and also had a successful qualifying, qualifying on pole for his home race.

The Orange Army were cheering every time he went passed and they went wild when he qualified first. His fans were incredibly passionate and they followed him all around the world in large numbers. He really appreciated them and it was a great feeling seeing a crowd all in that same orange hue.

Following qualifying, Max found Y/N. “Hey” he said

She turned towards him “Oh hi Max. Well done on getting pole”

“Thanks” he paused, having an idea “Y/N, have you eaten?”

“No I haven’t actually, why?”

“Come with me”

She followed him as they left the track and entered the town of Zandvoort. She was getting more confused as they went and opened her mouth to ask where they were going. At that moment they arrived at a snack bar and Max directed them both inside.

It was relatively quiet, with only a few tables full with people eating and chatting. Y/N looked at Max as they stood in the queue for the counter. He turned to her “I have a recommendation for you. You should order the frikandel speciaal, it’s so good. I bet you’ve never had one before but it’s a Dutch classic. I always miss them when I’m not in the Netherlands.”

She nodded “What is it?”

“It’s like a long piece of meat that is then cut open and filled with raw onions, mayonnaise and curry ketchup. They’re so tasty. Look” he pointed to another customer passing by, who was holding a long, thin tray filled with an item matching Max’s description. It looked delicious

“I’ll definitely get one of those” she decided. He nodded in approval

“Good choice. I’m having one as well but you can’t tell anyone. I don’t think that’s really part of my diet” he laughed and pretended to shush her.

They made their order and sat down to eat it. Y/N stuck her fork into the warm meat and took a bite, chewing slowly to savour the taste. It was as delicious as Max had described. The flavours worked so well together and they sung in her mouth.

Max raised an eyebrow “Do you like it?”

She nodded enthusiastically and swallowed her bite “This is amazing! Why have I never had one before?”

She picked up another forkful, making sure that she got plenty of onions and the sauces

He smiled, proud that she liked something from his country and took a bite of his own. “I don’t know. Will you be having one if you come to the Netherlands again?”

“Definitely”

“Y/N, you have…” he gestured to her lip

“Oh” she giggled, wiping the sauce from her face

They ate in comfortable silence after that, Y/N falling more and more in love with the taste of the dish.

“Where has the Netherlands been hiding this dish?” She asked after they’d finished, still amazed by the taste

He shook his head, amused “We’ve been eating these for a long time. The rest of the world needs to catch up.”

They spent the afternoon following qualifying apart as Max had some work to do in preparing for the race tomorrow. Y/N watched a film in her hotel room, indulging in some stroopwafels that she was softening using the steam from her warm cup of tea. It made the caramel so gooey and delicious.

Race day arrived quickly. Max got away really well at the start but so had Lewis but Max managed to cover him off and keep the lead. When Lewis pitted, Max was quick to react, pitting after him to stop the chance of an undercut. He was able to get incredibly close to Valtteri Bottas, who’d taken the lead following the pits for himself and Lewis. Bottas had held him up quite a lot and he knew Lewis was gaining but he eventually got past the Finn with DRS. He knew his fans would be loving that but their cheers faded into the background as he concentrated on trying to win the race.

Bottas let Hamilton through and then the Finn was held up by Sebastian Vettel spinning, which aided Max as it left Lewis without support for a short time.

It was lap 63 and the gap was at 3.8 seconds, Max had just been told that Lewis was struggling with his tyres and he knew that he had the advantage

By lap 70 Lewis had the fastest lap which his teammate Bottas then took from him. Mercedes pitted Lewis to fight for the fastest lap again, desperate to have that extra point to gain on Max. Despite all this, Max won the race and as he approached the chequered flag he could see the orange flares and hear the fans cheering and applauding for him. It felt amazing. He’d done it. He’d won his home Grand Prix. Tiesto waved the black and white flag and Max basked in the feeling of the victory. Hamilton got the fastest lap on the last lap of the race which wasn’t ideal but it didn’t dampen Max’s spirits too much.

He stood on top of his car, raising his arms in the air in celebration before draping himself in the Dutch flag, lifting it high. The roar of the crowd was incredible.

He stood on top of the podium, still wrapped in the flag of his home country and the sound of the Dutch national anthem filling the air. He felt on top of the world. The warm summer weather was a bonus to the victory.

He celebrated with the team and Y/N congratulated him with a gentle hug. “I’m so proud of you” she whispered before pulling away. He grinned, his face hidden before pulling away.

Later that evening, Max arrived outside of Y/N’s hotel room and knocked.

She opened the door looking curious to see him there

“Hey, would you like to walk on the beach with me?”

“Sure, let me just put my shoes on”

She quickly pulled a pair of shoes on and they both went to the beach. The air had cooled slightly since the race and Y/N shivered.

Max undid his Red Bull coat, pulling it off and putting it around her before she had the chance to protest.

“Thanks” she said, snuggling into it as his body heat still remained in it. She relished in the scent of his cologne, which wafted from the fabric into her nose. It was a very pleasant smell and one that she took comfort in as she always associated it with him.

They continued their walk along the beach, padding through the sand and admiring the sea, breathing in the salty sea air and hearing the waves crashing.

He looked at her and couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto his lips. She looked adorable in his coat, the sleeves hanging from her arms and covering her hands and the body swallowing her figure.

“What?” She asked

“Nothing” he said shaking his head, still smiling.

“No come on” she demanded

“You just look really sweet in my coat”

“Oh” she blushed and leaned up to kiss him

They intertwined hands and Max got a soft look in his eyes “Ik hou van je” he said quietly

She gave him a puppy-dog look “Will you tell me what that means?”

He hesitated and she pouted, pleading with her eyes. He crumbled

“It…” he paused, losing courage “It means… It means I love you”

She blinked in surprise before she beamed. “Really?”

He nodded, flushing slightly

“Ik hou van jou” she repeated in wonder “How do you say ‘I love you too’?”

He took in a sharp breath, his voice trembling slightly as he replied “Ik hou ook van jou”

“Ik hou ook van jou” she copied him before repeating it again with more confidence and more feeling behind it “Ik hou ook van jou” and her eyes told him it was the truth.

She looked so sweet and so sincere whilst saying it, trying to pronounce exactly as he had. He had to kiss her.

They continued their walk along the beach, hand in hand, gazing at the other with loving eyes when they thought they wouldn’t notice. They sat on the beach for a while, taking in the peaceful scene before they both got too cold and decided to go back to the hotel and warm up.

They walked back together most of the way before Max when in a different direction to his hotel room, leaving Y/N a kiss on her cheek which she hid a smile at. She walked back to her room almost in a daze so much so that she didn’t notice the figure in front of her until it was too late and she’d walked into her.

“Sorry” she apologised quickly before she took in the red hair and the woman’s face. Her eyes widened in realisation. Geri.

She’d always gotten on well with her stepmother. She’d always been kind to her and they were quite close, sometimes having girls’ days together without her dad and she often babysitted her half-siblings when Geri and her dad wanted a night to themselves.

It seemed the older woman had also had a realisation though as she gasped slightly, scanning Y/N’s body with her eyes. They seemed to linger on her torso for a while and she appeared in shock. That was when Y/N remembered. She was still wearing Max’s coat. She’d forgotten to take it off as it was still chilly as they’d gone back to the hotel. She cursed in her head.

The coat clearly didn’t belong to her. Its size, the smell of it and also small details stood out. It had a small 33 embroidered in red thread. Max’s number. It even had a tiny Dutch flag on it and she wouldn’t be surprised if his name was somewhere. It was obviously Max’s coat and Geri had clearly recognised that.

The woman opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

“Hi Geri” Y/N said nervously, trying to break the awkward silence

“Y/N, hi!” She continued to stare “Is that Max’s coat.”

Wow, Y/N thought, straight to the point

“Er… Erm…” Y/N struggled to think. Now who was the one looking like a fish. She took a deep breath “Yes.”

“Right” Geri said, looking surprised even though she knew it was “Are you… Are you dating him then?”

Y/N paled, cursing the former Spice Girl for uncovering her secret. How could she possibly deny it?

“Yes, we’re dating” she felt like a huge weight had been removed from her chest though she still felt anxious as to what Geri would say

Geri’s face lit up “Ah I’m so happy for you. This is so exciting.” She pulled a stunned Y/N in for a hug

“You need to tell me all about it! We’ll go for a coffee when we get back to the UK and you can fill me in!”

“Erm… ok” Y/N said hesitantly, surprised that Geri was so supportive

The older woman enthused about them being together, telling her that she’d had suspicions and that they were so sweet together. “Oh and don’t worry” she said “I won’t tell your dad. You should tell him yourself when you’re ready.” She winked

The two of them continued their walk to the hotel rooms they had booked and Y/N bid Geri good night, finally getting into her room and removing Max’s coat. She hung it up and made a mental note to return it to him before anyone else could see it, especially her dad

She picked up her phone just before she went to bed and sent Max a text. ‘Geri knows’ it said simply

Naturally this caused Max to panic slightly, having not expected this. ‘How?’ He replied, leading Y/N to explain the story and tell him how happy Geri seemed

‘At least she’s happy’

‘We need to tell dad soon though Max. I trust Geri but she might accidentally tell him if we leave it too long and he’ll be so angry. He might be better if we tell him’

Max agreed and they decided that they’d plan to tell him soon and hopefully at a time when he was in a good mood

‘Ik hou van jou Y/N. Night” he sent

“Ik hou ook van jou Max. Night”

Content in their feelings for the other despite the shock to the system with Geri knowing, they fell asleep. They knew a challenge would be on the horizon when Christian would become aware but it had to be done. He couldn’t be in the dark forever. They would face it together.

#f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #red bull racing #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1

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capevans3000 · 4 years

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Fan Non-Fiction

Request: How about Chris Evans x reader where they are roommates,reader is the introvert shy type, and has a secret crush on Chris.Reader reads fanfics about Chris.one time reader falls asleep holding her phone(unlocked) and Chris finds her and sees that she's reading about him😊😊

A/N: Can I just say how much I really love this idea! @tom-hlover this is for you and I hope you like it! <3 Sorry if this was a bit short! Comments and feedback are appreciated. Thank you everyone!

Check out my Masterlist and send me your requests. :)

(Photo not mine!)

It was beyond your wildest of dreams that you would ever meet, much less know, Chris Evans in person. It was even more beyond your imagination that you would ever become his roommate.

It happened three months ago. When your room rental fees spiked above what your budget could afford, you were forced to uproot and move out. Finding a suitable room for rent for a young lady like yourself was not as easy as searching for the right pair of socks to wear. Despite your month-long extensive search, the rooms you found that were within your budget were either located in dark and dangerous areas, or they were in apartments that were obviously used for illegal activities.

You turned to your friends for help, but neither of them were able to vacate a room for you. Until Chris came along. He heard about your predicament, and instantly offered you a room in his house to stay. You’ve always had a crush on Chris, way before you even knew him in person. But you were also shy around him, so living together with Chris under the same roof would not bode well. But desperate situation called for desperate measures. When the time came for you to move out and the only place you found was staying with a bunch of druggies, Chris came to look for you and insisted you move in with him. “Stay with me, please. I don’t want you staying alone in that place.” He had personally packed your belongings for you and driven you to his house. Seeing that there were no other options, you nervously accepted his offer.

During the first week that you had stayed in Chris’ apartment, you hardly came out of your room. You kept to yourself, afraid to even get too close to Chris. Although you’ve had a crush on him for the longest time, you never told him and you thought you never would. You were happy the way things were, just quietly supporting him from aside. Nevertheless, you would have been lying if you said you weren’t excited that you were Chris’ roommate.

Despite always feeling nervous around Chris, you started to get a little bit more comfortable around the house. You had begun to venture out beyond your own room more often and stepping into the common rooms in the house.

Coincidentally, it was during your stay in Chris’ apartment that you discovered the holy grail that is Tumblr. When you found out about fanfictions, it was like you’ve stepped into a rabbit hole. There were so many writers on Tumblr that wrote amazing fanfictions about Chris. Reading fanfics became one of your ways to decompress after work. As you read, you often imagined and played out in your head the scenarios of the stories with Chris. The phrase “So near yet so far” never had much meaning to you until then. Each day as you read these fanfictions, Chris was just in the same house as you were, yet they were still nothing but imaginations.

One night, while Chris was out working, you sat in the living room sofa to catch up on the latest fanfic story you were following. You smiled to yourself whenever something sweet or exciting happens in the story. It had been a long day that day, and you didn’t realized that you had soon fallen asleep sitting on the sofa, with your phone’s Tumblr app still running.

You don’t know how long you’ve fallen asleep for, but when your head nodded off sideways and landed on something, you woke up startled. It took you a while to realise what was going on in front of you.

Chris was kneeling in front of you on the floor, his right hand cradling your head. “Hi.” Chris smiled. There was something in his smile that you found different but couldn’t quite place. “I wanted to wake you, but you were sleeping so soundly I couldn’t bear to. I’m glad I caught your head before it fell.” Chris chuckled.

Realising that you were lying on Chris’ hand, you sat up so quickly that blood rushed into your head. You laughed nervously and thanked him for catching your head. Just when you thought that was the only embarrassing moment, you looked down at Chris’ other hand and noticed something that had your eyes opened wide like saucers. Sitting in his hand was your phone, the screen still bright as day, a picture of Chris smiling. It was the picture that accompanied the fluffy fanfic you were just reading. Your felt your mouth opened but no words came out.

Chris noticed what you saw and he smiled. He returned your phone to you. “I – I was –“ You stuttered. You wanted nothing but to dig a hole in the ground to bury your head forever.

“I’m sorry I took your phone. It was falling from your hand and I didn’t want it to smash on the ground.” Chris was still smiling. From his expression, you couldn’t tell if Chris had seen what you were reading before you had fallen asleep. Nevertheless, it felt embarrassing enough to have Chris catch you looking at his photos while he was away.

You opened your mouth again to say something, but all that escaped your mouth was a slow dragged out gasp as you internalized what was happening. You quickly locked your phone and hid it in your pocket. Chris had joined you on the sofa by then and the two of you sat in silence for a few moments.

Hoping that Chris had not seen or figured out what you were reading on your phone, you stood up slowly from the sofa. “Erm, I should head back to my room. Good – Good night?” You said awkwardly.

As you walked away, you felt Chris’ hand on yours holding you back. You stopped in your tracks, your heart was racing like you had just ran a marathon. Millions of thoughts went through your head, but one thing you felt was sure was that after this embarrassing episode, you were going to be out in the streets by tomorrow morning – voluntarily.

Chris gave your hand a tight squeeze and gently nudged you to turn and look at him. Your eyes were closed as you turned to face him.

“I can explain –“ “Were you imagining us together?”

The two of you spoke at the same time. Your eyes flicked opened when you heard Chris’ question. Before you could even try to wave his question off, he asked again.

“And your explanation is that… you like me?” Chris asked.

You looked up at Chris and saw that he was smiling softly at you. There was the same look that you saw in his smile earlier.

“I – “ You choked, not knowing what to say. It seemed like the best time to tell him that you like him, but you were too shy to do it. All you could do was stare on a spot on the floor, enough to burn a hole through it.

“I like you too.” Chris said out loud, finishing your thought sentence.

Your pupils dilated as you looked up again at Chris. You couldn’t believe what you just heard. You weren’t even sure if you had heard him correctly. It almost felt as if you were dreaming, and you were actually looking at the situation unfold in front of you from a third person’s point of view.

“I like you too.” Chris said again firmly, as though he could hear your thoughts. He now had both of his hands on your forearms, the drumrolls to a long and passionate hug ahead. “I’ve actually liked you for a very long time. I never told you, because I didn’t think you would want to be with someone that much older than you. I don’t know if you would like me.”

You felt yourself holding your breath as Chris said those words to you. if this was a dream and you were actually still sound asleep on the sofa, you hoped you would never wake up. The insides of your stomach were in knots, happy and excited knots.

“I do like you. And for a long time too.” You finally said, in a low whisper. The feeling that you had finally confessed to Chris was exhilarating.

Without any further words from Chris, your body was pulled into his arms and chest. His arms tightened around you, grounding you in such a way that you knew this was not a dream, but reality. All those times you had read in fanfics and imagined hugging him was happening for real. Chris was really hugging you, and you were really hugging him back. This was no fanfic, this was real. The two of you stayed in that moment, relishing each other’s presence.

“I read the fanfic that you were reading earlier. I believe this happened in the story too.” Chris whispered, before tilting your head up with his hand so that his lips and yours touched.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans #chris fan non-fiction

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therandomavenger · 3 years

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Anger and Acceptance

I've been listening to the Halliwell book Delivered from Distraction which was a follow up to his Driven to Distraction which was my introduction to adhd. And let me tell you, fam, it is bringing up some memories. It's a guide to what we knew back in 2005 about adhd, as well as inspirational stories about people who have persevered.

Now, I wasn't diagnosed with adhd until I was 32. The fact that I functioned at all before that time was a miracle, because I could look back on my childhood and young adulthood and see the signs in myself.

I was constantly losing things. In third grade they started handing out lunch tickets, which had to be purchased ahead of time. No ticket, no lunch. My parents were always good about buying them for me but then came the crucial next step: I had to keep track of them. No ticket, no lunch. At least twice a week I would be holding up the class, making us late for lunch, because my lunch ticket would have vanished into the black hole that was my desk. Everybody would be standing there, impatient, thinking 'what an idiot' because I, a non neurotypical eight-year old had not been able to keep track of a piece of paper that was about the size of a playing card. I seemed to be the only one who had a problem with this. It even came up at a parent-teacher conference. Did anyone attempt to help me come up with a strategy for helping me keep track of my lunch tickets? Maybe intervene with some easy organizational strategies or reminded of where I should put it? Of course not, it was just constantly pointed out as a problem that I shouldn't be having and I of course internalized that, thinking I was just a bad person.

Things didn't go better as I got older. In fifth grade we were supposed to have memorized our multiplication tables. Now, I had trouble with math, but I'd learned my multiplication tables. I knew them. I couldn't do them fast, but I could do them. So, of course my fifth grade teacher, a grumpy old man named Mr. Southwood, started doing timed tests. We had five minutes to do 100 multiplication problems. Now, this was a nightmare for me. I knew my multiplication tables, but could not perform at that speed on demand. Plus, at the end of every test we had to call out our score verbally, which would then be recorded. This, of course, followed intense stress with humiliation. Sometimes I did ok on them, rising up to the 70s or 80s, often I was down in the 20s and 30s.

But there was hope. If you achieved a perfect score twice, you were exempted from taking them in the future. We did these like three times a week. Now, through some miracle of variable performance, one day I managed to achieve a perfect score. Everyone was shocked when I reported my score, but nobody checked it, which gave me an idea. The next test I got like a 70 or something but when we were reporting our scores I said I got 100, hoping I would be spared more of this torture.

Well five minutes later Mr. Southwood gave a real barnraiser of a speech, how there was nothing he could think of worse than a liar And how for no reason he could think of someone had lied about their score on the timed test. I have no idea how he knew I'd been lying, but it was obvious that I was the one he was talking about. So my name went on the board with the words "for lying" next to it and I had to stay after school.

Another time, also in fifth grade, we were given packets we were supposed to work our way through when we had downtime. I put mine in my desk and promptly forgot about it, of course. Did he remind us of them over the course of the next week? Of course not. I had no idea this time bomb was about to go off until it was time to turn them in, at which point I remembered the fucking packet and realized I had done none of it. Was he understanding? Of course not, he just made fun of me and said I was spending too much time reading.

When I became a teacher I remembered all of these things and how they'd made me feel. I was always on the lookout for the adhd kids, and I got along well with them when a lot of other teachers didn't. But I don't care who you are or what your problem is, there's never a reason to humiliate a student.

But it was the 80s and I'm my small town none had ever heard of adhd. I was diagnosed with the unhelpful label of " learning disabilities" and in fourth grade I was in a pull-out program where they helped me slow down my lightning fast brain so that I could at least write coherently. They tested my iq, and found it was high enough I should be performing better. But no one said adhd, though it was a diagnosis at the time.

It was probably because I was not as hyperactive as some. Though I was hyperactive. I could not sit still and was constantly moving to the degree that it annoyed my classmates. There's video footage of me racing around my aunt's backyard doing cartwheels a hundred times a second. So really, the educational professionals in my life should have realized something more specific than "learning disability" was up.

But I fell in love with reading, which helped. I could hyperfocus on books for hours at a time. And I discovered a love for writing stories, which gave me worlds of my own making to escape into when the heat of daily life grew too intense.

My own kids both had adhd, but my ex wife and I were always on top of it, or we tried to be. And the teachers in their lives mostly understood. There were some that gave us trouble, but I can only think of one teacher who actually tried to humiliate my son.

So remembering these things has made me so angry on behalf of the little boy who once inhabited this skin. These are far from the only instances too. I just want somebody to find him and say, 'you're not stupid your brain just

works differently.'

When I was 32 my daughter was diagnosed at the age of 5. The pediatrician told us to read Driven to Distraction, which we did. And let me tell you, fam, it was a revelation. I put the book down after some description of people who could not keep their cabinet doors closed to save their lives and looked at my then-wife and said, 'this explains my entire life' and she was like, 'you think?' So I immediately called the psychologist we'd been referred to and asked to be evaluated. He gave me many different types of tests and even had me assessed for allergies and diagnosed me, saying 'i wasn't sure about you until you took the TOVA (a computerized test measuring attention). Most people are between -2 and +1 with larger numbers meaning more intense attention problems. I was a +6.

So I've had to accept this about myself. I've come up with ways to achieve my goals, while letting go of some things. I can write, but only for about an hour. But I can write 1000 words in that hour which is a good enough pace. So I've accepted myself and learned to work with the brain I have. I could accomplish nothing without adderal, and don't get me started on people who claim you shouldn't take medication. If you have eye problems you wear glasses and nobody makes you feel bad about it. For me, adderal is just glasses for my brain.

So I am still angry on behalf of the kid I was and on behalf of all non neurotypical kids who are made to feel worthless by people who are supposed to be helping them. We know better these days, and we can do better.

#adhd #mental health

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formulatrash · 4 years

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It’s so cool you can paint pictures of drivers on a human level!! Who is the coolest female driver you’ve met? And have you ever spent time with the queen that is Susie Wolff?

I know Susie quite well cus she’s a Formula E team boss (and has been for two seasons pretty much, now)

She’s really cool. Clever, sharp, able to ignore the sniping (and it is constant) that any failings in the team’s delivery are because of her gender. Not from other people in Formula E, but the media (not particularly English language media but that’s by no means universal) and the usual armchair commentators from Twitter to YouTube to the third circle of hell that is Facebook group comments of course spout sewage constantly.

Oh, she got the job because of her husband (she didn’t), she isn’t serious about motorsport, she had no proven record as a team boss previously.... I mean, neither did Allan McNish but that curiously doesn’t come up as to why he’s in charge of Audi, despite absolute shitting the bed in Season 4.

(I love Allan but: it would be disingenuous to call the start of S4 anything other than a clown show at Audi, albeit mostly related to finding their feet as a factory outfit - and it was fair not to put that on him; imagine if he’d been Alanis, though...)

Susie has led Venturi to the most success they’ve ever had as a team but still gets called mediocre by geniuses from the comfort of their couches. She wants more, of course - she’s an ambitious and fiercely driven person. She’s also super friendly and funny and I really like her; she has huge amounts of time for people and particularly young people and women starting out in their careers. I’ve done a few bits with her and D2BD and like, you don’t start a thing like that because you don't give a shit, you know?

Here’s something I don’t think I’ve ever published? It’s an interview I did with Susie in Riyadh back at a showcase before the start of Season 5. We were nervous. It was weird.

Diriyah, Riyadh, 2018 There are sometimes moments around interviews where technically your recorder is running but it’s not per se the start of formal questions yet. In a side room of a Riyadh conference centre, sitting down with Venturi Formula E team principal Susie Wolff, I had one of those this week.

It would be fair to describe the Riyadh Eprix as ‘controversial’ - putting a Formula E race in a country known for being the home of oil is one, admirably punk thing. But Saudi Arabia is - or has been - a very closed kingdom, with extremely strict rules and social systems that seem obviously out-of-joint with the western twenty-first century.

Beyond that, I have an international relations degree and used to work for human rights organisations. You can use google to pick out the contexts in which I was previously aware of Saudi Arabia. I am fearless to the point of total disregard for my personal safety but my heart fluttered as I went to Heathrow, as I boarded the plane, as we landed. Everything I knew said I shouldn’t do it.

But you know how it is when someone tells you that, even if it’s you.

I don’t know much about Saudi Arabia and I can’t pretend that 24 hours there has illuminated the country to me more than watching the chasing, blinking lights of Riyadh’s enormous, luminescent sprawl did while I was sitting at my hotel window typing notes.

Launch events are launch events. The fact I was wearing an abaya and hijab (although it’s not obligatory for non-Muslim women my hair is a bit avante-garde to risk it) didn’t really change the fact that they’re just awkward promotional chat, albeit with Arabic-to-English headset.

And then it was straight on to interviewing Saudi princes - who are just politicians, the sports ministry fairly far removed from anything that isn’t, uh, sports. But nonetheless “interviewing Saudi princes” rates quite highly on my *record scratch* *freeze frame* ‘Yep, you’re probably wondering how I got here?’ scale. How the hell did I get here?

Anyway, after that I spoke to Susie Wolff, the new head of Venturi Formula E team. It was a strange, semi-breathless moment; interviewing one of my heroes in motorsport, in the absolute least likely circumstances. A female ex-race driver being interviewed by a female journalist, in a country that women were banned from attending let alone participating in motorsport.

As she sat down, Susie looked me dead in the eye and said “Look, you of all people can’t have a go at me about this.”

I knew exactly what she meant. Should we be there? I don’t know, maybe not. If we weren’t, what dead-behind-the-eyes man would be and where would we be getting new jobs?

I didn’t notice it at the time but when I heard the audio back, we both sound nervous - breathy, almost on the verge of panic. I didn’t become a motorsport journalist to interview Saudi princes or worry about this shit - except maybe I did, really because Formula E has to be an obnoxious upstart, it has to be confrontational even and especially with the scariest potential opponents.

It was before last season, then and so the first thing I had to ask Susie was what she could expect from the season, coming in as Venturi team principle. It’s the most nervous we both sound on the whole recording.

“I absolutely don't underestimate the challenge ahead of me. I've been a great believer, my whole life, that you've got to push yourself out of your comfort zone.

“You've got to do things that do slightly scare you because that's when you develop as a person and when I took on this challenge I absolutely realised the work that lay ahead of me.”

It would be fair to say that, a few years ago when I decided to do this. I did not. I myself cannot claim to have any bold vision in the way I stumbled my way into Formula E and really hoped it was going to come up with something to save my life because I’d run out of my own options.

Susie clearly had a different approach, a full long-game more than a messy explosion of want/need/hope. But sitting there in this weird exhibition centre in a city I’d never been to before, she put it very well.

I had to ask her about the “women’s test” - the option for teams to run a second car at an in-season test in Riyadh, provided it was driven by a woman of sufficiently high driving standard:

“I started Dare To Be Different because everybody talks about the fact that there's not enough diversity in motorsport. But very few people do something about it and I think it's about being proactive - if you want to see change, be part of that change, don't sit and talk about it but actually try and help make it happen.

“And what I appreciate so much since joining Formula E - and I can very much say joining the Formula E family - is that they're very, very supportive, more than any other championship we approached. Because they realise that it's a problem. And it's something that they want to be proactive on.”

Everyone said it was a stunt. And yes, of course it was a stunt. So are rookie tests that get Mick Schumacher into a Ferrari, so is anything where there’s a constraint that conducts the order of the event. So is sport. But it wasn’t a badly-thought-through one and with my brain already trying to stop bending back on itself with the news I actually might quite like??? Saudi Arabia??? I didn’t quite notice how much.

Susie obviously had more detail on it -

“I think the concept that they came up with regarding the test day, within the first race weekend, is really good. I was quite vocal in how the concept should be transported and run properly because for me, rather than just creating an opportunity which creates a lot of attention but actually doesn't have any fundamental credibility or any long-lasting impact is not going to be positive change for the long run.

“So we had quite some discussions at our team principals meeting that actually teams will run a female driver if they find one that they want to run, that's of the right level. There will be no different sessions for different levels, there will be no women just put in the car out of completely out of the depth.

“I lost a very good friend of mine who should never have been in the situation that she was and I think when this happens it has to be done the right way and those inputs were all taken on board and I'm very confident that we have now created an opportunity that is going to a) have an very positive impact and b) show not just the Saudi community but the wider world what's possible. I think you can't underestimate the impact of seeing women on track, that's something visible that women can identify with and that's role models to which they can aspire.

“I will be announcing in November a full-time test driver within my team who is a female, I've taken her because of her abilities not just because she's a female [it was Simona de Silvestro, who tested for Venturi that December and is now part of Porsche] but I absolutely believe in in - and I think, you also because you're one of very few within what you do, you're a fantastic role model and that can inspire so many people - and that's why it's up to us to have a positive impact and have a positive change but it has to be done in a credible way.

“Because I'm not just flying a flag saying 'let's do something for the sake of it,' I very much think we have to do something but in the right way, in a credible way that's going to create long-lasting impact because I'm pretty sure you'd also love to see, in ten years, more young women doing what you do and to be able to turn around and say 'wow, I helped people to understand there was a possibility within this sport.' And the sport does have so many possibilities it's just that what people see is a male dominated world but there's no reason why it has to be. Not just focussing on the on-track activities, I very much believe that we have to look at the whole sport, from your industry in journalism to the engineering, the whole sport just needs to be more accessible to women and they have to come in at grass-roots level and be able to rise to the top of the pack.

“If they're of the right level. And I think that is one of the problems right now, internationally and I think that's where the Women in Motorsport commission was great that they did this assessment because people were able to see it. In one of our first meetings in New York when this idea had just come up many people were saying 'oh where will we get anyone from' and I was like 'well wait a second, in Audi there's Ashley Freiburg, at BMW there's Beitske Visser and obviously Jaguar there's Katherine Legge there are enough available, it's not ok to say you don't have the numbers when there are enough good women right now it's just a case of being open to that change. Certainly, it's one thing that I very much appreciate about Formula E - they're supporting us massively and we've got some exciting news coming out toward the end of October with regards to Dare to be Different and more events around Formula E and that's something that I'm very grateful for the opportunity to work on.”

(I apparently gave up properly writing the article at this point, I guess no one commissioned it - but hey, lil Tumblr exclusive)

#fe asks

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redfoxwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 24)

Welcome! Happy Friday! Kit does in fact Live! Who knew, right? I got the cold of death this week and I swear to GOD I’ve been asleep more than awake. But those who have been keeping up with the family bullshit that has knocked this to biweekly updates and killed my will to write- Cora’s getting a 504 plan so she’s promised the same accommodations she’s getting now from the teacher in the following years. WooHoo! Still some kinks to work out but I *hope* to be writing enough to get this back to weekly updates by the end of March.

Clint x ofc, Series rating: M, Series warnings: Pretty much every Trigger warning that can exist is in this series at some point.

Masterlist

Feed me coffee

Chapter warnings: None

Chapter 24: Going Up

The cold nipped at her cheeks and nose. The heavy coat she wore had belonged to Laura and was two sizes too big, at least. Clint had told her Laura had gotten it while she was pregnant with one of the kids. It smelled like the house and nothing more, a fact for which Deanna was beyond thankful for.

A bitter cold snap had rolled through the area and while Clint had no trouble at all keeping the farmhouse, greenhouse shed and chicken coop warm enough, it did put a damper on their plans. She had made it clear to Clint on the fourth day that she wasn’t prepared to be a mother again. They needed to at least attempt to retrieve Elsa’s mother.

Because of her unwillingness to wait out the cold spell, Clint made damn sure she wouldn’t suffer from exposure. Strapped to her back, under the heavy coat was Elsa. Her body heat combined with the protection of the coat assured them that the small body would be warm enough.

Clint had driven them a good ways, circling the city in the distance. He assured her that the paths they were taking would keep them out of sight of any scouts. In truth, he hadn't expected them to have any scouts but it was better to be safe than sorry. Finally, when he had picked a way in, he parked the truck off the road and wedged it under a large pine. The sagging branches helped hide it but there wasn’t much that could be done about the tracks themselves. Trust trotted along, keeping pace at their heels, unconcerned with the cold.

It was early in the morning, the sun had only began to rise as they started walking. They hiked through the snow for what felt like a lifetime. Clint lead the way and she fallowed in a half asleep daze. There was no sign of another person as far as she could see.

The city loomed in the distance, growing larger with each passing hour. They walked by moonlight alone. Clint didn’t want to use a flashlight and while she understood, Dee didn’t exactly have her feet under her. She wasn’t used to traversing more than her home in the dark. Snow and ice crunched under their feet as Clint guided them along animal trails.

When he reached out and squeezed her glove covered hand with his own, it reassured her. He didn’t expect her to know everything or to be battle ready. He was kind and patient with her even as he urged her forward at a grueling pace.

They walked toward a large building, the largest on the outskirts of the city. She knew what was in store for her, but Dee wasn’t even remotely excited about it.

The glass windows were broken in on the ground floor and many on the second had been shattered as well. They carefully made their way inside. Clint carried the dog over the sea of broken glass, whispering to himself about having to find or make booties for the pooch to protect his feet in the future. Such care was enduring to Dee. He took such good care of them. She couldn't imagine a life in this new world without him.

“How far up are we going?” Deanna asked. Clint pulled open the door to the stairwell, finally clicking on his flashlight.

“All the way. I want on the roof.”

She watched as he worked. It was fascinating, the things he looked for to assure their safety. He checked things she didn’t even think of. like dust on the ground or types of trash. As he worked, he whispered a play by play of what he was looking for. He taught her with the hopes that if she ever had to do this alone, she could.

The flashlight illuminated the landing where undisturbed dust had settled. He shone it under the stairs, checking that no one was hiding out before shining the light up the stairs. Only when he was sure that everything he could see had been untouched for a while, did he start them up the stairs.

“Never treat a stairwell as the only way up or down.” He whispered as they started on the stairwell leading up to the third floor. “Most of the time there is at least one more stairwell at the other side of the building. If it’s in a corner- you can almost count on there being three more- one in each corner.”

She’d never thought about that. There were so many things she had never even thought of. The thought plagued her. Even if she hadn’t hurt her ankle that day, how long would she have really survived? Would she have embraced a group like this, learned to look the other way to protect herself? Would she have been taken captive by one? Would she have tried to fight back only to end up dead on the side of the road?

How many people were killed by groups like this? She knew what was left of the Avengers team, fractured as they were, were working to restore something resembling order to the east coast. Clint had told her how their hold had spread farther and farther west but until proper order was restored, this was life for who knows how many people.

It was hard not to think about the state of things when all she had to do was climb stair after stair. Her legs burned. She wasn’t in any shape for this, though she expected to be in much more pain than she was in. Her body had become stronger over the last four months and she largely hadn’t noticed it.

“Has there been any word for New York?” She whiskered, growing tired of listening only to the sound of their boot falls and her racing thoughts. As they reached the fifth floor, they began to feel safer in their solitude. No one was around.

No one stirred, not even a mouse.

“They’ve located the VP a while ago. He’s something resembling stable now.”

“Stable?”

Clint shrugged. “The decimation- it was hard on everyone. He lost a lot of his friends, parts of his family. For a while it wasn’t looking like he could lead the country.”

“I guess he’s President now?”

“Yep. Rhodes is pretty much in charge of the air force for now. Not sure if he’ll stay in that position as they fill the ranks. Probably, anyway. They’ve put a call on the AM radio stations for any and all military personnel to make their way east. It’s hard to say how many will show up. I guess it’s been a small trickle.”

“That’s good though, right?”

“Yeah.” Silence spanned for a few moments, broken only by the sound of their boots. “I’m not going though. I told them, I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’s good though, that things are getting figured out. Maybe soon people like King Jacob won’t be a problem anymore.”

“People like King Jacob and his band of thugs will always be a problem. Always have and always will be.”

It felt like a lifetime before they reached the roof. They stopped, feeding the baby a few floors from the top. She was young enough that being settled close to Dee’s skin was enough to keep her quite. Little Elsa was staying warm and spent much of her time sleeping. When she was awake, Dee hiked her higher on her back and used the hood to shield the small head, allowing hr to look around some. The baby likely mostly had a view of hair, though. It was the thought that counted, right?

As Clint looked over the edge of the roof, Dee sat near the door and played with little Elsa. It was better to see to the child now, while she could than have the baby want attention or need a feeding while they were in a dangerous spot. There wasn’t much she could do to control the timing of a soiled diaper beyond pray that it didn’t make her cry when they needed her silent.

“Let’s go.”

Dee must have dozed off with the baby in her arms. Clint’s voice startled her awake. Golden morning sun shone out over them. It wasn’t by much but they didn’t leave in the ‘early morning’ like Clint had said. Just because the clock read ‘AM’ didn't make it ‘morning’ but she hadn’t argued about it. Still, half past two was ‘early morning’ in Clint’s book. It had to be something close to six or so, now.

Just as everything that goes up must come down, they had to walk down the stairs- one flight at a time. They went faster down, having gravity on their side. Still, she never wanted to look at another stair again in her life. Ever. Clint was going to have to carry her up the stairs of the farmhouse if he wanted her to go back inside it.

Assuming they both survived.

She followed him, staying close on his heels as they moved through city streets. Clint didn’t tell her much about the path they took beyond that it was safe. Or rather, pretty safe but that was as safe as anything got when they were off his property. That had to be good enough.

For a few hours, they trucked through snow as they worked their way deeper into the city using alley ways and working to remain hidden. The sun hung low in the sky still, providing long shadows for them to move through. Still, it was impossible to ignore the way her anxiety climbed right along with the sun.

She could almost taste the relief when they slipped inside the building Clint had picked out. It was sweeter than any candy she had had. Still, Clint moved them into the building slowly. He thoroughly checked the ground floor, ensuring it was empty before leading them up the first flight of stairs.

This building was taller than the prior, which was why Clint had picked it. Each flight of stairs was harder than the last to climb and after four flights, it became clear that she needed a break.

Clint ordered her to wait in the stairwell, of the fifth flight as he checked the floor. She agreed willingly, causing him to worry. They worked little Elsa out of her jacket and made her a bottle of formula. It wouldn’t be warm like it should have been but the water was at body temperature at least, having been stored in an internal side pocket of her coat.

Once they were settled, Clint started on checking the floor for any sign of use. Some windows were cracked but most were intact, keeping the bitter wind out. Fine dust covered the ground, far more dust than would be expected for how long the building had sat empty.

He knew what that dust was. People who had been here and been lost. People he had failed. It was a toxic thought and he worked to push it away. Now wasn’t the time to think of the people that the heroes of the world had failed that summer.

Right now, what mattered most was that he didn’t fail to protect Dee. What mattered was that he did everything within reason to protect Elsa and reunite her with her mother. What mattered was that those who were taking advantage of others were punished.

He couldn’t find any sign of human life on the floor. Sure, rat activity seemed to be present but he expected that. Rats would be a problem in any city right now. Once he was satisfied that the floor was empty, he set to work barricading the other stairwell doors.

They would rest. They needed to rest and eat but he would only allow them to do so once he was certain that there was no way to get on or off this floor without him knowing. Only when he was satisfied did he go back to Dee.

Wordlessly, he ushered her out of the stairwell and into the floor. It was filled with cubicles and desks. The black screens of computers taunted her with the memory of what had been. Dust floated up around their feet as they walked. Clint lead the way to a small office, probably having belonged to the floor manager. The door was closed but the walls were lined with glass windows, giving it a view of the whole floor.

Inside, there was very little dust. The dust in that office was light and lacked that oddly oily nature that the dust created out of people by the decimation had. When it happened, the room had been empty and the door closed. It was clean.

Dee sat on the floor and set baby Elsa down next to her. As she laid next to the baby, her back popped in places. It felt so good to be off her feet, to have the weight and strain off her legs. Trust laid down next to Elsa, keeping his side touching the small baby, providing her warmth.

Clint left the door to the office open as he sat on the floor next to them. The backpack he carried was large and heavy. It felt amazing to have the weight off his back. Soon, soon they would be in place and he wouldn’t have to keep carrying it for much longer.

He planned to let them rest for the next hour or two. It wasn’t nearly as much rest as he knew Dee needed but it was as also far more than he wanted to give them. Opening the backpack, he set to work unpacking it. He set a foam bowl out and filled it with water for Trust. The dog had largely been eating mouth fulls of snow as they walked but was eager to get a proper drink anyway.

On a paper plate, he dumped a can of wet dog food. That excited Trust. With the dog taken care of, he grabbed up the baby and gave her a change. She’d drank most of the bottle that Dee had given her and was now more than content to eat her toes for a while.

“Is that safe?” Dee asked as he set out a small propane burner designed for camping and lit it.

“Yes and no.” He answered, setting a small metal pot on and popping open one of their cans of stew and dumping it inside. “You normally use them outside, the fumes build up and are toxic. But the floor is open, the door is open and we won’t be allowing it to burn long enough to put us in danger. The exposure is worth having a hot meal.”

He was right, the meal did much more to help her recover her strength than she had expected. There was still the throbbing ache in her legs and back but she felt significantly less like death. The idea of walking up the rest of the stairs however was still something she had no interest in doing.

After eating his share, Clint pulled himself to his feet and Dee audibly groaned. “Don’t worry Babe, you don’t have to get up yet.”

“Oh thank god.” Dramatics were on full force as she made a show of sighing and relaxing against the wall. Before, she’d never liked dramatics. She felt that they were pointless and a waste of time but somehow, with him, they felt natural and she often didn’t even realize she was doing it until later. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see what we can see from here.”

“What if someone sees you?”

“We’re too high for most people to see us unless they are looking from another building.”

“And they could be.”

“But unlikely. This lot seems not inclined to climb stairs. No one’s been in this one or the last building. Seems safe enough to assume they likely are not high in the others.”

“Safe enough?” She mocked.

Clint rolled his eyes and made his way toward the windows. While he felt reasonably sure enough of his calculation that he wouldn’t be seen, he wasn’t going to dance naked in front of a window either. “There’s going to be a glare on the glass from the sun anyway. It’ll be hard for anyone to really look for long enough to notice movement.”

“If you say so.”

He did say so. Again and again he told himself that as he peeked down through the glass. Ever calm and sure of himself on the exterior, Dee would never guess that there was a steady river of anxiety running through him.

He knew she was right. It was dangerous to approach the window. It put him in the open. He could be spotted. He could be shot. But there was always a risk. He had to weigh that risk against the benefit of information. Right now, he needed information to keep them alive.

He hadn’t told Dee, but he had caught sight of movement in some buildings as they had made their way to this building. There was only so much he could do to keep them in the shadows but there was a chance that King Jacob’s gang knew that there were outsiders in the town.

If they were lucky, no one thought anything if a couple walking through the shadows. Should he have told Dee? His mind was at war over it. It wouldn’t do any good to stress her out, to raise her anxiety levels even higher, right? But there was a part of him that knew she couldn’t be prepared to defend herself if she didn’t know there was an additional threat.

He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. It was important to focus right now. The binoculars were wedged in his pocket and he had to work a bit to get them out. Even as he worked them free, he kept his eyes trained on the buildings across. There was no movement in them that he could see.

With the binoculars, he was able to take a closer look. There were clear paths through the snow that gave way what roads were most trafficked. Other roads were untouched by human footprints and mainly filled with animal tracks. People moved down below.

They were dirty people. Some were clearly injured. Most were not dressed for the unusual cold. Small groups gathered around trashcan fires, warming fingers. There was a consistent lack of women and younger children.

Everyone he could see looked tired, thin and ragged. They were not weathering the winter well. Turning his eyes toward the city center park, it was clear where King Jacob set himself up. There was a stage built and things hanging from rafters.

Bodies. There were bodies swinging in the wind. One had to be no older than 14.

King Jacob needed to die.

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @usedtobegoodfriend96, @acoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @carissime72, @myoxisbroken, @coyotesongwriting, @wegingerangelica, @faemapfae, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @tnystrk-exe

#clint x ofc #clint x oc #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton x oc #clint barton x ofc

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for-a-flower · 4 years

Text

Senseless Slaughter

(WARNING! This part contains violence, death, and blood. Flowey’s just cruel in neutral endings, that simple.)

Frisk jumped when he appeared near Flowey again. Flowey’s ugly face scowled at him "Don't you get it?! There's no such thing as happy endings! This is all that's left!" Frisk frowned, confused and terrified. Sure Flowey had said something else but nothing of help. The little human ran as thousands of pellets scattered through the air, bouncing off walls and striking Frisk. He jumped a few vines that swung at him then ducked under a third. The attacks paused, so Frisk stopped to catch his breath for a second. This was the longest he’d survived so far. Maybe Flowey would eventually tire of this if Frisk could stay alive long enough without giving him the satisfaction of killing. One of the fleshy loops around Flowey’s face throbbed with light blue magic.

Lots of cyan magic daggers appeared between the monster and Frisk. They turned to point at the human then shot toward him. Frisk jumped right as a few flew by then rolled left to avoid others. One scraped a leg as it passed. Frisk staggered and cringed as he got to his feet. He glanced down. His left leg was cut and bleeding but the damage wasn’t serious. Flowey scowled and tossed massive, plantlike spheres which were boulder sized objects covered in spines. They bounced through the cavern along unpredictable paths. The child ducked as one flew over. Sharp spines scraped across his back. Frisk yelled and dropped to his knees as warm, wet liquid ran down his back. He looked over a shoulder. The thing bounced off the rock behind and flung back with twice the speed. It hit him head on. Frisk gave a muffled gasp just before he opened his eyes to emerge from darkness. Yet again, he stood in front of Flowey.

"Haven't you . . . had enough yet?" said Frisk.

Flowey grinned. "Are you wondering if I ever get tired of losing? Here's my answer to that!" Another loop pulsed with bright orange magic shortly before several blasts of orange energy shot at the human. Frisk scowled. He wondered whether dodging was helping or only wearing him out. But as the pain of several strikes filled him, he recalled those words he had heard many times now. “Stay determined.” He couldn't give up. It was hard and it hurt, but he’d keep doing his best to live. The orange glow faded as a third loop lit dark blue. Flashes of light exploded in the cavern, releasing spiked magic orbs that scattered and homed in on Frisk. They were everywhere. There was no way to dodge it. The child lowered his head and closed his eyes to brace himself. He felt a blast of force then a numbing energy that flowed through him. His back hit the ground. Frisk opened his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He was still alive. He had expected a lot worse. He got back to his feet and faced Flowey.

"Are you serious?! Die!" Flowey yelled. He drew power from the forth human soul, lighting another loop with purple magic. Books appeared around Frisk and spun around him. A vine snatched the child and threw him into them. Frisk yelled and flew head first into swirling, purple magic. Darkness.

Frisk opened his eyes in front of Flowey’s monster, scowled, and clenched his hands into fists. "Flowey, please . . . stop,” he said.

Flowey roared in laughter. "You idiot! You will never understand!" The fifth human soul gave an eerie green glow to another loop around the screen. Several vines punched up from the rock around Frisk. A couple tried grabbing at him as the human stepped back. Acid rained from the ceiling and pooled on the floor as the cavern shook. Frisk moved around to avoid falling globs of acidic goop. Some splattered onto his clothes as he ran, eating tiny holes through the fabric here and there. Flowey drew power from the final soul that he hadn't yet exploited.

Yellow magic throbbed through the monster. Flowey raised his clawed hands and shot a spread of bullets at Frisk. The projectiles trailed with yellow as they passed. Frisk ducked a few then ran left. Flowey swung his right hand to follow the child's movement. Several shots pierced Frisk's right side. He dropped to the ground, tumbled forward, and slid to a stop. He screamed and squirmed, both arms around his waist. The bullets kept coming. Frisk winced as his sight blurred. His life was taken again, tossing him back into darkness.

"This is all just a bad dream . . . and you're never waking up!" Flowey teased. As laughter echoed in the dark, Frisk fell deeper into an endless void. He knew Flowey was going to bring him back. He would wake up . . . but only in the nightmare Flowey had created. Frisk let himself fall, almost hoping he would fall so far that Flowey couldn’t reach him. He didn't want to be brought back anymore. He couldn't take it. How was he supposed to keep going if there was nothing but pain and death left? How was he supposed to stay determined knowing Flowey had complete control?

Frisk gasped, staggering a little as he reentered the timeline. Slowly he lifted his head to look at Flowey's monstrous face and evil grin. Frisk frowned. "You idiot!" said Flowey. "If only you listened . . . but now . . . I rule this pathetic world!" The ground shook as Flowey drew power from all six souls. The mouth opened wide like a hungry animal and spewed out a potent beam of energy. Frisk yelled and dropped to his knees, only to be returned to full health before he had died. Flowey glared at him and fired again. Lasers came from all sides. Frisk tried to retreat but took a fatal blow to the head. Flowey brought him back again and continued this pattern. He shot the child down over and over, again and again.

Between the sudden strikes, Frisk cried out in pain and terror. "Stop, please!" the child begged. “No! I can’t! Stop! Please, no . . . no more!" Driven to his limit, Frisk fell to the ground. He lay on his back helplessly as Flowey mercilessly struck him with blasts of power again and again. Frisk had lost track of his deaths long ago. Now he lay there on broken, rocky ground, letting the monster continue to indulge himself. The child winced with every attack. Flowey brought him back before he had dropped on the ground and shot at him again. Frisk yelled, staggering weakly in front of Flowey. But the hit didn't kill him this time. Flowey grinned.

Frisk dropped to his knees, struggling to breathe as tears came to his eyes. "Did you really think . . . you could ever defeat me?!" said Flowey. Frisk’s determination was gone. There was no reason to keep going. Flowey continued with a darker tone of voice. "I am the ruler of this world. And you? You're hopeless . . . hopeless and alone." Frisk's heart raced within him as he lifted his head. He was so weak. He was so tired. A group of spinning pellets appeared around him. "That's right!” Flowey continued. “Your worthless friends . . . can't save you now! Call for help. I dare you. Cry into the darkness!"

Frisk hardly had strength to breathe, much less call for help. But he had to try something and he didn’t know what else to do. Frisk moaned and opened his mouth as a soft flow of cold air moved by him. The first time, his call came out as nothing but a painful whisper. "Help."

Flowey laughed. "Yeah! Keep calling! Try it! Try it all you want. See what good it does you!"

Frisk took in a deep breath and called out with all his strength as tears rolled down his face. "Help! Someone, please help me!"

"Mommy! Daddy! Someone!" Flowey mocked. Frisk called several times before he simply couldn't anymore. Sobbing and trembling, the young human just knelt there. Flowey smiled down at him, staring deep into his eyes. "But nobody came," he said. "How does it feel? To call for help and nobody comes to answer." Flowey glared down at Frisk with large, red eyes. "You don't need to answer. Because I already know what it's like! And now you finally understand what it is to be a flower!" Frisk sniffled in defeat. What had he done to deserve this? He didn't understand. Flowey laughed. "What a shame! Nobody else is gonna get to see you die!" The spinning pellets around the small child closing around him. Frisk closed his eyes and let his head lower. He was at the end, caught in a loop of death as a merciless monster threatened to slaughter him again and again. He had lost hope. He couldn't go on. He didn't know how.

But then . . . something happened . . . and everything changed.

Full Chapter List

#undertale #fan fiction #undertale spoilers #neutral ending #photoshop flowey #flowey the flower #frisk #violence #death #blood #freakin photoshop flowey literally is a NIGHTMARE to draw #i tell you...#part three #frisky business #foraflower au

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chaoticgeminate · 4 years

Text

Freedom

This is the third part of the Outfoxed Series, my Lila Salt series that I started on a whim and got a ton of notes and likes. This is the last bit following the main plot of the series, which is the exposure of Lila and the fallout of that exposure, but I may consider exploring other POV’s like I did with Mrs. Rossi in the side story ‘Shattered’ posted to AO3.

The link below is to the AO3 page of this story, if you don’t want to deal with the Read more button.

[AO3]

Lila's arrest sent shock waves through Collège François Dupont, from the sexual harassment charges to the truancy and even the unlawful photography, anyone associated with her on a friendly level was scrutinized and that meant the class of the former teacher Caline Bustier.

Thanks to the school board there had been numerous counselors and therapists on site, to combat potential akuma victims from the accusations and anger that were sure to be part of the fallout, with a new security system installed with no blank spots in any hallways or rooms. Excluding bathrooms, of course, but there were cameras above bathroom doors pointing straight down to track who entered and when.

Nino wasn't at all surprised when Adrien was transferred out of their class, his Father definitely blamed them for playing a part in the mess and the teen DJ couldn't fault him for once, it was easy to see from the glimpses in the halls that his best bud was happier than ever now. He had managed to apologize to both Adrien and Marinette, telling them he wasn't asking forgiveness but that he wanted them to know he now realized he screwed up and had to work on some things, the pair had thanked him and that had been it.

As much as he wanted to go back to how things were, when they were all together and Alya was scheming her plans to hook them up, Nino was more than aware that if he wanted them to trust him again it had to be on their terms and he was okay with that. He'd believed in Lila because Alya did, no matter how strange the stories sounded, his girlfriend always researched everything so if she wasn't questioning then he didn't have a reason to.

Or so he thought, but Alya wasn't perfect and he'd made a mistake by not questioning it himself, Nino had promised he would do and be better for himself and his girl as well as his friends.

Alya walked into the room late, sliding a note onto their teacher's desk, after her blow-up in the cafeteria at Adrien the school put her on mandatory counseling sessions. For as tenacious and driven as she was, something he admired, Alya was stubborn and quick-tempered; in this case, though, she refused to allow any blame on herself. Lila was the liar in this and Alya had been loyal, Marinette hadn't told her the whole truth, Adrien hadn't told her the whole truth; but it was still Alya that hadn't done her research or trusted her friend.

He slid a note onto her desk, a simple love poem he'd found, he wasn't ready to give up on her as a girlfriend and he knew that once she accepted she'd made a mistake that she'd do the right thing and at least apologize.

He was a sweetheart, someone truly amazing that was far too mature for his age, Nino's poem made her heart race even if she'd seen it on Juleka's facebook page two weeks earlier. For the first time in a long time she felt lighter, her pocket no longer weighed down with her cellphone, the device submitted for evidence for her own lawsuit against Lila.

Aya wasn't an idiot, she hadn't believed a damn thing Lila Rossi was putting out, but she was too quick tempered and had moved far too quickly against the Italian. Giving the new girl a chance to fess up had led to a rabbit hole of trouble, Lila hadn't even tried playing clean and as soon as she had her ammo it was over, Alya hadn't thought the girl would follow her around for months in secret while she'd supposedly been traveling.

Lila had gotten video proof of Alya sneaking around with Nino, steamy make-outs in fairly public (though not in the open) places while they were supposed to be babysitting, and worst of all she'd gotten a series of photos with Alya and Nino in a VERY compromising position in the school.

'All I want is your support, you don't have to believe me but you do have to make the others believe me, I won't tell anyone or show these otherwise.'

It sucked but Alya had danced to Lila's song and done what she asked without question, it would ruin her and Nino's records and their parents would have a meltdown, she expected Lila to eventually make a mistake after all and even if Alya supported her that didn't mean one of the others was trapped by her web. Alya had tried hard to support Marinette, Lila's chosen target she soon learned, but after the first attempt at getting the designer expelled had failed Lila wasn't giving any leeway.

The second attempt worked far too well, after Lila took the picture of the funeral right from Alya's phone, and the reporter found herself doing the unspeakable at Lila's behest. Every article had her in tears and the public backlash made her sick to her stomach, if she wasn't terrified of the result from Lila it might've been easier to delete the Ladyblog entirely, and finally it all drew to a close with Lila's arrest.

Finding out Adrien had known all along, that he'd just said nothing, had ignited a fire in Alya that she couldn't extinguish and she tore into him for his inaction; the entire time he could have done something, he could have saved her from her own ruin. But now, finally, Alya had come clean on every last detail to her parents and the school; her parents, as disappointed and hurt as they were, contacted the AGRESTE lawyers with their own evidence of blackmail to add to Lila's charges once they spoke with Officer Raincomprix.

Nino was still in the dark, though not for long since his parents were contacted too in regards to the nature of the pictures and video, and several people had said her intentions to protect her boyfriend were noble even if she had done wrong. But Alya had a long way to go in order to forgive herself before she'd ask forgiveness of anyone else, she started with hand-written letters to be mailed out to a lot of people, her phone and computer taken and she was under house arrest for quite a while per her parents.

Focusing on the board, as their teacher talked about their assignment for geography, Alya scribbled her notes as the rest tapped and typed away on their tablets.

"BREAKING REPORT

BLACKMAIL CHARGES CONFIRMED AGAINST LILA ROSSI

As of Wednesday, we have word that more charges are being added to the already extensive list for Lila Rossi. The Italian student, living in France on a VISA due to her mother's work, has already been accused of a long list of charges by both the Agreste family and the Dupain-Cheng family as well as the school board. Sexual harassment, truancy charges, unlawful photography, bullying a French citizen, and now there is evidence surfacing of blackmailing a French citizen.

The Césaire family have come forward with very serious evidence that indicates Alya Césaire, the founder of the Ladyblog, was being blackmailed by Lila Rossi the entire span of her time at Francios Dupont and during the period she was skipping classes. E-mails, text messages, and threatening messages through Facebook and Snapchat depict Rossi as having compromising photographs and videos of Césaire and her boyfriend that could result in their own criminal charges.

When we asked Otis Césaire his thoughts on the matter he had this to say:

"My daughter was wrong in her actions, I will not try and say she was only a victim because she could have come to us before this started and we would have helped her, but I am appalled that the school officials were so easily fooled and allowed a girl to come in and manipulate them so thoroughly. They were supposed to protect their students, regardless of how much money the families of those kids have, but I see that their concern was elsewhere."

Alya Césaire herself is being reviewed for her own criminal charges based on the content of the photographs that were found on Lila Rossi's devices and has asked that any charges that might be applied to her boyfriend be dropped as she was the primary instigator for each incident. The AGRESTE legal team is asking that any other students, parents, or parties victim to any schemes of Lila please step forward so that they can compile a full list of charges and get this case closed."

The voice of Nadja Chamak played softly in the background of the office as Mayor Armand D'Argencourt adjusted his tie and looked around the bleak space, it was only a matter of time before the school board pursued the Mayor for his own corruption and Andre had paid out a hefty sum to avoid prison before being removed from office, the new election had come and Armand had taken post over Madam Lauren Richards.

As one of the few teachers not involved with Rossi, aside from Physical Education, he hadn't been questioned much and even then he never once allowed her any special treatment; if she cited an injury he made her go to the nurse, any conditions she claimed he would ask Miss Kensington for proof and there never was any. But his claims and reports to Phineas had gone unanswered and blown aside, as any with Miss Bourgeios often had, his reports to the school board had been added to the Dupain-Cheng case as had Priscille's own reports.

A knock on the door made him clear his throat. "Come in." He left the office door open, unlike the Mayor had, the knocking was just a courtesy. His secretary, Monsieur Hemsley, held a stack of papers and folders.

"I'm afraid to say there is a lot more of this, sir, but this is the start of what Mayor Bourgeios cited as unnecessary for Paris." The man looked apologetic and Armand shook his head, accepting the stack of things with no ill-feelings.

It was a new challenge. "I want to start with everything from the past year, Thomas, I've no doubt there were plenty of things he ignored or blew out to keep his hotel running and himself in office." Finding the corruption was the first step, all the business owners with an in that were paying into the Bourgeios to keep themselves on top, Armand wasn't going to fail his family's post or his city.

He glanced at his calendar. "Remember to keep tomorrow afternoon clear, I've got fencing to teach at the Agreste manor after school hours tomorrow." Thomas nodded and went to bring the next batch of papers to him.

"It's been quiet."

Sitting on top of Notre Dame, legs swinging freely as the lights illuminated the dark city below, Chat couldn't help but hum in agreement to the soft statement his partner whispered. With Lila's arrest and the continual charges being brought forward against her, as well as the fallout from the students, he'd expected much more in the way of akuma. "It's worrying, as much as I don't want it to be." He wanted it to be a good sign that there hadn't been problems with Hawkmoth, he wanted it to be an indicator that they were due for some peace and quiet, but they couldn't relax.

Ladybug's eyes were focused on the light at the Town Hall where his fencing instructor, now Mayor, was working diligently through years of corruption from Chloe's father in office. "I've been talking with Tikki and the other Kwami, they all agree that something feels... off. We have a lot of theories but nothing concrete, if I wasn't so afraid to bring the Miracle Box out in public I'd have brought it tonight with me." He almost choked with how deep a breath he drew in, that was not at all what he'd expected.

"You want- but you're the Guardian. Why would my-"

"Your thoughts and opinions are always important to me, Chat, we're partners. You just have horrible timing to be a flirty tomcat as well as an issue with the word no."

He opened his mouth to argue but didn't, she was right, he had no valid excuse for his behavior in the past. "I, uh, you don't have to worry about that LB. I have a girlfriend, outside the mask I mean, I won't tell you her name but she's incredible and I'm really happy with her." Chat could feel her looking at him and her expression was soft, fond and friendly, love without the romantic aspect of it.

Such a familiar look and he didn't even know why. "I'm really happy for you, Chat, you deserve someone who brings you happiness." He felt his cheeks warm, Marinette made him more than happy, he felt loved and like he was home when he was by her side.

But his expression schooled into something playful as his partner looked away, her own face pink. "Oh, is that a blush? Thinking of your own special boy?" Her scowl was lacking any real anger or annoyance and it twisted into a bright grin.

"The boy I like, the one I told you about, he asked me out and we're together now." At one point that would have hurt him, made his chest ache, but it just indicated how incredible Marinette was that he didn't feel anything but happiness.

His mouth spit out the phrase before he could even stop it. "Oh? So, the Bug has her Boo? I guess when you're on a date you're Bugandboo?" Her squawk of outrage had him laughing as he got up to run, delighting in just being able to play, a few people who were still awake cheered him on while others admonished him playfully for irritating the heroine.

By the time patrol ended he was sporting a sore arm, a hoarse voice from laughing, and the annoyance of being filmed falling off a roof into a dumpster when one of Monsieur Ramirer's pigeons flew in his face. But it was a good night and he promised to keep his eyes open for trouble in the form of butterflies.

Marinette knocked and waited for an answer, meeting surprised expressions, her own lips a flat line. "Can I...?" The nod was gentle as Marlena hugged her, whispering an apology of her own, but Marinette didn't blame her at all. Nora's hug was more like a wrestling move, cracking a few joints too, the twins were subdued for once. Walking to the open door, since Alya wasn't allowed to have her room closed off at all, Marinette knocked on the frame.

"Just cleaning my- oh." Alya emerged from her mess of clothes, the closet's contents emptied on the floor and sorted into piles, her expression guarded but somehow open.

Before she could lose her nerve, the designer cleared her throat. "I'm angry at you, for not telling me the truth about what was going on and then attacking my parents when you could have come clean before it got that far, but I'm sorry that you were a victim to her schemes too. I can't forgive you, at least not right now, but I respect you for trying to protect Nino even if I was the sacrifice because I don't know if I would have done anything different in your situation." Alya's eyes were watering and Marinette knew she was close to crying too, she'd decided that she wasn't going to hold onto grudges or anger any longer and had spent the day visiting her former classmates.

Part of moving on was deciding what emotions to hold onto, Wayzz and Longg had helped her come to terms with her lingering doubts and hurt emotions, she refused to be chained by the betrayal and hurt more than she needed to be. "Thank you, I always could trust you to be honest with me, for what it's worth I am sorry that I hid the truth from you." Marinette nodded at Alya and her grip on the doorframe tightened a little.

There wasn't a lot to say between them. "I want to trust you again, Alya, you inspired me to be better and to stand up for what was right and in a weird way you tried to protect me and Nino. Please do better so I can have my best friend back." Marinette's eyes watered and Alya's tears slid down her cheeks as she nodded, the designer opened her arms and the hug was everything she expected when Alya nearly tackled her, but it was what they both needed.

After their impromptu cry session, monitored by Nora to watch for butterflies, the two students said their farewells. Sliding under her Papa's arm as she exited the building, he'd insisted on coming with her to visit her former classmates, Marinette wiped her eyes with the offered handkerchief. "Feel a little better, dumpling?" He had been skeptical of this whole thing but supported her choice to do it.

"Yea, Papa, I do. I really do."

"Good, I'm glad. Now, I know you like to make all your clothes and for good reason, I've got a secret assignment of my own. You see, your Maman and I agreed I would know just what sort of dress you need to take Adrien's breath away for your date tonight. So, dumpling, we're going shopping." Marinette wanted to be upset but it had been a long time since her parents ever got to buy her clothes, a really long time actually, so she didn't argue as he caught a bus to the shopping district for them.

But she had to admit she didn't expect some of the choices he handed her to try on. Marinette might have accused him of asking Gabriel for help if not for the fact that all of the choices were all colors her father knew she liked and not things that were considered complimentary to her skin tone. After trying on what felt like hundreds of dresses, even if it was only twenty according to Tikki, Marinette and her Papa found one they both liked.

Pale rose in color with a fit and flare shape, the bodice was solid color with very short sleeves made of the same georgette lace that covered the knee-length skirt, she felt really cute in it and it wasn't too short or revealing. Marinette had white, round-toe, heels that she could wear with it and wanted to wear her hair down with loose curls. Her Maman, on their return home, admitted that out of the two of her parents it was her Papa that had an artist's eye and had often picked all of the dresses that Sabine herself wore on their dates.

Marinette hadn't known, though she decided it wasn't that surprising given her Papa's decorative skill, but she was glad that her Papa was happy for her relationship. "You have two hours to get ready before Adrien gets here, dumpling." That made her rush up the stairs and hurry to get ready since this was their first unsupervised date.

'That boy needs his Dad. Not his Father, Gabriel, or his boss. Adrien needs you in his life and if you don't shape up then I will report every last shred of truth on how you break labor laws and pull him from school illegally for photoshoots.'

Leonard's threat had hung heavy between the two men since the initial stirrings against Lila, the black eye Gabriel had sported for two weeks had been hidden with make-up but the bodyguard hadn't feared repercussions or assault charges, as a parent Gabriel respected Leonard and as a friend he respected him even more for doing what he'd done. Watching his son smooth down the jacket of his suit, planning to take his girlfriend to a restaurant known for their private settings so they could avoid the spotlight for some time, Gabriel was proud of Adrien and knew now that he had missed quite a bit.

Leonard met his gaze as the teenager rambled about his nerves, Nathalie busy reassuring him that Marinette would be thrilled to bits, the very slightest of nods from the man expelled most of the tension. Gabriel handed Adrien something he'd kept for his son, for quite some time, a delicate silver chain with loops for charms waiting. "You are under no pressure to accept this, or do what I had done, but I know you're nervous and hope that maybe this will help you with your own ideas for Marinette." Adrien's eyes were just as curious and warm as Emilie's were, it was both heartbreaking and so very amazing.

"Emilie had a book that she bought, I gave her a single flower on every date, she would press the flowers to preserve them; this is the start of a charm bracelet, I think perhaps Marinette would like something she can wear as a reminder of your affections." It was a guess but the girl proved to be very affectionate, though not incredibly handsy in public and it was a trait he appreciated, with her own anxious tendencies it would be best to have something tangible she could carry. Adrien grinned and nodded, looking at the time on his watch.

A smile on his face and a tight hug, Gabriel was nearly bowled over with the strength in his son's sudden motion, Adrien thanked him with a teary smile. "I already have plenty of ideas, thank you so much Dad!" Gabriel managed to hold off until Adrien left but the moment he was gone the tears started, it had been so long since he heard that title, Nathalie's hum was soft and Gabriel appreciated her quiet comfort. After a moment or two, managing to calm himself down, the man looked at Nooroo as the Kwami peeked out from behind the hall.

"Nooroo, if I were to give you back your Miraculous would you be able to find the Guardian?" The Butterfly hesitated but nodded, looking miserable to even admit that much. Gabriel removed the brooch and Nathalie only nodded as she took Duusu's brooch too, the two Kwami accepted them back with curious looks. "Nooroo and Duusu, I release you to be free and return to the Guardian. I am truly sorry that I allowed my grief to blind me to what I was losing and led me to abusing you as I had." The Butterfly Kwami offered a wavering smile, gratitude visible on his face as Duusu fluttered about energetically.

The Kwami nuzzled him. "I knew you were a good man, Gabriel, you just lost your way for a little bit. Thank you for setting me free." The two Kwami disappeared through the door and Nathalie followed him to what once was his lair, the butterflies and cocoons had disappeared, leaving just an empty garden and the glass chamber. Emilie had been embalmed in private, following her death, which was the reason she was in the state she was in now. Nathalie left him then to give him time to say goodbye, for the last time, Gabriel had no more tears to give and only apologized for losing his way.

"I will always cherish what we had, Emilie, I will never forget you; but I won't disappoint you any longer, I cannot allow myself to cling to us and continue to put Adrien in danger or push him away." As he placed his hand on the top of the glass, chest heaving with a deep breath, he contacted the burial company that had done the embalming. They hadn't thought much of his basement being a mausoleum of sorts, it was not new to plenty of the upper-class, once he activated the tinting on the coffin it looked just like any other.

Within the hour his wife was buried in her family plot, with the rest of the Graham de Vanily, and Gabriel gave himself the night to grieve. Free of the burden of the brooch, the burden of being chained to the past, and free to pursue a future beside his son once more.

Sabine laughed as Tom and Gabriel battled, with Adrien and Marinette on their date the two had contacted him and agreed to have him over, Leonard and Nathalie were on either side of her nursing hot drinks and their own chuckles. Having the man request to learn how to play Ultimate Mecha Strike had been a shock but he admitted that he wanted to be able to play with Adrien, he didn't know what his son was really fond of doing and needed a gateway of sorts, Sabine hadn't been able to help hugging the poor man and promising to help.

Watching him now, as he grunted with his hair free of styling products for once, she could tell there was something a little different about him this time; he ran another hand through his hair as he got locked into an animation sequence as Tom's mech unleashed a combo. "Take that you old pincushion." In the past she might have been worried but Gabriel never ceased to surprise her.

"Keep talking, you stale cream puff, once I figure this game out I'm going to make you eat those words." Gabriel was competitive, not that she was surprised by that, fashion was a cutthroat industry; but he wasn't to the point that he was a sore loser. In fact he appeared to be having fun and it warmed her to see a man trying to do better, especially after subjecting his son to harassment by that horrid little liar, Sabine glanced at her phone as it chimed.

Marinette and Adrien had both sent a picture, an adorable selfie of the two of them at the theater, they had done dinner and Adrien had gotten tickets for them to see Wicked together since it was currently playing. "The kids just reached the theater." Earning two non-committal sounds from the men, once again not surprised, the woman responded with a 'have fun' before leading Nathalie to the kitchen as Leonard continued to read his comic books.

"I've never seen him this relaxed, your family is quite amazing."

Sabine met the woman's gaze and smiled. "I like to think so too, shall we prepare some light snacks?" Nathalie nodded and Sabine was pretty happy to relay the ongoing news that Nadja learned from the interviews and messages flooding TVi.

“You mean-“

“I think he’s found it more important to prioritize what he has over what he’s lost.”

Chat Noir was quiet as Nooroo sat in his hands, Duusu perched on Ladybug’s shoulder quietly, the two Kwami had appeared in Ladybug’s room and she’d called him the following evening in order to give them time to rest. “I don’t understand why he’d do what he chose to, though I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same since I don’t know how I’d react, but I guess I’m glad he’s decided enough is enough.” Ladybug heard the sigh as she leaned on her partner’s arm, her own face wet with tears, she had taken one look at the tome that the two had brought with her and knew exactly where they came from.

Something she’d have to tell Chat Noir, she trusted him and didn’t want to keep him in the dark, but she knew how hard he’d taken it when she theorized her idol and boyfriend’s father as Hawkmoth the first time around. “I know who he was, these two coming to me only confirmed it, I am going to respect his request for a second chance. For me to have this make sense, Chat, you’ll have to know that I was one of Caline Bustier’s students at Collège François Dupont.” His eyes widened and he held out a hand for a moment, silencing her, then he cupped her chin and made her look at him.

Ladybug didn’t know what he was looking for. “Princess?” The hope in his voice sent a touch of warmth through her, making her throat tighten as she licked her lips.

“Mhm.”

Words escaped her then as she waited for his reaction, his pupils blowing wide and round, her heart thundering as her hands started to shake. She felt vulnerable and exposed, weightless as his silence kept her teetering on the edge of delight or misery, a part of her theorized who he was ever since Chat Blanc and she needed to be right. His mouth curved into a wide smile and his eyes glistened as green formed around him, leaving Adrien in his place, she’d never been happier to be right. “It’s you! It’s always been you! No wonder you’ve been wearing gray and pink a lot, you sneaky little bug mouse.” His weight crashed into her as she dismissed her own transformation and Tikki giggled above her as Plagg rolled his eyes, her mouth meeting Adrien’s in a frantic kiss.

Once they both laughed over how badly they had danced around each other, with promises to tell each other everything, Marinette knew it was time to finish what she’d been saying. “They brought me a book too, Adrien, the book Lila stole from you that got you pulled from school.” Adrien’s arms tightened on her waist and she squeezed his body a little, to remind him she was here with him, but there wasn’t any sort of anger on his face.

A weak acceptance, exhaustion, maybe some hope. “You want to give him a second chance?” Marinette nodded and cupped his cheek.

“I think we can do that, now that we know the truth, Chaton; he deserves that much, he’s been trying hard to be there for you.” He was learning how to play video games, the two were taking cooking lessons, Marinette had seen him at every photoshoot and he promised dinners with her family every other week as well as an appearance at the Parent’s Dinner the school was having for this year’s graduation award presentation.

Adrien’s eyes watered. “Thank you, Bugaboo.” He kissed her again and she giggled.

“I told you to stop calling me Bugaboo, Chaton, I like Princess more.” His eyes twinkled and he nodded as he cradled her close. “I’m glad though because I thought I liked two boys, I’m really happy it’s just one.” His chuckle into her collar made her giggle.

But he had a warm mischief in his gaze when he let her go. “Isn’t Chaton a little telling, I’m sure Aurore will connect the spots quickly.” Marinette poked his nose with a wink.

“I’ll just have to call you mon Chevalier.” He flushed and she transformed with a grin. “But, for now, I have to go to bed; I have school and I recall being promised fancy coffee and a wake-up kiss.” He tried to shout after her but she swung away with a whoop. The real surprise came nearly half-an-hour later, after a shower and changing, when her Maman said she had company.

Adrien had an overnight bag and a grin as he joined her in her room, the door left open per her parent’s request, they snuggled under her comforter and she cuddled Plagg as the cat Kwami snuggled against her neck. “A cat could get used to this, I’m moving in too Sugarcube.” Tikki’s giggle made Adrien hum as he agreed softly, cradling her close to him as Marinette felt her eyelids droop.

“So what now? No Hawkmoth or Mayura, you have all the Miraculous, just patrol and stop petty crime?”

Marinette grinned. “We learn how to be Guardians, not all threats are corrupt holders, I think there might be something bigger on the horizon now that the circle is closed again.” Adrien hummed as he nodded against her head, promising to study hard, sleep drawing them in and peace making it easy to feel at ease.

#chaoticwrites #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #sabine cheng #tom dupain #supportive gabriel agreste #gabriel agreste

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 6 years

Text

Live Fast, Die Slow - Part Three

A/N: This is written for @spnangstbingo, the third part in this series. Some parts of this will not be a square from angst bingo, but most will. Feedback is ALWAYS highly appreciated. Sometimes when I'm going through a writers funk, I go back an I look at previous comments and feedback, and it helps me get inspired again. Betaed by the lovely @thorne93.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Characters: Reader, Dean, Bobby, John.

Square Filled: Mechanic AU

Warnings: Angst, talk about injuries, cliffhanger.

Wordcount: 2730

Itallics are flashbacks

Catch up HERE

By the time February ended, I was no longer able to keep the press off my back, I had to make a statement and with that a decision whether or not I'd go back to competing. I still hadn't been in the driverseat of a car, and frankly, I was scared to death to go back.

After a lot of thinking and consulting with Bobby, I decided to try. Even if the mere thought of being back in a car scared me, the thought of never going back was even scarier. I had worked so hard, and so had Bobby, John and everyone else on my team, and I wasn't about to let them down. I sat down at a press conference and I told them that I was ready to start training, and that we would see if I could make it back to where I was when I crashed.

“You know, sooner or later you have to go back to the track,” Bobby said from behind his newspaper.

“Can we go today?” you asked, feeling the nerves rising in you before you had even said the words out loud.

He lowered the paper to look at you, a subtle smile hiding under his unkempt beard. “Absolutely,” he said excitedly.

You stood inside of your garage, next to your new car, and looked out onto the empty track. It was strange how a place that had given you so much solace over the years now brought nothing but fear. You couldn't see the turn where you had crashed, but you knew that it would take you only ten short steps forward and it would come into view. The sound of Bobby and John's voices drowned out as you took your first step forward. This wasn't just about stepping back onto a track where you had an accident, this was about taking back something that the crash took from you, this was the first step in taking control of your fear.

Bobby and John had stopped talking as they watched you walk onto the tarmac, your head hung low, your eyes focused on the spot right in front of your feet, your hands in your pockets. Your heart pounding in your chest so hard that it made your ears ring, your blood feeling like ice as it made its way through your veins. Never had you felt a paralyzing fear like that before.

With one last deep breath you turned your head to look at the spot where you crashed, and the instant your eyes landed on the turn you could hear the sound of your screeching tires followed by a loud crash in your mind. Both Bobby and John where paying close attention to you and they could see you flinch. It was hard for both men to watch you, but they knew this was something you needed to do on your own.

Your legs felt heavier than they had done during your physical therapy as you walked towards the place where it had all happened. The turn felt like it was a million miles away, but at the same time it was too close. As your legs carried you across the track you tried to keep your eyes on anything but the wall you had landed in. You listened to the birds chirping in the trees, your nose taking in the smell of rubber and gasoline, your eyes focused on the small flowers growing in the grass in between the tarmac on the track.

You used to feel more at home here than in your own apartment, you used to spend more time here than in your own apartment. You used to love this place more than anything and anywhere else in the world. You didn't anymore though.

Now this was a place that nearly took your life. A place that deformed you, both physically and mentally. This place that once felt like home was tainted, ruined, broken. And so were you.

Standing in front of the concrete wall it felt like all the air was sucked from your lungs. In your mind you saw your car hit the wall, over and over again. One hand ran over the creases on the wall that your car had made, stopping only when they hit a spot with black paint on it. You subconsciously rubbed the left side of your face that was held together by steel plates. There where creases on your face just like the wall from the surgical scars, ones that would probably never fade completely.

You had never been concerned about the way you looked, it had always been about the sport for you, about the car and about the race, never about your appearance, but now… the scars on your face was all you could see when you looked in the mirror. In some ways you felt like that was what you had been reduced to, like that had become your new identity, the way the world saw you.

In your mind you where no longer the best female race car driver in America, you where the girl that crashed. And it was literally written all over your face.

You fell to your knees and hid your face in your hands as you let the tears fall from your eyes. How long you sat there, you didn't know, but after a while you could feel a large, heavy jacket being wrapped around your shoulders before a strong hand landed on your back.

You didn't need to look up to see who it was, you would recognize the smell of that jacket and the comfort of that touch anywhere. He didn't say anything, he just sat there next to you and rubbed soothing circles on your back as the quiet sobs raced through your body.

Eventually you sat back on your heels and your eyes met the familiarity and the safety of Dean's emerald gaze. There was a mixture of compassion and worry on his handsome face that instantly filled you with guilt.

“Thank you,” you said meekly, averting your eyes from his as you moved to sit on your ass.

“Anytime,” he said with a slight smile as he mirrored your movements.

He sat so close that your shoulders were touching, and without thinking you leaned into him and rested your head on his shoulder. It felt so natural, so comforting, and for a little while you let your guard down and accepted the safety that he brought you.

I didn't make it into my car that day, or the following week for that matter. I had to find a way to get comfortable just putting my feet on that track before I could jump back in the driver’s seat of my car. I didn't speak anymore with Dean after our little moment either. I just couldn't look into his eyes and pretend like it didn't happen, and I certainly couldn't have a conversation with him about it, so I did the very mature thing, and ignored him.

The next Monday was the first time I got inside of my new car. John and his team had done a terrific job on it, it looked and preformed just like my old car had done which was strangely comforting and terrifying at the same time.

I didn't drive it that day. I sat in the car for about half an hour with the engine running, clutching the wheel until my fingers grew numb, but I could not will myself to put my foot on the throttle. Same thing happened the day after, and the day after that. It didn't feel like it was getting any better, it didn't feel like I was getting any better, and it just fuled my ever growing anger.

It was Wednesday evening and I was back in my small apartment, beating myself up for being such a coward, when Dean showed up at my door.

Dean was looking up and down the hallway as he waited for you to open the door. You were watching him through the little peephole in your door while strongly considering not opening up. Eventually you did though, the curiosity as to why he was there getting the best of you.

“Hey,” he said with a soft smile as you opened the door.

“Hi.” You stepped aside to let him inside, and he took you up on the silent invitation.

For a moment the two of you just stood there, looking at each other in silence as if neither of you knew what to say to start a conversation.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” you finally asked with a sigh. Keeping him away from you was going to be really hard if he didn't stop showing up at random all the time.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said with an apologetic tone in his voice. “I know you don't want me here, (YN), but I just have to get this off my chest. If you just listen to me I'll promise I'll leave you alone afterwards.”

“Okay,” you said while turning on your heel and headed back to your living room. “Can I get you anything?” you asked as he took a seat on your couch.

“No, thank you,” he said.

You took a seat on a chair facing the couch as you waited for whatever came next. This could be anything. It could be Dean yelling at you for how you treated him. It could be about wanting to get back together. It could be about him giving up on you completely… it could be anything and you really just needed him to get to the point already.

“I was let go from my job last week,” he started, keeping his eyes on the floor. “I don't know if Bobby told you…”

“No he didn't,” you interrupted.

“Anyway. I started applying for new jobs and earlier today I got an offer,” he finished, finally looking up at you.

“Well, that's good isn't it?” you asked, confused as to why he seemed so gloomy.

“It's in Florida.”

The last words broke your heart. You had no right to feel that way, it was you that had pushed him away, and with that you had given up your right to feel betrayed right now. Florida was basically as far away from you as he could get without leaving the country. Had you really driven him that far away?

“Wow. That's gonna be one hell of a commute,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood, but failing miserably.

“They need an answer by the end of tomorrow,” he continued, ignoring your little joke.

“Are you going to take it?”

Dean fell silent for a while after that, his jaw clenching as he searched for words to offer you next.

“Dean,” you pushed softly after a while.

“It's a good job,” he said, getting to his feet before he started pacing the floor, “and it's great money,” he continued to reason.

“Okay,” you dragged. This was it. He was actually going to move to the other side of the country. Your entire body filled with fear as you waited for him to continue his reasoning, your eyes blown wide as you followed his every move.

“And right now I have nothing keeping me here,” he said, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second.

“What about John and Sam?” you asked, your heart hammering in your chest as you screamed in your mind ‘what about me?’.

“Sam is busy with school and Dad is busy at work. Besides, with the pay their offering me I can afford to fly back here every now and then,” he said.

You couldn't get a read on him, which frustrated you. There was no way for you to know if this was something he was happy about, something he wanted, something he didn't want.

“Why are you telling me this, Dean?” Was he there to say goodbye? Was this the last time you were going to see him?

“Because I need to know where I stand with you before I make a decision,” he blurted out, probably a little louder than he intended. “I know that isn't fair to you, and I know that I have no right asking you this, and I know that you’re still trying to get back to normal, but I can't go to Florida if there is even a little sliver of hope for us,” he rambled. “I need you to tell me that I can go, that we are done.”

He looked so defeated as he said the last words and you could feel the sting behind your eyes as the lump in your throat grew. His words confused you. Was he here because he wanted you to ask him to stay, or tell him to go?

“Oh,” was all you could think of to say. It felt like all the air had been pulled from your lungs. Sending Dean away once was hard enough, but twice? Maybe you owed him this though. Maybe this was one way for you to start making up for how you had treated him. “It sounds like a great opportunity,” you said with as much conviction as you could, even if it took all the strength you had.

“Right,” he said with a slight nod of his head like this wasn't what he wanted to hear right now.

“I'm sorry if that's not what you came here for,” you said, getting to your feet and stepping a little closer to him.

“No… it's fine,” he tried to assure, but the hurt in his voice was evident.

“I wish things could be different,” you offered.

“But they’re not,” he shot in before you could say anything else.

The two of you stood there for a moment, eyes locked, just a few feet apart, both searching for lost words. This was it. This was really it. Dean was about to walk out of your life forever. You had wished for this, you had asked for this when you laid shackled to a hospital bed, you had begged him to leave and he had obeyed. He had respected your decision and he had given you space. All of these things he had done because he loved you, because he hoped that if he gave you what you wanted, you would somehow find your way back to him at some point. He was ready and willing to wait for you as long as it took.

But you had done what you did out of love as well. You didn't want him to feel like he was trapped with you, that he had to stick around because you were going through something so difficult. You didn't want him to feel obligated to drive you too and from your appointments and help you out with day to day chores while you recovered. You didn't want him to have to look at the person he loved and see how completely she had changed, both physically and mentally.

“I better get going,” Dean said eventually, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh.

You followed him to the door and opened it up for him, leaning against it with your hand on the knob. There was nothing more to say to him, so you remained quiet.

“I'm sorry things ended like they did,” he said, probably surprising himself as much as you.

“I am too, Dean. You were nothing but good to me, and I treated you badly. For that I am sorry,” you said.

“Can I just ask you…. Why did you break up with me?”

“I don't know,” you lied. “I did a lot of things I'm not too proud of,” you admitted.

Dean just bobbed his head as he turned towards the open door again. “Goodbye, (YN).”

You watched him as he passed you and stepped through the door, his head hung low on his shoulder as he walked away from you.

“Dean?” you almost yelled, your voice startling even you. He turned around, his emerald green eyes filled with sorrow. “Don't go,” you whispered, so low that you weren't sure he heard you.

The silence that followed was deafening, and the next few seconds proved to be the longest of your life.

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always-the-little-spoon · 6 years

Text

Sterek A-Z Challenge: one word prompts

Week 24: X - XXX

The snow fell heavier than an hour ago when Derek had dropped Stiles off at their cabin. He’d transferred the title to his and Stiles name while he was dealing with Laura’s estate after putting it off for so long, and planned to surprise Stiles with the news tonight as an early Valentine’s gift because Stiles loved the safety and seclusion their home away from home offered.

The wipers furiously beat back the fat fluffy flakes that swirled around the car. Derek couldn’t see more than six feet beyond the windshield as he crept along the long drive of the cabin. If it wasn’t for the chains on the Camaro, he would have slid off the road long ago, supernatural reflexes or not.

The drive up from the city had been a nightmare when they hit the storm front just outside of Albany. They’d decided to spend the full moon before Valentine’s Day together at the cabin and driven up from the city immediately after Stiles’ Thursday afternoon class. In fact, Stiles had sprinted out of the building, jumped into the front seat of the Camaro, and screamed: “punch it, Chewie!” And Derek, because he loved the adorable idiot, had growled, flashed a little fang, and burned rubber tearing out of the parking lot.

Just outside of the city limits, Stiles had rewarded him with spectacular road-head that nearly resulted in them getting pulled over. Definitely worth it.

The weather hadn’t called for snow. The forecast hadn’t even mentioned clouds. Meteorology was more unpredictable than the ever-shifting future of fortune-telling, so what did the channel six weather anchor really know. Nothing, apparently because there was now over a foot and a half of snow, and growing.

The shadow of the cabin loomed ahead through the blizzard. The light of the lit windows glowed eerily as it cut through the whiteout conditions. The cabin didn’t have central heating, which Derek planned to remedy if Stiles’ father decided to retire across the country like Stiles had been hinting, but for now, the fireplace was the only heat source. In the summer, the cabin remained perfectly cool built on a stone foundation, but winter provided a challenge, and also a romantic atmosphere to lay Stiles out on the rug and aggressively blend their scents until his boyfriend was a shivering mess of loose limbs.

Stiles had promised to get the fire going and unpack before he emailed his professors that he may be trapped upstate for the week while Derek made a run to the nearest grocery store for emergency supplies to outlast the storm.

Derek pulled up as close to the front porch as he possibly could. The icy cold slapped him across the face like an angry frost nymph, also Stiles’ fault, as he flung open the door. Snagging the bags of food out of the passenger seat, he made a break for the front door. His converse, a gift from Stiles for his birthday, crunched in the snow. He stopped short on the front porch.

The front door was wide open.

Every light in the cabin was on. The windows glowed cheerfully in the gloom, but there was no familiar steady heartbeat inside. Not trusting his senses in the midst of the latest ‘storm of the century’, Derek rushed into the cabin.

“Stiles?” Derek called. The groceries were abandoned beside the door without a second thought. “Stiles?”

Scrunched balls of newspaper were surrounded by shaved kindling in the fireplace, and a box of matches sat ready and waiting on the ground beside the hearth. But there was no wood.

The cabin was empty. Stiles must have gone out to the woodshed out back. The cabin was an icebox. The door had been left open much longer than the short trip to the shed would take. But then again, Stiles was human. He knew the property well after many trips up for the full moon over the years, but he didn’t have the benefit of Derek’s senses to combat the whiteout conditions. It was dangerous for Stiles to be outside, especially with the storm growing worse with each passing moment. The temperature had dropped even in the short amount of time Derek had spent searching for Stiles in the cabin. He pulled the bright red scarf that Stiles’ had laughingly wrapped around him before he climbed out of the car earlier up over his nose to fend off the icy chill stinging his nose.

Hunched over, Derek fought his way to the shed. The snow was too heavy. Any footprints had already been covered and swept away. The only sound to be heard was the roar of the wind and creaking of the frozen trees. Snow pelted Derek. His senses were impaired.

The wind died down enough as Derek entered the woods behind the cabin that Derek could detect the hint of pine and cedar that guided him through the snowstorm to the woodshed a short distance into the woods. The door was closed, and the lock was frozen shut. The small structure also lacked the scent he sought.

Derek turned back, anxious for a new sign or clue as to where his wayward boyfriend was, but the only response was the whistle of the wind through the bare branches. Ripping the scarf off, Derek tied it around the nearest tree as a marker. If Stiles was lost in the woods, maybe he would catch sight of the bright colour and it would guide him home. He stripped down, carelessly tossing his clothes into the snow, until the frigid air bit at his skin. Rolling his shoulders, he allowed the shift to take over.

All four paws hit the snow at a dead run, and Derek raced deeper into the forest. He tracked in a grid pattern, circling back to use the cabin as a base. But he found no trace of Stiles.

On his fourth circuit, Derek caught a whiff of a faint metallic scent he recognized all too well; blood. He changed course, heart thundering his chest louder than his paws in the snow.

A dark X marked the trunk of a tree a few inches above the snow level. Derek nosed at the bark. The tree carried Stiles’ scent. Derek whimpered. His mate was so clever. Stiles had known that Derek would shift to track him because as a wolf, Derek’s senses were acuter. Stiles had marked the tree low enough to be in Derek’s eye line as he ran through the woods, but also used the one scent Derek would never be able to ignore. The X was drawn in blood; Stiles’ blood.

The cold stung Derek’s nose as he chased Stiles’ scent on the wind. Stiles was completely turned around as his trail headed south, the complete opposite direction of the cabin. At some point, he’d tried to go back, but changed direction when he’d missed the glow of the cabin, as if trying to circle back, completely bypassing it in zero visibility conditions.

Another bloody X marked the trunk of a tree less than a mile from the first. Derek had never been more grateful that his mate was a genius than he was tracking the meandering path of Stiles’ scent rubbed into the bark of trees that he passed. Though his brilliant mate wasn’t quite brilliant enough to stay put and wait for Derek to find him.

Stiles never had been good with waiting, always eager to jump into the fray. His reckless disregard had saved Derek’s life more than once, but it was never easy for Derek to let his mate walk into danger. If Derek had his way, he’d bundle Stiles up, steal him away, and feed him curly fries for the rest of his life far, far away from danger. New York was supposed to have been safe, and for the most part, it was, but that still didn’t stop Stiles from stumbling into trouble.

A third X on a tree drew Derek’s attention. It was fresh. The blood hadn’t dried. Derek paused. A sound on the wind caught his ear, and he tilted his head to the side, listening hard. It was drowned by the raging storm, but undeniable.

The volume and pitch grew as Derek drew closer. Stiles wasn’t shouting Derek’s name to be found. Stiles was screaming.

Derek raced chased the muted voice towards the river. This late in winter, the frozen river would be hidden under a layer of snow. Stiles’ had wanted to go skating at the local pond they’d passed on their way through the nearby town, but the weather hadn’t been cold enough for the ice to have formed thick enough to support weight.

That realization struck Derek in the chest, and he pushed himself to his limit. His muscles ached and burned as he burst through the treeline.

“Derek?” Stiles shouted when he caught sight of Derek on the shore. Stiles clung to the edge of the broken ice, fingers scrambling to pull himself out of the water, but the ice broke around him. “Derek! Derek, help!” He lost his grip and slipped underwater and out of sight.

Derek’s howl was lost in the wind.

Unable to follow Stiles or they’d both be trapped under the ice, Derek pranced on the shore unsure, but he needed to move soon or the prediction Lydia would come true. Derek couldn’t lose Stiles. He couldn’t watch another packmate die. He couldn’t fail his mate... They hadn’t even sealed the bond because Derek wanted to wait until Stiles finished school and graduated college.

A dull thud vibrated through the ice. Stiles beat against the ice.

Derek took a tentative step onto the ice. It creaked under his weight, but didn’t break. His wolf was lighter, though not by much, and more evenly distributed on four legs rather than two. He moved slow tracking the slowing thuds of Stiles’ fist against the ice until his mate was directly below him.

Like from the nature documentary Stiles had forced him to watch one night when he couldn’t sleep, Derek mimicked a polar bear hunting for seals under the ice and snow in the Arctic. He reared up on his hind leg and slammed his front paws down on the ice. The ice cracked under his weight. His paws sank into the water and hit something soft, and he scrambled back to prevent himself from joining Stiles in the water.

Stiles’ favourite red hoodie was a beacon in the water. Derek, the big bad wolf, sank his fangs into the bright red fabric and held Stiles in place so he didn’t drift further along under the ice with the current. The hole was too small.

The dull thuds against the ice slowed. The impact of each strike weakened. Stiles had stopped moving.

Derek couldn’t get Stiles out through the hole. He couldn’t risk shifting either or he’d fall through the ice too. Derek frantically pawed at the edge of the ice, desperately clenching the soggy material that connected him to Stiles between his teeth.

Chunks of ice floated in the hole that Derek had widened to a barely shoulder-width strip. Derek tugged the hoodie until Stiles floated into a better position. His head broke the surface of the water.

Stiles' eyes were closed and his lips were blue. Derek couldn’t maintain a grip on the hoodie. The fabric ripped. Stiles began to drift under the ice again. In a moment of pure desperation, Derek sank his fangs into Stiles' shoulder. The coppery tang of his mate’s cold blood flooded his mouth and he gagged. Derek dug his paws into the snow and ice, and pulled, inching back a step at a time. Slowly, Stiles’ limp body slid out of the water, across the ice, and onto the shore.

On solid land, Derek shifted. Nudity meant little, more often than not foregoing clothes in the privacy of their own home or the woods, but temperatures were well below freezing. The howling wind bit at his exposed skin cutting him to the core, and the snow burned on contact. None of that mattered when the absence of Stiles’ heartbeat echoed in his mind.

“Stiles? Baby? Wake up,” Derek pleaded. His hand cupped Stiles’ cold cheek and tilted his head back as he searched his memory for what to do. Stiles would know. Stiles always knew. “Shit. Stiles! Stiles, please.”

Vision blurred, Derek fought the shift that threatened to take control without his anchor grounding him. Stiles was gone. Pinching Stiles’ nose, he pressed his mouth against Stiles’ blue lips and breathed. Nothing happened. He vaguely knew what to do thanks to Stiles’ obsession with research and tendency to ramble to a captive audience.

Derek began chest compressions. The crack of Stiles’ ribs echoed across the frozen river, and Derek choked on the desperate sob that bubbled up his throat. He’d already lost everyone he’d loved, cared for, or protected; Paige, his family, Laura, Peter, Erica, Boyd. Even Cora had left. Stiles was all he had.

Stiles’ chest rose and fell with each new attempt to breathe life into his lifeless body. Tears flowed freely. Moisture clung to his cheeks and froze in his eyelashes. Derek openly sobbed, begging whatever higher power that could hear him as he pumped Stiles’ chest, willing his heart to beat. This couldn’t be the end. Derek couldn’t lose Stiles, not now. Not after everything they had survived together. He couldn’t lose his only family. Not again.

Derek delivered a puff of air. Stiles’ chest shallowly rose and fell, and then a faint thump. And then another. Stiles’ pulse was slow and faint, but it was there. Still, Stiles’ wasn’t breathing.

“Come on, baby,” Derek whispered and breathed into Stiles’ mouth again. He kept going, breathing for Stiles every few seconds until Stiles spat up. Not just water. He vomited violently, retching and gagging until Derek rolled him onto his side.

Stiles didn’t immediately shoot to life completely awake and alert like in movies. He remained unconscious, heartbeat weak and breathing laboured. Derek whined pitifully, nosing at the back of Stiles’ shoulder where his teeth had sunk into Stiles’ skin. The wound bled sluggishly with his renewed heartbeat.

Derek was cold. His limbs were heavy and stiff as he gathered Stiles’ limp body in his arms and huddled him against his chest. He staggered to his feet, joints aching, and stumbled, barely able to support his own weight. The wet clothes had formed a crust of ice and frost, but Stiles barely felt cooler than Derek. Supernatural warmth and healing aside, Derek’s body was shutting down exposed to the elements and his own clothes lost in the woods.

One foot in front of another, Derek tracked his own path through the snow with Stiles heavy in his arms. By the time he reached the glow of the cabin, he trembled under the strain. His bare foot hit a patch of ice on the cabin steps and slipped. His kneecap audibly cracked against the stone step.

A howl ripped through the woods as pain exploded, radiating through his limbs. Derek hunched over, panting hard, but held Stiles tighter to his body, shielding him from harm. His healing factor wasn’t kicking in, but Derek shoved past the pain. At that moment, getting Stiles warm and dry was all that mattered.

Derek collapsed next to the cold fireplace and began the problematic process of stripping wet clothes off an unresponsive body. His hands shook and fumbled with the zipper of Stiles’ jeans and peeled away layers of clothing until Stiles was laying nude and motionless in the middle of the living room. Derek cocooned Stiles in every blanket he collected he could find in the closet, the bedroom, and off the back of the couch until only his face peeked through a tiny hole. But it wasn’t enough. They still needed a fire for warmth, but the wood was still locked in the shed, outside in the storm.

“I’ll be back,” Derek whispered. His voice cracked. “Just hang on for me, okay? I’m gonna take care of you, baby, I promise. I’ll be right back.” He pressed his lips to Stiles’ forehead and detected little to no difference in body temperature between them.

The trip back to the woodshed became an impossible quest the second he stepped outside. Derek shut the cabin door tightly behind him and shifted, but his knee had not healed, and he hobbled on three legs, cutting a path through the snow.

When Derek shifted back, unable to carry firewood on four legs, he collapsed against the side of the shed, so beyond the point of cold that he no longer shivered and trembled under the icy blades of snow tearing at his bare skin. Underfoot, his abandoned clothing crunched in the snow, frozen solid. Feet numb, he barely felt it.

Straining, Derek snapped the lock on the door. The shed offered a brief reprieve from the wind, but ladened with cut logs, he forced himself back into the polar temperatures and followed a trail back to the shelter of the cabin, and Stiles, marked by his own blood against pristine white.

The bones and cartilage of his knee ground and cracked with every step. Derek collapsed beside the cold grate of the fireplace. Firewood rolled across the floor, but he managed to stack two logs against the kindling. His hands shook, movements sluggish, as he struggled to strike a match. The first three fizzled and failed when he dropped them, but the crumpled newspaper that miraculously caught fire on his fourth attempt.

The flames licked the wood. The blooming spots in Derek’s vision darkened as he slumped over. Distantly, a phone buzzed. The vibrations reverberated through the wood floor of the cabin under Derek’s ear. Gasping for air, Derek stared at the lump of unmoving blankets and listened to the slow, quivering thump of Stiles’ heartbeat in the growing dark.

When Derek came too, he was warm. Too warm. He was bound tightly, arms restricted, and pressed against another nude and equally sweaty body. Nose nestled at the juncture of neck and shoulder, he inhaled deeply and whimpered. “Stiles...”

“Hey, herowolf,” Stiles croaked.

Derek opened his eyes and tilted his head back. Stiles was watching him with heavy-lidded, tired eyes and a faint smile. He was still alarmingly pale, but his lips were no longer blue, and his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the heat of the fire. A haphazardly taped bandaged stained a dark red covered his shoulder where Derek’s fangs and sunk into the skin and dragged him from the frozen river.

“You’re here,” Derek said, unable to reconcile the truth when he could still hear the empty silence of Stiles frozen on the ground. He tried to reach up to cup Stiles’ cheek or count his fingers to ensure this wasn’t a dream, but his arms were pinned to his sides.

Stiles and Derek were snuggled together, Derek half on top of Stiles, and wrapped in layers of blankets while the lit fire crackled merrily in the fireplace beside them. Somehow, Stiles had dragged his unconscious body into the cocoon of warmth and slapped a bandage on his own shoulder.

Derek swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and the corner of his eyes stung.

“Shit. Hey. Hey, Derek. I’m here. I’m still here.” Stiles struggled to hug him, but his arms weren’t cooperating, and his movement was as limited as Derek’s. “You found me. You saved me.”

“I didn’t.” Derek wormed his hands under Stiles’ back and clung desperately to his boyfriend, inhaling his scent and whimpering like a terrified little pup. Under any other circumstance, the pitched keen would have been humiliating, but Derek instincts were on edge. ”You died. You were gone. I lost you. You were gone.”

“I’m sorry. Derek, I’m so sorry,” Stiles croaked and sniffled. “Shit, Der. I can’t believe you found me. I was so scared. It hurt so much. Felt like my head was going to explode and my lungs would burst.”

Derek nosed at Stiles' throat, listening to the racing pulse under the skin. “Don’t leave me again. Please don’t leave me alone,” he begged, and Stiles shivered under him. He lay his head over Stiles’ heart and listened to the sluggish, quavering beat under his ear until his eyes grew heavy with fatigue. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Stiles let out a shaky breath. “Can’t get rid of me that easily. Guess we’ve both cheated death, huh. Bet he’s cheesed.”

The cabin fell quiet as they lay tangled together listening to the crackle and pop of dry wood. Derek stared at the flames, Stiles’ heartbeat under his ear, and growled softly until Stiles' chest shook with a small huffed chuckle. At some point, Derek would have to disentangle himself from the safety of their nest of warmth to add a log to the fire and rebandage Stiles’ poorly wrapped shoulder, but for now, he was high on the heady scent of mate and home.

“Thank you.” Stiles’ voice was barely above a whisper, but the sound echoed through Derek’s mind like a gunshot.

Derek shifted his weight, attempting to prop his upper body up on his elbow enough to hover over his boyfriend. His leg twinged, but there was no jolt of agonizing pain which meant his cracked kneecap had healed after he’d lost consciousness. He watched the dance of firelight reflected in the deep pools of Stiles’ golden honey eyes.

“You anchor me,” Derek said. Stiles’ lips parted with an inaudible gasp, and his heart stuttered in his chest. He knew Stiles had always suspected that his anchor had changed. “To lose you is to lose my humanity.”

#little spoon works #sterek #happy ending #sorry not sorry #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek fanfic #eternalsterek #established relationship #stiles is derek's anchor #college student stiles #wolf derek #hurt!stiles #protective!derek #sterek a-z challenge #teen wolf fanfic #tw: drowning

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spacebookettes · 3 years

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Cendiary Inn: a real goose tale

Aunty Cripplesworth was thought by many to be the second coming, and not on the side of her up there. Aunty Cripplesworth ran the pub with a platinum fist. Due to the large rings and bangles of the precious substance on her fighting hand. Many a drunk almost met their end at the end of Aunty Cripplesworth’s fighting hand. Aunty Cripplesworth loved cocktails and as you can imagine running a pub she’d had plenty of practise with them. In fact Aunty Cripplesworth was really the only person who drank cocktails in Cendiary bay. Only her and aunty Codswallop, the local uber drunk and manager of the solar powered fish distributer: many a full haddock had been wrongfully delivered to a bemused green grocer, museum manager, town haller and more, around the country because of drunk Codswallop.

Aunty Cripplesworth had a dog, Vanquish was her name... Aunty Cripplesworth also liked Aston Martins; though she’d only ever driven one once: when one posh person stopped off at the pub to ask directions. and when Aunty Cripplesworth saw the Aston Martin key fob he was holding, she insisted on personally showing him to his destination. “I’ll drive.”

The massive flock of geese was out foraging in the fields that overlook Cendiary bay. A couple new to the area are walking next to the fields totally in awe of that many geese. Their little dog isn’t so in awe and as all little dogs seem to be, angry at the mass of angry white feathers. Yes that’s right the geese don’t Get the dog at all. The dog lives a long happy life. The couple wander into a small patch of forest in one corner of the fields overlooking Cendiary bay. Mossy covered, peculiarly round rocks are scattered everywhere in the darkened under canopy. It’s damp here and cool. They hear a rasping goose call deep in the undergrowth. Earlier that day in the pub the couple had said they were off for a walk and Aunty Cripplesworth had warned them about the escaped goose said to roam the countryside around Cendiary bay. “They say it was Granny Bluntscar’s favourite bird, one she had personally trained to be a vicious little thug.” When the couple left the pub, the whole place up roared with laughter at the tale. The couple heard this and carried on their walk in peace. Peace until they heard the goose call deep in the forest funk. The little dog was off, sprinting into the moss and darkness in the direction of the imagined worse goose in existence. The couple called the little dogs name all they heard back was an angry goose bellow. Aunty Cripplesworth had paid the local kids to go up to the forest and scare the couple with a biodegradable plasticised goose whistle. The little girls enjoyed their afternoon of scares at the expense of the couple. When the concerned looking pair had come back into town saying how they’d lost their dog, only to find it sat in the pub next to Vanquish, gnawing on a giant dog treat. The locals all laughed and bought the couple a couple of stiffening drinks.

Later that night as Aunty Cripplesworth secured the pub and walked toward her little solar powered cottage: Vanquish left on guard, she was alone in the dark. Only a 5 minute walk between her and a Slippery Nipple palette cleanser. A shadow moved behind her, this shadow seemed to glow a low luminous white, tall and wide. A giant low luminous white feather was in the pathway before Aunty Cripplesworth. She stopped to look at it; massive half a meter long she had never seen such a thing. She bent down to pick it up... engine grease oozed onto her hands from underneath the feather. Aunty Cripplesworth grabbed an older woman’s tissue from her pocket and tried to wipe the ooze off of her hands, she couldn’t get it all off and stood huffing at the challenge. An uncharacteristically timed dove hooted somewhere in the distance. This made Aunty Cripplesworth look around, her eyes focused on the tall white shape that was following her. Her eyes were accustomed to the dark, but she couldn’t make out what the shape was. And then it evaporated backwards into the gloom of the night. Aunty Cripplesworth had only been scared once before in her adult life, and this second time was so unfamiliar to her she sprinted in the opposite direction full pelt towards the solar powered police station near the centre of a rebuilt Cendiary bay.

The whole town heard about it the next day... something had scared Aunty Cripplesworth. Incredible! Aunty Cripplesworth didn’t become the town laughing stock... no one dare laugh, incase Aunty Cripplesworth heard about it. But perhaps the occasional chuckle about it in their sleeps.

Aunty Cripplesworth looked down at her still grubby stained fingers and demanded a forensic test of the residue. The local police took the swabs and when an unusual for those parts forensic evidence kit was sent to the big solar powered city... and a surprised forensic scientist emailed the results to the police station in Cendiary bay (with a giggle, they hadn’t heard of an Aunty Cripplesworth.) That came back as engine oil and Aunty Cripplesworth slammed the door of the police station so hard it jammed and the local police had to be rescued by the Cendiary bay fire service. Aunty Cripplesworth had been so convinced the test result would come back as Mystical Unknown Substance. Aunty Cripplesworth got that Slippery Nipple and fourteen after it. The Cendiary Inn didn’t open for two days. And when the locals saw Aunty Cripplesworth unlocking the pub they all piled in to have a gander.

Life soon turned back to normal in the Cediary Inn, though Vanquish no longer guarded the pub after hours.

One month exactly after Aunty Cripplesworth's experience, she was securing the pub after hours. Vanquish suddenly ran off into the darkness. Aunty Cripplesworth heard an uncharacteristically timed dove hoot and quickly unsecured the pub and went back inside... this was the third time she'd been scared her whole adult life and now she was also angry. A platinum (plated) baseball bat was retrieved from behind the bar and one conflicted Aunty dashed off into the night in the direction of Vanquish. Nothing, no sound on a night with seemingly no atmosphere. Not even a slight breeze. Aunty felt insecure. Aunty Cripplesworth came back to the pub un Vanquished. Sat on the bar top was another giant white feather... no ooze though. Aunty had had enough. The forensic test had worked into her subconscious and dampened the supernatural imaginings in her brain. Aunty was fumming she smashed the bar top. She smashed a chair up. She was going to find something else to smash when Vanquish came back into the pub with a slobbery fussing for Aunty Cripplesworth. She mellowed with the relief; looked around at the mess and shrugged nonchalantly. Though Aunty Cripplesworth didn’t own the Cendiary Inn, she just ran it for someone else... it was more of a self appointed managerial position. The owners had slunk off to an unplanned early retirement.

The end

By Peter Stringer

Grandma’s bag

Grandma had Devils Food Crystalised Cherries in her bag, inside a small biodegradable plasticised baglette. The kids knew she’d at some point open the bag and give them all one each; spaced out throughout the day, they’d hear the handbag latch click and come running the little devils. Mom grinned at the sight. Have you a bag mum, mom called out. In the pantry was a large biodegradable plasticised bag filled with screwed up biodegradable plasticised bags. The transition away from traditional plastic bags was well under way. “they’re all the new biodegradable ones, what have you been doing with the plastic ones?” (wait for it) “oh i throw those old useless ones away" said grandma. Mom looked from the panty , through the kitchen and into the lounge... does she do it on purpose mother in law, mom wondered to herself.

The end

By Peter Stringer

Lady Mechanic

The lady of F1 racing they called her...

Lady Mechanic loved going fast. Driving fast. Motorcycling fast. Hand gliding fast. Go karting fast. It had been not so much roller blading these older days.

No she didn’t drive F1 cars don’t worry lads, I’ll leave you that. No, she helped design them. Owner of Mc Rarri F1 team and Slikmouth F1 race track. She liked to tinker with the racing technology of the future. Of course once the driverless cars started competing and literally lightning reflexes made F1 even ‘more' exciting; there was less need for human racers. The advertisement deals became more electronic focused. In fact F1 teams also design for other industries, the prestige has quite a premium in the eyes of the more technological people's of the future. Lady Mechanic made the fastest F1 cars. Lady Mechanic was a celebrity. Lady Mechanic was sort after.

By Peter Stringer

Bee Light

Bee was an B student, but she got a Z for a dad. Her younger siblings thought Bee was A*. It was fathers day. Bee should be getting the presents. Her extra time with her siblings meant she didn’t have time to study for A's. Here’s to all the busy Bee Lights!

By Peter Stringer

Peak London

A cocoon of many towers, 3 of which near the clusters centre, inner facing; with fluorescence and brightness, an infinity of light boxes... Cascading in both vertical directions and a peak between of distant London. ‘Amazing’ a lawyers brain went off.

The lawyer travelling through the freshness and brilliance of west London. White buildings. TREES. Tasteful phosphorescense. The lawyer who couldn’t stop thinking about the meeting. Well the stop at some underlings office on the wrong side of the tower. That view. The others had offices with a different brightness and long views. But the lawyer felt the real business was the supposed lesser view of a science fiction dreamscape at the beginning of the 21st century.

The lawyer had heard of the young billionaire’s idea. A gargantuan city sprawling upwards and a planet left to nature. The lawyer had had a glimpse of it. An environmental lawyer who though, had a fondness for skyscrapers. How to do it??

By Peter Stringer

#short story #art #creative writing #spooky story #horror novel #comedy horror #thriller #goose #geese #flock #solar powered cottage #coast

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dailyread249 · 5 years

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LABOR, EVER SO GINGERLY, TIPTOES INTO THE INSURGENCY

EVER SINCE 26-YEAR-OLD Jessica Cisneros announced that she would be challenging Rep. Henry Cuellar in the primary for Texas’s 28th District with the support of Justice Democrats, the primary unfolded about as well as Cisneros could have expected. The Cuellar campaign dismissed her as an out-of-touch leftist with few roots in her community. Cisneros plowed ahead, swore off corporate PAC and lobbyist money, and began putting together her volunteer operation. The national press, perpetually on the hunt for “the next AOC,” breathed life into her campaign. Local media, not wanting to miss the upset, took her seriously too. Fundraising was robust.

But then the race took an unusual turn: On October 23, Cisneros picked up a key union endorsement, Communication Workers of America District 6, and on Saturday, she’ll be speaking in Austin at a political rally hosted by AFSCME Local 1624. The event is being held to gin up excitement for 2020, and Cuellar was not invited.

“Personally, I just think it’s time for change, and I want to see younger, fresher blood running for public office, who I can relate to, who can relate to our workers, and who honestly look like everyday common folks,” said Yvonne Flores, president of AFSCME Local 1624. “For me, that’s like, hell yeah, let’s get Jessica on stage and hear her talk.”

Organized labor, which typically allies with the party establishment in the face of ongoing insurgency, has company in opposing the incumbent Democrat. Cisneros has scored endorsements from Sen. Elizabeth Warren; the Working Families Party; Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y.; and even EMILY’s List, all betting that the deep-blue district, which went for Hillary Clinton by nearly 20 points, is tired of an anti-choice Democrat who often votes with President Donald Trump and the Republican Party.

Cisneros stunned when she announced a fundraising haul of $310,000 in the third quarter, and her campaign confirmed that Ocasio-Cortez’s endorsement in October has fueled even more small-dollar donors.

Unions have good reason to be interested in this race. While Cuellar is more commonly known for voting to support a 20-week abortion ban and funding a Mexican border wall in his own southern Texas district, his record on labor issues has driven worker advocates crazy for years.

In May, Democratic Rep. Bobby Scott introduced the Protecting the Right to Organize Act, a bill that would eliminate right-to-work laws, impose new penalties on employers who retaliate against union organizing, crack down on worker misclassification, and establish new rules so employers cannot delay negotiating collective bargaining contracts.

The bill has 214 Democratic co-sponsors, and Cuellar is not among them.

“It’s something his staff is monitoring to see how the bill evolves and changes, and then he’ll make a decision,” Colin Strother, Cuellar’s campaign spokesperson, told The Intercept. “Three out of four jobs in our district are created by small businesses, so he always has an eye toward how something will impact small business.”

It’s certainly not the first time Cuellar has cited protecting small businesses as a reason to avoid pro-worker legislation. He was one of the few Democrats not to co-sponsor the $15 minimum wage bill the House passed this summer, and while he ultimately voted for its passage, he also voted for an unsuccessful amendment that would have exempted millions of workers from the law.

Rep. Henry Cuellar speaks with reporters on June 27, 2019, in Washington, D.C.

Photo: Bill Clark/CQ Roll Call via AP

Cuellar has also criticized many of the signature labor reforms of the Obama era — including expanding overtime pay to 4 million workers and holding corporations liable for the violations of their franchisees. He’s one of just three Democrats to co-sponsor legislation restricting the definition of a joint employer, which would make it harder for workers at franchised companies to unionize and hold large corporations accountable.

Cisneros told The Intercept that she can be counted on to support the Protecting the Right to Organize Act, increasing the federal minimum wage to $15 an hour, and supporting the broader joint-employer standard outlined by the National Labor Relations Board in 2015. “I look forward to being a true champion for the working people of our district,” she said. “This can’t be done without strong labor laws that allow workers to negotiate for proper pay, good working conditions, and the benefits they deserve.”

Strother argued that since Cisneros has never run for office or been in politics, her positions at this stage amount to “fairy tales.” Her stated priorities of a Green New Deal and Medicare for All, he insisted, “would be devastating to the labor movement in this country” and make her “the most anti-labor Democrat that’s run in this district since Henry’s been elected.”

On trade, Cuellar has similarly stood out from his Democratic colleagues in the House and has made no secret that he’s doing all he can to pass the U.S.-Mexico-Canada Agreement, Trump’s renegotiated version of NAFTA. In October, he told Politico that he’s ready to approve the deal, describing it as “an easy vote.” Unions have repeatedly said the deal is not ready to come to the floor, as its provisions around labor, the environment, drug pricing, and enforcement are not yet strong enough.

“He’s OK with a race to the bottom to allow companies to compete where they can find the cheapest labor market,” said Harrison Hiner, a spokesperson for CWA District 6.

Cisneros pointed to her hometown of Laredo, the largest trade port in the country. “Our trade partnership with Mexico affects the lives of everyday workers in our district and is critical to our economy, yet unlike my opponent, I oppose trade agreements that fail to include enforceable labor standards,” she said. “I would not support legislation to authorize ‘fast-track’ procedures to approve trade agreements without sufficient congressional approval and oversight.” A main concern is that a weak trade deal would drive down U.S. wages and further exploit Mexican workers.

Strother, Cuellar’s campaign spokesperson, contested the idea that the trade pact is being rushed through, pointing out that lawmakers have been working on it for years. When The Intercept asked if Cuellar was working with labor on the trade deal, Strother said, “I wouldn’t characterize it like that,” but said that Cuellar will listen to anyone who raises concerns to try and build consensus.

The CWA hasn’t endorsed Cuellar since he first ran unsuccessfully for Congress in 2002. “We try to work with both sides of the aisle, but Democrats usually pitch themselves as representing working-class people,” Hiner said. “On a number of issues, he has broken ranks with workers, and that’s putting it nicely.”

Join Our NewsletterOriginal reporting. Fearless journalism. Delivered to you.I’m in

Krissy O’Brien, an organizer with AFSCME Local 1624, told The Intercept that the national attention Cisneros has received has really helped galvanize activists back in Texas, which is partly why she was invited to speak at the union’s upcoming event. Nina Turner, a co-chair of Sen. Bernie Sanders’s presidential campaign, will be the rally’s keynote speaker.

“The conference is to ignite the base in Texas, especially our membership,” said O’Brien. “We want to talk about what’s at stake, the flippable congressional seats, the chance to take back the Texas House, redistricting — there’s just all these things we want to make sure everyone is aware of. We want to get our members excited, engaged, and ready to rock.”

Given Cuellar’s record, one might ask why he’s faced no serious challenger before. A former Democratic lawmaker in the Texas legislature chalked it up to the fact that labor is fairly weak in Cuellar’s district, so unions weren’t really able to focus their attention on House primaries. “But since someone is now making a very serious run and has proven herself as a serious fundraiser, they’re paying attention,” they said.

Hiner agrees. “I think all the national attention, and the fact that she’s proved she can raise money, has made her a viable alternative to folks who really haven’t had that before,” he said. “And sometimes other good options just never step forward.”

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thisdaynews · 5 years

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How Lewis Hamilton remained master to Max Verstappen's apprentice

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/how-lewis-hamilton-remained-master-to-max-verstappens-apprentice/

How Lewis Hamilton remained master to Max Verstappen's apprentice

Hamilton now has seven victories at the Hungaroring

Formula 1 has been waiting for a full-on battle between Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen for years now. The Hungarian Grand Prix finally delivered it, and what a treat it was.

Verstappen in a slower Red Bull holding off Hamilton in a faster Mercedes, their teams fighting a strategic battle as much as the drivers were scrapping on track – it produced a race that not only thrilled in the moment, but whet the appetite for what might be to come when F1 resumes after the four-week summer break in Belgium on 1 September.

Even Hamilton was excited by the battle – which became a reality as soon as the world champion had passed team-mate Valtteri Bottas by Turn Three on the first lap and settled in behind Verstappen.

“As soon as I got into second,” Hamilton said, “I was like: ‘OK, this whole battle we’ve been talking about me and Max having we are going to have that today.’ And it was really awesome.”

Hamilton overtakes Verstappen for late Hungary win

Listen: “Hats off to the strategists, hats off to Lewis Hamilton”

What happened to the woman who beat Hamilton in go-karts?

“I was definitely not thinking: ‘Genius'”

As they slugged it out at the front, the two men were in a separate race from anyone else, Hamilton more than a minute ahead of the Ferrari of third-placed man Sebastian Vettel by the end of the grand prix.

Hamilton always looked quicker, but track position is so important at the Hungaroring, a tight and twisty track in a dusty amphitheatre about 12 miles outside Budapest.

Throughout, Hamilton rarely gave Verstappen any breathing space, and Verstappen defended with maturity and skill.

Never more than about two seconds behind, Hamilton ramped up the pressure on Verstappen as the window for him to make a pit stop and rejoin ahead of the Ferraris, then led by Charles Leclerc approached.

Hamilton closed a 20-second deficit in less than 20 laps to pass Verstappen for the lead

That forced Red Bull to stop Verstappen as early as they could – to protect against Hamilton stopping first and jumping the Dutchman that way.

That early pit stop meant Mercedes could run Hamilton longer, to give him fresher tyres for their fight in the second stint, which at that time was planned to be to the end of the race.

After that first stop, Hamilton was all over Verstappen. But after one breathtaking overtaking attempt around the outside of the super-fast Turn Four just failed to come off, he and Mercedes began to doubt that he would be able to pass.

That was on lap 39, and immediately afterwards the Mercedes strategists began to consider the idea of a second stop. It would lose them 20 seconds, but the idea was that Hamilton would come back at Verstappen like a rocket.

They analysed and discussed it for seven laps and then took the plunge, switching from the hard to the medium tyres for the final 22 laps, in which Hamilton would have to make up 20 seconds and pass arguably the most aggressive and uncompromising driver in the sport.

It was an unusually bold and aggressive strategy from a team that can tend towards the cautious – and impressively so just a week after they came in for criticism for questionable strategy in the rain at Hockenheim, their and Hamilton’s worst race for years.

Hamilton was far from sure it was the right idea.

Wolff said: “I’m happy for the strategy group as in Germany we came under fire for the strategy calls.”

“I definitely was not thinking: ‘Genius,’ he said. “Was I thinking ‘worth a try’? I have a different viewpoint in the car. I came out (from the first pit stop) with six- or seven-lap fresher tyres and at the time I was much quicker and I was like: ‘OK, I just have to keep the pressure on.’

“But then they told me we were going two-stop and I couldn’t compute how it would work.

“I thought I could make the hards go to the end so I knew he would be able to do the same. I thought pitting was going to be difficult and I hadn’t even had the chance to be thinking what tyre.

“They put me on the medium and it didn’t feel great initially and then he started matching my times.”

Over the radio, the doubt in Hamilton’s mind at the wisdom of the strategy was clear. He needed to close at a second a lap, but after cutting the gap to 16 seconds, Verstappen started doing the same lap times. Hamilton was cooling his brakes, which were on the limit, but once they were back in the right temperature window, he cut loose.

“I was thinking: ‘Jeez this is really risky,'” Hamilton said. “In the end you have to just go: ‘Go for it, give it everything. Just don’t worry if you don’t catch him. Just concentrate on putting perfect laps.'”

It was what Mercedes and Hamilton call “hammer time”. From 15.4 seconds, the gap came down to nothing in 10 laps.

“I saw his times rising and I was like: ‘I am going to catch him and as soon as I catch him I am going by, no messing around. And it was such a relief when I got by because it’s your dream.”

The drive and the win clearly made as big an impression on Hamilton as they did on those watching.

“It feels like a first (win),” he said. “I don’t know how. I’ve been doing this a long time but it feels like one of the first.”

Two men in a league of their own

Hamilton may have won in Hungary but fans voted Verstappen driver of the day

According to Mercedes team boss Toto Wolff, Hamilton’s driving was “in a different dimension”.

In reality, there were two men in that dimension. Verstappen was hugely impressive, too. His pole position on Saturday was stunning, and he lost out to a faster car, driven by a great driver at the top of his game, and a bold strategy to which Red Bull could not respond.

“We were just not fast enough,” Verstappen said. “I tried everything I could on that hard tyre to stay alive. Still, second, fastest lap, a good weekend overall. Congrats to Lewis, he was pushing me really hard. I like that. We were just lacking a bit of grip. We tried a one-stop, they had the opportunity for two and that worked out well.”

Hamilton praised Verstappen for the way he had conducted himself in the heat of their battle.

“Strong competitor and great driver at his best,” Hamilton said. “It’s awesome to see the respect between us, really respectful driving and I hope to continue that.

“He put the car in some good places. I gave him space and more. If we were on the same (championship) points he may have been a lot more aggressive but there was no need for that. It was just making sure when I do finally pull off an overtaking manoeuvre it was a full sweep by.”

The respect went both ways. Afterwards, in the news conference, there was a fascinating exchange between the two men when they were asked to give themselves scores out of 10 for the first half of the season.

Verstappen took fastest lap and an extra bonus point which takes him to within seven points of second-placed Bottas in the championship standings

After Vettel had given himself a five, saying he was “not happy with the first half – I can do a better job” – Hamilton gave himself an “8.9/8.8 – if it wasn’t for the last race (in Germany) it would be a little higher.

“It has been the best start of the season we’ve ever had and one of the best starts I’ve ever had but there are areas I can continue to work on. That’s the great thing about this sport, you can always improve.”

Verstappen refused to give himself a number, saying: “I hate putting a number on it because it reminds me of school which is not that long ago. I am always quite critical, it can always be better. I am never satisfied. It has a been very positive and I’ve had good results.”

So Hamilton did it for him, pointing to the two wins Verstappen had in the three races immediately preceding Hungary.

“Last few races it’s high nines,” Hamilton said of Verstappen. “I don’t remember all the races. But he drove exceptionally and if he continues like that it will be high nines.”

Finally, the quality of their race was summed up by their former rival Fernando Alonso, the two-time champion, who retired at the end of last season, watching the race at home.

“Bravo Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen,” Alonso wrote on Twitter. “Pushing 70 laps to the maximum. More than one minute to the third, nearly + one lap and a half to the top five. Both Impressive. Thanks for the show.”

A nervous wait for Bottas

Bottas was taken out of contention by a touch with team-mate Hamilton early in the race

While Hamilton goes into the summer break with his championship lead extended and a sixth title set to be sealed long before the end of the season, his Mercedes team-mate Valtteri Bottas faces a far less comfortable month.

He is out of contract this year and Wolff is going to spend the summer break deciding whether to keep Bottas, or replace him with reserve driver Esteban Ocon.

So it was a bad time for Bottas to have a race like this. Second out of the first corner, he was fourth by the time he was heading into Turn Four on the first lap, and with a broken front wing, after locking his wheels into both the first two corners, being passed by Hamilton, lightly touching his team-mate and then being overtaken by Leclerc, who broke the Mercedes’ front wing in the process.

That led to a difficult afternoon fighting back and an eventual eighth place finish.

Wolff said: “I am so sad for him. He was so pumped since yesterday, his qualifying performance was brilliant and he was in the right frame of mind before the race.

“And then the unfortunate incident in flat-spotting the tyre, touching with Lewis, touching with Leclerc and then suddenly within half a lap all the work is gone and that is just awful for him and I am sorry for him.”

Wolff said Bottas’ future will not turn on this one performance.

“We will not be letting one race result influence our decision,” he said. “It is more about compounding all data and then making a decision on stability and great personality and a very good driver versus giving youth a chance with all the reward and risk it can bring and we haven’t done that yet.

“We will start the process tomorrow and it will not be an easy one.”

Verstappen’s father Jos finished on the podium at the Hungarian Grand Prix in 1994 for Benetton, 25 years before his son. Michael Schumacher won that day

Changing of the guard? Not yet, according to Hamilton, who took his 81st career win

The Verstappen fans packed the grandstands in their thousands at the Hungaroring

#apprentice #Verstappen's

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titaniasfics · 7 years

Text

Sense8 Character Appreciation Days - Kala Dandekar

I missed Kala’s day yesterday which set me back for all the drabbles. I apologize for that.

A million thanks to @thegirlfromoverthepond , who has been such a great support. We’re writing/betaing these drabbles while running a challenge, together with our busy mods, over at @loveinpanem. Her contributions make these drabbles so much better.

Please, if I’ve made some mistake with references to Indian culture or anything else, please message me and I will change it quickly. One of the reasons I took so long was because I was doing research trying to get things right.

And yes, they are organized in some way by geography :).

(Wonder what I’m doing here? Check out the Character Appreciation Days Post here and my post about it here).

A Piece of Mumbai

Kala dropped the plastic bags on the counter in a huff of frustration. While it was reasonably easy to find Indian seasonings in Paris, she was having an impossible time tracking down kewra essence. The city was full of kewra water - every restaurant boasting an Indian meal claimed to feature it. It also enjoyed a reputation for being the best skin toner. But Kala wasn’t interested in the water for cosmetic purposes. She needed it's essence because she was desperate for her father’s shahi tukra. After trying the different varieties available in the Indian shops and restaurants around the city, she had been driven to the extreme of trying to make it herself. She required a very particular type of essence - not the stuff that passed for Indian spices here in Europe.

There was one additional complication - her father’s secret ingredient. Though Kala was sure it had something to do with kewra essence, her troubles were still only just beginning. She remembered in passing that he did something with it once the dish was made. The recipe itself was not difficult and she’d been able to find the basic ingredients, but she was a chemist, not a cook. She had never taken to the food arts the way her sister had and now, she was paying for it. Kala regretted not having figured how exactly her father had made her favorite dish. And now, maybe she would never know.

She sat heavily on the kitchen chair, staring absently at the pretty lemon printed wallpaper of the small Parisian flat she shared with Wolfgang. It was actually theirs, once they’d gotten their lives to resemble some semblance of normal. They did the things everyone else did - they worked, they divided chores, they took vacations, and generally lived their lives, with the tiny exception of the 7 other voices that lived in each other’s heads. It was their normal, the normal they shared with each other.

Kala had never been happier.

But she missed shahi tukra. She missed the way her father smelled when she hugged him after a long night in his restaurant. She missed her sister, with her small, sweet face and silly, big ideas. She missed her mother’s gentle strength. She missed the colors and smells of her city.

She gave herself over to her intense longing and rested her head on her forearm, letting it wash over her.

She sensed Wolfgang before he even pushed the key into the keyhole, turning the doorknob. She brushed the layered bangs from her forehead and stood, rapidly unpacking the bags so that he would not have to see the misery on her face. She felt his arms around her waist and allowed herself to lean into his chest and take courage from his solidity.

“Have you found it yet?” he asked.

She shrugged. “No, but It’s not difficult to order. I’m being very silly.”

“No, you just want it very badly,” he turned her around so she would face him. He searched her face; she did not have his gift of hiding his feelings behind a mask of stone. Instead, she dropped her eyes when she answered.

“I’ll just have to wait.”

Wolfgang nodded, lifting her head by the chin to look at her. “I have it on good authority that some authentic Indian restaurants deliver.”

“Do they?” Kala said, quirking an eyebrow. “How do you know this?”

“I just know,” he said, taking her hand. She sighed, reveling in the feel of his hand on hers. There were a million things they could do together but she loved the feeling of her hand in his the most.

He tugged her by the hand and led her out to the living room. Her curiosity quickly became stronger than her melancholy. On their sofa, the pretty yellow, gold and white sofa she and Wolfgang had picked out from an antique dealer, sat a man. Kala at first could not believe what her eyes told her. But as he stood, with his familiar loose shirt and linen pants, Kala did not pause but raced towards him, nearly knocking him over as she flung herself into his open arms.

“Father!” she said into his neck, now wet with her tears.

“I heard from someone that you were in need of an Indian cook?”

She pulled back, looking over her shoulder at Wolfgang, who leaned against the doorjamb of the living room. “You! You did this!”

He shrugged. “I’ve been talking to your dad for a while. Thought it was fair for him to know who stole his daughter.”

Kala turned to look at her father in surprise. His eyes were suffused with the sweetest expression she’d ever seen. Despite everything, he missed her and she knew he loved her. “How is that?”

Sanyam sat, prompting Kala to sit also. “I did not wish to speak to him in the beginning. I was confused by how you disappeared, how you ended everything so abruptly with Rajan. And this story about…what is the word? Sensates?”

Kala remembered their discussion. “You asked me to give you time and I did. I respected that.”

“Yes, you did. But Wolfgang…it was hard. His English is worse than mine. But he talked to me, man to man.”

“You hung up the first time,” Wolfgang interjected, fiddling with a cigarette.

“Well, yes, and the second and the third…” Sanyam added. “But he was persistent. He called every day. Every day! And one day, I decided I would talk to him, get to know the man in my daughter’s life, who speaks perfect Marathi, by the way.”

“It’s the sensate thing,” Wolfgang said, pointing at his head.

“Right.” Sanyam’s eyes became glassy and he took a deep breath to steady himself. “I missed my beautiful, smiling girl.”

Kala hugged him again, still unable to believe that her father was here, in this city, in her house. Nothing else mattered more than being able to invite her father back into her life again. “How long will you stay.”

“Only one week. Rahul and your mother can handle the restaurant for a few days but it is not the same as when I am there.” He reached behind Kala to a small bag which, in her excitement, she had not noticed before. “This is for you.”

Kala put her hand inside, feeling the cool hardness of the bottle. When she pulled it out, she read the words written in Marathi. “Kewar essence! Oh please, father, I will take you to all the best restaurants in Paris while you are here but tonight…”

Sanyam raised his hand. “Say no more. Tonight, I will cook.”

She let out a loud squeal of excitement that provoked a laugh from her father and even a smile from Wolfgang. When she’d released her father, she beckoned to Wolfgang. “Come here.”

He walked towards her, suddenly very shy and awkward, which made Kala’s heart swell even more. She stood and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly to her. “You are a sneaky demon, you know that?” she whispered in his ear.

He chuckled into her hair. “You can’t hide the way you feel from me. You were so unhappy. You would have done the same thing for me, if you could have .”

Kala nodded. “Yes, I would have.” She released Wolfgang, even though she wanted to kiss him for hours, out of respect for her father, who needed to be eased into her new life. Her father was here, with them. That was so much more than she could have ever hoped for.

“Come,” Sanyam said, getting to his feet urging Wolfgang to follow him to the kitchen. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my bhelpuri. It is a secret recipe in my family from generations. If you intend to be with my daughter, you must learn to make it also.”

Wolfgang’s face broke into a rare grin, one he usually reserved only for her. Kala, clutched the bottle of kelwar essence firmly in hand, closer to happiness than she’d ever been. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of gratitude to Ganesha as she followed the two men she loved more than anyone else in the entire world.

#characterappreciationday #kalaappreciationday #sense8 #renewsense8 #nosense8nonetflix #fanfiction #canon compliant #canon au #post season2 #titaniasfics #scenes we might have gotten had netflix not been who they are #a piece of mumbai #kalagang #sanyay

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f1chronicle · 4 years

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5 Big Moments From The Maiden Tuscan GP!

Not always does one see a race so saddled by accidents as determined by pure race. The ninth round of the 2020 Formula 1 season saw the contingent arrive at the land of Renaissance, as Italy gave us yet another contest to remember, albeit not one that could, in any way, have been predicted.

As one saw yet another triple-header, but one that ended with a Lewis Hamilton win, the ninetieth of the stalwart’s racing career, Mugello might have produced a Mercedes victory, but ensured that key highlights belonged to moments beyond the speculations of any racing pundit.

Such as both Ferrari’s ending inside points in the struggling team’s 1000th Grand Prix, Max retiring for the third time this season albeit bringing up his first back-to-back DNF (starting Monza), or for that matter, Daniel Ricciardo notching up the drive of the day, even as he failed to re-catch the valiant Alex Albon.

But a race that was just as thrilling in the end with Hamilton first coming under pressure from Bottas, whom he’d defy by over 4 points in the end, was equally thrilling from the start, with several retirements occurring inside the opening lap.

Nano-seconds after Lewis Hamilton, who clawed his way to a sensational 95th pole on Saturday, lost his place to a charging Valtteri Bottas (even before turn 1), the back of the field came to tangle in the run down to the first chicane.

It was mayhem at the start, one that would eventually result in several eventual retirements, Verstappen, Grosjean, Sainz, Raikkonen, Vettel, and Gasly all collecting damage as part of a strange skirmish in this twisty track.

But what moments, thereafter, defined the context and fortune of the maiden Tuscan GP?

Source: Espn

No fewer than 8 retirements

Not that safety car deployments fail to make a contest a level-playing field. But what followed the imposition of the first safety car at Mugello was in no way funny and left a rather scary after-thought for there was yet more drama to follow immediately.

As if the shocking retirement of Verstappen, who took a big hit in the gearbox wasn’t enough, the period after the Safety car went out was marked by yet more action reminiscent of a John Wick gun-slinging motion picture.

Max and last week’s winner Gasly had already retired, leaving 18 cars on the grid.

On Lap 6, with much of the grid weaving deliberately to kick in some temperature in the tyres, there was absolute chaos owing to an unforeseeable and utterly weird string of crashes that took place in the midfield.

Kevin Magunussen apparently too slow at the restart, possibly due to Bottas, out in the lead taking his own sweet time to get going, prompted the Alfa Romeo of Antonio Giovinazzi to run into the Haas’ rear. Even as Nicholas Latifi took immediate corrective action, avoiding Magnussen by a split-second as he shunted his Williams onto the left, he’d be collected by the crashing Alfa Romeo. Three more drivers consumed at the re-start.

But was that all?

As a result of the sudden bump in fortunes of several drivers, the man who emerged P2 at Monza too, found himself dragged into the unanticipated tussle. What was scary was to see Sainz emerging with a shaky right-hand. Had the incident been any more serious and we could’ve seen something gross at Formula 1’s maiden run at Mugello.

The entire drama prompted the race to be red-flagged, for the second time in a row this season.

But finally, as the action again got underway on Lap 10, it was business-as-usual for Lewis Hamilton, who’d retake the lead, going wide outside of Bottas on Turn 1, storming to the track position exhibiting unfettered authority out in the lead.

With Bottas in second and Ricciardo looking ever so resilient, it was going to be a cracker of 49 laps. And so it was.

Although, Renault lost Ocon in the red-flag period owing to a mechanical malfunction.

Yet so close, yet so far for George Russell

George Russell finished eleventh (P11) in the race, his first-ever taste of going racing at the land of Tuscan wines, which, one reckons, he must get some measure of having driven yet another commanding race, where he started the race from eighteenth on the grid.

Even though he couldn’t make to his first points in Formula 1, having looked at one stage so capable of getting there, as he positioned himself on ninth upon the second restart, Russell drove a race to remember.

The sentimental favorite of the day, the young British driver, didn’t have the race pace to challenge the Alfa Romeos and struggled against Vettel in the en

But his fans may surely have loved that bold move on the outside of Grosjean on the straights to execute a clean overtake, one of the defining moments of the 2020 Tuscan GP.

A driver who, they say, may soon find himself in Bottas’ seat, seeing that determination and consistency, George Russell’s best days are clearly in front of him.

The saving grace for Ferrari

The 1000th Grand Prix is quite a massive occasion for any team, and obviously calls for something massive when it concerns the most popular marquee in Formula 1’s checkered history.

And even though, Ferrari didn’t quite experience a massive moment, none of the drivers managing to collect a podium, having known the team’s woes this season, it was quite a relief to finally spot both Leclerc and Vettel inside the top ten.

While on his part, Leclerc, who stormed to a memorable fifth in Qualifying a day earlier would feel a chance lost given his eventual race position (P8), it wasn’t too atrocious for Sebastian Vettel, who claimed a tenth (P10).

But this was not before Vettel losing a part of his front wing of the SF 1000 early on after which he’d find a way to soldier on until the end.

Leclerc, on the other hand, found himself in business, breaking into the top-three all thanks to sensational acrobatics around the outside of Verstappen inside Lap 1.

But the fine race-pace with fresh tyres at the start would soon wither away, the Ferrari driver pitting twice even before half-way time to explain just some of his difficulties.

But emerging on top of his teammate, yet again, shouldn’t hurt so much- right?

Raikkonen finally gets off the mark

Going point-less in eight Grands Prix before he arrived at the very venue where he’d first tested an F1 car (back in 2000), Kimi Raikkonen finally scored some this season this weekend.

And what a mighty long wait it has been for the oldest man on the grid to finally get underway?

But once again, the only Alfa Romeo running in contention of scoring points, it didn’t take long for Kimi to prove why he’s still got it; moving up on George Russell upon the second restart, but not before he emerged unscathed despite losing some bodywork in the opening lap scramble.

source: racefans.net

The latter half of the incident-marred Grand Prix saw a quicker, more resolute Raikkonen, who despite finding himself strapped with a 5-second time penalty owing to making his way to the pits when the window wasn’t open, wasn’t going to yield.

Much better on the daunting Mugello straights than he’d been at Monza, Kimi sandwiched the two Ferraris in the end, and emerged ahead of his former Ferrari teammate.

At one point it did seem the Alfa Remeo was all set to get Daniil Kvyat’s Alpha Tauri but the Russian Torpedo held on well to defy Kimi with only a few laps to go.

Nonetheless, the unflustered Iceman would see the Tuscan GP drive as a win-win and shall now even see the remainder of the season at scoring some more points, his qualifying pace supporting his talent and endeavor.

A day Alexander Albon shall never forget

Alexander Albon arrived at the maiden Tuscan GP with a mighty fine qualifying performance where he claimed a strong fourth (P4) in qualifying, landing himself just behind teammate Max Verstappen.

But in the latter part of the race, as more and more drama and thrill livened up the Mugello contest, Albon raised his game, vying eventually for that podium spot.

His awesome move over third-placed Daniel Ricciardo with the Thai-British driver going wide outside the Aussie saw the Red Bull driver claim the third spot on the grid, a position which he’d tightly hold onto as if his life depended on it and truth be told, in the context of his Red Bull future, it even did.

But while glory belonged to Lewis Hamilton, who claimed the Grand Slam of this entertaining Grand Prix, the most glorious moment, it could be said, belonged to Albon for his brave third, his patience finally rewarded in the end.

Lest it is forgotten, this was the second race where Albon’s was the only Red Bull that finished the race, Max retiring. Does that tell us something about Albon being a dependable driver- not too hard to guess, right?

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