#the only time I listened to her talking about F1 was because she was complaining about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

agendabymooner · 10 months

Text

9 to 5 || f1 drivers (3)

(SPIN OFF OF COLOUR ME YOUR COLOUR (WIP) and RUSH)

Summary: Lorelei Hester ‘Lester’ Alessandro is a bassist first and Daniel Ricciardo’s partner second. But it seems like another role is added to her resume as she begins her weekend in Baku as Toto Wolff’s children’s babysitter.

Chapter summary: How to kick-off the race weekend, the Wolff-pack style. OR Toto would really rather talk racing and business with his littles over Christian Horner or whoever might piss him off into next day.

Content warning: family-centric content, TOTO BEING THE BEST DAD EVER?, tooth-rotting fluff, wholesome content where Toto isn't that evil

Note: I DID IT! I also was writing a Max Verstappen thing but I'm not going to post it just yet (or will I). Might f around and post a CMYC chapter later. Enjoy xx

masterlist

iii. the most toto coded children

“How about this?” “No! No flowers, Papa.”

“You drive a hard bargain, engel,” Toto sighed as he combed his daughter’s hair back and held it in one place. He looked down at her in the mirror, “Well, can you please show Papa the clip that you want then?”

The 3-turning-4 years old girl, Tia Wolff, nodded eagerly as she leaned forward, only to be stopped by the slight tug that she felt when Toto kept her hair in place. “Careful,” he warned her, his soft tone an evident that he had a rare side that nobody could see but his family. He really didn’t want to end their trip early by having her fall over the stool that she could barely reach.

The girl presented him the gold barrette in her hand, her chubby fingers holding onto the small bee glued to the clip. Taking it from her hand, Toto felt it snap when he placed it on her gathered hair as he said, “Danke, Engel.”

“Danke, Papa,” she mumbled as she tilted her to the side and looked at the mirror. She was a critique of her father’s work of art, one that he valued more than anything. Toto would honestly listen to her more than he would with Christian Horner. At least no matter how harsh she was, he knew that she meant well. That, and because she’s more like Toto than she will ever be Christian Horner. No one would understand Toto more than his mini me.

“So?” Toto stood behind her while her little figure sat on the stool of their hotel vanity. He waited for her to respond. He couldn’t even complain about the time; throughout the years of raising his kids with Tilly taught him a lot about waiting and being patient.

Besides, he couldn’t resist making an exemption for his kids when it comes to his schedule and work. Sometimes he could just say “To hell with that” and let the cars run themselves– just so he could spend his time with his family.

The golden bee, clipped in a certain part of Tia’s hair, glimmered under the ceiling light when she tilted her head to the right and she gasped, “OH! It’s shining. Danke, Papa!”

“Only the best for the princess,” Toto grinned as he leaned down and kissed the top of Tia’s head, leaving Tia to giggle and protest, “Papa! Messy hair!”

“Soren,” his Austrian accent rang out at the vanity of the bedroom, his eyes watching as his eldest entered the room with a questioning gaze. He asked, “Are you ready to go? Or is there anything that you need Papa’s help with?”

“No, Papa, I am okay,” Soren smiled up at his father. He then gestured at his clothes, “I have a belt! I have put it on like how Mama did it.”

“I can see it, schatz, well done,” Toto nodded in approval, as if he was talking to a businessman. But a little businessman, perhaps, and Toto would make more deals with him and talk business with him more than he would with any other people at the races.

The taller figure reached for the comb and gave it to Soren, “Come on, fix your hair. No one can know that you just got out of bed.”

“I didn’t get out of bed! I have been up since… six!” Soren frowned the best that he could, but a grin in Toto’s face told him that his father was just teasing. The boy turned to where he could see his sister’s reflection and stared at his own as he combed his unruly blonde hair. Satisfied with his appearance he then exclaimed, “Voila! Je te ressemble maintenant, papa!” I look like you now, Papa!

If anyone would ask, Soren would look more like his father had it been for the blonde hair that he carried from Tilly’s genetics. Soren had the dark eyes that everyone who worked at the Mercedes-AMG headquarters feared to look at and his features could pass off as an ID in case Toto had forgotten to bring his. As of this point, Soren might as well be the owner of the company.

Toto’s heart swelled in pride whenever their other relatives told him that the kids were so much like him and Tilly. Really, anyone could compliment the children and he would be swooning over them. As if he wanted to reward them for simply existing.

Not that he and Tilly would spoil them and get them everything they wanted.

“You are very handsome, Soren,” said Toto and beamed, “and Tia is the prettiest girl.”

“Hm? What about Mama?” Tia’s eyes flickered at her father’s standing figure. “Me and Mama are the prettiest!”

Toto sighed dramatically, “Yes, yes, you are right. I am sorry. But Mama is a pretty woman. You are a pretty girl.”

“Am not a girl! Am big! I’m a woman!” Tia protested, her scowl impersonating her Aunt Sylvie’s grumpy expression. Or his. Toto wasn’t sure; nobody carried that expression more than himself and his sister-in-law.

“I hope you don’t reach that stage just yet,” Toto muttered to himself (he really prayed she wouldn't grow up that fast) before he said, “Come on, littles. We have to go to work. Papa needs to get the cars running.”

With wide eyes and excited gasps, Soren and Tia ran out of the bedroom with squeals escaping their mouths and slipped on their backpacks. Hearing the words ‘cars’ and ‘running’ could instantly boost his children’s spirits and dash off to where the cars would be.

Toto watched the bedroom door silently, listening as his carbon copies talked animatedly about seeing their Uncle Bono and Roscoe and how they’d like to spend time with Uncle Fernando and “Lance Stoll.”

Yeah, they certainly are Tilly’s children.

Toto and Tilly knew from the beginning that their children were extremely loved by the drivers and would sometimes hover over them if they were given the chance.

It reminded Toto so much of the times when the drivers used to approach Tilly when she began making her presence known to the grid. But at least this time Toto didn’t have to be jealous about having them stolen by those men.

In the very beginning and the end, Toto won. He married Tilly and even had her children. They didn’t.

126 notes · View notes

depressedbagpipe · 1 year

Text

Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter one

Words: 3310 Warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk (guys, please, don't drink alcohol), some anxiety thrown in there, a couple of bad words, google-translated italian A/N: it's lights out and away we go! welcome to my crazy world in which i got into f1 right when the season was ending and now i can't wait to see every race. also, cause I'm still kinda new and I'm not Italian, any mistakes that i make in regards of *everything*, feel free to correct me, and be nice about it ;) A/N (II): italics are thoughts and phone calls and the email, bold and italics are messages, just bold is the location ;)

Series Masterlist Next chapter

Chapter one

London, November 18th, 2022

The weight of my bag was the only thing preventing me from sprinting to my desk. Several manuscripts I had yet to finish, together with my laptop, and all my personal items, hung from my shoulder as I made my way into Mr. Williamson’s wing. I cringed at the sound of my heels over the polished floors, making various heads turn my way as I sprinted by as fast as I could.

Eventually, I got to my desk, conveniently placed just outside Mr. Williamson’s office. The slight clutter was hastily thrown away with a flick of my wrist, making space for my bag, and turning my computer on at sprint time. A quick glance at the office before me told me Mr. Williamson hadn’t arrived yet. Thankfully.

Checking my wristwatch, I sighed in relief at the time.

9:32 am. New record.

Now relaxed, I took a seat in my uncomfortable chair and started typing away on the keyboard, going over all the emails and meetings I had to schedule for the day.

Half an hour later, Mr. Williamson showed up.

‘Good morning,’ he said in his usual hoarse morning voice.

‘Good morning, Mr. Williamson, would you like your usual coffee order?’ I asked in rehearsed practice.

‘Yes, please,’ he responded, struggling to open his office's glass door.

‘You gotta push,’ I noted while I grabbed my coat and my wallet, trying not to laugh.

‘Right,’ he grumbled, finally opening the door and leaving it open.

He stumbled a bit over the expensive rug, looking around before taking a seat on his bigger and far more luxurious desk. His briefcase fell over when he placed it on it, dangling over the edge, and only once he was fully seated, I left my post.

That’s how every morning went for the past year. I would arrive in time –usually–, be ready at my desk until Mr. Williamson came in late –usually–, make sure he got to his seat in one piece, and go down to the ground floor where the company’s private Starbucks had its own space.

One Americano, and one iced vanilla latte to go, please. Once again, those words were deeply burned in my memory.

‘How is he doing this morning?’ Jeremy, the morning barista, asked as he took the order.

I shrugged, swiping the company card over the payment terminal. ‘Still pissed off drunk.’

‘So, the usual?’ he chuckled, motioning me to the end of the bar while Amanda, his workmate, made the drinks.

We both leaned over the counter separating us, talking in hushed voices, so the other customers wouldn’t listen to our conversation.

‘Honestly, I don’t know how much he can go on like this. I’m starting to feel bad for the guy.’

‘Girl, he cheated on his wife, and she rightfully left him. If he deals with his own mistakes by getting wasted every night, it’s up to him,’ Jeremy sent me a pointed look.

I bit my lip. ‘I know, but you should see him. It stopped being funny eight months ago. Do you know how many meetings I had to reschedule because he wouldn’t even pick up his phone? And I don’t mean his personal phone, I mean the company phone in his office. All he has to do is press a single button and talk,’ I winced at the memory.

‘Here you go, have a nice day!’ Amanda gave me the drinks, and I smiled gratefully at her.

‘Well, as soon as he keeps ordering Americanos, I’m not complaining. I’ve doubled my hours here solely based on his caffeine ingest. And you know how much I need the money, so he better keep those orders coming,’ Jeremy winked.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. ‘If he ends up in rehab, I’ll blame you.’

He shrugged. ‘Fine by me. He’s an asshole.’

I laughed with a small shake of my head. ‘Bye, Jeremy! See you in a couple of hours!’

Getting back into the elevator, I made a mental note of everything that had to be done that morning. Meetings, meetings, and more meetings, until either Mr. Williamson got fed up and left, or I dropped in exhaustion for a quick nap.

The walk back to my desk felt longer than usual, the hefty workload of the week finally catching up to me as it normally did every Friday. I left my own coffee on my desk and quickly gave my boss his Americano, to which he merely responded with a grunt. He had his sunglasses on and was massaging his temples as if his life depended on it.

Making a face at his state, I bent down and took off my heels, knowing the constant clicking would be painful in his hungover head, and went back to my desk, making sure the door to his office was closed. Grabbing the phone, I was quick to cancel the first meeting he had in ten minutes.

With a sigh, I grabbed one of the manuscripts and resumed my reading, reading every page twice and making sure no typo was missed.

It was both a blessing and a curse, working at Ink’n’Paper. We were one of the world’s leading publishing houses on all sorts of literature, and consequently, the huge workload that we bore was overwhelming. Ink’n’Paper had been my first and only real job in the publishing industry, starting as an inexperienced intern and working my way up until I became the assistant of a household name in Historical Non-Fiction. It hadn’t exactly been my first option, non-fiction, but the pay was good, and I was desperate to prove myself. Next thing I knew, it had been three years since I’d started, and I was pretty much the only one making sure the whole department didn’t burn down due to my boss’ sudden neglect.

It was a few hours later, still sometime before the end of my workday, that I –or rather, Mr. Williamson– received the email. I had been managing all his accounts ever since the very first day he stumbled into the office completely drunk, Vodka bottle in hand, and screamed how much of a cunt everybody was on that floor, and then passed out on his rug, not before puking all over himself. After the embarrassment and degrading task of cleaning, not only him, but his rug too, I had taken over his entire life, managing even his dental care appointments for him, knowing he wouldn’t even be showing up to half of them.

I was surprised at the sender, for the name was oddly familiar. Maurizio Arrivabene.

Frowning, I quietly opened the message.

‘Buonasera, Stephen. I know it’s been a while, but as you’ll understand, these past few years have been a rollercoaster here. I was actually thinking about your past offer, and I know I’m a year too late, but I would love to look into it more. I’ll be in London next week after the season’s over, maybe you’d like to have some coffee (or tea, whichever you prefer), and talk about the book? I know here at Ferrari we need some push, whatever results we get this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Take care, Stephen. Sincerely, Maurizio.’

I widened my eyes at the email. Maurizio Arrivabene. Ferrari’s old team principal. I quickly gathered my planner and a pen and pushed open Mr. Williamson’s office door. Thankfully for me, he now seemed much better.

‘Sorry, Mr. Williamson?’ I took a few tentative steps toward him.

‘Yes?’ he lowered his spectacles, halting his typing on his keyboard.

‘You’ve received an email from one Maurizio Arrivabene,’ I pronounced his name in a heavy accent, the same way my dad would whenever he talked about his homeland. ‘Something about a book offer, maybe?’

His face broke into a smile. ‘Oh, Maurizio!’ he stood up from his seat. ‘I haven’t spoken to him in a while! How is he?’ he asked me. He still reeked of cheap alcohol.

‘I don’t know, sir, but he wants to meet with you next week.’

He clapped. ‘Fantastic, schedule a meeting with him.’

I coughed. ‘Well, the thing is, he sent an email to you, directly. I believe he’d like something more casual,’ I said, yet I opened my planner to check his schedule.

‘Well, then, I shall phone him immediately!’ he grabbed the phone on his desk, and rapidly frowned. ‘What’s his number again?’

I pursed my lips. ‘He didn’t write any, sir. I think you shall write to him directly.’

‘Of course! Let me just…’ he sat back down and typed something on his computer. ‘What was my email again?’

I groaned soundlessly, quietly making my way to him and fastly typing his correct credentials. Standing closer to him, I noticed the many wrinkles in his suit and the many hair strands that fell on the wrong side of his side part. Shaking my head, I pointed at the email.

‘There it is.’

‘Okay, when am I free for tea?’ he responded after a few seconds, his eyes reading over the words.

‘Well, you did cancel three meetings with the entire Editorial Department so… I rescheduled them for next week, but you should be free Friday afternoon after work,’ I checked all the time slots available, scribbling down the possible dates.

‘Why couldn’t we meet on a weekend? We don’t work on weekends,’ he said.

I paused. ‘You don’t work on weekends. I do. And I’m guessing this is a possible job offer, therefore counting it as part of the workweek at least allows you a free meal covered as company’s expenses,’ I recited off my head. Too many times I have said that.

Mr. Williamson widened his eyes. ‘That’s brilliant! You’re right, let’s schedule for next Thursday.’

‘Friday.’

‘Friday. Wow, who taught you that?’

‘You did, sir.’

‘Well, I’m a genius, then.’

‘If only you were sober enough to realize that,’ I muttered as I finished writing on my planner. Louder, I replied. ‘Remember to save the day and respond to the man. Don’t keep him waiting.’

I walked back to the door. Mr. Williamson nodded his head. ‘Will do!’

With another sigh, I sat back on my chair, cracking my fingers before typing in the response to Maurizio Arrivabene on behalf of Mr. Williamson, and making sure to set reminders in his calendar for every day of the week until his tea date.

The pay is good, at least.

—

‘You should have seen him. I mean, he’s like a toddler!’ I complained from my spot on the couch.

‘I don’t know how you keep working like that, you’re basically a babysitter at this point,’ my mother said from the other side of the phone.

I hummed in agreement, looking up at my feet. They dangled from the other end of the couch, as I took up the entire space by laying down. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I told Rosanna from Human Resources to notify me whenever there was a new vacancy, but it’s been months.’

‘Honey, I can’t tell you what to do, but do you think head editor is the right job for you?’ she asked.

I stopped. ‘I think so. I mean, I’m good at it.’

‘Yes, but do you like it?’

I paused again.

That question had been roaming in my mind for months. At first, the job had been nice. Reading manuscripts for a living, correcting the mistakes, meeting with the authors, and getting to know them first-hand… Again, maybe historical non-fiction wasn’t what I originally envisioned my future like, but the pay was good enough to get me my own apartment and to live independently. At the rate the economy was going, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

But then Mr. Williamson had suddenly neglected his own job when his life started spiraling down, and I had been the unfortunate soul to try and collect the pieces of his broken person. I was suddenly managing, not only my life, but his, and needless to say, he wasn’t an easy person to handle. Despite the many conversations to get him to sober up, every morning was a complete wild card, not knowing whether he would even show up, and if he did, would he be conscious enough to work.

On the bright side, thanks to his many absences, I had learned how to manage the editorial department pretty much completely on my own. I knew the names of every single worker, even the janitors and the night guards working late shifts. I had written, rewritten, corrected, presented, contacted, hired, fired, and despite knowing I was perfect for said role, my heart still longed for something different. The reason why I even had studied Creative Writing all along.

‘But only writing doesn’t pay the bills’, Mr. Williamson had said one morning, a month into my newly appointed role as his assistant. And ever since then, I had almost forgotten about my own dream of becoming a novelist.

‘What do you think I should do, then?’ I asked her.

‘Honey, you’re old enough to make your own decisions,’ she laughed.

‘Mom, I need your advice! I know I’m old enough but right now I’m at a crossroads!’ I complained, lifting my arm and covering my eyes with it.

‘You know what I think about writing for a living,’ she mused.

I groaned. ‘Yeah, I know it’s not your cup of tea, but I promise, I’m good. Great, even.’

‘I wouldn’t know, you never let me read anything.’

‘Well, yeah, it’s embarrassing.’

‘You need to get over that eventually, honey.’

‘It’s easier said than done,’ I sighed. ‘Besides, everything I have written so far was just reports and boring commercial synopsis for historical books, unless you really wanna read that…’

‘Honey, whatever you choose to do, just make sure it makes you happy. And that at least you’re getting money out of it.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I think I need to sleep this one over.’

‘It’s probably for the best. Let me know, whatever you do,’ my mother said. ‘I gotta go now, book club starts in fifteen minutes and I still gotta walk by Linda’s house to return her copy. Will you be fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. Wait, your dad wants to talk.’

‘Great.’

‘Hey, chicken pie!’ I chuckled at my dad’s voice.

‘Hi, dad,’ I smiled.

His tone was excited. ‘You’re seeing the practice?’

I nodded before answering, my eyes glancing at the TV, where the first day of race weekend was airing from the Yas Marina circuit. ‘Of course, I am. Not paying much attention, though.’

‘Well, nothing interesting so far. You wanna FaceTime tomorrow for quali?’

‘Yes, please,’ I groaned in delight. ‘I wish I could be there to watch it with you, though.’

I could hear his smile through the phone. ‘It’s alright, chicken pie, I know you’re busy lately. Everything alright with your boss?’

I could hear my mom yelling at him in the background of the call.

I bit my lip. ‘Ask mom, she got all the details. Shouldn’t you be leaving for book club too?’

It was his turn to groan. ‘Don’t remind me.’

I laughed. ‘What was it?’

‘To Kill a Mockingbird. No bird in it.’

I audibly laughed at him. ‘Please, don’t say that out loud, you’ll be banished from the club.’

‘Oh, what a pity would that be,’ he said in his most mischievous voice possible. ‘Wish me luck, Principessa.’

‘Ciao, Papà!’ I laughed, finally ending the call in a fit of giggles.

Shaking my head, I leaned my head back on the pillow and continued watching the practice, remembering the puzzling email addressed to Mr. Williamson.

Multiple explanations littered my head as to how on earth Mr. Williamson knew someone as Maurizio Arrivabene, both from such different spheres, but then again, Stephen Williamson had always been a renowned author and an even bigger editor. It was possible that both men had coincided at some point in history, but I tried not to dwell much on it. I had a week until I found out what the fuzz was about.

Groaning again once the free practice was over, I finally stood up from my couch and walked towards the small kitchen, opening the fridge in hopes to find something available to eat. Some leftovers caught my eye, and with a shrug, I took them out, threw them in the microwave, and sat down back on the couch once the food was warm enough to eat.

Browsing through HBO for something to see, I settled on my annual rewatch of Parks and Recreation, anything to get my mind off the horrible week I just had.

My phone pinging broke me out of my daze. Wiping my hand clean on my dirty pajamas, I quickly read over my friend Angela’s message.

‘You shouldn’t check Alec’s Instagram story, but I also think you should.’

With a frown I opened the app, seeing the familiar purple-ish circle around my ex-boyfriend’s face. The video was enough to bring a few tears to my eyes. His arm was around some other girl, and her crimson-painted lips left stains all over his cheek. His smile was wide, and he looked quite happy, wherever he was.

I rapidly closed the app off, throwing my phone to the other end of the couch, now in desperate need of a glass of wine just to forget what I had just seen.

Breaking up with Alec had been hard, but seeing him off with someone else was even harder. Not only two months ago we were talking about living together, and now it felt like I was seeing a stranger through my screen. My job had been slowly taking over every aspect of my personal life too, and while I couldn’t blame Alec for feeling neglected all of a sudden, especially after three years together, it still hurt. I still missed him every night, morning, and any other time in between. He had been my best friend for so long, and one of my main pillars ever since I stumbled out of college, completely lost, and in frantic need of guidance in the adult world. We were both still kids that had become adults together, and I was having a harder time than I wanted to admit to trying to forget about him.

Taking a big breath, I closed my eyes, touching the soft couch in an attempt to ground myself.

Big breath in, big breath out.

After a few minutes, I felt myself calm enough, resuming my dinner and my binge-watching, now more than ever desperate for sleep after the intense day. Technically I had every weekend off, but I still had many manuscripts and emails to send the next day, thankfully from the comfort of my own home.

It was only in bed that I allowed myself to relax, turning off my phone, and grabbing my crochet set. It was a habit I had picked up lately, something so far out of my field of expertise, yet so relaxing once I got the hang of things. Working on my silly bucket hat every night before sleep was pretty much the highlight of my existence. And I was so invested in it, that only after I was finally done with it I realized I had been sitting for three hours in the same position, my eyelids dropping and my back hurting. Getting the needles out of the way, I finally laid in bed, and it only took a few minutes to fall soundlessly asleep.

—

A week later I found myself in the same position, crocheting a summer top in my bed, late in the evening after yet another exhausting week, when I received Mr. Williamson’s message.

‘Book a flight to Italy. We’re going to Maranello.’

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female!reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

177 notes · View notes

shoot-the-oneshot · 2 years

Text

Marriage Of Convenience

Lance stroll x reader Y’all I wasn’t even a Lance fan before this so if you aren’t I hope you still give this a chance because I think you’ll love it!

F1 as Romance Tropes Masterlist!

“Y/n honey, I thought you were wearing the ivory dress i picked out.” Your mother fussed over your dress and hair the second you walked into the country club. You knew even if you had wore the dress she picked it wouldn’t have been good enough.

“I thought the green looked better.” You mumbled out, sighing as your father walked closer. Giving no reaction other than a hum. “Where’s that doctor you were seeing is he coming?” He asked, the mentioned doctor was one of the men your mother forced you to go on a date with, you only went so she would let it go. Sure you might have lied and said you went out more then the two of you did, that lie was now coming back to bite you.

“We don’t really talk anymore.” At your words your mother sighed in disappointment, before patting your arms. “It’s no problem, my friend Susie has a son who is studying law i’ll set something up.” You could see her excitement, making your mood drop, sure they wanted you to be with a lawyer, doctor or anyone successful. They hated you would rather be the one working and not a housewife like women should be according to your parents.

So you nodded along wanting to get this dinner over with, every month it was the same. You’d walk in, your mom would talk about your lack of a worthy man, and your father would complain about the other members of the board. Your only saving grace was the Strolls.

You were able to sneak away from your mothers book club and found a way to their table. Lance immediately pulled his sisters abandoned chair out for you knowing the pattern by now. You’d always come over to talk to his sister about whatever and his father about business, he normally took this time to escape to his corner of safety but decided to stay this time.

“Y/n sneak away again have you.” Lawrence spoke and you nodded, despite your fathers hatred for the man you found him interesting, he never talked down to you about your ideas and always gave some helpful advice. Downing the champagne left in your glass you nodded, “Mothers book club was telling me all about their kids and grandkids asking when i was going to settle down.”

“You’re 21?” Lance yelped, making it clear he was eavesdropping, surprised they were practically offering you up to the highest bidder, also slightly offended your family never suggested him as a suitor for you. “Two years older than my mom was when she had me.” You sighed, before he could say anything, his sister came back stealing your attention, leaving his mind to wonder.

Netflix, on. Ice cream, ready. Pajamas, comfy. And you couldn’t be happier to be home, just as you got comfortable on the couch, someone knocked on your door making you groan and contemplate ignoring them all together, but the shout of your name through the wood made you get up.

“Lance?” The man pushed passed you the second the door opened. “Come on in.” You mumbled sarcastically, you were never that close to the family only seeing them at events like the one earlier. So his sudden arrival was confusing.

He was still in his white button down and suit pants making you feel under dressed in your own apartment. “I have an idea.”

“How’d you know where i lived?” You ignored him asking a question of your own. Which he waved off, “i asked Chloe, now want to hear my idea.”

“We should get married.” He said looking awfully proud of himself.

“What!” You scoffed thinking he was joking but the look on his face was oddly serious. He repeated the statement making you shake your head.

“Listen its a good idea!”

“No Lance its not.” He sighed at your words, taking a seat on your couch to explain. “Think of it like a business deal not exactly a marriage.” He tried a different approach to peak your intrest. “Continue.”

“It will get your parents off your back to settle down, check.” He he’d up a finger as he spoke adding more as he went on. “Think of all the time you’d get to learn the ins and outs of business from my dad, plus people take you more seriously with his backing.”

“And what do you get out of this?” You wont lie it sounded good so far but if you’ve leaned anything its that there’s always a catch. “Why can’t i be doing this out of the kindness of my heart.” He clutched his hand to his heart in mock offense.

“That’s not how business works.” You deadpanned raising a single eyebrow, using his earlier words against him.

“Well…” he drawled out holding his hands up in submission at your glare.

“You know how your mom is always on your back about settling down.” You nod. “Well my team is on mine.”

“Your father owns the team, Try again.”

“Fine, my manager said i need publicity to gain more traction with sponcers, a huge surprise wedding with some love story attached would look great for me.”

He wasn’t wrong this wasn’t a horrible idea, and the Stroll name would definitely help you out, plus he was gone all the time you’d see him the same amount you do now, which was hardly ever, once a month at most. You could go through a year of that

You slowly nodded your head, taking the chair across from your future husband. “If this is going to work we have to get our facts straight.”

Your hands ran down the white fabric of your dress, as people bustled around you. You looked beautiful, staring at yourself in the mirror it almost felt real, like you were marrying the love of your life. And you suppose that’s what it’s supposed to look like you were just a good actor.

Walking down the isle was a blur, you giggled at Lances tie Aston Martin green. After the wedding when you were both alone you made some comment about him being a free billboard, then he reminded you of the color dress you were wearing the night he had this bizarre idea. It was a small wedding but classy enough for the Sroll name to be honored.

“I can’t believe your family owns this.” You said in awe of the home tucked in the country side of Italy with the most beautiful view of the Amalfi coast you’ve ever seen.

“Our family.” Lance reminded you, moving to stand behind you and hold onto the railing. His words spoken with conviction, as if there was no part of his mind that believed otherwise. As if he’d allow you to think other wise.

“You know i think this is the best pizza I’ve ever had.” You practically moaned you’ve both been at the villa a week, every morning you sat on the balcony while waiting for Lance to finish breakfast that he insisted on making himself. Then you’d both work in the afternoon coming back together for dinner, which is where you are now.

He nodded in agreement, smirk growing on his face. “Maybe married life makes everything sweeter.” Adding a wink laughing when you shoved him making a tomato fall into his white shirt. You tried not to but it was impossible not to laugh at the look on his face.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” He playfully growled, hands reaching for your waist. You squealed running around the lush green yard Lance closing in behind you. Wrapping his arms around you lifting you into the air before softly laying you on the ground with him. His forehead pressing against yours as you both sobered up from your laughs.

‘Had she always been so beautiful?’ Lance thought to himself. His breathing slowed as he gazed at you. Your eyes bright with happiness as you caught your breath beneath him on the grass. He thought you couldn’t be more beautiful then that night at the country club, the green dress practically labeling you as his before you were. Then he was proven wrong again watching you said i do, at the alter. Seeing you now he realized that you would always be most beautiful when you were happy, and he made a vow in that moment fake marriage or not, you’d always be happy.

“Lance, Lance!” He was shaken out of his inner monologue by you shaking him. “We need to pack for the flight tomorrow.” Well that wasn’t exactly what he wanted you to say, but he knew you were right. So he hauled himself up, holding a hand out to help you, yanking a bit so you would fall into his chest, shooting you another wink.

You were both back in Canada after the honeymoon and your family practically demanded dinner with your new husband. “You know i can pull a J turn right here and we can go right.” Lance offered, seeing you uncomfortably shift in the passenger seat for the seventh time. You shook your head.

“No we have to do this.” You spoke seeing the large home come into view. “Are you sure you’re not just doubting my ability to pull of a turn like that, if you are I’m incredibly offended?” He joked, hoping to make you laugh which he succeeded.

“Of course not i know you could.” He tried to ignore the feeling growing in his chest at your praise. You squeezed his hand tighter the closer you got to the front door your jaw dropped seeing Adam, the doctor sitting at the dinner table.

Dinner went by silently the kind of awkward tension you could cut with a knife, Lances hand tightened it’s grip on your thigh, jaw clenching every time Adam talked about how good you two were together, as if you weren’t married and your husbands wasn’t right in front of him.

“Excuse me but why is he here?” Your family acted shocked at the question Lance had asked, your mother was the one to respond. Completely Ignoring him as she directed her attention to you.

“Honey we just think that you didn’t give Adam here a fair chance. You got the rebellion out from you system with the driver now come home and settle down with a man that will be good for you.” While you were shocked, next to you Lance was seething, and the doctors smirk as if he was just waiting for you to jump into his arms didnt make the situation better.

“Not that i think you care but she can make decisions for herself and she chose to marry me not him, my family can actually help her achieve her dreams not just stuff her somewhere to play house for the rest of her life.” Lance scowled, how did someone as nice as you come from this he wondered now he knew why you found solace with his family.

“At least I wouldn’t be taking her from her family to follow me around the world sure she could have a little shop here I’d let her do that.” Adam explained like he was a better offer, your father even nodding along as if you needed him to give you anything. Lance slowly stood up from the table hands flat on the top leaning in closer to Adam.

“She doesn’t need you to give her anything she deserves more than a little shop she could have business deals around the globe if she wanted to i just happen to get to be a part of it, so let me leave you all with this. She’s my Wife not his and until you can treat us both with respect we will not be coming back.” Taking your hand he lead you out of your childhood home, still shaking with anger as he opened the car door for you.

“I can’t believe they invited him-“ his words died off as you leaned over pressing your lips to his, the first kiss you have shared outside of the alter. He sighed into you his hand on the back of your neck pressing you closer into him deeping the kiss. “Did you mean it?” You breathlessly asked his nose rubbing against yours not wanting to lose contact.

“Every word.”

“So where do you fly off to next?” You asked shifting through your opened suitcase on the bed. As he thought to himself. “Belgium,” you nodded. “How long are you spending here before you leave?” You asked trying to get facts straight in case someone asked, figuring you should know your husband’s schedule. Things have been a little awkward since your kiss, like neither of you really knew where you stood with the other you were excited from some space to get yourself in check.

“Uh probably leave tomorrow.” You weren’t going to like this he thought to himself. He sighed figuring to bite the bullet already. “Actually i was thinking you should come with me to the race.”

“Yeah i guess as your wife i probably should go to your first race being a married man.” That does make sense but the look on his face made you suspicious. “Just for this race right Lance?” He shrugged still not meeting you eyes. “Or all of them.” He mumbled.

“Lance!” You shout, rubbing your palms into your eyes. “The deal was i marry you then go home to work i can’t work traveling the world!”

“You’re my wife you have to be there with me or it will look weird, just the rest of the season. Plus like i told your family this could be your shot to make international deals.” He new that wasn’t the deal but after the two weeks with you he wanted to be selfish. “My dad will be there too, how else were you going to learn from him if not at the track?”

“We were supposed to be divorced by the end of the season,” you sighed laying back on the bed that shifted as he say next to you grabbing your hand. “Well about that…” he said making your eyes widden. “i swear to god Lance if you don’t leave me I’ll divorce you so fast!” Your decolration made him laugh a bit.

“I’m sorry ow! i just don’t think anyone has ever said that before.” he yelped dodging your hands smacking his arm. “sponcers make deals after the season ends so they pick good divers i thought you knew that.” lies all lies but he hoped you didn’t do your research on it just yet.

“So what now we wait till the start of next season?” “Yep” he nodded, hoping he’d have you figured out by then.

Two races down and you had to admit, it was a great time. You picked Lawrences brain at dinner every night, and spent most of the race between Lance and your new friend. You even got to race Lance in the new Aston Martin vantage around the track for social media, you’re pretty sure he let you win but it was fun none the less.

Meanwhile Lance hated you’re new friendship with his teammate everytime he saw you, you were with Fernando. You both spoke Spanish so he couldn’t understand a word of it when he did squeeze himself between you.

“I don’t know what your problem is son, everyone loves her that’s a good thing.” Lawrence poke seeing his son glaring over at his teammate that just made you laugh. Stuffing his balaclava into his helmet harsher than needed.

“She’s my wife.” He gritted out childishly. “If she wants to learn about the cars she should be asking me.”

“You mean your fake wife?” His fathers words made him freeze. “Wha-what?”

“Please she’s way out of your league, we all know it. Plus you never spoke to her at the club and all the sudden your both in love, not likely.”

Of course he’d notice that, everyone else was easily fooled always seeing you sneak away to the Strolls, they all assumed it was for Lance. Only his father would know the truth.

“All i want to know is how you sold her on it.” He motioned his head towards you on the other side of the garage, who saw them looking and shyly waved, making him unknowingly smile back at you.

“I told her it would get her family off her back and she would be taken seriously with our name attached to her.” He ducked his head already knowing his father would disapprove of this concoction he mixed up.

“And what do you get out of this?” Lawrence asked making his son chuckle shaking his head. “God you sound just like her.” Remembering that’s exactly what you said to him that night in your living room.

“I uh told her i needed publicity for sponcers.”

“That’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard, i can’t believe she fell for that.”

“Excuse? its the truth.” Now Lance was the one confused. “You sure about that?”

“Yes”

Lawrence Shook his head like he couldn’t believe Lance hadn’t figured it out himself yet. “You’ve never brought a girl to a race before, certainly never defended one against her family and gotten that jealous when another man makes her laugh.”

“How’d you know about what happened with her family?” Lance asked focusing on that rather than the rest of his points. “Her father called.”

Seeing his son staring off deep in thought he patted him on the back. “Just think about what i said.” And he was, he spent the rest of his day replaying every memory you shared together, he can’t remember smiling so much with anyone else. You haven’t even been together that long and yet he couldn’t imagine going a day without you.

He was sitting silently in a chair in your hotel room giving the occasional nod and ‘uh huh’ when nessicary, as you spoke. “Did you know Fernando was so funny, he seems so serious all the time but he’s actually-“ “Enough!” He shouted, not knowing he reacted out loud until he met your shocked stare. But he couldnt handle his jealousy and just finding out his feeling for you in the same day it was to much.

He stood up backing you into the wall holding your face in his hands. His breath fanning across your lips. “Lance?” His thumb running over your bottom lip stopped you from saying anything else. “Don’t talk about Fernando.” He said still starting intently at your face as if attempting to memorize it.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re mine.” Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. “What are you talking about?” He knelt to the ground on one knee. He didn’t propose last time he hoped this made up for it.

“I don’t want this to be fake because my feelings for you aren’t.” His admission made your breath catch in your chest. “I want to be the one you cheer for at the race, i want to kiss you on the podium when i win, i want to watch you take over the world and be at your side as you do. I want you to be my wife.”

His hand had moved to grab yours, wedding bands shining even in the horrible hotel lighting as he planted soft kisses all over it as he spoke. Eyes looking up at you as if you hung the stars. “I don’t want this to be fake because i love you.” Pulling him up off the floor you smashed your lips together.

Lance immediately got over his shock and kissed you back just as passionately, you moaned as his tongue ran over the seam of your lips practically begging you for entrance. His hands possessively running over your body exploring every curve he’s dreamt about. “I love you too.” You whispered, when you two eventually pulled away to breath, Lance smiled against your neck mumbles of “mine” “my wife” in between leaving love bites that you know you will have trouble covering in the morning.

You can’t believe it, his first F1 win and at his home race on less, you are sure your voice will be gone in the morning with all the screaming you and the entire Aston Martin garage partook in. If it was possible you felt yourself fall even more in love with him watching him on that podium covered in champagne.

“Come on, i know he’ll want to see you.” His trainer nodded their head for you to follow. Sharing high fives with the crew as you walked through the paddock to the circle of media your husband in the center. His eyes and smile widened, seeing you only a few feet away, frantically waving you over.

Laughing you shook your head, wanting him to have his moment. Lance never a man not to get what he wants, decides if you won’t come to him, he’ll go to you and that’s exactly what he did. He effortlessly worked his way through the crowd, eyes on you the entire time. Jumping In his open arms when he was close enough.

“I’m so proud of you” Lance squeezed you tighter as your words reached his ear, keeping you tucked close to his side when the interview caught up to him to continue where they left of.

“Lance, a home win for your first win in formula one how does that make you feel?” His smile was radiating as he answered everyone around could feel his happiness for this moment.

“It feels incredible, being surrounded by the fans and my family here just makes it sweeter.” Lance paused looking down at you. “But i owe it my wife Y/n, to me this win is hers as much as mine.”

As you watched him speak and that even in his proudest moment he was still thinking of you meant everything, his eyes full of love as he caught your eye. How the biggest lie became the best part of your life. Always just a few feet away from each other as you escaped your family in the past with the ones that became your new family in the future, you dont know how and to be honest you dont care because in the wild story of you and Lance you each found the love of your lives all starting with a marriage of convince.

Wow i think this is my favorite part so far!!! i hope you all liked it as much as i did, let me know in the comments and check out the other parts of F1 romance Tropes masterlist!!!!!

<< Mick Schumacher enemies to lovers ft senna reader

Daniel Ricciardo as mistaken identity>>>

F1 tag list.

@starxqt @motylekrozi @yeolsbubbles @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mooone90 @damianodavidhands @zig-zzag @its-astrotea-love @peakywitch @obsessed-fan-alert @lenniebordeaux @marelovesf1 @capela-miranda @enjoymyloves @amsofftrack @coffeehurricanes @speedysimp @jasondeservedbetter @chilwell-mount @buendiabebeta @ricsaigaslec

676 notes · View notes

grassbouquet · 3 years

Text

A girl I went to highschool with just shared in FB the Miami GP post basically saying ok but are you gonna prolong the Mexican GP contract? And now my anxiety is back because I'm not gonna be able to live in a world where there's no mexican GP and it doesn't seem like there's gonna be a renovation of contract, and I've gone to all the mexican GP since 2015 and that's also the place where I cried like a baby in 2017 because now I was only supporting Checo and not Checo and Guti

#also she was the last person I was expecting to see worried about it #the only time I listened to her talking about F1 was because she was complaining about it #she had a point tho because they always partially close one of the main avenues outside the gp and the gp is really near the school #I'm just rambling at this point #personal #f1 #i guess

2 notes · View notes

riding-ricciardo · 3 years

Text

thank you for the tag @suckmyballshoney 🧡

Preferred name - Napsi, but you can call me whatever you want to (I mostly listen to "depressed bitch" too)

Birthday - May 10

Where do you live? - Hungary baby 🇭🇺 (nah I'm not really proud of it actually.... only for the pálinka)

How has the pandemic treated you? - oof hard question. it feels good to stay home and be in my safe place all day but it's really hard to keep up with my motivation to study. I actually lost myself and well... thanks to that I lost many many other things too. I miss being with my bestie too I hate how I can't see her every day and that I can't hug her when I need her stupid ass to cheer me up. so... not well but it could've been worse so I don't really want to complain.

A song you can't stop listening to - 'Little Dark Age' by MGMT. I'm obsessed with that song for a while now. but there are a lot of songs I'm currently obsessed with.

Recommend a movie - fuck it would've been easier with animes but... Pulp Fiction maybe. I love that movie so much.

Age - 18

School, uni, occupation, other - suffering through the last year of high school. not having a good time.

Do you prefer heat or cold - it depends on what's cold or hot tho... because if we talk about bubble baths then it should be hot hot to burn my skin but if we talk about the temperature I prefer the cold because I hate sweating it makes me feel really uncomfortable.

Name a fact others might not know about you - I'm needy and clingy. I always want to be hugged by someone I have a hard time dealing with myself when I'm not in a relationship.

Are you shy? - yes. anxiety baby 😌🧡

Preferred pronouns - dep/ressed she/her

Pet peeves - when someone I don't know that much (or at all) touches me (accidentally or not), slow walkers, overwhelming people

Fave "-dere" type - hmm... Tsunderes are fun but Yanderes are funnier. Tsunderes are making me annoyed.

Life right now - procrastinating, anxiety because of my finals, not studying at all, online school, crying over animes 24/7, forgetting what F1 is, being lonely as fuck, living on Monster

Main blog - @riding-ricciardo this one 🤷🏻‍♀️

Side blogs - only @yare-yare-bitch for my anime themed depression

What you need to know before becoming my friend - uh... are you sure you want this? well I'm moody and possessive and I have a hard time not accepting if I'm wrong, I'm also very clingy so I will hug you 24/7 and I love food so much. I mean not making food but eating food. I talk a lot about anime and I have a hard time dealing with panic attacks. but I will love like there's no tomorrow, I always try to listen and I try my best to be there for people (even tho nowadays I have a hard time doing that... sorry for everyone I couldn't take care of... I will try again soon). I also will spam you with tiktok videos. and I will judge you by your birth chart. :)

I don't know who to tag so please feel free to do it if you want to. also tag me so I can read it ! 🧡

#tag game

4 notes · View notes

formulatrash · 5 years

Text

It was Lella Lombardi’s birthday today, she would have been 78

She died of cancer in 1992, sadly, having wrestled it from the mid 80s onwards. But she was F1′s first and so far only woman to score points.

I didn’t know about her when I was little and wanted to be the “first” woman to drive in F1 (we didn’t have the internet then) and spoiler: that didn’t work out. But I wish I had known. I wish more people knew now.

There have been hundreds of men who’ve driven in Formula One. Hundreds equally haven’t scored points. Out of just five women, one did. In the old, only-the-top-six-score-points system. In a race where a tragic accident meant she only scored half of one point. In the modern system, she’d have 14.

She only got 17 opportunities total, across a disrupted five different teams. Less than a whole modern season - and she never even got a full mid-70s one. She delivered so much more than many men of her time.

She was also at least bisexual, although she never confirmed her sexuality - she was survived by a female partner. That bit rarely gets talked about.

This is my favourite photo of her, being feminine and hairy-armpitted and louche with a girlfriend while some parody-grade Old Dudes(tm) look Aghast

She was not rich. She was not well-sponsored. She loved the sport and was bloodyminded, in an era of playboys and extremely rich men treating F1 as a gentlemen’s club they could muck about in.

My favourite quote about her is this, from this excellent profile

“She would often speak of sacrifices. She wasn’t rich – her father was a butcher – and, with no sponsors to begin with, she slept in her truck to save money. She worked hard to get what she wanted. She had the strength of a man but a woman’s sensibility: she was kind and transmitted serenity. She and Fiorenza were a beautiful couple, reserved; the spotlight was never on them.

“Lella only complained about the inequality of Formula 1 – because nobody had listened to her about changes for the car.”

All five women to compete in F1 weekends are trailblazers and there are many more around and behind them and coming forward in their wake. But Lella’s point (or half point) is the indelible mark in the F1 history book that cannot be swept aside or moved. It is the full stop at the end of “Women can compete with men.”

I wish I had known more about her younger. Buon compleanno e grazie, Lella.

Gonna go and do a bit of a cry and have a glass of wine now. (This post is paraphrased from tweets of mine, so if you follow me in both places and haven’t connected the dots then hello)

#lella lombardi #women in F1 #F1 #formula one #formula 1

611 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

745

Do you support freedom of speech? Of course, as long as that freedom is not used to advocate homophobia, racism, or sexism, or any form of oppression towards marginalized groups.

Are you ever told you are too opinionated? Yeah. My family loooves to use this word as their main adjective for me as I’ve always been the most vocal, unapologetic and rather radical one in my stances. All my relatives are more conservative and traditional so when it comes to like talking to their peers about me, my being opinionated is always the main thing they take pride in, as in “Robyn isn’t afraid to say her thoughts” or “Robyn has always been very honest” lmao.

There’ll be times I will have an opinion that vastly clashes from theirs, usually politics, and they’ll do something I’ve always found hilarious in that they’ll talk about me behind my back to my mom and tell my mom to monitor my posts more. So ok, I guess it’s nice to have a niece who’s unafraid to speak her mind but when it’s different from how they think, they’ll do whatever it takes to silence me haha.

Do you hold grudges for long? I hold grudges for life.

What's in your garden/backyard? We don’t really have a garden. We just have a couple of large trees and several potted plants to decorate the front of the house but that’s it. For the backyard, I dunno the name for this particular type of flooring but ours is basically composed of stones embedded onto the ground so it’s not very child-friendly. We do have a portion with more plants there and a basketball hoop for my dad to play/exercise with every morning.

Do you own a purple pillow? I don’t think so. My sister probably does as she loves pillows and stuffed toys and loves collecting either.

Do you have a brown blanket? I don’t.

Do you think diamonds, stars or hearts are prettier? I don’t really like any of these as designs.

Is Pink attractive on a man? This conversation died a long time ago lol. Anything can be attractive on anyone as long as they’re comfortable with it lol.

Do you watch political shows? We don’t have those here as politics here are mostly emotionally-charged and regular debates won’t work, coupled with the fact that we have a number of politicians who are merely celebrities or athletes and will be absolutely useless on such shows. News programs are enough politics for us.

When was the last time you visited the bathroom? I dropped off my dog at the shower five minutes ago as my mom had plans to give him a bath.

Do you like flying? When was the last time you were on a plane? Yepppp I really like riding planes. For me it’s always been the biggest indicator that I’m travelling and it gets me all excited. The last time was March last year when we went to Bicol for a short vacation.

Have you ever overflown a bath? No.

Do you appreciate brutal honesty? I know it’s always best to hear it but sometimes it’ll still sting.

Do you know what Runes are? No, I’ve never heard of it.

Do you play any Fantasy/Roleslaying Games? What? No. Fantasy is my least favorite genre of anything.

Do you like salami? Not really. Processed meats have never really sat well with me. < Oh my goodness same. I never liked how they taste or feel like. If someone ordered a pepperoni pizza I’ll always have to put some extra effort to remove the pepperoni on mine, usually to the horror of my friends lmao.

When was the last time you ate meat? We had binagoongan for dinner an hour ago and that mainly consists of pork.

What was the last hot drink you drank? I heated water to make coffee but I usually leave it untouched for half an hour or so for it to cool down, as I hate drinking hot coffee in the summer.

Have your parents met your boyfriend/exes? They have met my girlfriend, but not as my girlfriend.

How about your boyfriend’s parents? Met them? Yes, I’ve met my girlfriend’s parents. They’re a delight, and they’ve been very nice to me from the very beginning.

Do you feel uncomfortable easily? Not really. There are just particular scenarios I don’t like being in, like if I’m running late or if I’m in a class with a prof notorious for screaming at or embarrassing their students.

Is there a girls/boys name you can't stand? Why? Name all you dislike: I don’t actively hate any names but I do have a predisposition to chuckle when I hear names like Karen, Becky, Susan, and Chad because they’re now memes on the Internet hahahaha.

Do you know how to say I love you in at least 4 languages? Sure. I know how to say it in Spanish, English, Filipino, Korean, and French.

What age will you be when you times your current age by two? 44.

Do you find the sound of a cats purr relaxing? It’s cute but I don’t find it relaxing for the most part. I just get the sensation of being scratched or hissed at because cats don’t seem to like me.

Are you in a simple or complex mood? Right now it’s a bit complex. There’s a lot of things going on in my head right now and only surveys can calm me down for the meantime.

Do you know your Mum's first pets name? I’m not sure if it was their first but my mom occasionally talks about their family dog Collar.

Do you like car racing? No, but I have a number of friends who do. JM in particular is super passionate about it and has a lot of F1 stories to tell, and even though I don’t understand most of it or don’t recognize most of the people he talks about, it’s always nice to have someone spill their interests onto you so I listen anyway. :) He once gave each of us a piece of tire that he got from the racetracks when he watched the Singapore Grand Prix last year, it was adorable.

Do you fall asleep with the TV/radio on? I put Netflix on. I used to put YouTube on but its autoplay will go on until I wake up and is a huge battery drainer. Netflix will only play a couple of episodes and stops the show completely when you fail to respond haha.

What is your closest uncle/aunt called? My mom’s cousins. They’re all several years younger than her so they’re a lot hipper than my mom, were actually cool in their youth lmao, and are more understanding and accepting and open-minded about current issues. They’re the first relatives (that aren’t my sister or closest cousin) I came out to, and I appreciate them keeping the secret to this day.

Do you wear underwear to bed? Yep.

Who hugs you the most often? It’s a tie between Gab and Laurice.

Who was the last person you led astray? Uhhhh this sounds awful lol. I’d hate to have this kind of impact on someone.

Who was the last person who led you astray? No one’s done this to me as far as I know.

Would you ever want to be famous? If so, for what? Sure but I wouldn’t exert so much effort just to be famous, like joining a million auditions or contests. It’d be nice if, say, I just had a vlog and it was one of the lucky ones to hit the jackpot and end up having a decent following. I’ve always liked journaling my life and I feel like vlogging is the only method I haven’t dabbled with yet.

Is your phone a pay as go/talk or contract? It’s prepaid, which sounds like pay-as-go anyway. I put in a certain amount of money on my sim card to use for call and text, not the other way around.

What colour is your bedroom carpet? I don’t have one in my room cause my dog would much likely pee on it.

Do you get angry, depressed or nervous more? Nervous.

What is something obvious about you that everyone notices? Probably my teeth, and that my front ones aren’t straight.

Would you ever get a heart tattoo or your back? No.

Do you like Sapphires? The gemstones? Not really. They’re fine, but I wouldn’t go looking for them.

Do you own a torch? I don’t.

Marshmellow - Yum or Yuck? Yuck, in any way they’re incorporated into food. I really dislike the chewy texture and I find them too sweet as well.

What fruit can't you stand? All of them, but the ones I’ve tasted and particularly hated are mango and pineapple.

Is there any smell that turns you on? What? Not really. My girlfriend’s scent sometimes would, but it wouldn’t turn me on every single time I have a whiff of it lmao.

Do you wear more white or black? Black, but I’ve tried to lessen it recently because I feel like I wore black throughout college. I’m glad I at least got to experiment with yellow, olive green, maroon, pink, etc before they cut off the school year.

What age are most your friends? They were mostly born within the years 1997 through 1999.

Do you know anyone autistic? No, not personally.

How about someone bi-polar? Yes.

Are you judgmental? I definitely try not to be, but I’m sure I am. I try to at least check myself when I have judgmental thoughts. < This. I can also be unapologetically judgmental but this is reserved for people who have behaved shittily in public, like if a white person yells at and/or mocks an Asian person on public transport, or if a Karen-type mistreats fast food workers.

What was the last thing you borrowed from someone? My sister’s eyeglasses cleaner.

I give you a kitty - what do you name it? Cinnamon was the first name that came to mind.

Why do you think your enemies don't like you? I don’t have any enemies.

What about you do you think your friends dislike? I get super cranky about other people sometimes and complain excessively about them if they’re not doing their job right.

What do you consider private to you? I’m not private about anything as long as someone asks but I will be most reserved if I have to talk about my depression from Grade 6. Partly because I’ve forgotten a lot of it, partly because it’s simply not worth it to go retracing the bits that I do remember.

#survey #surveys

3 notes · View notes

papitocarlositothirst · 4 years

Text

OK SO THIS IS A DAN SOFT ONE (i guess i’m kinda shocked lmao ngl) TRIGGER WARNINGS: CHEATING & DEATH

She was an average girl or may I say, an average 28 year old woman. He was a 30 year old man. A man that could have any other female but yet he stuck with her. Or she stuck with him? She had the chance to let go, but she didn’t. He believed him when he said he was sorry when in reality she could let go and find someone else. Someone new. Someone better. People would laugh at her though. She had the Australian F1 driver and she would want to let go?

“She must be insane if she let him go”

—that’s what her aunt said three years ago on Christmas dinner when she was helping her other aunt to clean the plates. Then her other aunt would say something like “If she thinks no one else is going to cheat on her then yes she is insane. He is the best she can ever have. No one will ever be able to provide her all the stuff he does. With all the money he gets, he can save his family, her, her family and he can even help us as well.”

This is how it was. Her family members would always see pounds pictured across his face. They even believed that she only wanted him for his money. And they were fine with it. They also were fine with the fact that he cheated on her. See, money in their lives were much more important than her happiness. She did go back to him though, a year later. Not because they told her to, or because she agreed with their opinion, but because she saw the regret in his eyes. She saw how sorry he was. She saw how he changed through a whole year they were separated.

The day she left him was Christmas eve. The end of the year was near and he wanted to be honest. He believed that she would forgive him. He didn’t think she would be okay with it, but that she would appreciate his honesty. Three weeks ago he visited Australia on a weekend getaway where he slept with one of his old school friends. He was drunk yes, but not drunk enough to not be able to control himself. He was driving her to the airport that day. She was going home for Christmas. She wanted to take the bus but him being the perfect boyfriend, he wouldn’t let her take an endless bus journey when she could be back home in a matter of a few hours. He felt the need to talk to her about his actions—it’s killing him.

He turned the volume down of the Christmas song that was playing. She stopped her singing and looked at him wondering why he would turn the volume down. He said he wanted to let her know about something before it was too late. She listened to him trying to figure out what it was that had to ruing their so movie-like journey. He said what it was. He said he was sorry. All she could say was “just drive”. She wanted to get to the airport as soon as possible. She was about to burst in tears and she fought it until the moment they got to the airport.

He made a move to hug her, if not kiss her, goodbye. She took a step back and shacked her head in disbelief, hot tears running down her face and an ironic smile placed on her face. What did he expect anyway from someone who just found out that her boyfriend of 10 years just cheated on her. She did remember his last words though—

“At least text me that you are safe back home.”

That was the last time they saw each other for a year. The next day, Christmas day, after she heard her aunts..they made her make her biggest decision. She disappeared. For a year, no one knew where she was and what she was doing. She only kept contact with her parents and a few of her friends, to let them know she is okay. Of course, they would all ask for information for where she was or even when she was coming back, but she would never say anything. Until next Christmas, when she went back home. At the airport? She met him. He was coming back to Monaco after a weekend in Australia again. It was strange, exactly a year ago it was the last time he saw her.

He did look for her. But how can you find someone who doesn’t want to be found? When he saw her again it felt like the universe was giving him another chance. Even if he still didn’t know that SHE would give him another chance. He asked how she was, she said she was fine. She looked different but so did he. He looked more mature, she looked more broken, more empty than even before. She smiled back at him though so he took the courage to ask her to meet him sometime so they can talk. He didn’t expect her to agree but to his surprise she did. And here they are, two years later they are still together. She moved in with him, he took care of her and he never ever laid his eyes on another woman. Everything was fine until the past few weeks. He seemed distant. He would come home more late than ever before. And without an explanation.

She wouldn’t say anything though. She was never the person who would complain. She kept everything to herself. When he would come home, he wouldn’t say much. He did talk to her, it’s not like he ignored her but it wasn’t the same as before. Not to mention the constant secret texting and email sending. She didn’t want to believe that he is cheating again but yet again he didn’t give her any option.

One day she came home from work, another day her boss had been rude to her, another day where he humiliated her in front of every other coworker. All she needed was her boyfriend’s comfort. She got home when he was on his phone, as soon as he noticed that he wasn’t alone anymore, he ended the call.

“How was your day?” he said and walked to the kitchen, no hugs, no kisses.

“As always.”

She said and followed him to make herself a tea. He said that he was glad. If only he knew what she meant with “as always” and was going on at her work place. She could have told him before but he never gave her the chance as he was barely around her the past few weeks.

He sat on a stool and she took a seat for herself in front of him. His eyes were locked on his phone typing as always. She didn’t want to believe that he would be such an ass to sit here, in front of her while texting someone else. She decided to talk about how her days at work have been lately.

“Hey, can we talk?” She looked at him and waited for his answer, he asked her to give him a minute, without even looking at her. Eyes still on the iphone screen.

Five minutes passed. Six. On the seventh, she got up, threw her tea cup in the sink – might have broken it as well – and made her way out of the kitchen.

“What was that for?”

“What was that for? Seriously I don’t even know, Daniel. The fact that for weeks now you barely talk to me? The fact that you come home as late as possible only for you to eat and if not play same stupid game you go straight to bed? Or maybe that you keep being on your phone talking to god knows who while I’m here literally begging for a word to come out of your mouth, even that would be “Shut up”.” She threw her hands up in the air while she felt her eyes watering up.

“It’s not what it looks like. I promise it’s not.” He said and walked close to her.

“Then what is it? I’m losing my mind! I’m losing my patience.”

“I can’t talk about it.” He can’t talk about it. The perfect answer to make her pick her jacket and make her way out.

“Babe don’t do that please I promise you it’s not what you think it its! Trust me. A few days and I can explain. Please.”

“Just leave me alone. I just want to be alone.”

She walked out of the door. He didn’t follow her. He knows better than that. She needed her time alone. Him following her would make things worse.

He didn’t follow her until he heard it.

The annoying sound of car brakes. He didn’t know what made him look out of the window but he did. And what he saw was enough for him to run as fast as possible. He wrapped his arms around her passed out body. He let pointless sounds leave his mouth. He was screaming. The driver had already called an ambulance but it seemed it was already too late. Her breathless body covered in blood was being shaken by her boyfriend, as if his screams and his arms shaking her, would bring her back to life. As if he could love her back to life. As if she was just playing a game trying to scare him off and she would soon open her eyes.

But she didn’t. You can’t love someone back to life. You can’t turn back time.

If he knew what was coming, he would have explained that exact moment she asked him. Because he was right. It’s not what she thought. It was far from what she thought.

But now she was gone. He lost her. She asked him to leave her alone, and it turns out he is the one left alone. What she never found out, was that all this time, he was planning his proposal along with a surprise wedding. If only he was more careful and if only she was more patient and if only she trusted him, she would have been here. She would have been here and married to him in three days.

But she was gone.

#daniel #submission #I WAS SHOOK BITCH

8 notes · View notes

trivialqueen · 5 years

Text

Here’s the next section of that original story.

As always, I’m neither a doctor, nor British. I’m just a girl who fancies herself a writer and likes slow burns, smart women, and tall men.

St. Sebastian’s was a world class hospital with some of the worst aesthetics he’d ever seen. The exterior was in an uninspired brutalist style. The interior had been remolded several times since the early 1960s, but only ever with an eye toward function and technology, never design or comfort. The cardiothoracic ward, known as Harvey, was as bland as the rest of the hospital, but with the extra unattractive feature of ghastly aqua accents throughout. As if that was a substitute for style. Felix leaned against the nurses’ station, feigning interest in a chart. It had been over a week since his introduction as Director of Surgery. In the subsequent ten days his true role in the hospital had spread like, well, gossip in a hospital. He’s the Dread Pirate Roberts here for your jjjoooobbb!! The rumors were absolutely true, but he didn’t want to let that on. To make an accurate assessment of viability and redundancies he needed to see the hospital in action, not performance. Changes were only as good as their usefulness and longevity. So whenever possible he preferred to observe as inconspicuously as a man of his height could. This tended to involve a lot of pretending to read and “sneaking”.

Even if he wasn’t half secretly overseeing a major shakeup in the hospital, being the Director of Surgery meant he bounced from ward to ward far more than his colleagues did. Which was how he found himself on Harvey that afternoon. He appreciated the challenges that this brought, it tested and stretched diagnostic muscles he’d not used since deciding a specialty, but it also ate into his time as a surgeon. He’d accepted a more administrative position as it was the next logical career move, but in his heart, he was a doctor first and foremost, a bureaucrat a distant second. His pantomime reading of one of Paul Elliot’s old transplant cases was interrupted by a sandy haired teen with a strong Belfast accent.

“It’s ma Dad, he needs help.” A quick survey of the room told him two things: one, no one was collapsed on the floor, meaning the Dad in question was already a patient in a bed, and two, none of the CT consultants, or even a registrar, were in the immediate vicinity. The boy was talking to him.

“Who’s his consultant?”

“Ms. Hale.” The boy fairly spat.

“Then I suggest you wait for her.” She was likely doing something maverick and self-righteous, but he had no doubts she’d be back.

“She doesn’t know a damn thing what she’s doing! She’s done like fifteen tests on ma Dad and all she says is ‘wait and see’. Now you tell me to wait! I’m sick of waiting. He’s in pain, real pain.”

“Alright.” He could at least do something about the pain, if nothing else.

Sofia Grace Hale had a scrivener’s hand, surprising for a doctor. It was large, round, looping, and very legible, unlike his own tight, scratchy scrawl. ‘Abdominal pain’ jumped out from the meticulous notes. Most of Mr. Patrick Baxter’s ailments were CT related and not necessarily caused by his MS– the dilated aorta first among them. Ms. Hale was undoubtable chasing all of their causes and symptoms, but the abdominal pain… well he could check on that. It would also make the teen happy, hopefully, if he could even answer one question.

“Mr. Baxter, my name is Felix Magnusson, and I’d like to do a few tests regarding your abdominal pain, I’ll be arranging for your transfer to our general surgery ward, St. Irene’s.”

Ms. Hale’s red tassel earrings matched her lipstick and made her double take particularly dramatic as she passed Mr. Baxter, his son Kevin, and the porter taking them to the third floor.

“Where are you taking Mr. Baxter?”

“Down to Irene.” Her coffee colored eyes widened and that fire he’d seen during their first meeting began to smolder. She had eyes that could lead a man to hell. Perhaps one day she might look at him without an indignant flame in her gaze. But until then he would warm himself by the fire in her eyes.

“What?”

“He needs an ultrasound.”

“Why isn’t he having one here?” She crossed her arms under her breast as she glared up at him. Even in her high heels her head only came to about his shoulders. To keep eye contact she was forced to crane her neck slightly. Which she did, pale throat exposed, creating a lovely long line down her neck to her décolletage, where he resolutely refused to look, no matter how tempting.

“There seems little point in taking up a CT bed when his problem is clearly GS related.”

“Clearly GS related? The worst pain is in his chest, and the echo shows a dilated aorta.”

“I’ve read your notes. He also has severe abdominal pain. So, what’s your diagnosis?”

She wanted to scream. That arrogant bastard. That absolute arschloch. ‘What’s your diagnosis?’ like she was a bloody F1. God, his tone. ‘Was ist deine diagnose?’ It was that same clipped, ‘I don’t think you have this in you’ tone her clinical skills lead at Tübingen had taken with her. Except he was speaking English. And she wasn’t a F1 anymore. She was a consultant, goddamnit.

(The worst part was, of course, the fact she didn’t have a diagnosis. Not yet anyway, and that uncertainty made her feel even more like a bloody first year all over again. ‘Was ist deine diagnose?’ ‘Keine Ahnung.’)

“I’ve ruled out ischemic heart disease but I’m still waiting on his blood pressure.”

“That is not a diagnosis.” Her eyes flamed beautifully. Her temper was quick and exquisite.

“I’m well aware! As I said, I’m waiting on his test results.”

“The patient was admitted thirty-six hours ago, and you don’t have a diagnosis yet. Surly a change of tact can only assist in figuring this out.” He cocked a brow, his supreme confidence in his own ability shining in his eyes, the quirk of his lips. He took a step closer to her, forcing her head back further, as if he wanted to force her to look away. She wouldn’t. She’d hold her ground and his gaze, even if meant he put her in Anuvittasana to do it. She could catch a whiff of his aftershave, something with sandalwood in it. He smelled of it, hospital, fresh laundry, and perhaps faintly, of old books.

“Is it common elsewhere to steal other consultants’ patients? Or is this because you think you know everything?” He stared at her a moment, tongue moistening his thin lips before he spoke.

“We are both consultants, are we not?” He could see her hands flexing at her side, as if she was thinking about strangling him, and he could taste her anger, capsaicin hot.

“Yes.” She spat out from between cayenne colored lips.

“then surly Mr. Baxter can be our patient. Now let me see what I can learn about the GS part of our current problem, hm?” And with that patronizing hum in his throat he left. Left her in the hallway struggling to keep from screaming, her breath coming in choppy, short burst.

She really did not like that man.

He heard her before he saw her, the determined click of spike heels on linoleum making the announcement: Gird your loins. The moment Mr. Baxter was back from his ultrasound she was at his bedside, chart in hand.

“Your blood pressure is constantly going from high to normal-”

“Of course, it is Love, you keep bothering me. Now, I don’t wanna be rude…” His tone suggested otherwise as his gaze raked down her body, coming to rest on her legs with appreciation. “I’ve lived with this condition for fifteen years; you’re not going to tell me anything I don’t already know.” She did have stunning legs, but that did not give the man the right to stare like that. Felix could feel his jaw tighten as he watched patient and consultant converse.

“Right, Jeyne, I’d like to do a blood culture and another echo, please.”

“Love, you’re not listening to me. You’re wasting your time running these bloody tests.” Ms. Hale was very clearly listening to the man, her back was visibly tense from across the room, spine straight and hard as steel. She gave him a curt nod and walked away, his eyes following her with a lascivious grin spreading across his face. He caught her eye as she brushed past him down the hall, for once that burning anger wasn’t directed at him. Once the click-click of her heels was out of earshot he released the breath he’d not realized he’d been holding. The glower he knew he wore, however, remained.

The ward was mostly dark as he made his final rounds for the evening. Meetings had taken up most of his afternoon, bowel resection aside, and had pushed any patient follow ups or paperwork into late in the evening. Most of the residents on the ward were asleep, with a few readings or playing on their devices, providing patches of light throughout the otherwise dim floor. Mr. Baxter was asleep, looking almost peaceful. He snagged the man’s file and retreated to the better lighting of the nurses’ station.

“She said I could sit here.” The voice almost startled him, if he was the sort to be startled. Kevin Baxter sat at the nursing station, text book and papers spread about him in messy piles. Felix felt his fingers twitch, itch to straighten them up, keep them from jumbling together or with anything important still on the desk.

“Who did?”

“Sister Jacobs. Gotta do my homework somewhere.” He held up a battered German language primer.

“Ah! Sprichst du Deutsch?”

“Ich verstehe nur Bahnhof.” He could only smile at his response. There was always something deliciously ironic about complaining that one did not speak the language in idioms of the language.

He’d learned Latin at his father’s knee, and learned it perfectly, for his father would not have settled for anything less. It was both his personality and his profession, as a professor of classics and philologist. English had come quickly in school and become his primary language when at ten he’d been sent to boarding school. He’d learned French first, having tested out of the Latin classes, followed shortly by German. At the time French had been the easier language to pick up, but after quickly realizing that speaking it frequently would require interacting with the French, he’d not pursued it beyond conversational. His mastery of German had been improved tremendously the year he spent in Heidelberg but since his return to the UK it had fallen by the wayside, reading skills aside. He still enjoyed keeping up with his former colleagues’ research. He now also had a stack of publications by S.G. Hale sitting on his desk to peruse.

“Deutsche Sprache, Schwere Sprache.”

“Ja, und ich mag es nicht. Es ist eine mean, hateful Sprache.”

“If you need help, Ms. Hale is a fluent German speaker, she went to school there.” The boy pulled a face. “Do you always work at night?” He was not interested in hearing the boy complain about one of the hospital’s more talented surgeons because his father had a particularly difficult case to diagnose; sifting out preexisting MS symptoms from the new ones, causes still unknown.

“It’s the only time we get any peace, when he’s asleep. Then it’s like everything’s… dunno, normal, I guess, whatever that means.” He sounded so old for one so young. Felix followed the boy’s eyes as they rested on his father, who was still resting as peacefully as one could in a hospital bed. I could not be easy for either of them, as far as he could tell there was no one else in the Baxter household at the moment except Patrick and Kevin. Being primary caretaker and a teenager was no easy task. “It’s become secondary progressive, hasn’t it?” His jaw clenched.

“What makes you say that?”

“Cuz it’s obvious,” The boy said in that way that only teenagers could. “The migraines, the flashing before his eyes, the coughing like he’s got consumption, the going crazy mad for no reasons.” Felix felt his body tense. This was new information. Important and new. Given how consistently condescending and rude he’d been to Ms. Hale while simultaneously ogling her admittedly very fine legs and even better backside, he’d assumed the man had always had a bad temper. That it was a personality trait, not a symptom.

“He’s not always had a temper?” His mind buzzed with new connections.

“Just lately. Why?”

“Do your homework.” The Baxters might complain about excessive tests but he was fairly confident the next two would provide all the answers they needed.

She was too old for this shit. Sofia Grace did her best to stifle a yawn before going to speak to Mr. Baxter. She’d been up entirely too late trying to figure out his diagnosis, but she’d finally made one. It was a pity that as her vice of choice, she’d developed a tolerance to caffeine so high that the amount necessary to actually keep her awake would also, quite possibly, kill her. But given how Mr. Baxter rankled her with his distain and condescension she knew that her blood would undoubtedly be pumping in now time. Straightening her blouse, she approached his bed, Kevin had already left for school it seemed.

“Good morning, Mr. Baxter. My sincerest apologies for it taking so long, but I think I’ve come up with an explanation for your symptoms.”

“No need, Love, really.” It was a dismissal but not nearly as rude as his usual attitude.

“Sorry?” In fact, he looked rather resigned.

“Catecholamine.” A baritone voice in her ear supplied. Sofia Grace felt herself jump out of her skin. She wheeled around. There, standing in her personal space was Felix Magnusson. Tall as ever, as immovable as a brick wall, and radiating a warmth from his chest that made the rest of the room feel chilly. She’d had no idea he was on the ward, let alone able to stand directly behind her.

“What?”

“I’ve explained it all to Mr. Baxter already,” He continued on, as efficient as ever, pulling out a CT scan from its large brown envelope with flourish. “It accounts for all the symptoms and really, it’s blindingly obvious when you really think about it. I feel a little ashamed for not realizing sooner.” He held the scan out in front of her, he was so close to her back and his arms were so long that she only needed to lean back slightly into his chest to see what he was looking at. “Textbook Pheochromocytoma.” There was indeed a tumor on the adrenal gland and up into the chest cavity, partially around the diaphragm. The pain, headaches, palpitations, elevated heartrate and blood pressure… all the signs and symptoms. The dilated aorta was a problem, but not related to the other symptoms. It really was a general surgery problem, Hurensohn! He lowered his arm but didn’t step back from her.

“So, what do we do now?” It was the first time the man in the bed had looked up at her with anything other than contempt.

“Well,” his MS did complicate things, he wasn’t wrong when he’d asserted that. They’d have to determine if he was fit for surgery, speak with the neuro and physio specialists, get a theatre slot if he was determined fit or wait longer if he wasn’t.

“There’s a procedure. We have a slot in theatre this morning.” She did step away from him then. They needed to have a discussion, now. And it couldn’t be in front of Patrick Baxter. Her fingers itched to grab him by the tie (burgundy silk against a pale blue shirt and navy suit) and tow him away from the bed.

“Mr. Magnusson, could I have a word?” Keeping her tone light and professional was a challenge. They’d only worked together for two weeks and Sofia Grace wasn’t entirely certain she hadn’t developed a twitch in that time.

“Just a moment, Ms. Hale.” He didn’t quite hand wave her away, but it was close. God grant me the strength to deal with condescending men. “There’s a theatre slot this morning; would you like us to call your son?” Magnusson was hard to read, but this look was particularly inscrutable.

“No, not till after. If that’s possible. He’s got a maths test today and doesn’t need more worry than he’s already got.” Ever so slightly the lines around his eyes and mouth relaxed as he studied the man in the bed.

“Mr. Magnusson, if you don’t mind?” It took some effort to steer him away, mostly with herself to keep from grabbing him by the tie to do it. Instead a firm hand on his elbow did the trick, only making her feel slightly like a tiny tugboat, although instead of bringing a Nordic cruise ship out to sea, she was dragging a Swedish surgeon over to the light box.

“You’re just assuming he’s fit for surgery!” She hissed.

“The Neuro and Physio specialists seem to agree with me.” He hung the scan on the viewer, turned it on, and then reached into his breast pocket for his glasses. Resolutely not looking at her.

“So, let me get this straight,” Sabrina had suggested that he wasn't awful, but she’d just let him get under her skin. And then he did shit like this. “You talked to Stewart and Noah before you talked to me about our patient?” He ignored her. Outright.

“If you’re still concerned, let’s get a second opinion.” He turned and spotted Griffin Richards walking across the ward, cup of coffee in one hand, a stack of files in the other. Sofia liked Griffin; he was an excellent GS surgeon with a flair for the upper GI. He was committed to helping people and passionate about the NHS. Patients came first and she’d only ever seen him play politics to that end. He was a good colleague, even if his personal life was a bit of a shambles. Discreetly she peeked at his hands, no wedding band this morning. So, he was on the outs with his wife this week.

“Ah, Mr. Richards, would you be so kind as to act as arbitrator?” He waved Griffin over politely.

“For what?” He asked, giving Magnusson a wary look but gifting her with a warm smile. He was a handsome and charming man; it was easy to see how he got his wife. It was only a shame that it didn’t seem like he was able to keep her.

“Pheochromocytoma on the adrenal gland that has attached itself to the diaphragm.” Magnusson used the ear piece of his glasses to point to the tumor.

“Mr. Magnusson seems keen to slice and dice, despite the fact the patient has MS.”

“And you would do what exactly, Ms. Hale? Key hole through the chest?” It was a valid option, but he said it as if he might have said, “Try crystal healing?” Griffin put on his own glasses and studied the scan quietly for a moment, sipping his coffee.

“Well if it were my patient, given the position of the tumor, I would suggest you and I operate together.” Another smile, this one less charming as he’d just sold her out. Magnusson was smiling as well, thin lipped and smug as hell.

“And there’s our answer,” he tapped the scan with his glasses, “a CT/GS collaboration, as I was saying. Thank you, Mr. Richards. I’ll see you on the ice, Ms. Hale.” And with that he walked off. Just like that. Sofia knew she was gawping, but she couldn’t help it, the arrogance of the man left her speechless.

Dieser Arschgesicht!

Well, perhaps not entirely…

Ms. Hale was already at the sink when he arrived for surgery. She was in pale blue scrubs today, unlike the wine-colored ones he’d first met her in, her dark curls covered by her floral cap. She didn’t look up at him as she scrubbed her hands but gave him a slight nod as he took the faucet next to her to begin his own cleansing ritual.

“I have reasons for wanting to do a keyhole procedure on Mr. Baxter, it’s not just a ‘CT’ thing or whatever you seem to think. If we do keyhole-”

“We’re doing this open procedure, Ms. Hale.”

“But there’s a risk of-”

“The theatre is set up.” Her cayenne lips pursed into a stubborn line. Her face was already so expressive, but with her mouth painted bright red it was impossible not to look at her lips. They were full, with a cupid’s bow, and clearly holding back several things she’d like to say. Her eyes said them for her, sparking as she gave him a last look before heading off to get her gown and gloves on. If she was half as dynamic of a surgeon as she was as a woman this was going to be quite the operation.

Perhaps it was because she had a scalpel in her hands, but Magnusson was at least inclined to follow her instructions while they were in theatre. He retracted when asked, clamped where she needed him to clamp and generally stayed out of her way as she dealt with Mr. Baxter’s diaphragm. She also didn’t need to look up from her work to know that he was watching her every move with a critical eye.

“Enjoying your foray into Cardiothoracics?” He’d declined the suggestion of background music, leaving nothing to fill the silence except for either one’s thoughts or small talk. And Sofia Grace never much liked being alone with her own thoughts.

“Believe it or not, I was not considering my life lacking in any way for not spending time playing with people’s hearts. What is it about CT surgeons thinking the heart is the only organ in the body?” She’d meant it as small talk, a reference to the fact he was currently assisting her. But nope, he was gunna be an ass about this too. Jesus H. Christ and a windmill full of corpses what is his problem?!

“To be fair, it is kinda important.” He didn’t look up and neither did she as she finished off the last stitch she needed, and they could transition from the more CT oriented to GS oriented surgery.

“It likes to think that, certainly.” He said, picking up a scalpel. “Whereas the kidneys just get on with their job, filtering toxins out and letting the body function. Efficient, beautiful, and secure enough in themselves that they don’t need to shout about it.” Normally she would argue that picking a favorite or most important body part was a stupid endeavor. Most of the organs in the body were necessary and linked together in ways that pulling one out of the system without compensating for it would lead to problems in a variety of other areas. There was no one organ that was better than any other body part, there was only what needed to be dealt with immediately or later to ensure quality of life.

This being said, if he was just going to talk shit because he had some weird hang-up about CT surgeons, she’d double down for the heart. (It was her favorite organ, even if picking favorites was stupid).

“So indispensable you can lose one and still survive.”

“Hack a piece of kidney off and it’ll just grow back,” He picked up a scalpel, “the minute the heart breaks it becomes a useless piece of tissue. And then of course there’s the fact we can now replace a faulty heart with a machine the size of a cigarette packet.” He shot her a look over the top of his glasses before he started cutting, she could almost see the smug smirk behind his surgical mask.

“And in some cases, Mr. Magnusson, it seems as if people can survive without any heart at all.” She met his eye steadily, arching one brow defiantly. He stared at her for a moment. Somewhere behind her, someone sounding a lot like Dan Flannery whispered, “Ooo burn.”

“We need to keep moving.” He muttered awkwardly, getting back to the task at hand.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

They worked in silence after that, only the beeps and pings of the machines and occasional request breaking up the quiet.

“BP is plummeting.” Magnusson reported calmly. This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to do open surgery in the first place.

“If we had gone with the keyhole procedure-”

Which we did not so I fail to see the usefulness of that comment.” He snapped, voice cold and quick and sharp. Brooking no retort.

“We did not go with the keyhole procedure because you decided that we shouldn’t, not because we mutually agreed this method. You decided what was best for this procedure, without listening to my reasons, I might add.”

“I am trying to concentrate, Ms. Hale, if you don’t mind?” Out of respect for Mr. Baxter she bit back the rest of what she wanted to say. At least for the moment.

“It’s funny that of all the words to get lost in translation, partners, seems to mean nothing to you.” Mr. Baxter was now Pheochromocytoma free and on his way back to bed for his recovery.

“What?” Magnusson looked at her sideways as she began washing her hands beside him at the sink. Thoroughly washing her hands gave her something to focus on while she tried to find the right words. There were so many things she wanted to say. Most of them rude. But as therapeutic she’d find it to smash his face in and curse him out, it wouldn’t change what she needed to have changed. Word on the street was he would be staying at Saint Seb’s for the foreseeable future, she needed to play the long game, not for immediate gratification.

“In addition to unilaterally deciding on the method of today’s surgery without consulting me, your CT specialist for this surgery and Co-consultant. You also figured out some significant information about our shared patient and did not tell me.” He stopped washing his hands to stare at her, hands raised slightly, allowing the soap and water to drip down his long forearms to the floor. “No, instead, you went straight to the patient himself and explained everything, leaving me in the dark, and then looking like a complete ass with my dick in the wind trying to discuss his condition without the full picture. To compound this, you swoop in and make me look even more stupid in front of our patient. A patient who already had limited regard for my expertise and position as a Doctor.” She turned the faucet off with her elbow and flicked the excess water from her hands into the sink with a flourish before turning to face him. He was staring at her intently, square jaw working but his mouth wisely closed.

“You complain that I make arrogant, rash decisions and that surgeons who make decisions for their own ends are a menace. Next time you work with me, you either keep me in the loop and treat me as an equal or find someone else to handle your heart.” She didn’t wait for his response, instead she grabbed a towel from beside him and brushed past, leaving him alone in the scrub room.

#Cait writes #Hospital Romance Drama #original fiction #Sofia Grace is Chaotic Good chaffing under Lawful Good Rules

1 note · View note

dianadov · 2 years

Text

Well this is an exercise in creative writing that I really just needed to post somewhere and tumblr seemed perfect, i guess

********

She didn’t know when it started. If you had asked her, she could not tell you when the downfall of her own life started.

It might have been when that first bad grade did not matter at all. Or when the most important thing on the weekend started to be whichever F1 race or cycling race was scheduled. Maybe it was because of that guy she talked to for a month or so, the guy that showed her what it feels like to be cared about.

He obviously turned out to be toxic as fuck, but the feeling stayed. And the realisation that no one, not even her own family, cared for her as much as that one toxic person, stayed as well.

And well, at some point it just stopped making sense. Why should she give her best when her best still wasn’t enough for anyone. Why should she take care of herself and of everyone else’s feelings when no one took care of her. Why should she care if the world is ending anyways and soon there’ll be nothing to care for, anyways.

There were always some good moments in her life, but they were few and far between. They were, together with a group of special people, the only thing keeping her alive. She didn’t have much else to live for. So she lived from one good moment to the other, spending the time in between keeping busy and procrastinating. She read fanfiction, watched movies and shows and slept. And ate.

But she wanted to get better. She wanted to feel better and live more fully and function normally more than anything in the world. The world that kept pushing her down. Everytime she stood up, decided to fight, the world came and knocked her down again. She knew she was running out of time, running out of strength. There weren’t many more knockdowns she could shoulder.

But still, she persisted. Persistence, the quality she learned about from her idols and from her best friends. They didn’t give up, no matter what life threw at them, and so, she didn’t have any right to give up either. Especially since, on its surface, her life was fine. She had everything she needed, she actually had a pretty good life in comparison to some others. And well, that kind of took away her right to complain and her right to give up.

So, she stood up everytime anew, dusted herself off and hoped to whoever was listening that everyone was right when telling her that it gets better. Because she doesn’t know how she’ll end up if it doesn’t.

#i'm okay i swear #creative writing #and well #even if it is partially irl inspired #i'll be better #talking about it has not proved helpful so far

0 notes

moonlit-nightsky · 7 years

Text

Omoi Omoware Furi Furare - chapter 25 translation

Hey guys!!~ The raws were earlier this time, check them out here!

To make up for the brief summary from last month, I tried to translated the whole chapter this time. It’s the first time that I try to translate a whole chapter and I hope it’s easy to understand.

Enjoy!

Btw, I’m using the characters initial letters for their respective dialogues and I used the letter E for Akari’s ex because I use R for Rio ;)

p.2 Y: E- Y: Excuse-me Y: Agatsuma-kun wait a moment

p.3 A: Hum? Y: Holding hands is a bit... embarrassing.... Y: That's why... A: ....... A: I understand. But, it's a little dangerous, so let's not get far from each other for now Y: Ok

p.4 R: Ah R: Kazu, look. That's him. K: What? R: Akari's ex.

p.5 A: Ah, Rio R: Hey F1: A-re you good-? (t/n: she's saying it quite enthusiastically, I'd say haha) R: Yep, yep. I'm fine. F1: Wow, Rio is cosplaying- F1: You’re giving it your best, huh E: ..... *giggle* R: What is it?

p.6 K: ..... R: If you want to say something, say it E: No, it's nothing A: Ah A: Here is my classmate, Inui-kun K: Nice to meet you. Good afternoon A: And here are my classmates from middle school F2: Good afternoon-! F1: Thank your for thanking care of the Yamamoto brother and sister E: .... E: Nice to meet you

p.7 R: He's putting on airs, right? That Ryousuke R: Isn't he listless? K: But he looks cool K: And he's tall R: Ugh (concerned about his height) R: Well, anyway, he and Akari is already a thing from the past R: Don't mind it K: .... K: "Then I'm the same"

p.8 F2: Akari- F2: Ryousuke isn't talking at all, isn't that so? A: That's A: We haven't talked in so long, what could we talk about F2: That's why F2: Before, I had so much trouble to make Ryousuke call you

p.9 A: It's okay A: You don't have to care so much for Ryousuke and I F1: What? F1: We've been caring for you since a long time ago!! Always! F2: This reunion and the class reunion, every time, we wonder if it's better not to call you F2: But doing so is already getting annoying!

p.10 A: They ended up going to the fortune telling A: But... well... making you wait all by yourself is not very good, they said E: Aah... A: "Wah, it doesn't look like he wants to talk" A: If you didn't want to come you should have refused E: No, I didn't have any reason to refuse it

p.11 A: .... Is... Is that so? E: ..... A: (what should I do) E: Until I came here A: "Ah.. he finally talked" E: I was thinking about how far it were E: But it wasn't that much of a distance

p.12 A: Well, for high school students even that feels distant E: But the reason we have broken up is not because of the distance E: It was because of a mutual feeling A: Mutual you say... Wasn't it you who wanted to break up? A: You said it A: When you said you wanted to break up I still had feelings for you E: Haa-

p.13 A: "H- he sighed!?" E: Look E: Even at the most important times you don't say anything E: Just like that E: You only say it after the things are past, Yamamoto

p.14 E: At that time, had you ever shown me those feelings at least once? E: Every time, you are like this, Yamamoto E: If you couldn't receive the same feelings in return E: you felt shame, right?

p.15 E: That's why you always had an attitude of "I'm not serious to that extent", isn't it? E: As much as possible, you tried not to look uncool E: And when doing so, if you don't look from above, you can't hold your own (t/n: this part might be a bit confusing, sorry guys >.< Akari's ex dialogues were quite difficult to get right) E: You are too empty

p.16 E: I, probably, came to hate that *swish* R: Huh?

p.17 R: What are you doing Shiba? (to make such a mess) S: I'm looking for the keys of the handcuffs R: Handcuffs' keys? R: Why are you looking for something like that? S: The truth is...

p.18 R: Huh? Why did you do something like that? R: Where are the two of them now? S: I got a LINE message saying they are somewhere without many people S: Sorry for doing something without thinking first S: Even though, I was planning on not taking anyone's side R: .... R: It's okay. For now, I'll help you look for the keys

p.19 Y: Shiba is taking quite long Y: I wonder if he didn't find the keys A: So... Y: Sorry

p.20 A: Heh? Y: Earlier, when I said that I didn't like holding hands Y: I said something excessively self-conscious, so I'm sorry Y: Bu- but, if you are seen by the person you like doing that Y: you'd end up getting pretty gloomy, right?

p.21 A: I have no problems with that, though *absent minded* Y: Eh? What did you say? Y: Sorry, I couldn't hear it A: Then, there is someone you like Ichihara-san? *thump*

p.22 Y: Yes A: Is... Is that so... *disappointed* Y: "If he knew I still like Rio it would draw him back" A: Does that person also likes you, Ichihara-san? Y: Of course not!! Y: "I was already rejected by Rio-kun"

p.23 Y: Besides... "From Rio's appearance today" Y: it looks like Y: he's going to invite someone to the folk dance "Even though, I just thought it'd be good if told Rio again that I like him" A: Then, stay with me during the night festival

p.24 Y: What? A: If it's (sad/painful) to the point you are making such a sad face A: Then stay with me

p.25 Y: I'm fine even if you don't sympathize with me to that extent... A: I wouldn't say such a thing out of sympathy A: Sorry A: Here

p.26 Y: Ah! The keys! Y: But why...? A: I wanted to stay with you even just a little bit..... sorry A: That's why, what I said earlier A: I didn't say it out of sympathy A: I really wish to stay together during the night festival

p.27 A: It would be good if I could hold your hands, A: without those, A: unashamedly (in a dignified manner)

p.28 K: Which picture do you want to print? Girl: Eh- which one? Boy: It's hard to throw any of them away K: What about you Yamamoto-san? K: What do you think...

p.29 K: Yamamoto-san! A: Ah, sorry. I was a little distracted K: Since the break ended you've been acting a little weird K: Did something happen? A: No, it's nothing

p.30 K: If nothing happened then work properly! "Indeed. That's right. It doesn't matter how much I'm feeling down, I can't let it out right now" K: Alright K: There are no more clients...

p.31 K: If you are okay with me, I'll listen to whatever you have to say or complain "Doing something like this" "It's really something Inui-kun would do" A: It's not really a complaint A: Ryousuke said that

p.32 A: if I don't look from above, I can't hold myself and that I'm a hollow person K: What is that! A: Ah, no. I think he hit the mark. A: I feel that he guessed right A: a feeling that even I didn't know flashbacks: /"Always, at the most important times without saying anything," /"only after it's past, you say it"

p.33 "By the way, at the summer festival it was the same" flashbacks: /Then, why don't we try dating? /But, don't you like me Inui-kun? "I didn't say what I felt" "Only after it all was past, that I told my feelings" /flashbacks from when Akari told Kazu that she her feelings for him were true "In order to settle things without being the party concerned"

p.34 A: Because it is scary to know that you are not needed A: Because it hurts when I was not thought of to the same extent (that I thought of the other person) A: Then, I did that, A: in order not to look uncool K: I don't think that means you are hollow

p.35 K: But if you think you are empty K: then you just have to fill yourself as much as you'd like to K: That's why you don't have to feel sad! It's alright A: ...T A: Thank....

p.36 *cries* K: If you're okay using it... A: ..... A: "Should I wipe my tears with it?"

p.37 A: Thank you *rub rub* K: It's okay A: ... when I was in middle school A: My parents didn't get along A: But I, as a child, thought that if I said I didn't want it, then they wouldn't get divorced A: But that didn't happen A: I asked my father "Am I not important?" A: but it was useless

p.38 A: Even though I needed them A: I was really shocked to know that it wasn't the same for them A: I was only A: a middle school student back then

p.39 *pat**pat* *pat**pat* Inui-kun's hand

p.40 is gentle *ba-dump ba-dump* But, what should I do *ba-dump ba-dump* A/K: My heart's being really fast When is a good time to let go? *vibrate*

p.41 A: Ah, it looks like I received a LINE (message) K: Right, it's LINE!! A: Ah, it's from Yuna! Can't I talk to you a little? R: Ah! Really!!

p.42 R: Why can't we find the keys... There is something I want to report to you, Akari-chan.

#omoi omoware furi furare #furi fura #furi fura spoilers #omoi omoware furi furare spoilers #My translations #spoilers

135 notes · View notes

twoscoopsofrecovery · 7 years

Text

re·cov·er·y  a return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength.  I wouldn't say I'm in recovery, but I also wouldn't say I'm fully in my ed or addiction at this point. I feel like I'm re entering recovery. But this time fully and honest, and I think that is why it is taking a little longer to surrender. When I do surrender I am doing It fully and completely. Two months back in treatment. Three months since I last wrote, so as assigned I'm writing again. An assignment I actually don't mind, I get to do what I love. A lot has happened. I've found myself kicked out of my parents house, yet again, jobless, broke, living with friends. Seems to be the norm. My mood has been extremely unstable and my behaviors are out of control. Well, sort of. I stopped purging. Since December 20th, when I finally came back to rosewood, I've only purged once. Which, is crazy because before I came in I was purging everything I ate. So major improvement there. Readmitting myself was this whole process. Due to health reasons it took longer then expected. My doctor found I had pancreatitis, which freaked me out to no end and back and motivated me to start eating a little bit before I even got back into treatment. Which, was insanely hard. My first two to three weeks back, I couldn't finish a single meal. It was humiliating to some extent, I felt completely incapable. With restricting, I haven't really been. There's this grey area in my brain where if I don't have the means to eat and if I don't have money, I don't have to eat. Which, was a bit of a problem maybe a week or two ago but I've seemed to improve with that one. So I guess my behaviors aren't out of control; I haven't purged, meal plan compliant, I don't binge, I don't use laxatives/diuretics/diet pills, I don't over exercise. Where does the problem stand then? Easy: my drinking. I'm in a constant debate with myself lately. Do I have an alcohol problem? A year ago I would've instinctively answered yes, I am an alcoholic. Today, well, I am not sure how to answer that question. I've drank a couple times now since being back. I'm supposed to be sober, everyone is supposed to be sober while in a program like this. My rational is: if I don't have a problem, I shouldn't have a problem staying sober for the duration of my stay at rosewood. But I find myself trying to sneak around the rules to drink. Is it a problem? I'm not too sure. When I drink I don't do so excessively, just enough to get decently drunk. Which, if you know me, you'd know its pretty easy for me because I basically have zero tolerance. So, again, I ask, where is the problem? The problem that I am encountering is not the actual alcohol it's self, or any drugs, or anything tangible for that matter. I do not think I am physically addicted to any substance currently as it stands. What I am addicted to, is escaping. And that's where the problem lays. I can't handle my reality, I want to get plastered, and forget about the shit show I call my life. I'm still terribly depressed and it keeps coming and going in waves and I can't really take it anymore. My life is currently rotating between, I want to kill myself and I'm writing a suicide note, to, my life is amazing and I love everyone so much and I'm so grateful for what I do have and people are inherently good. Which, is exhausting. A wave of sadness hit me the other day. Partially due to concerns, partially because of no reason. The other night I spent most of the evening with my boyfriend. I almost went into a flash back and started disassociating but was able to pull myself out of it before it had happened. He was extremely supportive and understanding, which was extremely comforting while I was in a more vulnerable place. When I got back to my friends place that I'm staying at, I was texting him, and something had come up. I've found myself scared to think about what things would be like with out him. Which, is insane because I haven't thought that about someone since my ex who I dated for almost two years. I don't find myself pushing him away, if anything I'm scared because I know I'm becoming attached, and commitment is scary, but I want it so badly. So, relationship wise, I'm extremely happy with where it's going. I'm very grateful I met someone who gets me and is there for me. It's going on the right direction, I'm in love, I'm happy, communication is there, things are good. So abnormal for me, but hey I'll take it. It's good and exciting. But, i miss my mom. My sisters, my brother. I know I have family, they're there, just not there right now. I have other family, family of choice vs. family of origin. I have people around me that help me out and are there for me. But I still miss them. So much. Before I readmitted me and my mom had probably the best mother daughter relationship I could of ever asked for. We had very real conversations about life; the good the bad, the nitty gritty details of addictions and my eating disorder. My mom confided in me and I the same. I miss my mother terribly. I miss my sisters and their beautiful sun-filled smiles. Sophia and her innocence. Audrey, who finally felt comfortable enough telling me her deep 5th grade coming of age secrets. Leo, who was just beginning to trust in me once more. I miss them. I miss them so much it hurts and I try not to think of it. So I won't talk about it anymore. I guess over all everything has improved and become more complicated. Still Canadian though, that's a major stress for me. But, I think I have figured out a way around it. I can get an F-1 visa, which is a student visa. Of course I'd have to take out loans to be able to go to school, and probably be in debt for the rest of my life, and after I'm done with school my visa is up and I cannot switch visas to something more permanent. So, it would just be delaying the process of going back to Canada. Which, at this point, I don't mind too much. Who knows where I'll be in four years. Four years ago I definitely didn't think I'd be back in treatment for a second time. Nor did I think I'd be alive at 20. At 16 I thought by time I was 18 I'd be dead. And "If I make it to twenty I'll have dentures" which didn't exactly happen. So yeah, maybe things have improved. I don't have much to complain about right now. Well, I have tons to complain about, I'm just choosing not to, because I'm not so sure how that'd serve me at this point. Wallowing in my own self pity doesn't help much anymore. I realize I need to get up, and move forward. I need to take action. It is my life and I do want it to be better then it has been. Ive recently reconnected with an old friend. I'm extremely grateful for her, as she has been there through the most depressive points in my life, and still has stuck by. She is family, and I love her dearly. Talking to her more recently I've realized how much I have changed, although I feel as though I haven't. We used to be a little group, me, her, my ex who is her step brother, her best friend, and her boyfriend who is now her husband. We used to do everything together. Before I had initially started treatment I lived with her because, well, my parents kicked me out. She had taken me in and for about two months we were this happy little family, until my suicide attempt. Which I regret so terribly and hate myself for putting them all through. When I was 18 I had an episode where I slit my wrists and hoped to die. Instead, my ex came into the bathroom where I was attempting to do so, and then a few minutes later, the rest of everyone. They rushed me to the ER and I was admitted to the psych hospital about twelve hours later, where I had never felt so alone. I spent five days in the hospital and then went to reasons inpatient for my ed because like my friend had said "be honest about your eating disorder". They had stayed with me while I was in the ER and the entire time she had been saying to be honest. And honestly if I didn't listen to her I probably never would have gone to treatment. So ash, if you're reading this, thank you. Thank you so much for everything you've ever done for me. I love you and you're a huge part of why I ever decided to change and learn to live. My parents always told me growing up that friends never last and family is forever. I'm upset, I'm hurt, I'm angry. Where the fuck are my parents now? If family is forever where are they? All I have is friends at this point. Which, again, I am so insanely grateful for. I don't know what I would be doing with out any of you. The people I choose to surround myself around are the people who actually stick around. Who knew, if you surround yourself by good people, good things happen. In my relapse this last time around, someone had asked me why I was killing myself over making my parents happy. At that time I wasn't exactly too sure what they meant and why they would say something like that. I was upset and hurt by it. But looking back just three months I completely understand that statement. Unfortunately, if I want to recover and live my life, I have to be separated from my parents. I love them so much. I love them to the moon and back. I have so much respect for them and would never do anything to hurt them. I think they are amazing people, but right now as it stands I have to love them from afar. And I'm coming to a place of acceptance with this. I think this is manageable at the point. As far as my visa goes, I've decided to get my F1. A student visa. I'll take out a loan and pay for school. I'll probably be in debt for the rest of my life but at this point, I do not care. All I'm doing is going to school for cosmetology and honestly, that's not that much money. So I need to finish high school. Which is on my list of things to do. This week I'm going to figure out how/where to go to get my transcripts. Or if I'm just going to take my GED. Also this week I'm going to meet up with a friend on Sunday and see if I can get a job anywhere. I'm excited honestly things feel like they're moving forward finally. And that's because of me. Because I finally decided to stop crying and wallowing in my self pity and actually get up and do something. The good news is, everyone else's voice is out of my head. I'm a lot more clear on what to do and how to do it.

#ed recovery #ed treatment #adulting

1 note · View note

jashasedai · 7 years

Text

OTG Liveposting- Press Conference

Master Post- https://jashasedai.tumblr.com/post/158649570028/on-the-grid

The first press conference featuring Racing Drivers is anticipated to be a little unusual. The press are practically fighting for seats. The room is filled to capacity, in fact, it’s standing room, only. The matches have been asked to come act as translators. Sunshine and Sebastian, Alondra and Fernando, Snap and Lewis, Wendy and Francesca, Mick, and Felipe file into the room and sit down.

Press Conference

They sat at a wider set of tables than usual because the Stigs had to have seats for their matches. The moderator opened the press conference.

"This is the 2017 Melbourne Grand Prix Drivers Press Conference." The man announced. "On the top left we have the Stig, Wendy Linossi a rookie driver from Toro Rosso and her match Francesca Linossi translating. Center middle we have Mick Schumacher, former F2 driver, son of Michael Schumacher and rookie from Force India. Top right we have Felipe Massa, who will be driving for the first time on his own as a rookie for McLaren. On the bottom left we have Snap Hamilton, driving his 10th year in F1 and his 4th season for Mercedes and his match Lewis Hamilton translating. Bottom center we have Alondra, driving his 15th year in F1, and his first year for Redbull and his match Fernando Alonso translating. Bottom right we have Sunshine Vettel, driving his 11th year in F1 and his 3rd season for Ferrari, and his match Sebastian Vettel translating. "

"My comments will be translated for the Drivers by Eddie Jordan. First of all welcome to the Stigs, who will be participating in a press conference for the first time. Now, for our translators, Francesca, Felipe, Lewis, Fernando and Sebastian, you are familiar with the proceedings, to clarify for our audience, you are here to translate what the Stigs say, we are not simply listening to your words."

"That's true, we are just here for them," Sebastian said into his microphone.

"Which is pretty much how it was, before," Lewis added.

"Alright, our first question goes to Felipe. You have been in F1 for years, but always as a match, this year you are here as a driver, in fact, you are on a team with your Stig. How is the trackside experience different as a driver?

Felipe smiled into his microphone. "Well, when I have been here, before it has always been as a member of the support team, I was assisting my Stig, Mancha, in preparing for and participating in races. I was translating for the team and doing media events, only. I spent years racing, before Mancha and I were matched, and it is much more exciting being in the car, being a part of the action that makes the sport."

"Mick, you are the only man on the track without a match. You will be handling media events and racing, how will that effect your performance on the track?"

Mick, who had been expecting a legacy question, was a little thrown by this, and stared for a moment. "This year all the drivers will be handling media duties and all the racing. For the first time. I am impressed by Felipe and Valtteri, who are both doing it for themselves and helping their Stigs. I think I will be just as capable of handling both sides of racing as the rest of my colleagues. I feel confident about my performance on the track, but you never know until you get out there. We will just have to see."

"Wendy, you are the first mare to race openly in Formula 1. The first mare in 25 years to race openly as a female...how do you think that affects your perceptions of the sport?"

Alondra, watching the moderator's translator with increasing consternation, made a screeching brakes noise. [Do not answer that!] He told Wendy.

[I wasn't going to. What does it matter if I am a mare and not a stallion?!] Wendy glared at the man.

Alondra waved a hand at the moderator. [You cannot say things like that. It is extremely rude. I will not stand for it.] He thwaped Fernando's arm as Fernando repeated the words in English. [Tell that man to ask her a question worthy of a Racing Driver. She is a Racing Driver.]

Fernando frowned at the thwap, but then smirked deeply at the moderator. "He says you must ask her a new question."

Sunshine and Snap were cross armed, as offended by this line of inquiry as Alondra.

"This is the question I have to ask, it's on the list," The moderator said.

Alondra shook his head. [I will do it, then.] He turned around and rested his elbow on the upper table. [Wendy, you used to race Endurance and Touring Cars, now you will be racing open wheel cars. Will that difference make you faster against the other drivers?]

"No," The moderator said, "You can't just rewrite the questions."

Everyone ignored him, except Sebastian and Lewis, who looked at him with a moment's pity before turning to listen to Wendy's answer.

[The passing is much more difficult for open wheel racing, but because of that, Touring Car drivers have to learn to defend very well, also, there is much more downforce in a Formula 1 car, and this makes the cornering very different. The other drivers have more experience in open wheel cars than I do, but I think that will make my driving style more difficult for them to counter. I am expecting to do well.] She smiled down at Alondra.

"That isn't the question people want to know, people want to know about how difficult it will be to be a female in motorsports," The moderator complained.

"Maybe it's none of their business, and if they didn't treat her differently, it wouldn't BE difficult," Lewis said in a low voice. He lifted a hand off the table and waved a little at where Nico and Prince were standing in the back of the room. Snap waved, too, much more vigorously.

[My mother was a mare,] Sunshine put in, helpfully.

"Maybe we could just move on," called a voice from the audience.

The moderator shook himself. "Snap, the championship battle was pretty fierce for you last year, you ended up losing your bid for a 4th world Championship when your teammate won the Brazilian Grand Prix. Did that effect your momentum? The cars are very different, and the circumstances quite unusual, will you be challenging for a Championship this year?"

Snap shook his head happily, [No, I am just as fast as always. I think we will have a chance for a Championship. I have been able to have a great teammate who has been the best competition I could ask for, for these last years. She's right over there,] He pointed at Prince and cameras turned to where Prince and Nico were standing at the back wall. Suddenly in front of a lot of cameras, unprepared, Prince blushed and hid behind her hair. Nico put an arm around her and waved and nodded. Lewis couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice as he translated for Snap, [We got married last week. I was really proud when she won her Championship last year.]

Prince blushed. She put one hand on her hip and pointed at him. [Snap, I am going to get you for this,] She couldn't keep the fake anger on her face for very long, though and she gave him a little wave back. [I like your interview, go back to work,] She made a shooing motion.

"Hey!" Fernando yelped.

[You WHAT?!] Alondra had half climbed over him and grabbed Snap's left hand. He looked at the ring, and then at the other ring on Prince's hand. He waved both hands in the "What Have You Done" gesture. [You married him?! It is McLaren all over again! Again!] He threw himself back into his chair and crossed his arms with a pout.

Fernando was translating this distractedly while examining the ring Snap was now holding up for his inspection. "This is a good stone," He told Lewis.

Alondra froze.

"Yeah, it's very good. It's flawless, colorless, and it was cut by one of the best gemstone cutters on the planet. That's nothing, you should see the stones in HER ring."

Alondra turned very slowly to look at Prince. He held out a hand and waved, [Come here,] with his most patient face.

Prince made her way around the press and stopped in front of the table and held her hand out.

"We really need to keep going with the press conference..." The moderator said.

"If you think we haven't all cleared our schedules for THIS, you're nuts!" Shouted one of the journalists.

"Let him talk to her, man, she's his BEST FRIEND," That was Mark Webber. There was a rev of agreement from Rabbit.

Alondra was standing, leaning over the table, looking at the ring from all directions. It had two large, perfect diamonds on it. He looked up at the blonde mare. He smiled a little and held his hand to her cheek. [What beautiful diamonds.] He kissed her cheek and wrapped her in a hug. He turned to Snap. [You brought my girl diamonds.] He nodded. [Alright.] He nodded again. He patted Snap on the shoulder. He sat down primly in his chair and gestured at the moderator, [Go on.]

"I thought Rabbit was his best friend," Felipe said to Sebastian.

Sebastian turned to him and shrugged with a little shake of his head. "You don't want to know."

The moderator, now thoroughly ruffled, said, "Uhh, Alondra," He was clearly dreading asking the least focused Stig at the conference a question. "With the Stigs' actual vital statistics being released, it has come to light that you still hold the record for the youngest winner of a Grand Prix, the youngest Champion and the youngest Double Champion. If the superlicense requirements don't allow for drivers under 18 to drive in F1 any longer, it is unlikely these records will ever fall. You are a young Stig, before the end of the last season there was some discussion of your retiring if you didn't find the cars this year to be fun to drive. Were those Fernando's words, or yours? If you don't enjoy this year's car, will you be retiring from Formula 1?"

[When FIA is in control, Racing Drivers retire when they are told. We go live at the stable, be alone, no match, no racing. Racing Drivers all try to race as long as they may. Now, I discuss my career with my partner, decide what to do, choose when to retire.] He sat back and crossed his arms. [I am still a young Stig. It is not yet.]

Fernando looked at him, [Records.]

[I have been youngest to race, win, have Championships? Maybe,] Alondra shrugged one shoulder. [Racers younger than I have been Champions, and racers older than I have been Champions. What do records mean to me? Only numbers.]

The moderator cast a pleading look at Sebastian. "Sunshine," He began.

Sunshine took the moderator's translator saying this as a sign that it was his turn to speak. [Hello, I am Sunshine,] He grinned broadly and waved, [That's my sister, over there,] He pointed, too and the cameras panned back around to Prince.

She flicked a hand in annoyance, [It is not the Prince show, stop making everyone look at me!]

[She is a world Champion, I am very proud of her! My best friend, Jaamies, is a world Champion, too, I am very proud of him, too. He's not here, his man hates talking to people when he's busy doing his work. It is hard to talk to Racing Drivers, I mean, Stigs, inside and humans outside at the same time, and the humans don't really need his attention, because you all have other people you can talk you. You can ask me questions any time. I like talking about racing. Don't ask me questions about balls, though, that's private. Sebastian can joke about balls, but I am not going to. And those girls without enough shorts on and the signs, I don't really know anything about those, either, they just stand there. Humans might think they are pretty, but most of them don't race, and I like to talk about racing, best, so I don't really have anything to say about them,] He looked to the side and thought for a moment.

He pointed out into the audience, [That's Mark and Rabbit,] After Prince's chastisement, the cameras didn't pan around automatically, so Sunshine gestured at them to do so.

Mark and Rabbit gave each other nervous looks.

[Rabbit was my lead stallion at Redbull when I was a colt and a young stallion. When we were on a team together, that was really me and him, not Sebastian and Mark, everyone noticed we didn't get along. Redbull was mean to Rabbit, they gave his car parts that weren't as good and sometimes they told him to slow down. That wasn't fair and Rabbit didn't win because of it. You should all write that down so the humans all know. Rabbit should have won more. He's very good. He got his Championship right away when he went to Porsche.] Sunshine nodded. He nodded at Sebastian, who nodded back at him.

The moderator put his hand over his eyes and muttered something.

[When I started racing,] The cameras panned back to Sunshine, [The tires were better. Someone should do something about that. These tires are no good. Once during a race, my tire exploded. It ruined my race.] He nodded at Sebastian. Sebastian nodded back.

[The cars are too full of fuel at the beginning of the races,] Snap said.

[The first corner is hard when the car is so slow,] Felipe added.

[All my corners were slow last year,] Alondra said, mournfully. [I'm glad we are refueling this year.]

[Fuel stops are dangerous!] Sunshine waved at him. [Kuiva caught Jaamies on FIRE!]

"Ukkonen had a refueling fire once. Burned his mustache right off," Lewis said.

[Max's father's Racing Driver had a BIG fire,] Sunshine turned around to Felipe. [Mancha pulled the fuel hose off that time in Singapore, it was good HE didn't have a fire.]

Felipe's face was drawn with the remembered fear. He looked to the back of the room where Mancha was, and his eyes lost focus.

[I don't like fuel stops,] Sunshine concluded.

There was an expectant pause, but he didn't go on and the moderator realized Sunshine had finished his introductory monologue. He seemed even more hesitant to ask Sunshine a question than he had to ask Alondra a question. "With all the differences this year, do you think you will have a chance at the Championship?" The man blurted the question, as though it would increase the odds of Sunshine answering it quickly. The entire point of this hope was lost, because Eddie Jordan translated the signs at a normal speaking pace.

[No. All my mechanics went to work for Mick.] Sunshine looked at him politely, waiting for the rest of his question.

[You have mechanics,] Lewis leaned past Snap to gesture at Sunshine.

[Yes. Sebastian has the right hand tires changed and the left rear tire changed perfectly every time.]

[Why not the left front tire?] Wendy asked.

[One of the volunteers does that tire. He does it perfectly as well. It is just more slowly than I would like. He is getting better, now that his foot is healing.]

Sebastian tapped Sunshine, [Keep facing the cameras.]

[Wendy is behind me, I cannot see what she is saying if I don't look.]

[You aren't supposed to be talking to the other drivers, you are supposed to be talking to the cameras.]

Felipe snorted loudly.

Sebastian looked at him in confusion.

"Simi," Felipe said.

Sebastian's eyes narrowed.

"The only ones who whispered more during press conferences were Fernando and Mark." Lewis said.

"Sebastian and Kimi whispered MUCH more than Mark and I!" Fernando protested.

[You and Mark whispered during interviews?] Alondra asked Fernando, [I did not know this.] He turned to the audience, [Rabbit, did you know Fernando and Mark whispered during their interviews?]

[Yes,] Rabbit gestured back.

[You and Kimi whispered during interviews and you are complaining that I am answering Wendy's question?!] Sunshine said to Sebastian.

"Sebastian and Kimi were the worst," Fernando crossed his arms.

"No," said a quiet voice. "My dad and uncle Ralf were the worst. They didn't even have to be next to each other. They'd just lean over whoever was between them, look." Mick showed his phone to Wendy and Francesca.

Fernando, the only driver old enough to remember having been in press conferences with Michael and Ralf, nodded.

Mick passed his phone to the lower table. Lewis, Snap, Fernando and Alondra laughed. Sunshine looked at the picture Mick had found online, while Sebastian held the phone. [This is your father, and Ralf and Lentaa's Mika,] he told Mick, as if he didn't know this. [They are brothers like we are brothers.]

Mick grinned at Sunshine, "I know."

Felipe looked over at him, his face placid, and then put his mouth by the microphone. "Mancha and I are brothers. Twins."

The murmer of voices went on a few seconds longer, before dying away into silence.

"Hmm." Said Mark Webber.

There was more silence. Lewis and Snap were looking at Felipe in consternation. Francesca was shocked, Wendy was looking around to gauge by the reactions whether statements like this were a normal part of press conferences. Fernando and Alondra were sitting with their hands folded, completely still, looking out at the audience. Sebastian and Sunshine were watching him with narrowed eyes.

Felipe was still leaned into the microphone, waiting for a reaction.

"But you can TALK." Lewis blurted, jumping immediately to a conclusion.

He looked down at Lewis and nodded, slowly. "And Mancha can't."

"You're half Racing Driver, half human," Mick said.

He turned and looked at him and nodded. "Just like the rest of the matches, but we share the halves differently."

Lewis looked at Fernando to share his shock and realized Fernando wasn't reacting. "You've got nothing to say about this?" He demanded.

Fernando shrugged. "Is not change their racing. Is not matter to ME."

Lewis gasped. "You knew! When, since you were teammates at Ferrari?"

[I knew,] Alondra told him. He patted Felipe's hand.

[That's not fair! A half Racing Driver match makes you faster,] Snap started, then paused.

[A half Racing Driver with a half Racing Driver match isn't faster than a full Racing Driver and a human match. It is just a different configuration. A full Racing Driver and a half Racing Driver match would be faster, but that wouldn't be unfair, either, because they would have to overcome two Racing Drivers' inability to disperse emotion without help.] Sunshine told Snap.

"Can you send?" Sebastian asked. "Was Mancha stopping the other Racing Drivers from hearing you?"

"I was stopping them from hearing me, myself," he blinked and all the Stigs but Alondra, and Mancha, standing against the backwall, gasped.

[I can HEAR you,] Snap said. He squeezed Lewis' hand. [He really can, he really IS like he says.] He went still. [Mancha got his Championship, but you didn't? That's so sad. No wonder you two stopped talking.] He reached out and touched Felipe's other hand.

The other Stigs at the table put their hands on his as well.

"We were supposed to take questions..." The moderator said. "Now we are out of time."

"This was very enlightening," David Coulthard said.

The Racing Drivers and matches and Mick and Felipe all began to stand up and take off their microphones.

"It was, wasn't it?" Mark agreed.

Rabbit revved and stood to add his support to Felipe and Mancha, who were now forehead to forehead, smiling at each other. The rest of the Stigs were crowded around them, offering congratulations and love.

"This has been the 2017 Formula 1 Australian Grand Prix," The moderator said, with defeat in his voice as the Racing Drivers filed out, followed by the extremely pleased journalists. "For a transcript, you can check our website at Formula1.com."

#fanfic #fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #top gear fanfic #grand tour fanfic #AU Tame Racing Drivers #alternate universe #Liveposting #On The Grid LivePosting

0 notes