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dilemmaontwolegs · 5 months

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Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {4}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: The triple header is turbulent with some serious bad luck hitting your Monégasque man. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff, angst, smut WC: 3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five

The Triple Header - Austin

Between the distraction of Lando and Charles arriving together, and Daniel making his grand return for Alpha Tauri, you were able to sneak into the paddock through the secondary staff entrance. You were sweating beneath the hoodie that swamped you but as soon as you were in the McLaren garage you took it off.

“This feels weird,” you murmured as you watched Lando get into his racing gear.

“It will probably take a while to get used to,” he said, kissing you as he reached for his balaclava. “But you heard what the doctors said, it’s a miracle we didn’t lose her with what happened. You know how hard the races are on our bodies.”

“I understand that, but it still feels weird. I don’t like missing out on things.” You sighed and opened the door for Jon who was waiting for Lando to start his warm up. “I’m going to check in on Charles. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Though you could hide in Charles’ garage for the race there was nowhere to hide when Lando pulled into the third place parking spot. There was nothing that was going to stop you from waiting with the rest of his team and between your mother and his father, they kept you safe from the jostling engineers eager to clap their driver on the back.

Everything seemed to be going great and you had avoided all the media crews wanting to get a statement. You had to admit it was satisfying to watch Aston Martin struggle to pull 9th place for Lance and a DNF for Fernando so it was a good thing a microphone didn’t come close to you.

Everything was going great as you and Charles watched Lando take the podium before they both went to shower and change. Unfortunately word came that there had been two disqualifications. Charles seemed to have a sixth sense when bad news was coming and his smile dimmed before his engineer even relayed the information. Charles and Lewis were both disqualified.

Sinking into the couch in Lando’s room, he hung his head in his hands and sighed. The sound made your heart ache and you could feel all the pressure he was under in that heavy exhale. He was already concerned about how his points compared to his teammates but this would make the gap even closer and add to that worry.

“I’m sorry, babe,” you said as you sat beside him, lacing your fingers with his while Lando took his other hand.

“This sucks,” he groaned before looking at Lando. “At least you’re second place now.”

“Suppose,” he murmured. “Doesn’t feel like I earned it though.”

“You don’t know how much Lewis’ car could have been affected by the worn plank, it might have been a matter of tenths off the second without the proper weight,” you reminded him before biting your lip and looking at Charles. “No offence. It wasn’t your fault anyway, you’re the driver, it’s your mechanics who should be checking that the car meets the regs.”

“I know,” he murmured as rose to his feet. “I’m going to the pit then I’ll head back to the hotel.”

Lando had more media duties expected of him and he nodded his head towards Charles’s back. “Go with him, love, I’ll catch up after.”

You hung back in the shadows while Charles gave a statement in the media pit. You could feel the disappointment in his words but he tried to be positive for his fans and you knew he was a better person than you, because there was no way you could have praised your team in that moment like he did.

Thinking about your team, you looked over to Fernando who was able to smile despite his DNF. He was just happy to be back in a race car after finding his brief retirement too boring for his liking. Unfortunately the two disqualifications had bumped Lance up higher in the points and he spotted you watching their interview, sending you a cocky smile that had your fist closing.

“Ready to go?” Charles asked as he was finally free of his duty.

You tore your eyes away from the green uniform across the pit and nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, glad to go.”

Charles sighed and kissed your forehead as he draped an arm over your shoulder and led the way to the exit. “Me too, mon amour.”

The Triple Header - Mexico

“You look like you could do with a drink,” Lewis said as he joined you on the balcony above the pitland and offered a glass of amber liquid. “Don’t worry, it’s non-alcoholic tequila. It’s the first batch, reserved for special occasions only.”

You took the glass with a small smile. “Thanks, Lewis.”

“Congrats, by the way,” he whispered.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost choked on the smooth drink you had sipped. “For what?” you tried to play off the shock with coyness.

Lewis shrugged and looked down at Charles pacing in the pit lane. The two drivers had bonded over their DQ and it was Lewis who had been able to talk Charles into going out to celebrate Lando’s second place in Austin last week.

“They aren’t exactly the best at keeping secrets,” he chuckled, turning around to rest his elbows against the rail. “Especially once they’ve had a few drinks.”

“Trust me, I know. It’s only a matter of time until everyone else does too.” You swirled the liquid around the glass, amazed at how much it tasted and looked like the real thing. “I just want to enjoy the little bit of privacy we get for as long as possible.” Lewis coughed a laugh and you rolled your eyes. “I know it’s impossible, but I’m still going to try. ”

“I wish you all the luck in the world, honestly,” he said with a sincere smile. “And if you want any more ‘tequila’ to keep up the ruse, let me know.”

“Thanks.” You smiled at the offer as he pushed off from the rail and made his way down to Mercedes for the race. You felt the cameras on you and couldn’t help raising the glass to them before swallowing the last mouthful. Rumours had been swirling around social media since Fernando replaced you, but that photograph should at least put the brakes on the pregnancy rumours - even if they were true.

“Aren’t you meant to be keeping a low profile?” Lando asked when you stepped into the garage. He nodded his head to the footage of the pit lane on F1 TV and cocked a brow at the shot you took.

“Relax, it’s Lewis’ Agave. It’s really nice too,” you said as you velcroed his collar into place. “It was a gift, along with his congratulations.”

Lando took your hands and held them against his chest. “I’m sorry, it just slipped out.”

“Mhmm, I’ve heard that a few times now,” you chuckled. “I’ll see you after the race, be safe.”

“Always,” he promised, letting you go so you could speak to Charles before he disappeared into the grid.

Your throat was hoarse by the time the race finished and you hardly looked ladylike like the other WAGs when you celebrated Charles’ third place on the podium. It felt like it had been too long since he last stood up there with Max and you were ecstatic for him after the fight he put up.

“I’m so proud of you,” you gushed as you sat on Charles’ lap in the bar. The atmosphere was charged with excitement and you could see Lando and Max were well on their way to being drunk but Charles was happier to take it slow with a few beers. “You do realise you have a permanent sober driver for the next six months, you can drink, babe.”

“I know,” Charles chuckled as he watched Lando dance wildly. “But I am happy like this, seeing you and Lando happy.”

“Of course I am happy, I have you and him, and little bean, and Fernando DNF’d…”

You both watched Lando for a few minutes before Max clamped a hand over his mouth and started to drag him towards the booth you had taken. “Shhh, stop telling people. Ow, did you just bite me?” Max stared at his palm and saw the teeth marks in his skin.

“Mon cher, ça va?”

“I’m fine,” Lando grinned as he unbuttoned one of the few remaining ones on his shirt, baring even more skin that was flushed with colour. “I’m fucking amazing.”

“He was about to tell the whole club about your little surprise,” Max explained as he shook his sore hand out.

“I hate keeping secrets,” he whined as he shuffled across the booth and under Charles’ arm. You combed your fingers through his damp hair and he pulled your legs over his lap as he snuggled closer. “I just want to scream it to the world.”

“I know you do, mon cher, but not yet. Just a few more weeks and the season is over,” Charles reassured him. “It’s safer this way, you know how crazy it can get with fans.”

He sighed and dropped his head into nook between your neck and Charles, mumbling his agreement but that it still sucked. His racing heart slowed with the hand running calmingly up and down his spine and he eventually looked up with sleepy eyes. “Can we go? My tummy hurts.”

Charles smiled softly and nodded. “I think your head is going to hurt more in the morning.”

The Triple Header - Brazil

One week's good luck was all Charles was given. It was almost as if he was too happy and the universe needed to balance that happiness out. Starting from pole should have given him the best possible chance of holding the lead but then he disappeared from your view on the formation lap. One moment he was in the camera’s view as it panned around the corner and then he was gone, even the cameraman looked confused as he searched for the bright red Ferrari.

“Why the fuck am I so unlucky?!”

The voice in your headset was absolutely broken and the cameraman finally found Charles crashed out - yellow flags flying before the race even began. You only listened long enough to hear that Charles was uninjured before you left the Ferrari garage that you had been watching from.

The back paths were empty with the race gearing up to start without Charles so it was easy to break into a jog. You met him halfway around the track, his helmet still adorning his head that was bent down. He didn’t notice you at first, walking straight past you as he continued his walk of shame back to the pit lane. When you fell into step beside him he almost growled thinking you were a marshal trying to kick up a conversation to get an autograph.

He stumbled to a stop when he saw your face in the narrow slit of his visor. “Amour, what are you doing here?”

You reached for the buckle under the helmet and pulled it over his head, tucking it under your arm while he tugged the balaclava off his face. “I thought you might want some company.”

The whine of the engines spurring their cars off the starting line had Charles flinching and you cradled his face in your palms. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Not your fault the car is a piece of shit,” he murmured as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours until the cars had passed. “We should get back, the team will be wanting a debrief.”

“No, fuck the team. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, find a priest?”

You chuckled at the seriousness in his tone and shook your head. “I don’t think god has that power. He might have turned water into wine but turning your tractor into a race car might be beyond his capabilities.”

Charles snorted a laugh, taking his helmet back with one hand and holding your hand in the other. “Fine, let’s hope our man has better luck then.”

It was easier to dodge the few fans around the obscure ends of the track but Charles still chose to traipse through the trees instead of the footpath. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone and you respected that as you walked quietly beside him, catching glimpses of the red flags through the mesh fence until you got back to the garages and saw the carnage that had opened the race.

“Where did you want to watch from?”

He looked down the pit lane where Redbull separated McLaren and Ferrari. He was torn between loyalties and your heart ached for him before you made the choice that would hurt least.

“Come on, there’s spare clothes in Lando’s room.”

He kept his head down as you led him into the back of the McLaren motorhome, waving off anyone who attempted to approach him. “It will take a while for them to clean up the mess on the track. Why don’t you shower and change before we go back?”

Charles nodded sullenly while you locked the door to Lando’s driver room but he made no attempt to undress as he stood looking lost and broken. He barely breathed as you dragged the zip down his body, pushing the suit over his shoulders before pulling his fireproof shirt off.

“I wish I knew the magic words to make you feel better,” you murmured as you kissed his collarbone. He hadn’t even started the race but the suits were so hot that his skin tasted salty on your lips. “But, I do know one way to distract you…”

His chest finally moved as your hands dragged the rest of his suit down his muscular legs and you dropped to your knees in front of him. Green eyes darkened as he watched you lick your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking him to life. His lips parted when you moistened yours and sealing them around his tip and a soft moan filled the room.

The sounds slowly grew louder as you took him deeper in your mouth and you revelled in the sweet praise he gave. His large hand gripped the back of your head as he surrendered himself to the escape from reality that you offered and you moaned when his cock pulsed with his release. The taste of his come coated your tongue and you swallowed it down before licking your lips clean of the saliva that had run down them.

“Shit,” Charles groaned as the door handle rattled, but it was Lando’s voice on the other side and he relaxed at the sound.

Charles reluctantly stepped into the shower cubicle as you opened the door and Lando stole a kiss as a greeting when he entered. He hadn’t seen Charles but his eyes darted around the room as he tasted the lingering musky residue on your lips, pouting at missing out. “You started without me.”

“You still have a race,” Charles pointed out as he turned on the shower.

Lando’s lips turned down and he took a seat on the couch, pulling you onto his lap so you could both watch Charles shower through the glass window.

“He was rather miserable,” you whispered. “He can’t wait for the season to end.”

Lando could understand why. It was an odd position he found himself in because the more points he scored then the more stress was placed on Charles’ shoulders. It was a double edged sword that he hadn’t quite thought about when he envisioned dating a driver.

“I can’t blame him,” Lando muttered. “Just two more races. Hopefully his team manages to fix the car for them. It sucked seeing him spin off like that. I knew he was fine, but it still freaked me out.”

You saw his worry in the form of a frown and forgot that he had been behind the crash. “We have been lucky there hasn’t been any serious crashes this season,” you mused as you rubbed his frown away. “It was bad enough before, but now…” You placed a hand on your stomach and shook your head. “I never want to know that kind of worry.”

There weren’t any words of solace he could find without lying so instead he distracted you from the thoughts with a searing kiss. Soon Charles stepped out of the shower with a towel slung low on his hips and Lando debated staying longer, but he reluctantly shifted you to his side so he could stand.

“You can watch from upstairs if you want,” Lando offered Charles as he watched the water droplets run down his chest. “Or hide in here.”

Charles chuckled knowing ‘hide’ was absolutely a euphemism for what you would actually do. “We will watch you, mon cher,” he assured him with a kiss. “Go and fight Max for first.”

Lando grinned at the thought, loving the challenge that was unlikely but still something to aim for. “Will do, but it should have been you, love.”

Charles shrugged, feeling a little lighter after blowing off some steam and the shower. “It is what it is.”

You heard the announcement over the PA system and checked your watch to see how long there was until the restart time. “Go, your team will be waiting. I’ll take care of Charles.”

“Again?” Lando laughed as he stepped back to the door. “Give the man time to rejuice, baby.”

“Focus on the race,” you reminded him as you opened the door. “I’ll still be here when you finish and then you can think about my mouth all you want.”

You enjoyed the soft groan that clawed up his throat at the thought but you closed the door with a laugh before he could step back in. “Go. We love you!”

“Love you too,” he replied before testing the door handle one last time and finding it locked. “Fine, I’m going.”

Click here for next part.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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allyeardepression · 2 months

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@jegulus-microfic | april 22 evoke | words: 1,6k

big shout out to @frnkmush for helping me with this one, you’re such an angel 🫶🏼

tw: swearing, mentions of wounds

part one

On Monday evening, Regulus received an Instagram message request from someone called jfprongs. He went to check on the person’s profile to see who they were, and—oh god.

At the sight of a radiant smile, bronze skin, and golden glasses, all memories from the night before evoked in him. He suddenly remembered making an absolute fool of himself by asking a doctor who just stitched him up on a date.

While he was drunk.

The first thing he did was send a screenshot of the profile and the message that read just a simple ‘Hi’ to the group chat.

i can fix him (i can’t)

Reg

<2 photos attached>

that’s the doctor from last night

what do i do??????????

Barty

skakksjsksjsjsjsjajsjsj

Evan

Pandora

what is he doing in your dms?

Reg

…

i may or may not have asked him out

There was a short pause before his phone started ringing.

“What the fuck do you mean you asked him out?” Pandora asked, amused. In the background, Regulus could hear Barty and Evan laughing hysterically.

“Well, I was drunk, and he was really hot. We should all be grateful I only did that instead of trying to convince him to fuck me on his desk,” he responded, trying to take off the bandage off of the fresh wound without making it hurt more than necessary.

On the other end of the line, he could hear Panda huffing a small laugh. “Yeah, thank god that whore didn’t come out.”

“Any—oh fuck, it hurts—anyways, what do I do now?” Regulus asked again, finally throwing away the old bandage and starting to clean the cut. He hated using disinfectants on any part of his body, really, but on the face, it felt worse than anything.

His friend hummed thoughtfully. “I think you should text him back and see how it goes,” and so he did.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

On Tuesday evening, exactly at 7:36 p.m., Regulus was sitting on a bench in front of his apartment building and waiting for a grey Mercedes to arrive.

After he answered James yesterday, they talked a bit and agreed that Drunk Regulus’ idea about meeting sooner was actually a pretty good one. So he sat there, checking his phone every three seconds, hoping to see a message that would say ‘I’m here’.

He picked it up again when a grey car parked next to him and the passenger’s window rolled down.

“Hi Regulus, come in,” James invited him with a warm smile painted on his lips.

As Regulus took the front seat, the other man reached to the back, pulling a small bouquet of purple carnations.

“What’s that?” Regulus asked, confused. James eyes widened at that.

“Well, I assumed it’s a date, and I thought it would be a nice gesture, but if I overstepped or misread—“

“No, no, no, absolutely! That is a date, and those are lovely, I just—I'm not used to getting flowers.” He could feel his cheeks starting to burn a little when James smiled wildly, like a happy Golden Retriever.

They finally drove away from Regulus' block, heading towards the city center. The radio played some soft, lofi music that, added to the soft humming of the engine, started lulling Regulus to sleep. James must’ve noticed, because he handed his unlocked phone to him.

“Choose the next song; I’ll pick something after you,” the bronze-skinned man told him. Regulus, extremely eager, grabbed the phone and typed in the title he needed to hear right now. Thankfully, the chill music ended shortly after, and an 80s synth-pop melody came on.

“Somebody runnin’ through the field/Somebody shoulda stayed home/Somebody pickin’ up the body of somebody they were gettin’ to know,” Regulus hummed softly to Matty’s lyrics. James whipped his head at a light speed and looked at him with wide eyes. Regulus gave him a questioning look in response.

“First of all,” James began, “is it the one about the school shooting?” Regulus nodded, smirking. “Okay, that’s surprising. Second of all, you have quite a nice voice.” Now Regulus wasn’t smirking, just smiling sheepishly.

After ‘Looking for somebody (to love)’ ended, there was a disco bit, and Reg wanted to whine as soon as he recognised the song. The only thing that stopped him was that sparkle in James’ eyes.

And then the other man started singing.

“OOH, YOU CAN DANCE, YOU CAN JIVE, HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE!” and Regulus couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. “What? Don’t you like my vocals?” James chuckled, knowing damn well he sounded like a cat in heat.

“Oh no, your vocals are just as lovely as your smile,” the younger man giggled.

They continued to take turns choosing songs, becoming more and more comfortable, and singing louder and louder.

They reached the restaurant as Olivia’s ‘all-american bitch’ was coming to an end.

“Wait here,” said James, getting out of the car and running around it, just to open Regulus’ door. The older man held out his hand in a dramatic gesture.

Reg rolled his eyes, taking the hand and getting out as well.

“Such a gentleman,” he commented sarcastically, yet still, he could feel the warmth spread inside of his chest at this small move.

They walked into the restaurant hand in hand, talking lightly about their favourite type of pasta. James gave the hostess his name, and the woman led them to their table, giving them two menus. Regulus scanned it in search of the cheapest meal, so he could afford it. The restaurant wasn’t really fancy, but it was still expensive.

“15 pounds for Carbonara? Is it made of gold?” He mumbled, but apparently not quietly enough, because James replied, ‘Don’t worry, it’s on me’. This caught Regulus off guard. “What do you mean? I asked you out; I should be the one paying.”

“Yeah, no,” was all James said, and the other man kept looking at him in confusion. “You’re a student; I work full time; it’s only fair if I pay,” he continued, looking up from his menu.

Regulus opened his mouth as if to argue, but quickly shut them back up. “Yeah, okay, you have a point.”

After that, they talked only about what they should order, settling on a lasagna for James, pumpkin ravioli for Reg, and a bottle of rosé.

“So,” the older man started. “What do you study?”

“Oh, um, painting. I’m in art school,” he mumbled in response, taking a sip of his wine. “I’m not gonna lie, I know it won’t get me a lot of money, but I love it. I can’t imagine doing anything else, even if it means I’ll have to eat pesto pasta for the rest of my life.” He couldn’t exactly read James’ face; it looked kind of blank.

“Can I see any of your work?” he asked finally, sounding actually interested. So, of course, Regulus reached for his phone and started scrolling through it in search of the pieces he was most proud of. When James saw the one with the white stag running through a blue forest, he pointed at it and exclaimed, “That. I want that one in my living room,” and Regulus laughed lightly at him. “What? I mean it. How much do you want for it?”

“A thousand pounds!” the younger man kept chuckling.

“Deal.”

“Wait, are you for real?” He looked at the man opposite him in bewilderment, and as the other nodded with a smile, he couldn’t help but smile himself.

It was how the rest of the evening went—they ate, talked, drank wine, and talked some more. They left, again hand in hand, discussing a playlist for the ride home.

They were just a few blocks away from Regulus’ building when he decided to turn the radio down a little.

“Thank you,” he said, turning to James. “I had a really good time.”

“Would you like to do it again sometime?” The other man asked, also turning.

“Yeah, sometime,” he answered softly, pink blooming on his cheeks. He received a small smile back.

When they finally reached his block, Regulus didn’t get out immediately. Instead, he fully turned to face James and looked him deep in the eyes. The older man didn’t break eye contact; he only smiled brightly.

Please, kiss me. Please, kiss me. Please, kiss me.

James reached in his direction, brushing a loose curl from Regulus’ face back behind his ear. Instead of withdrawing his hand, James put it on his cheek, caressing it lightly with his thumb.

They stayed like that for a few seconds (or hours) before James broke the silence.

“Can I walk you to your flat?” and Reg just nodded in response.

They got out of the car the same way they did before. Holding hands, they walked up the stairs to the third floor. As they reached his door, Regulus turned to James again. And once more, James’ hand found its way to Reg’s cheek. The moment was tense, almost tangible. Until-

“Can I kiss you?” The older man whispered, like a secret.

Yesyesyes

Regulus only managed to nod once before he felt soft lips on his. It wasn’t an obscene kiss with a lot of teeth and tongs; it was gentle and sweet, like the first kiss in middle school. It didn’t last long either—far too quick for Reg’s liking. James rewarded him with another sweet kiss, this time on the forehead, before he pulled away with the same bright spark in his eye that appeared during ‘Dancing Queen’.

“Good night, Regulus,” he said softly, taking a small step back.

“Good night, Jamie—I mean James,” the older man chuckled, shaking his head.

“I like it; you can call me Jamie. I’ll see you soon.” And with that promise, he turned around and walked down the stairs, throwing just one last look at Regulus before disappearing on the floor below.

#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #the marauders #dead gay wizards #jegulus microfic #modern au #artist!regulus #doctor!james #1k words or more #by: allyeardepression #slytherin skittles

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nikholascrow · 6 months

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no one asked for more of these but i love making them so

if you like this check out the others

Peter Marlene Regulus Xenophilius Evan

James!!!

• James is a pan cis dude in my brain

• wears crocs unironically his favorite are fire engine red

• he’s got adhd

• gives bone crushing hugs when he’s excited but if you’re upset he gets really gentle

• tries to mask all his negative emotions cause growing up around Sirius and Remus made him think his problems weren’t important even tho no one ever tried to make him feel that way

• considers pinky promises legally binding and does them 100% seriously

• he’s not self obsessed he just talks a lot and he doesn’t know what else to talk about

• he loves chickens and had a pet chicken when he was younger because he was obsessed with dinosaurs and asked for a pet dragon but Effie decided that was too dangerous so she got him a chicken instead and told him it was basically a dinosaur

• wrists are absolutely covered in friendship bracelets

• he’s the sorta guy that can befriend anybody but doesn’t really have many close friends he can talk to about serious stuff

• he’s amazing at cooking (Effie taught him)

• really good with kids but hopelessly irresponsible

• lowkey the reason he starts talking to Regulus is because no one except his close friends at hogwarts would dare insult him and he finds it hilarious that Reg does it in every sentence

• he also loves annoying the shit out of Regulus by calling him Reggie even before they really know each other

• completely oblivious to his own and others’ feelings Remus Peter or Sirius usually mention something about him liking someone and he just goes OH

• because he’s so oblivious he’s completely unaware that he’s basically got a whole ass fan club of hogwarts students who want to date him (Regulus is very aware)

• He’s got red converse but he also has another red pair that Regulus painter flames on for his birthday once he loves them so much that he never wears them cause he’s terrified of getting them dirty

• he thinks he’s annoying and loud because people get mad at him for talking ‘too much’ and he’s really self conscious about it

• he complains about how pretty Regulus is to Lily Sirius Remus and Peter all the time and they think it’s hilarious but if he interrupts one more of Remus and Lily’s study sessions to do it Lily might punch him

• dude is like a human heater even in winter like he’s the bitch that walks around without a coat on while it’s snowing

• he’s really smart and he could get good grades but he can’t stay focused in class unless he adores the subject

• sandals and socks.

• owns a chicken stuffed animal that sits on his bed and if anyone dared make fun of it he’d probably burst into tears

• he’s an absolute baby when he’s sick acts like he’s dying

• flirts so much with Regulus and yet Reg remains oblivious

if you want my hcs about other characters i haven’t done yet feel free to leave a ask i love getting them :]

#james potter #james fleamont potter #james f potter #marauders #dead gay wizards #regulus black #remus lupin #sirius black #lily evans #peter pettigrew #sunseeker #starchaser #the marauders #jegulus #nikos marauders hcs #fuck jkr #prongs

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sleepymccoy · 12 days

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Let me tell you about the space ship I've made up

Looks like an alien ufo

Biggish. Like, could land in a football stadium but it'd be tight

Used to be a novelty luxury cruise ship so the interior walls are artistic and stupid

The outside is artistic and stupid too lol

This is a random google image, but has the vibe

Is now a retrofitted fishing vessel owned by the government

Still has a theatre tho. Madness

Top floor in the little alien bubble is the bridge and some of the engine

The government is making the crew trial a new form of engine fuel which is basically fish offal and sunlight. It's working but god at what cost?

Is fish offal a term? I think it gets the vibe across

So the engines need like weekly cleaning and are exhausting

They've got three engines cos if a crab gets caught stalled in there they have to swap to an auxiliary

And it smells like cooked fish

One quarter of the floor opens up to let them do some open air fishing when they're over water

The bottom floor is smaller than the main and used to be the staff rooms when it was a yacht

Now it's been retrofitted into a vegetable farm in another government initiative to have self sustaining food on short transit ships

Like this

It kinda works, this is a small scale rollout to check feasibility

They don't have fake gravity so when they're in space everyone floats

The beans are having a hard time adjusting to zero grav

Some of the crew are a bit new to it too

There's hooks to help people walk and furniture on the ceiling to use while in space

The ship feels much smaller when it's landed

Cos it's a big ol disc it has to flip 90° to launch out of orbit, cos of air resistence

So all the launch safety chairs are mounted on the walls out of the way and you've gotta climb a little ladder to get to one lol

Union regs are trying really hard to keep up with 24/hr ship maintenance

There are four eight hours shifts in a 24 hour day, three of them function in turn for a third of the day each, and the fourth in management

They don't have titles like night duty, morning shift, so on, cos time is made up here. But they have different focuses and skill sets

Like the equivalent of night duty has an extra cleaner to do deep cleaning, and the engineer is more skilled in maintenance and upkeep than complex flight support

The management shift is the worst for sleep schedule cos you just gotta get up when shit happens

There are half as many beds as there are crew and they share with someone on a different shift

Management shares with night duty and if they have to be up during night duty they just find a different spot to kip during the day

Like I said, union is still figuring it out

We're around Saturn, the union movement is pretty new! This is a source of tension cos most of the government employees aren't unionised

They also actually wear the uniforms, the losers

So I got ahead of myself there, there's three types of crew

Ship function, like engineer, cleaner, cook, pilot, that kind of vibe (mostly unionised, mostly refuse to wear the uniforms)

Government hire, like the gardeners (they prefer botanists but cmon) and chemical engineers figuring out the propulsion system (taking the initiative project very seriously)

The fishermen (the fuck is a uniform I'm paid commission) (that is not true, but they have that vibe)

When they're over the ocean fishing most of the rest of the crew take a weekend

When they're landed to trade fish nearly everyone gets time off

When they're flying the fishermen get time off

There might be some small jobs to do if there's a long period of time with no real work, like if it's four days between fishing jobs the fishermen will do a stocktake count in storage

Or if they're trading keeps them overnight the engineers and cleaners might take the opportunity to clean the airlocks and chutes safely

An eight hour shift is never busy, there's a lot of down time between tasks cos they work every day and need some time off

This means there's often an opportunity to fuck, which has formed most of the forward momentum in the story I'm writing lolll

Also cos the beds are on a roster they kinda have to fuck in public places oh noooo what a shame that I get to add tension to every other blow job

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gumnut-logic · 7 months

Text

“Another boy?”

Jeff grinned. “Yeah. Another one.” He couldn’t help but stare at the photo that had landed on his screen as a good luck token from Earth.

He did of course, know about Lucille going into labour the night before and it was for that reason he hadn’t had the sleep he probably should have pre-history making Mars landing. But honestly, to get this signal from that little blue planet a good eight months away…his heart swelled…his beautiful baby boy had a shock of red hair that screamed their Irish ancestry down through the hundreds of years since their family had left the old world.

Lucille sat holding him, looking tired but ever so proud. Her dark hair was tied back and the sparkle in her eyes brought a lump into his throat. Her mother, pink hair and all, sat beside his wife holding his two eldest boys on her lap. Scott had his hand on Virgil’s arm as the now second youngest reached over towards his baby brother, a frown of concentration on his face.

“He’s beautiful.”

Jeff startled a little. Berry was breaking regs and leaning over the back of Jeff’s pilot couch, her straps unfastened. The cockpit was pretty snug in the lander, most of the room taken up with safety equipment and interfaces, leaving little for the padded personnel support.

He shot an eyebrow in her direction and she smiled a dare back at him. The astrogeologist wasn’t one for breaking the rules, she just liked to taunt him a little.

Ju, in contrast, was checking her harness was secure a second time. “Creating your own crew, Tracy?” Her auburn eyes smirked at him. “Aiming to replace us?”

He grinned. “Could be.” Dare he mention that his four-year-old eldest could already name all the controls in this cockpit? His grin widened. “But we can’t replace the first person to set foot on Mars, now can we?”

Berry snorted, a little abashed. But it was, after all, her part to play once they made touchdown. The words had been rehearsed, the order of exit decided. For very specific reasons, the first human on Mars was going to be Kate Berrenger.

Berry had worked her ass off to make this mission a reality. Her specialisation onboard was astrogeologist, but honestly it was far more. The woman was talent on legs. It was she who had designed much of the equipment they were deploying on the surface, she who had hunted and gathered the funding, she who had put in the sweat and tears to make this work. And Ju wasn’t far behind. The two of them were quite a powerhouse pair. Jeff considered himself and Lee lucky to have been chosen for this mission. Of course, he’d known Berry for a very long time, worked with her for most of it, but it wasn’t a given that the team that had helped populate the moon would also be the first on Mars.

“Given how many life support pods we’re dragging down there, I bet your boys could drop by in about thirty years or less.”

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, Berry?” The thought was tantalising. Not to put pressure on any future careers – Lucy would kill him – but he would hope that at least one out of three might follow in his footsteps.

Maybe?

He turned around and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted. “Major Tracy, tell your team to secure. Two minutes to separation.” Sinclair was his usual grumpy, nervous self.

“Roger that, Orbiter Control.”

He glared at Berry and the redhead bit her lip with a smile, green eyes dancing, before sitting back and strapping herself in preparation for the sequence.

She didn’t stop smiling though.

“So watcha gonna name him?” Lee prodded him with his eyebrows from beside Jeff.

A last glance at the photo before he returned to separation prep, fingers tight in his gloves. “Are you going to remember this one?” An eye in the engineer’s direction.

“Sure.”

Running his fingers over the controls, Jeff ran through pre-flight. “Name my eldest.”

Lee grunted, his eyes darting away. “Not important right now.” A flick of a switch. “I’m green across the board.”

“A-ok.” Jeff ran through the last sequence of checks…and ran them again…for luck. “Orbiter Control, we are green for separation.”

“Roger that, Cornerstone. Separation in sixty seconds on my mark.” A breath. “Mark.” Another pause. “Good luck.”

And the countdown began.

Jeff ran his eyes over everything again. The great ship that had journeyed so far from home was preparing to split in half. The lander at the top of the vessel was to pull away from the orbiter and its massive propulsion engines to begin the historic descent to the Martian surface. Eight months in space, so much preparation time and so many sacrifices before that, had all led to this moment.

History in the making.

His eyes combed the readouts watching like a hawk. The computer had control, but computers could only do so much.

Still green across the board.

Quiet, his fingers touched the screen where the photo had been. “John Glenn Tracy.” A breath. “His name is John.”

Displays shifted as the countdown hit zero and machinery grunted. The Cornerstone drifted apart from its propulsion module and floated free far above the red of the Martian surface.

Jeff eyed his instrumentation and sent a prayer to his family back home.

Today was an important day.

-o-o-o-

Lee watched Jeff side-on as he clicked his helmet into place. Taylor was a realist and he knew he wouldn’t be here without the crazy pilot.

It was Jeff’s drive that had gotten them this far. It was like riding a rollercoaster of determination and outright luck. From the Airforce, through space training and their sojourns on Alfie, Lee had tied himself to the man’s coat tails and hadn’t looked back.

God, it had been fun.

Jeff Tracy was a tsunami that crashed through everything and took everyone with him.

And Lee went willingly.

When they had been chosen for this mission it was a dream come true.

The countdown dropped to zero and machinery clunked as the lander separated smoothly from the orbiter. She drifted momentarily before the computer engaged thrusters to push her gently out of orbital alignment.

“We are five by five for atmospheric entry.” The words he uttered were almost rote after so many practise simulations back on Earth.

Atmospheric entry on Mars was considerably different to entry on Earth. Terran atmosphere was more like soup in comparison to the barely-there Martian atmosphere. Still made for a warm entry though, friction was friction after all.

“Trajectory achieved.” Jeff’s voice was confident and firm. As always.

Lee eyed the computer readouts, mentally ticking off procedure as the lander dipped into the outer reaches of the atmosphere and shifted to its entry interface.

Forces wrapped themselves around Lee and his body responded. After so many months of weightlessness, this was going to be a challenge.

“Ready for deceleration burn.”

The landing module sported early entrance stage retro thrusters designed to slow the vehicle to reduce the friction on the spacecraft’s skin. A new innovation that had proven essential in many return trips to the moon in preparation for the creation of a habitable dome on the satellite.

And here they were attempting to do something similar on Mars.

Cornerstone shook as her thrusters engaged exactly on time.

The craft roared.

Lee revelled in it.

“Three minutes to subsonic.”

“I really hate this bit.” It was barely heard above the commotion.

Lee snorted to himself. Ju was an astronaut in every sense, but she had a thing regarding atmospheric entry and the microscopic bits they could be exploded into if something went wrong.

“We are on track, Ju. Not a thing to worry about.” His voice reassurance itself, Jeff could sell the moon cheese if he so felt like it.

“Orbiter to Cornerstone. Tracy, we have a problem.”

Lee blinked. Sinclair’s voice was ominous.

“Orbiter, detail?”

“Cornerstone, weather has kicked up on the landing site. We have a developing dust storm. Looks to be a big one.”

“Orbiter, we are fixed for descent. Please advise severity.” Jeff’s tone was frustrated and Lee couldn’t help but echo it.

Data landed in Lee’s console and while Jeff continued to monitor their descent, Lee examined the situation. “We have a category five dust storm developing over the landing site. Orbiter is right, she looks like she could actually do some damage.”

Mars dust storms were generally all gust and no guts. The air density and pressure forced storms that were dramatic to look at, but generally little more than a windy day on planet Earth. This one, however... “It’s an anomaly.”

Jeff’s eyes darted from his console to Lee’s, grey eyes assessing the data. “Ju, your opinion?” They had to make the decision fast. Altering their trajectory now was possible, but fuel was precious. Any extra used now narrowed their safety margin for later.

The meteorologist’s fingers darted over her board. “Unusual strength, I agree.” Lee glanced in her direction as she frowned. “But Cornerstone should be able to handle it.”

“‘Should’ is not a good enough assumption, Zhang.” Jeff was frowning. The lander’s retros cut out as they reached a safe enough velocity to manoeuvre and Jeff’s hands curled around the yoke.

Lee’s finger darted over his board and brought up the outside cameras.

The red planet stretched out before them, her slightly blue tinted atmosphere contrasting against the rust of her surface.

That surface was churning.

Ju was outraged. “How the hell did that develop in the time it took us to separate from Orbiter? She was as calm as a sleeping baby!”

“I don’t care about then, I need now. Zhang, recommendation!”

The woman grunted. “I say go. If you think you can handle it. It is well within Cornerstone’s specs. Your decision, Major.”

Jeff’s lips thinned, his eyes darting across the readouts. A moment and he hit the comms switch. “Orbiter, we are go for landing. We’ve come this far, might as well go all the way.”

“Tracy, are you sure?”

“Humanity never got anywhere taking it easy.” He glanced at Lee. “Hold onto something.”

Cornerstone began her turn, orientating her nose to the sky so her retros could lower her safely to the Martian surface.

Or in Jeff Tracy terms, ‘spinning so she could park her ass’.

As if reading Lee’s mind, the glint in Jeff’s eyes was something to both be wary of and to celebrate.

Out of the four of them, Jeff was the most reckless, the most daring. But as he was the pilot, it sometimes called for it. Jeff had already saved them from becoming just another crater on Earth’s moon by pulling the most unconventional manoeuvre ever seen on the satellite when a landing thruster misfired on approach. The craft had shot off on a completely unpredicted vector that would have ploughed them into moon dust...if Jeff hadn’t reacted as fast as he did. He flipped the craft with its remaining three thrusters and, shedding the majority of their velocity in an energy dump that had Lee’s stomach on the outside, planted their craft like a sack of potatoes.

They had landed roughly, but they had landed alive and Lee was still amazed his friend had been able to do that.

So, if they were going down in a cloud of red dust, Lee was quite happy to have Jeff at the controls.

Not to say that Lee himself wasn’t handy with a spacecraft. He had his own experience to be proud of. He flew, but his realm was more the mechanical. He was here as back up and maintenance.

For those times the Tracy fix wasn’t quite enough.

A sigh. He eyed the billowing clouds below as they rapidly approached. They were history in the making. Whatever happened here today would be taught in schools for decades to come.

He had faith in Jeff. They would land, Berry would take those first important steps on a new planet, say the rehearsed words, and join Neil Armstrong in the halls of fame.

But first they had to get there.

-o-o-o-

Jeff swallowed as the cloud of dust loomed beneath the lander. Numbers scrolled across his console. The computer should be able to handle most of it. Its programming was solid. Lucy had made sure of it.

The thought of his beautiful wife...little Johnny.

Dust swelled and wrapped around their craft and visibility became...bad.

Cornerstone shuddered.

Mars dust was a bastard of a thing. Ever so fine and carrying a tiny electric charge that on occasion interfered with instruments.

This was one of those occasions.

“We have blackout on three primary sensors.” Damn. Two others flickered, the screen fritzing a moment.

His fingers darted over controls in an attempt to compensate for the data loss.

Lee was muttering beside him and stabbing at his board. “Rerouting to back-ups.”

Their screens flickered and cleared somewhat.

Numbers plummeted.

Beyond the blinding dust the digital readout that marked the surface of the planet approached.

Far too fast.

Retros crucial to start the landing sequence did not fire.

Shit.

It took seconds for him to compensate and move to manual, but that was enough for the craft to fall many more metres so, when he did manually trigger the burn, they were lower than they should be.

Cornerstone roared as he pushed more energy into braking.

“Lee, we need primary thrust or we are so much pancake!” Her four landing thrusters were not slowing them enough. The math in his head was churning out a fatal result and their history-making attempt was fast turning into a shitfest. “I need that power now.”

“You have it.” Short and sharp as Lee’s hands darted over his console.

On Jeff’s board the main thruster icon lit up.

It wasn’t meant to be used this way. The main thruster was for launching. It was far more powerful than they needed to land. But if he didn’t slow Cornerstone, she was going to take on a big red rock and lose.

The computer ran calculations and spat numbers out at him.

“Firing main thruster.” The icon flashed, Cornerstone roared and g-forces wrapped around all of them and squeezed.

No one said anything for the second of burn that slowed their descent ever so rapidly. Everything shook, the ship’s superstructure groaning.

Jeff’s eyes tracked their velocity, counting down as the surface of the planet rushed towards them. Visually they couldn’t see it. Virtually it looked ready to slap them in the face.

But the main thruster compensated, slowing the craft just enough for the landing rockets to do their job.

Jeff killed the big one and concentrated on the landers to take the last of their speed.

Cornerstone slowed. Five hundred metres. Four hundred metres. Three hundred metres. Two hundred metres. One hundred metres. Landing struts deployed. Fifty. Thirty. Twe-

The whole ship slammed to a stop, its structure groaning and tilting for a second before righting itself. Alarms began shrieking, red lights flashing all over his board.

What the hell?!

The readout had them stalled nineteen metres ‘above’ the virtual surface. Virtual was obviously not lining up with actual.

Another metallic groan and the ship tilted slightly again. This time it stayed tilted. No doubt a landing strut had taken the brunt and folded.

One red light screamed at him more than the others.

Beside him, Lee confirmed his fears. “We have a fuel leak.”

Shit!

He was unstrapping himself even as the craft groaned again. Something sparked not far away. Lee was a split second behind, listing the reason for the malfunction. The exterior hull, and the mangled landing strut responsible.

A rupture in the external hull. Hell.

Jeff undocked a diagnostic pad and slapped it on his belt.

Martian gravity made itself known. So many months without its native pull, Jeff’s body protested the sudden movement, but they didn’t have time. Precious fuel was escaping.

He hit the ladder leading out of the cockpit at a run, feet locking around the struts and his hands pushing him down. The whole sensation of gravity, but only a third of Earth’s was baffling. His body caught between expectations and stumbling along the way. Ultimately, he partly fell his way down through the access ports, hands grabbing at the railings barely preventing him from colliding with each deck.

Cornerstone’s fuel tanks were attached to her four landers, with a fifth fueling her main launcher.

It was number three that was the problem.

His boots hit decking and he scrambled for the airlock. Beside him Lee had a toolkit and they both barrelled through the door sealing it behind them.

The pumps cycled and the pressure dropped, their suits shifting with the change, and then the elevator was lowering them to the ground.

As the doors opened, they were faced with a wall of swirling dust.

Jeff did his best to ignore it but it fast became a problem. The maintenance tab in his hand was directing him to climb ladders up the side of the vehicle, but he could barely see the tablet, much less the ladders themselves through the red dust.

“Stick close, Lee. I’d hate to lose you in this.”

“Right behind you, Jeff. Wouldna want to lose you either.”

It was simple, but reassuring nonetheless. Fumbling, he found the landing strut. It was skewed in a way that even in the thick swirling haze, he could see was far from the right angle for correct support.

Hooking a foot into the lowest rung, he snagged his friend and urged him up the ladder ahead. If anyone was going to save their asses in this situation, it was Lee.

If Jeff could land it, chances were Lee could fix it. The man could jimmy two sticks and a rubberband into whatever was needed. Hell, he’d done almost exactly that on the moon at least twice.

This was just another challenge. Jeff had landed them, no matter how roughly. Now Lee would be able to fix it.

Jeff clung to that maxim.

But the question wasn’t about skill, it was more about whether or not they were going to damn well be able to see what they needed to see in order to do what needed doing.

Red obscured everything. The speed it was all flying past spoke to his earth senses of gale force winds, but the pressure on his suit was little more than a windy day.

Not enough to affect the spacecraft.

Mars was obviously educating them early that this was not Earth. Not in any way shape or form.

Their clamber up the strut was partly a blind one, but they made it to the damaged side of the craft. Through a mixture of touch and virtual readout, it became clear that the outer hull had buckled, forcing the inner hull into the fuel tank. Most of it had held, but there was a small microfracture and the pressure differences were bubbling solid state fuel into gas at a rate that, if it didn’t deplete the tank, would likely cause an explosion that would solve all their problems with a history-making finality.

Jeff climbed up beside Lee as he fumbled at his tool kit. The tank was dislodged off its mounts, something they would need to remedy later, but it was still inset from the hull.

Jeff put his body in position to block the main flow of the dust and wind, jamming himself up against the still warm hull of his ship.

A little less dust swirled over the bubbling crack and Lee didn’t hesitate. Before Jeff could blink, gell bondtape landed smoothly over the area, the engineer sealing it with an electronic nudge from a set-wand. The electricity lined molecules up like soldiers and locked them in place bonding them to whatever the tape was adhered to. They had used the same stuff on Alfie two years ago when one of their habitats had tried to make one with the lack of lunar atmosphere.

An extremely simple solution for a very dangerous problem.

His heart, still adrenalin-fueled, refused to believe the danger was over.

As if reading Jeff’s thoughts, Lee smirked at him through the haze. “Never leave home without it.” A sigh as he ran a gloved hand over the seal. “This should hold for the short term. Once we are sure the strut is stabilised, I’ll give it a good going over. Hopefully, we can lose this storm in the process.”

Jeff would have liked to claim it couldn’t blow forever, but both of them knew Mars storms could be unpredictable and last for months if they so chose to.

Lee ran a scanner over the strut’s connection to the launcher. How the hell the engineer could see the readouts, Jeff didn’t know.

For all future excursions to the Red Planet, Jeff was going to recommend helmet based heads-up displays.

“She’s safe for now. A little bent, but she isn’t going to fall over. Hopefully, once we get out some of the heavy lifting equipment we can bend her back into shape if we need to.” Lee stood up. “Hull patching is going to be an ass, though.”

Jeff’s lips thinned and he dropped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “One thing at a time. We’ve got this, Lee.”

Lee grunted. “How the hell do you keep spinning the optimism, Jeff?”

A snort. “What? You’d prefer doom and gloom?” He shuffled back towards the ladder. “That’s it, Lee, we’re never leaving this god forsaken rock. Welcome to your new home.” He raised up his hands and as if the gods declared him some kind of Moses for that very moment, the dust clouds parted as if they were a red sea of sand. Sol, so much smaller this far away, poked its weak light through the hazy atmosphere and lit up the bare red rocks of their temporary home. While on one side, the billowing wall of dust storm swirled on its way, on the other red mountains rose up to a weak blue-red sky.

Lee shifted down beside him. “You know, I figured you had an agreement with the gods of physics, but isn’t this a little ridiculous?”

Jeff was too captivated with the view to respond.

Cornerstone was on the plateau they had been simulating for months on end. She stood tall and proud, if a little crooked and pinker than her promo shots.

“We made it.” The words fell from his lips.

Lee clung to the ladder beside him. “Yeah, that we did.”

Sunlight flickered weakly in the atmosphere and a gust of wind dragged more dust across the view.

Jeff shifted. “We better get inside before that mess starts up again. Take advantage of being able to see where we are going.”

Lee didn’t respond immediately, his eyes combing the jagged horizon. “Thanks, Jeff.”

A frown. “For what?”

“Getting us here.”

“It was a group effort, Lee, you know that. Couldn’t have done it without the team. Couldn’t have done it without you. Hell, you just patched a hole that could have blown us up.”

Lee grunted.

“Are you guys going to hang outside all day, or do we have to guess the sitrep?” Berry’s tone was tight.

“Roger, Berrenger. Situation secure. On our way back in.”

It wasn’t until they reached the elevator that he realised exactly what had happened.

And who he was.

By the doors, protected by the shadow of the lowered module was a single footprint that hadn’t been blown away by the wind.

“Aw, hell.”

Lee, as always, stepped up beside him. “Yeah. I guess that makes you the first man to walk on Mars.”

-o-o-o-

Ju was furious. “It was Kate’s right to be the first!”

The vacs in the airlock had sucked everything off their suits to the point Lee was surprised his hair wasn’t standing on end despite the helmet.

As it was, his hackles were somewhere near orbit as they stood in the conference room that doubled as a mess. “And what exactly do you think we were supposed to do? The ship was going to explode.” It was simple to Lee. Sure, he was all for equality, it was a given, but they would’ve been all equally dead if he and Jeff hadn’t done what they did.

“You didn’t give us a chance!”

“I’m the engineer here, Zhang. There wasn’t time! The decision was made and we are alive because of it.”

“Then why weren’t you first, Taylor? Why the hell was Tracy even out there? He’s not the engineer!”

Beside Lee, Jeff straightened. “Standard procedure, Zhang. We work in pairs. If you think I was going to let Lee go out in that on his own, you’ve been serving while wearing a blindfold.”

The short, dark-haired woman stepped up to the Major, her eyes fiery. “It was Kate’s place in history and you stole it!”

Lee flared. “We did what was necessary! This was not a publicity grab, for Christ’s sake! It didn’t even occur to us until we were returning. It was about saving our lives, Zhang. How can you possibly think it was anything else?”

“Because it always is.” She waved a hand at Jeff. “Always the hotshot. Always the first. Always the hero. Do you ever think, Tracy? Do you ever think about those you barrel past?”

Jeff glared down at the meteorologist. “I will not apologise for my achievements, Zhang. This was an honest to god accident.”

“Due to decisions made by you.”

“What the hell, Zhang?!” Lee pushed forward. That was taking it too far.

“We should never have tried to land in that dust storm. We should have waited it out.”

“You said we could take it!”

“But it wasn’t my decision, was it?” Her tone was a positive hiss at Jeff.

“Screw you, Zhang-“

“Taylor!”

“Jeff-“

The man was still the damn tall walking wall when he wanted to be. “Lee, stop.” He glared at Ju. “I will not apologise for my command decisions either, Zhang. What was done, is done.” His stance softened as he turned to Berry.

She had been ominously quiet the entire time.

Jeff sighed. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

The red-haired astrogeologist straightened away from the bulkhead, her arms still folded across her chest. Lee had always liked Berry. She had her head on much straighter than Ju ever did.

Ju was like a terrier with a bone.

The bone variety today was definitely Jeff-flavoured.

But there was only kindness in Berry’s eyes as she looked up at the Major. “This sucks, Jeff, it really does.” She looked down a moment. “But it is what it is and I guess it was what it was meant to be.” A shrug. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for third on Mars. Still pretty momentous, I think.”

“Kate, it doesn’t have to be that way.” Jeff took a step towards her. “It’s not official. It was a stupid repair. We can do the ceremonial step onto the planet anyway. No one has to know.”

Her head tilted to one side. “So, the ship miraculously healed itself?”

“Berry-“

She closed the gap between them, placing a hand on his arm. “Jeff, honestly, it’s not what is important here. You took the first step. We still have plenty of others that need to be taken. My ego can keep.”

Zhang flared again. “Kate, this was for women-“

“Ju, enough. It doesn’t matter! Humans have just landed on Mars, for god’s sake. I would have thought we would be a little less worried about the gender of the person taking the first step and more worried about the fact we did it without blowing up.”

“It was supposed to be you.” Ju wilted in defeat under Berry’s glare.

“Well, it was Jeff, and I think he is no less deserving than any of us.”

Jeff’s voice was quiet. “Are you sure, Kate?” The use of her first name was a rarity for the major, there was a friendship between those two almost as long as the one between Jeff and Lee. Hell, if Jeff hadn’t met Lee’s sister, Lucy, the engineer wondered what might have eventuated in that department.

Not that he had ever had to worry about that. Jeff was a complete sop for Lucy. His sis had the man wrapped around her little finger.

If that made Lee feel just that touch more protective of the crazy pilot, then so be it.

Kate straightened, her shoulders strong. “I’m sure.” Then her lips curled up a little. “Besides, my lines were so much more elegant than ‘Stick close, Lee. I’d hate to lose you in this.’”

Jeff snorted and shrugged. “If I’m going to make history gotta make sure my best friend is with me.”

Zhang made a disgusted sound and stormed out of the room.

Shoulders dropping, Jeff sighed. “Guess I need to work on my phrasing.”

But Lee was too wrapped in the moment, a little too proud and grateful to care. “She’ll live.”

The grunt from Jeff reminded Lee that they still had months to share living quarters with the fiery Ju.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her.” Berry squeezed Jeff’s arm before reaching out to Lee as well. “Thank you, both of you, for getting us down safely. We’re on Mars, guys. Let the party begin.”

The smile in her eyes was honest and ever so heartening.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #jeff tracy #pre-series #younger tracys #the mars mission #lee taylor #nuttyfic reblog

41 notes · View notes

ilcuoreardendo-fic · 3 months

Text

Protection and Banter (A Crosshair snippet)

Echo was learning, in these small, private moments in between duties and missions, that wherever Tech was, Crosshair would eventually follow. He might only pass through a room, giving it a quick surveil. Or he might sneer at a Reg who was looking too close to starting shit. Or he might throw out a comment that sounded mean to Echo but which Tech countered with a dignitary’s grace and which got a small, sly smirk from Crosshair in return.

It didn’t take Echo long to realize it was Crosshair’s way of checking in, ensuring everything was as it should be.

He’d commented on it to Tech a few rotations back, as they waited for their medical eval in preparation for departing Kamino.

“There was an incident with some Regs when we were cadets,” Tech had said as they watched one of the Regs come in, start to take a seat next to them only to about-face beneath the weight of Crosshair’s stare and sit on the other side of the room. “I was making modifications to the protocol of the training droids in the cadet gym, to better align with the strengths in which we would need to demonstrate proficiency during one of our final simulations. I wanted my squad to be prepared. I explained what I was doing...but the Regs seemed to take it as an insult. My arm was broken. Crosshair was heavily reprimanded for infighting. He’s been this way ever since.”

“Did you need something, Crosshair?” Tech asked as Echo stepped into the cockpit.

“Yeah. I need to not be woken up by one of your hairpin turns.” Crosshair eyed Echo as he lingered in the doorway. “How’s his flying sitting with you, Reg?”

“Ah,” Echo said intelligently, not used to being invited into the bickering.

He still wasn’t quite sure where he stood with Crosshair. The quiet clone was cool, often short when speaking with him. Not mean...but, Echo would never mistake his interactions for a warm welcome.

The most warmth he had gotten from Crosshair to date had been on Skako. The squad had sent him and Crosshair to the high ground. It was only fair. Echo had been in no shape for a stand up fight, but he could fire a blaster if needed. And he was doing just that—aiming for a half broken droid climbing toward their location—when one of the flyers swooped low overhead.

He’d felt the brush of metal talons against his scalp. Then Crosshair had yanked him to the ground, laid half on top of him, his weight and warmth familiar and alien all at once, and shot the droid out of the sky.

Tech glanced at Crosshair; his mouth was taught but his eyes were bright. “I’ll have you know that I passed Jaon Ehn’s flight training with exemplary scores. He gave me a commendation.”

“He’d probably take it back if he knew how your fancy flying blew out the left sublight and got us stranded on Murkhana.”

Tech sniffed. “It was the damage the Marauder took on Felucia that took out the sublight.”

Crosshair looked pointedly at Tech. “And how long would the engine have held if you hadn’t done what you usually do?”

Tech pushed his goggles up his nose, though he didn’t need to. “Potentially to our rendezvous on Boz Pity.”

Crosshair smirked and unfolded from the chair.

“But,” Tech continued, “I must point out the odds of us being blown apart by separatist fighters were far more likely if I didn’t make that dive into the atmosphere.”

“Whatever helps you sleep, Tech. Hey, Reg,” Crosshair said, passing by and plucking a mug of caf off the tray, “keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t fling us into the side of a passing cruiser.”

“I can hear you,” Tech said.

With a smirk over his shoulder and a rude gesture, Crosshair disappeared into the rear of the ship.

From Chapter 3: A Place Called Home (Series: Written in the Dust, an eventual kind of fix-it, self-indulgent fic.)

_________________

Crosshair and Tech are definitely batch twins. They have a unique connection. Echo's being invited in. Crosshair also has that big "I can pick on my brothers, but if you do it, no one will ever find your body" energy. These three together - I love them so much.

And, taking another look at "On Wings of Keeradaks" that shoulder touch he gives Echo is just...agh. *heart melts* It's an unspoken "well done," for shooting that droid out of the sky; and a touch that's meant to be both stabilizing and reassuring ("you're on the edge of a cliff, we're under fire, but I have your back").

I've played with some of their dynamic in several chapters in "A Place Called Home" but I definitely want more of it.

#crosshair bad batch #echo bad batch #tech bad batch #the bad batch #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper echo #clone trooper tech #tbb media #my edits #others gifs #echo and the batch #sw fic #series: written in dust

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fakegingerrights · 8 months

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Walk By Faith (7)

[A/N: We're finally starting to get somewhere with this! TW for mentions of Concussions and physical violence (choking)]

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Crosshair was silent on the ride back to Kamino, not a word to his squad except a muttered thanks when ES-03 gave him a water pouch.

He knew he looked awful, but most of the damage was surface level. His armor took the brunt of it. With his newly fixed helmet, he examined his injuries, noting the faintest outline of dusty handprints under his shoulders and similar dust drag marks on his legs and presumably his back as well. His whole body was covered in what felt like a minor sunburn, with some more scaly bits on his right side that stung and were beginning to itch.

Tech had known he needed his helmet to see. Had known how to fix his helmet. He had also, presumably, dragged him away from the blast of the ion engine or his burns would be way worse.

"An anonymous contact. I... don't think they're too fond of the empire. But they were willing to help you. More than willing."

"My contact was the one who came up with this, one of the first implantless neural networks of this scale."

Tech was the genius. Hunter was the strategist. Kriff, even Wrecker was brilliant when it came to weapons and explosives.

But Crosshair was no slouch either, and right now several pieces were falling into place. Tech was currently on the run from the empire. Tech was stupidly sentimental in his own right when it came to his brothers. Tech helped build Echo's upgraded hardware.

Tech knew enough about neural networks to devise a helmet like his.

Tech loved him enough to do this.

Tech lead him on a wild krayt chase

Tech was looking out for him still.

He didn't need Tech's protection.

Damn it you Cha'kaar, just admit you miss them!

Crosshair shook his head roughly, wincing as his vision glitched and flickered. He was getting a headache. But he had just figured out something more important than his current discomfort. Tech was your contact. You had been working with traitors.

You were a traitor. You had to be. You had to have known.

The white halls of Kamino jittered and glitched as he stalked down them towards the medical bay. He knew he needed to get checked out, but he was looking for you.

Traitor. You were a traitor. Was he a traitor?

Crosshair’s breathing was unnaturally loud in his ears as he staggered and fell to his knees. When had his vision cut out?

He ripped his helmet off. Salt stung his raw, burnt face as he gasped for air. Distant footsteps echoed around his head, muffled words, a familiar voice, was saying something. To him?

“-ss, vod, you’re hyperventilating.”

Echo? Was that Echo’s voice? No. Different reg.

“Bev?” He croaked, turning towards the sound. Hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him to his feet by his breastplate. His balance was strange. Bev was solid beside him, taking most of his weight and helping him to an exam room, shutting the curtain behind him and guiding him to a cot.

“Can I get you out of that armor, Crosshair?” Bev asked, keeping his hand on his shoulder.

Crosshair shook his head, murmuring your name softly as he tried to get his addled brain into focus. Bev kept his hold on Crosshair's shoulder as he paged you discretely. He checked him over for a concussion and started getting bacta on the burns on his cheeks. Crosshair flinched every time the cold gel touched him, still staring vacantly into the distance. Well, even more so than he normally did.

"Crosshair?”

He gave a start. Bev was tapping on his shoulder, against the grey-coated plating. “I really need to examine you.”

Mutely, Crosshair nodded. Bev’s quick fingers caught the catches of his breastplate, making quick work of the plates. A knock on the door startled both of them.

“Maker, what happened to you?” You breathed, stepping into the room and taking in his soot covered and burned face and the littered injuries around his body. You moved to help Bev with your patient’s plates, but as soon as your fingers brushed him he snapped into motion.

His hand wrapped around your throat as he slammed you into the medical bench, cutting off your airway. His eyes were glazed over and his face stony. Even blind, his eyes bored into yours with frightening intensity.

Bev was quick to react, yanking Crosshair off of you and stepping between you two. Crosshair snarled, his face a mask of fury.

“Traitor.” He snarled at you, moving to lunge but Bev held him back.

“Your Doctor is no traitor.” He hissed, holding Crosshair away. Crosshair went limp, all the fight draining away as fast as it had come. His knees buckled and Bev was quick to catch him.

You were sitting up, rubbing your throat and coughing weakly. Dark bruises were forming, but it could definitely be worse.

“What’s going on?” You demand, your voice croaking and hoarse.

“Not sure. He’s been off the whole time.” Bev said sharply, draping him back on the cot and jabbing a port into Crosshair's hand, holding him to the bed with his off hand as he paws through his bag looking for a sedative that wouldn't be too dangerous if his outburst was caused by a concussion. Crosshair didn't fight, just laying limp where he was left, his eyes wide and empty as his chest heaved. Hyperventilating.

Slowly, whatever Bev managed to give him took effect and his eyes slowly drifted closed, his panting slowing into the slow, metronome steady rhythm of sleep.

"Let me see your neck." Bev asked quietly, pulling out a tube of bacta.

"I'm alright." You rasp, but tilt your head to the side and let him apply a thin layer of the stuff, even though it wouldn't do much since there were no open wounds. Still, the pleasant cooling sensation was a relief on the fresh marks. "I'm... more worried about him, honestly."

"I know. I'm... anxious, about letting him back into the field. I was before but this confirms my worries even more. He needs help. Those chips alter your thought patterns and hormone levels to reduce trauma and depression symptoms, as well as any underlying mental illnesses. You saw how much of a mess I was after removing mine, but the special units go through literal hell in training." Bev rambled a bit, pulling out his datapad.

"I'm going to fudge his papers a bit. He needs rest. I'm marking him down as concussed and confused, explaining his violent outburst and get him put up in his current quarters with a 'treatment' plan. How's renovations coming along?" He looked up at you expectantly.

"...Better. I have the bed put together and everything, but I got a little distracted on my latest project." You explained, glancing back at Crosshair's pale form. Even asleep and drugged, there was a tension in him that hadn't quite left. A crease between his brows that never quite smoothed out.

You startled at your name, Bev placing a hand on your shoulder. "I know that look. You can't save them all. Doctor, I'm not even sure you can save him."

"Bev I can't just... I have to do this. This isn't..." You shook your head in frustration. "Where's his helmet. His face is damaged so his helmet must be too."

"He had torn it off in the hall. I left it there in favor of getting it to you. I'll go retrieve it." Bev offered, leaving you alone in the room with Crosshair. You took it upon yourself to get the thin blanket pulled up over him and arranged him in a more comfortable position.

As you went to adjust his thin pillow slightly, his eyes fluttered open, staring right through you. As if sensing your hesitation, he rolled his head towards you, a sigh catching in his rough throat as his temple connected with your hand. Some of the tension left his face.

"I forgive you." You murmur, not sure how aware he was. "We'll talk later, but I forgive you." You stroked his hair gently, fine silver curls soft under your fingertips. And sooty. Grey streaks were left on your fingertips.

"Here's his helmet, Doc." Bev called from the doorway. "Go nuts."

You caught the dirty gray helmet, instantly seeing where part of it had been smashed in and torn away. Wires had obviously been repaired after coming loose.

Tucked under them was a note that made your blood freeze.

"To the doctor in charge of CC 9904, otherwise known as Crosshair. And to me, I call him 'Brother.'....."

Crosshair ached all over. There was a strange weight on the forefront of his face, across his nose and around his eyes. He felt bruised and burned across his entire body. There was the sound of soft snores nearby, higher than a brothers' and feminine.

On instinct, he opened his eyes as he sat up wincing at first from the sharp pain in his ribs and back then blinking in the dim light of his room.

Oh. That was new.

A trembling hand reached up to investigate the weight on his face he couldn't see, fingers bumping against smooth metal and glass an inch from his cheekbones. Glasses? No. Goggles. They felt remarkably like the ones Tech wore.

The ones that pressed into his nose as he pressed his forehead against his brother's, the brother who had taken a shot meant for him

Ones that had often ended up digging into his shoulder as he and Wrecker wrangled Tech from his workbench to sleep

Goggles that-

Crosshair dug the heel of his palm into his forehead in an attempt to stop the haunting memories. He instantly hissed and lightened the contact, flipping his hand over to press the chronically icy backs of his fingers against his too hot face.

At his hiss, the snoring stopped and there was the sound of shifting fabric off to his right. You were curled up in a chair that hadn't been there before, stretching and rubbing your eyes. Now that he could see it, the entire room was different from when he had been here last. His bed had been changed, the mattress soft and thick beneath him. The blankets still smelled like sunshine rather than bleach, but there were more of them.

The closet doors had been pulled off, and now he could see a well stocked with civilian clothes. Male, civilian clothes. The desk by his bed had a lamp on it, off currently. There was also a window that he hadn't noticed, high above his bed. For once, it was sunny out on Kamino, lighting up the room without the need for lights.

"You're awake..." You yawned, stretching your arms over your head and running a hand through your hair, making a face as your fingers caught on a snarl from sleeping in a chair. "How're you feeling?"

"... Tired. Not... I don't know. And sore." He grumbled, wincing at the sound of his own voice. "What time is it?"

"Early morning. You've been asleep for a day and a half or so. Even after whatever Bev hit you with wore off." You explained, popping all your joints you could reach as you stood up, sighing in relief as the cracks sounded in the room.

"... I hurt you." He admitted, glancing at your neck. The bruises were faded thanks to the bacta, but he could still see them. "I... " He fumbled for an explanation, icy fear prickling at his neck. He could be decommissioned for that.

"You're forgiven, Crosshair." You broke him out of his building panic. "I know why you did it. Tech... left a note tucked into your helmet."

"Oh..." Crosshair wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"It... explained a lot of things. I thought I was a loyal citizen of the empire. I was so sure... The jedi had been traitors. That we had done the right thing. But those chips... I saw how it affected Bev. They're horrible. I don't know what to believe now."

Crosshair's hackles rose as he stared at you incredulously.

"I'm... me and Bev had a conversation. Bev and I. Whatever. I'm going to give you a choice."

You held up three fingers.

"One. You stay with the empire. Me and Bev will vanish, marked as traitors to the Empire. Neither us will fault you for that." You ticked off one finger, stepping closer. "Two. We tell the empire you're dead. You're sent back with your brothers. You go home with them." Another finger, another step. You're standing right next to the bed. Crosshair stares at you, pupils wide behind his new goggles. He looked so much like his brother right now. Your eyes traced over his tattoo.

"Three. We go with the plan Tech suggested. You stay here with us. We work to take the empire down from the inside out."

Crosshair starts, eyes going wide. He quickly looks down at his lap, fidgeting aimlessly with his hands.

Tech's plan.

Tech had a plan for him.

His brothers had a plan.

He wasn't alone.

"... I like option three." He muttered down at his lap. He jumped slightly as you put a hand on his shoulder.

"Welcome home, Commander Crosshair."

Crosshair hesitated, then leaned into the touch. "... Glad to be back." And he was. For the first time in a long, long while, Crosshair felt like himself.

Taglist:

@the-hexfiles @moon-wrecked @stunkbiggu @urfriendlyneighbornightfury @followthepurrgil @endo-bunny @renon4224 @tecker @rinwritesfics @pb-jellybeans @merkitty49 @chicknstripz @bambambunny @yeeteth-the-raven

#soft crosshair #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair imagine #tbb crosshair imagine #hurt/comfort #crosshair #WalkByFaith #GingerWrites #now we're getting somewhere #God I hate slowburns.#My arch nemisis #patience

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ami-journal · 1 year

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vro0m · 7 months

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Do you think if 2024 is just as bad/maybe slightly better we will still see Lewis on the grid? I know he wants that 8th title that is rightfully his, however, it has to be the most difficult thing mentally, physically and even on a spiritual level to have the hunger, fire and want to fight up front but the machine underneath you just doesn't do what it's meant to do and doesn't seem to align well with the driver in the seat which is so disheartening to see.

Hard question. Ultimately I don't know, because I don't know him and I'm not in his head, but there's a few things I imagine would have an influence on that decision.

SORRY IT GOT SLIGHTLY LONG (duh)

1- The contract

First of all let's not forget he's contracted until the end of 2025. We all know contracts can be broken but it does make it seems he's determined to not give up quite yet.

2- The car

Of course the car performance is the main thing. It's very unlikely, unless there's a legit engineering miracle happening, that the W15 will be able to challenge RedBull. But I don't think he's necessarily asking for that much. I think if the next car feels better to him in testing, and then he sees the development finally reliably go in the right direction, even if slowly, it'll give him enough hope and fire to sustain the effort for a bit longer.

3- The 2026 regs

If the car stays bad or doesn't get much better, the second main question imo is can he keep himself going until 2026 to see if the new regs change the situation. Can you imagine retiring at the end of 2025 just for the 2026 car being good again? It would be infuriating. 2026 is in quite a long time but I do feel like he wouldn't leave without checking it out if he can't get what he's still here for until then (and he almost certainly won't).

4- The mental side of things (amp up the speculation)

I feel like it's pretty clear he had a retirement plan and the Abu Dhabi 2021 finale has pushed that back. He also said he wasn't planning on still being there at 40. So on the one hand, he might be kinda done? Or more like he wishes he was done? I do personally feel like at times he seemed tired and disengaged (understandable). But it's not necessarily a bad thing to be able to put some distance between F1 (or anything really) and oneself imo, and not be starving and frustrated all the time because it's not going how you'd like. Take Alonso. Alonso wants to win extremely bad as well. I mean he hasn't won in 5'000 years but he's STILL trying at his old age (I'm half-joking). But ultimately his detached attitude in the face of lack of performance is what he owes his longevity to. He still wants it, but he doesn't let it get to him too much when he can't get it. It's not sustainable to be angry about something you have no control over 100% of the time. You will burn out. You need to let go.

On the other hand, can Lewis really detach? No one has been as fully dedicated, no one has sacrificed so much for so long, no one has put as much effort in it, no one has set such a high standard for himself than he did. His own teammates have been saying that. His own teammates have burnt out trying to keep up. AND he's being going at that pace for so long, been on the top for so long, I wonder if he even can let go enough to wait for better days without exhausting himself mentally in the meantime. He's not used to it. I'm not saying his career has been smooth sailing, he's had subpar or even bad cars before. But not for like. A decade. In a sense he's precisely in the position his teammates have been in. But instead of them VS Lewis, it's now Lewis VS the car, I guess? My point is in both cases, when you give it your 110% and don't see ANY result coming your way, you can't keep giving 110%.

Basically it's a fight between the fire in his gut and the dull reality of things. I don't know who wins because we haven't really been there before.

5- Time

The only similar situation was the last few years at McLaren but he was winning races even then. And his solution was move teams. I think it's unlikely he will do that again, most of all because he's running out of time. Back then he had the time to build up from the ground again, but it's not the case anymore.

So the last question is, if he does keep at it, until when? At some point he will have to retire. If he manages to win his 8th, then it's pretty clear-cut. If he doesn't, when does he stop trying? The longer he stays, the further from quitting while he's ahead he is. Maybe it's just my own feelings talking but I feel like it would be also very disappointing and annoying to leave in such a lackluster way after having accomplished so much. Although I guess that's often the tragic fate of champions. Anyway, there must be some kind of deadline in his head, maybe not a fully hard one, but at his age and with where he's at in life with the rest of his projects, I don't think he's blindly walking along anymore. We have no way of knowing what the deadline is though. Time will tell.

#f1 #lewis hamilton #2023 winter break #vro0m's asks

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owlconscience · 7 months

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hey🕊

my name's meg (she/her), i am here to post about my interests and love my friends

sp interests: BIRDS, HEART WORK, [deep sigh] tangled the series reg interests: ecology, natural history, archery, swords & fencing, medieval history & chivalric romances, sapphic fantasy books, murder mysteries, working out, buffy the vampire slayer, legend of zelda

u might know me from such hits as "mediocre bird photographs" and "tangled screenshot text post memes on twitter" and "lake's ex-wife (beloved)"

if you like tangled and cassunzel i have an AO3 account (<- link) where i write about those two A Lot (all fics on hiatus as of early 2023 due to a health problem, i hope to get back to writing soon) (also if u don't like/care about tangled or cassunzel youre gonna wanna blacklist #tts or #cassunzel if u follow, lol)

MOST IMPORTANTLY u should check out the webseries Heart Work (<- link) by Lake Fama (summary):

Heart Work is a silly queer romcom about fake dating to the Extreme - a disaster heartbreaker and perfectionist engineer are mistakenly paired to do a job only soulmates can do in a city absurdly obsessed with romance, but they are Not soulmates

thank u for reading, have a bird

(^spotted towhee absolutely belting it out)

#megposting

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wisteriagoesvroom · 3 months

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highlights from ruth buscombe's podcast interview (or, views from a strategist baddie on the track)

listened to the ruth buscombe - the former ferrari, haas and sauber strategist - pitstop podcast over lunch and intended to make only a few notes, but she’s so sharp and funny that i ended up scribbling loads. anyway, enjoy:

youtube

ruth’s on gardening leave atm (hasn’t said where she’s going yet. peep the quadrant hoodie tho...). they have long gardening leave because strategists and engineers have so much proprietary info on the cars, they’re usually allowed at least a year to wait it out so they don’t (in theory) bring the intel with them

ruth worked with the FIA to build and simulate where the DRS zones should be because DRS used to be a free for all across the whole track. crazy to imagine huh

on planning for a race vs being reactive: if other teams make a “wrong” strategy in a race or something unexpected like change their number of pitstops, you’d have to be fluid in responding to that or it fucks your race too. she used daniel in shanghai (?) one year as an example

ruth was with seb for his first ferrari win!! legend. there were a number of personnel changes when he arrived and then she was “left holding the strategy baby [for that race] and i was like — okay!” lol. “this was after 2014 a winless season and you don’t want that because you bring shame upon the whole of italy”. aksjsksks.

kinda wild tho. ruth called for the two stop in sepang that resulted in seb’s race win and was 25 when this happened. making the calls like that is so impressive

on vegas: the maths of poker is the same as the maths of strategy (what!!!!! incredible)

she worked with charles and says he’s a very genuine guy, and very talented obviously

they ask her about the lewis ferrari signing and she drops the lore that lewis had actually been in talks with them ages ago, before the merc era. “maybe this [urge] has always been there”.

she was a DIEHARD mclaren fan and went to the ferrari job interview as practice but ended up saying yes to ferrari 💀💀 “ferrari carbed and ice creamed their way to my heart. and they showed me the factory bits you don’t normally see” she’s so real. “i went to ferrari for the interview and then mclaren. like the old grey mclaren not the cool one now. people thought something was wrong with me cus i grew up loving mclaren and then i was going to work at ferrari” AHHAHAKSKSKKSKS

kind of hilariously, she gets motion sickness from watching and monitoring the sim side of the engineering, which is kinda why she switched to the strategy side. the switch happened after one of the races with nando and massa, she proposed unsealing a gearbox on one of the cars, a legal thing, and it got the team a good result so that was history

she thinks max will win based on pace advantage this year cus of the braking evolution this year

2026 is gonna be a huge change in the reg cus of the power unit

all the sacrifice is for race day because it’s such a punishing career travel and time-wise. “if you do not see pressure as a privilege this is probably not the job for you”

on diversity: there’s a study from before liberty media’s takeover that said “the average f1 fan is a 53 year old white male blue collar worker who lived in coventry”. and now there’s a much wider range of fans. and also directly references lewis’s mission 44 as helping to broaden reach.

“drivers are like children. you cannot say who’s your favourite child otherwise you cause like, years of therapy. even if you like one child better than the other you should never say” HELP HAHAH

she troubleshooted a (sauber?) race during one of her first races, there was nothing was loading on the pit wall screens. she’s furiously checking the backend. lights out and they had no numbers. then “the lord sent me an aborted start”. turns out it was a timezone setting issue in the computers. crazy stuff. they ended up going from the back to p6 (!!)

on joining the career ladder as a strategist: there is no strategy school so it’s about learning skills you need to do the job. e.g. doing a maths or computing degree etc. she did the formula student challenge when they build a f1 car

random but: “the first time ross brawn sent me an email i printed it out. best. day. of my life.” 😂

on strategy calls and being able to adapt for different tracks: “as a strategist you do not want to be a one trick pony. you want like. a whole field of ponies”

(the end. loved her perspective. hope we get more in the future!! the whole thing is 100% worth listening to if you have the time.)

#women in motorsport #ruth buscombe #f1 #f1blr

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dykeferatu · 8 months

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hi... i hope you dont mind this but u should talk about taeho and parker.... deathly curious. what're both of their general deals? ik taeho is a tzimisce but not much else otherwise :^)

OF COURSE I DON'T MIND!! i dont think anyones ever just asked me to explain my ocs i usually just babble about them and i assume everyone just goes "who the hell are they talking about" and moves on. unless they are my fwiends who i'm insane abt ocs with on the reg. anyway, thank u so so much for asking!! infodump commences

i'll start with parker because she hasn't had any session yet so her lore is not deep, and since at least one other player will likely read this i can't quite reveal all the fun bits yet! here's the only drawing i have atm. subject to change but this is the vibe

parker (she/her) is a 21 year old skater chick (and lesbian) in the year 2007. she recently had an experience that turned her onto the path of a hunter. one of her friends was attacked by Something a few nights ago. she hit the thing with a bat (she used to play softball :D) but it didn't seem to phase it. at one point when she was checking out the crime scene, she ran into... her old high school english teacher. the victim was 18 and a current student of his, and he was curious about the incident too.

the two teamed up on their investigation and met an occult bookstore owner who took interest and told them she might know a guy who can help. all 4 of them will meet up for the first time in the first session on saturday :>

----

now, taeho..... taeho taeho. shim taeho (he/she) is a south korean cybernetics expert in the year 2077 (so many sevens in these years. that's a coincidence). she was a cybernetic designer/engineer i guess? i don't really know cyberpunk i'll be honest with u. she was also a back-alley ripperdoc. you can only understand so much about cybernetics without installing them yourself :)

(art courtesy of @cradlingsongs)

she made some great achievements in her field, which attracted the attention of a tzimisce, jaeyoon (they/them). jaeyoon was interested in figuring out the mechanics of cybernetics on kindred, so they embraced taeho to be both a lab partner and a guinea pig. they also didn't let taeho leave the haven often because the camarilla was not welcoming to them. he'd only ever fed on their vitae until recently. no hard feelings, though! taeho loves her sire (why yes, he is Mega Blood Bonded, why do you ask?).

their main project together has been developing some sick doc ock tentacles by combining vicissitude and cybernetics. taeho has 2 currently installed. she's a beast with them in combat and it's a delight (when the dice don't hate me...)

anyway, after about 8 years of being holed up with his sire, the city they reside in was attacked by the SI. jaeyoon didn't come home, and taeho was left all alone. she waited, but eventually he knew he had to leave. she fled to the nearby city of seoul.

since it was his understanding that a tzimisce weren't really allowed in the camarilla, taeho decided to masquerade as another clan. and what other clan should she choose but the fucking tremere? look. he knows he has very nerdy energy so she figured she could blend in. plus, he was very curious about blood sorcery. could never quite figure out all that koldunic stuff.

since then she's been eating shit as a cammie scrub in a coterie of other scrubs (or, originally other scrubs. some players have rotated out and now half the coterie is much better off than taeho and the other refugee in the coterie). shenanigans have ensued, most notably for him when he got trapped into a marriage with a changeling that ended in a very messy divorce. uh. taeho may have been marked by the changeling relative that escaped the blood bath. it's fine.

i also have to include that this particular chronicle is, honestly, very horny. which is a lot of taeho's fault (but not entirely... *side-eyes lavender and her regnant*). for some reason his autistic swag is so strong that she has gotten laid THRICE since we started playing. none of the other pcs have done that even once... you'd probably expect the mafia girlboss or the sexy lasombra who takes every opportunity to take his shirt off to be pulling more, but you'd be wrong.

in recent events: a couple sessions ago taeho reunited with her sire! he cried like a baby, finally got to do some fleshcrafting (she had been feeling very trapped in this form... had a bit of a gender crisis. he's still figuring out exactly what's going on in that regard but hey the egg has definitely cracked, hence the new set of pronouns), and then had some. fun times. with her beloved sire. unfortunately, due to reasons, he can't stay with them. also they've been cursed somehow so taeho has to figure that out now. it's fine.

more recent events: taeho's regent/mentor seems to be reaching his limit on tolerating taeho's secretiveness. he's known that taeho has been lying about her clan since, like, almost the start. this regent is a very unusual tremere, and didn't immediately reveal taeho. in fact, he didn't even force taeho to tell him anything. he had already decided to take him under his wing, so that was that.

last session though he got a little fed up with the lack of trust. taeho tried to counter with some rumors he'd heard about the regent, expecting to weasel out, but instead the regent just laid out his whole tragic backstory to her. taeho didn't know how to respond to this, and also still couldn't tell the tremere regent that he was a tzimisce while they were in the middle of a chantry. she felt really bad about not telling the truth, which is weird and fucked up. why does he feel so bad about hurting this tremere??

i think i've said all the important stuff and then some, so i'll wrap it up. ahh.. taeho.... i love her. he's so fun to play. her game has already been going for over a year i think but only recently did he really click in my head. and boy. boy oh boy did he click. dug her cybernetic claws into the folds of my brain. i'm in pain. anyway i have some more art and posts in her tag if u want to check that out wehehehe

#inbox #THANK YOU AGAIN FOR ASKING ANON ILY #oc: parker #oc: taeho #chronicleposting #chronicle: eye for an eye #chronicle: cmnd & cntrl

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enigmatist17 · 1 year

Text

A gift for @slenderboo :)

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"Hunter, I have sufficiently masked our escape route, so you may release the console." Tech adjusts his goggles as the Marauder hits its seventh hyperspace jump, and Hunter finally releases the co-pilot steering once the blue glow washes over the cockpit. The Empire would have most likely given up after jump number three, but when you've just raided some outpost and killed some of the Empire's new natborn troopers to save some clones, you could never be too sure.

Speaking of, Tech does not miss the way Hunter glances at the door, and motions towards it with his head.

"Go, check on him, I do not need a co-pilot right now."

Hunter grumbles, but gets onto his weary feet to head out of the cockpit and into the ship. There had only been three clones among the natborns that had been loading an Imperial cargo ship, who turned on their superiors when the Batch came in swinging alongside the small group that had been sent along with a lieutenant that was dead by the time they arrived. They all either nodded at Hunter or watched him quietly head further into the ship, to where a certain clone was lying in a bunk, Echo crouched over him with a medical scanner in hand.

Crosshair was so thin at first glance, teeth chattering despite being wrapped up in every blanket that Omega could find stashed in the ship. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and Hunter reaches out before he can stop himself to place his hand over Crosshair's chest, feeling the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

"He just needs some rest." Echo scanned Crosshair's forehead, eyes flickering over when Hunter pulled his hand away. "He will be fine."

"...how's the other guy?" Hunter has to look away, or he'll just stand here until the end of time.

"He's not much better, we'll need more bacta." Echo shook his head, motioning toward the direction of their actual medical room. "Could you just check on him for a moment, I'm almost done with Cross."

"Yea, I can do that." Hunter cast one last look at Crosshair before heading towards medical, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so to ward off a migraine he could feel building.

"What's wrong with you?" If Hunter wasn't a trained soldier he might have jumped the moment he walked through the doorway, instead just grunting in response.

"Headache."

The spare bed has been dragged out for one of the extra men currently taking residence in the main living area, leaving the clone on his own. Said man is looking at Hunter with a mixture of slight amusement and guarded caution, his common brown eyes differing with a ring of silver around his iris earning an extra look from Hunter.

"I didn't catch your name?" Hunter had been far more concerned about throwing both the man and Crosshair over his shoulders and bolting for safety, so pleasantries hadn't been handed out until hours later.

"Mayday." Hunter nods as he begins to take some vitals, and for a moment neither of the men speaks over the beeping of the machine next to the bed. "So...Clone Force 99?"

"What?" Hunter glances up, currently scanning Mayday's chest to ensure he's healing properly.

"Ol' Crosshair said you all were gone." Mayday rolled his eyes, letting out a breathless chuckle. "Lying ass vod'ika."

"Sounds right for him." Hunter shrugged, and is satisfied with the vitals when he finally steps back and stows the scanner for later. It takes a slow breath not to react to the mando'a term, especially from a reg. "Did you know him long?"

"Not particularly." Mayday winced as he slightly adjusted himself to sit up a little more. "Good company, despite all of the death and destruction." Hunter nodded, leaning against the medicine cabinet and crossing his arms with a slight huff.

"Crosshair tends to cause that." Mayday raised an eyebrow, and for a few moments, the warble of the engine is all that passes between them.

"I'm not sure what happened between you, but you're wrong." There was a flicker of surprise that crossed Hunter's face, but Mayday had been around long enough to spot it before the younger clone could mask it. "Saved my life, despite me telling him to go."

"Crosshair...?" Ah, that surprise is back, and Mayday huffs.

"Mhm. Course, I saved his first, but semantics semantics." The smirk that tugged on his lips for a moment felt more like a grimace, but Mayday knew he wasn't exactly a pretty guy these days. "Should clock him though, disobeying orders like that damn kih'vod."

"He always does." Hunter blurted out, clearly a few steps behind the conversation.

"Not surprising to hear." Mayday gave a small shrug, and is rewarded with only a slight pain. Good. "He alright?"

"He will be." Mayday nods and doesn't push any further. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, not like I'm going anywhere," Mayday grunted, watching the conflict pass on Hunter's face for a moment.

"You called him vod'ika...Crosshair doesn't like regs." Regs? Not a term he's heard before, but seeing that this Clone Force 99 was different, not surprising in the long run.

"Dunno, maybe I'm just charming. Or, maybe Crosshair isn't as uptight as you think." Mayday could see a coloring of rage in those eyes trained on him, and he continues. "Being left with the Empire can break anyone, especially when batchmates do it as a group."

"We didn't leave him." If Mayday hadn't been so jaded from time, he might have been unsettled from the hiss sent his direction. "He stayed, he..."

He doesn't have to explain.

"Most of us regs thought we were doing the right thing," Mayday shook his head, as if warding away the Empire in his thoughts. "People change, doesn't matter how long it takes."

"Yea...maybe."

Could he really take the chance to believe?

Hunter couldn't see if there was another angle, a way to take any sliver of kindness to use against them, anything malicious that he was always searching for. Crosshair had to be against them still, right?

Right?

"Go to him vod, he's going to need you." Mayday's voice is softer than Hunter has heard up until this point, and the two share a look before Hunter pushes himself up onto his feet. His instincts are still erring on the side of caution as he makes his way back to Crosshair, but when he sits down next to his unconscious brother, taking a cold hand into his?

Well, maybe Mayday had a point.

#star wars #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb mayday #tbb echo #tbb tech #mayday lives AU #tbb crosshair #crosshair #echo #hunter #tech #mayday #a fic gift <3

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