#who can put in the fastest lap with the least mistakes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atariklaus · 1 year

Text

Ghiaccio X Melone

Smut, yeah pretty much it

"Let's make a porno and watch it on VCR"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ghiaccio had the unfortunate circumstance of his room sharing a wall with Melone. Most nights, he can hear faint... Noises... Coming through the walls, though they were so quiet that he could've easily hallucinated them.

Not tonight. This night Melone was so loud, Ghiaccio was surprised the others couldn't hear. That, or they decided to pretend like they didn't.

The lucky bastards got to sleep while Ghiaccio was drowning in the sound, "STAI ZITTO!!" he screamed through the wall, of course causing no change. Then, he began kicking the wall, hoping to scare him into stopping. Or for at the very least to kill the mood! But whatever he was getting off to must've been good, so he decided to march his way over and just freeze him. He could thaw him out in the morning.

The door to Melone's room flew open and now Ghiaccio could hear two sounds; Melone's lewd moans, and the video he was watching.

Ghiaccio stood behind him at the edge of the bed, ready to scream into his ear until he read the title; "Muscle Stud in Bondage Stretched & Jerked Off Until He Cums BDSM" with a guy who easily be Risotto on a... Torture device of sorts?

That was it.

That was the final straw.

Ghiaccio couldn't decide what to yell about first; Melone's obnoxious whining, or all the grammatical errors in the porn title itself, and God forbid what mistakes the comments made.

But as he was lost in thought, Melone arched his back and let out a big cry, his head bending back to see Ghiaccio there. Instead of paying him any mind, he continued twisting his hand in all the right directions and at just the right speed. Ghiaccio noticed Melone staring and looked down to see Melone's overheated face, panting and blushing hard as he moaned even louder. He was massaging a nip with his free hand, twisting and pinching and pulling, all for Ghiaccio's eyes to watch.

A throaty groan pulled out before he could speak, "Y-Ya~ You sh-should join me~ Don't th-think I didn't notice that b-bulge of yours mhmhmhmm..." He smiled sweetly.

Ghiaccio snapped out of it and looked down at his bottoms, sure enough hard as ice, "Huh? What? Fuck off!" He tried catching himself to save face, "And keep it down!!"

Melone rolled over onto his stomach, the pornstar's moans still filling the silence, "Aww," he put on a pouty face, "but I'd let you hit~"

Hit? Hit what?! Him, hopefully.

But oh dear God is he making it harder to say 'no'. Ghiaccio sucked in a breath and absent mindedly began adjusting his pants, hoping to relieve the tension.

Melone was way too far in to have the time for foreplay and instead took matters into his own hands. He hooked one of his fingers into the elastic waist of Ghiaccio's bottoms and led him up closer to the head of the bed, ghosting his mouth over the bulge and looking up at Ghiaccio. The fastest way to make a man agree.

And oh did he.

Like putty in Melone's hands, Ghiaccio leaned into him and allowed Melone to do all the work, still a little lost himself.

Melone snaked his hand out from the band and behind Ghiaccio, pulling him onto the bed with a hand on his ass, "Here, lay down for me," he cooed softly.

Ghiaccio took a breath first before speaking, "Look, I'm not here to play games with you-"

Melone cut him off, "Trust me. And if you don't like it, I'll stop."

Whatever will get him to shut up works for Ghiaccio at this point. He sat down onto the bed, laying down on his back with his head at the foot of the bed. Melone reached back and handed him one of the pillows to rest on, Ghiaccio taking it without a thought.

Melone shuffled his way onto Ghiaccio's lap, making himself comfortable. He leaned over and ran his hands firmly down Ghiaccio's arms, working out any tension, "You're always so stressed~ You have to relax more often."

Ghiaccio fell a little out of his daze, a bit annoyed, "I am relaxed."

Melone giggled a little and put a finger up to Ghiaccio's lips, "Ah, nuh uh~! Not another word from you tonight, got it?" and before he could retaliate, Melone leaned into his neck and kissed it softly, sure to leave goosebumps.

A shiver ran down Ghiaccio's spine as his breathing suddenly picked up, and for the first time in a while, his body began feeling hot. Melone mouthed one spot of his neck, mixing in soft and forceful, clean and sloppy, anything that'll force a sound to escape Ghiaccio's guarded mouth.

Ghiaccio tried his best to stay quiet, not wanting to be so lewd to his comrade, who is currently on top of him, but with all the sensations and the porn in the background still playing, it was impossible to last for too long.

First one, then two, then four, and more gasps would break free past his tightly sealed mouth. Even though Melone was successful, he wasn't getting what he wanted.

Very carefully, like a game of Russian roulette, he nipped at Ghiaccio's neck. Instead of receiving a back-hand and a shove from him, he got a hand gripping his hair and the other pulling him in closer, followed by a whine.

Melone detached his mouth from Ghiaccio's neck and picked his head up, looking down at him with their noses nearly touching, "Oh come on now," Melone grinned, "I know you can be louder than that."

Ghiaccio let his temper get to him, yet again, and grabbed Melone by the hips, pushing him up and back down onto his back, flipping him. Melone hit the pillows on the other side with a squeal, overdoing it with a moan and a pant, eyelids sitting low and a loose smile as he wrapped his legs around Ghiaccio's sides.

"You always have something dumb to say, huh?" he huffed, kissing him harshly as he rutted against Melone.

Melone's hands were busy messing up Ghiaccio's curls as he went to push Ghiaccio's head up and off his mouth, "Oh God, just get it over with!" he whined.

Ghiaccio didn't feel like wasting anymore time as he tugged off his bottoms, boxers going along with them. He quickly threw them off and onto the floor. He practically ripped off the shirt as he dove back in for another kiss. The kisses moved lower and lower, making their way to Melone's navel before they were interrupted.

Ghiaccio looked up through his loose curls, "Hey, don't tell anyone I did this," he warned. Before Melone could ask what he was referring to, his dick was suddenly surrounded and engulfed by a hot, warm, moist heat.

His eyes shot open and looked down as Ghiaccio massaged him with his mouth, freezing cold hands holding his hips down. Clenching and unclenching his throat, he sucked in Melone's dick deeper and deeper.

Melone's eyes rolled back and he was near-about frozen in place, gasping for air as more and more moans fell out. His thighs squeezed tightly against Ghiaccio's head, which encouraged him to be even more forceful and rough with his treatment, causing Melone to grab onto Ghiaccio's head and try to pull him off.

"Wait~! St-stop, or I'll end up~" he never finished that sentence, but instead, finished down Ghiaccio's throat. It didn't stop Ghiaccio though, who continued to help Melone ride the high as he felt him soften in his mouth.

Once Melone did, Ghiaccio slid him out with a quiet pop at the end, never loosening the grip.

Melone finally caught his breath, "Sh-shit, that was too damn good for you not to."

"'Not to' what?" Ghiaccio asked.

Melone soon answered the question by sliding down the bed, underneath Ghiaccio's body -as he currently held himself up by his hands- and down to his thighs. He gave each one a gentle kiss before slipping Ghiaccio's dick into his mouth, letting it sit there as he arched his back to give Ghiaccio a full view of his ass.

And man, did he love the view. He brushed his hand across it lightly, surprised he'd never noticed how full it was. Ghiaccio was definitely an ass man, but Melone was so much of a nuisance that he tried his best to ignore him most the time.

Ghiaccio's surprisingly soft touches only excited Melone more as he shook his ass for him, placing his own hands on the back of Ghiaccio's thighs to pull him closer in. Ghiaccio got the message and began rocking his hips back and forth, making his way all the way down Melone's throat.

As he picked up speed, he watched as it caused Melone's ass to bounce more and more, driving him mad. One hand held Melone's backside spread open as the other he wetted to use on Melone.

First, the middle finger, sliding all the way down to the third knuckle before curling up as he dragged it all the way out, repeating again in a torturously slow rhythm. Melone whined low, sending vibrations down Ghiaccio's dick.

Fuck, that felt really good.

His rocking went out of sync for a moment as he bucked his hips. Melone giggled, sending more vibrations, but Ghiaccio steadied himself.

He continued to drag his finger painstakingly slow as he slipped past an extra digit. Melone rewarded him with an overexcited hum, nearly overstimulating Ghiaccio.

This was Ghiaccio's first time in a very, very long time and he needed more. He picked up his pace, slamming his fingers fast and hard into Melone, causing all those great whines to flood through his dick.

Ghiaccio bucked more and more, becoming very erratic, which caught Melone's attention.

All of a sudden, Melone slips out Ghiaccio's dick from his mouth, leading to an irritated cry.

"Mel-..." was all he could get out. Melone never seen such a vulnerable side of Ghiaccio. He was even slurring his words, which a linguistic stickler like Ghiaccio would make sure to never do. It was... cute, in a way, watching him panting on all fours, a pouty look on his face and in his eyes, which were covered by the curls now.

It was too... submissive, to not catch Melone's attention, "I have an even better idea," he sat up now, standing on his knees in front of Ghiaccio, who can now see that the bastard was already hard again. This is going to be impossible to satisfy him...

Though, at this point, Ghiaccio has himself and his issues to deal with now, too. Great.

Melone placed a hand under Ghiaccio's chin, squeezing his face lightly as he tilted it up to see him better. He had a pout to him now, his cheeks and lips puffing up cutely, which Melone ate up.

"I know you said you could, and if you're not down, we can still go back to plan one-"

"Melone, what are you trying to ask?" He interrupted, getting irritated with his run-on sentence.

Melone sighed, smiling again, "What if... I top for the night?"

"'Top'? What the hell is 'top'? That's not even a verb!" Ghiaccio broke out of Melone's hold.

Melone gave out an aggravated grunt, "It's slang for dominating!"

Ghiaccio went quiet. He hasn't been in the submissive role before, and now this up-front question caught him off-guard. He wasn't sure, though it didn't stop his face from burning red.

Melone giggled at the sight, "Your face is saying a lot right now, mio piccolo pomodoro~" he brushed his fingers through Ghiaccio's hair.

Ghiaccio's mouth fell open, "Wha-? Shut up!" but his face continued to get redder. Melone only replied with more chuckles, resting a hand on Ghiaccio's lower back, guiding him to lay down.

"Like I said, you can always opt out," he reassured, but got no protests. Ghiaccio only turned his head away, avoiding Melone's piercing eyes.

Melone held a hand up to Ghiaccio's cheek and tilted his head to look back at him, "Ghiaccio, I'm going to need an answer..."

Ghiaccio let out a shaky sigh, then nodded his head, "Nothing weird though."

Melone laughed, "No worries, though I don't know what's strange to you~"

Ghiaccio was about to cut in with a laundry list of things he had heard Melone do next door until he felt a hard slap against his thigh. He jolted, his breath hitching, "What was that!?"

Melone looked up, "You didn't like it?" he rubbed and massaged the area, causing Ghiaccio's thighs to shake.

He looked away, red and holding back a whine, "Not necessarily, just warn me next time..."

Melone smiled to himself. He pushed Ghiaccio's thighs apart more, smacking his inner thigh.

Ghiaccio jumped, but didn't complain. To him, the strikes enhanced the rewarding, soft touches that soon followed.

"I've always loved your thighs, Ghiaccio. So lean and toned..." Melone added, sliding his hands down to Ghiaccio's hips.

Ghiaccio looked down at Melone, "Are you saying you've been looking at me in... that way?"

"I choose not to answer that one," he laughed to himself, cupping Ghiaccio's balls. He felt Ghiaccio tense up, so he decided to massage them first, "Say Ghiaccio, have you ever-"

"No, and I don't plan to," he answered back sharply.

"Aww~ Look, I know 'torture' is in the name, but it's not physically painful~" Melone squeezed with a giggle. Ghiaccio's eyes go wide and his head rolls back, a whine ripping out of his throat. Melone drinks up the sight, "Oh, that sounded like you really liked that one!"

Ghiaccio's dick jumped as his hand flew to hold tightly onto Melone's arm. Pleading eyes locked with sly ones, "Sh-shut up..."

Melone responded with a harsh tug, "That's not how you address me~" he held his tight grip.

Ghiaccio whimpered, "S-sorry, Melone."

"Not what I was hoping for, but it'll work," he loosened his hold.

Ghiaccio stared sharply at Melone, "I'm not calling you that."

Melone shrugged, "Fair enough."

Melone let go of his hold to drag his laptop closer to himself, Ghiaccio watching, "What are you doing?"

"Tell me, how would this sound? Hehe," he laughed at the double entendre, typing in the search bar.

Ghiaccio adjusted his glasses, looking at the screen when Melone turned it back to face him. His jaw fell open as he watched the video, which seemed like something those two strange men from Unità Speciale would make.

The guy in the video was handcuffed as a woman skillfully slid a thin metal rod into his urethra, the man's breathing picking up as his back arched more. Once in, the woman held down the man's hips from jerking.

Even though the act itself concerned Ghiaccio, watching it caused a fire to brew inside his stomach. Melone watched Ghiaccio's reactions carefully, trying to read his mind. He sat the computer aside as he reached under his bed to grab a small leather case, unzipping it, "Now I would use something smaller than that," Ghiaccio's eyes looked at the collection of rods he had in his case. Of course he had these...

Melone slid out the smallest rod from the casing, around the size of the cartridge of a pen. Ghiaccio shifted in his spot, both nervousness and a hint of excitement fueling him. Melone handed him the rod, "See, it'll be like nothing ever happened."

Ghiaccio pinched the rod to feel how small it was, the cold metal causing him to shiver. He looked at the metal, to the video, and back again.

He couldn't tell if his mind was fuzzy or if he was actually interested, but he agreed, reluctantly handing the rod back to Melone. Melone's eyes went wide with surprise, not expecting a 'yes'.

He wasted no time as he pulled out a wet wipe, sanitizing the instrument before warming it up with his hands, "Now, you must stay still until I fit it all the way in~" he cooed, teasingly sliding the cool metal from the tip of Ghiaccio's dick, down the skin, and to the base.

A slick bead formed at the top of his head, already feeling the affects. Melone pulled out a tube of lube, coating the metal with it. He used the leftover amount to pump Ghiaccio's dick, slowly tugging to make sure he had Ghiaccio's attention.

Ghiaccio's legs tighten as his hips rose to follow Melone's movements only to be settled down once again, Melone placing his knees on top of Ghiaccio's thighs. He grabbed ahold of Ghiaccio's dick as he teased the bar across his slit multiple times before finally pushing in.

Slowly, he slid the end of the metal in. Once it was in, he let it go to allow it to slide down at its own pace.

Ghiaccio gasped for air as he felt the still-cool metal make its way down inside his dick, stretching him out in ways he didn't think he was going to be. He clutched onto the sheets, the foreign feeling giving him mixed signals. On one hand, it felt oddly amazing, like when he finally reaches the bathroom after a long trip, or the last time he had a huge orgasm. But, on the other hand, it was such a new and unique experience. Instead of something leaving that sensitive area, it was entering. Before he knew it, the rod made its way down to the base, sitting still.

He didn't even get the chance to adjust to it before he felt the rod sliding back out, this time by Melone's hand pulling it. Even though he was still delicate with it, the feeling tore through his body, "Mel-Melone!!" he choked out.

Melone laid beside Ghiaccio, petting his hair, "It's alright, if you just want it back, that's all you have to say~" he smiled as he let go of the bar again, watching it make his way back down in awe, "Look at that, you're just eating it up!"

Ghiaccio went crossed-eyed, trying to focus on the ceiling. Melone turned his head to guide Ghiaccio's mouth onto his, passionately making out with him as he continued pulling on the rod, speeding up and fucking his urethra.

Ghiaccio's mouth hung open as his brain went numb, the overstimulation consuming him. His vision went white as he reached his peak and came with the rod still inside, flowing out of the openings on the sides. Once Melone noticed, he carefully pulled the rod out to allow him to finish. Melone reached for his own dick as he got off to the sight of the messy and worn out Ghiaccio in front of him whimpering, his dick twitching and his thighs quickly closing shut, as if he could stop the orgasm. The show had Melone finishing quickly, which in of itself was a major relief for him too, who has been dying to touch himself during the whole process.

Melone brushed his hair out of his face, "Wow, that was great, huh?" he asked, looking over to see Ghiaccio had already passed out.

He smiled once more and took off Ghiaccio's glasses, folding them and neatly placing them on the bedside table. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate, but he gave a small peck to Ghiaccio's cheek before wrapping his arms around him, not caring about the mess on his bed and drifting off as well.

#gay #jjba #jjba golden wind #jjba part 5 #ghiaccio #melone #ghiamelo

20 notes · View notes

kellanved-ammanas · 1 year

Text

TF2 Drabbles: Spy/Soldier - Hidden Sides

Summary: could i request a fic where soldier shows that he's much more gentle than he lets on, and everyone finds out and they're like "what the 😦"??

[A/N]: I decided to focus this mostly on Spy because I really like Freedom Fries.

“It’s not my fault, honest,” Scout said. “How was I supposed to know she’d run off like that?”

“Because I told you she would.” Spy had made it pretty damn clear that if his bedroom door was left open, Bijou would get out. Which was yet another reason why he didn’t want anyone in there when he wasn’t around. Not that that ever stopped Scout who seemed to take every locked door as a challenge to pick it.

“I just wanted to pet her. You can’t just keep a cat in your room and expect me not to sneak in to see her.”

“So you left the door open.”

“On accident! And I tried to catch before she got too far but that only made her run away faster. I’m fast and all, fastest man alive and all that but she’s small and can fit in places I can’t so she’s got away. But I came and told you about it as soon as I realized I’d lost her. I think I should get some credit for that because I didn’t have to, you know? I could’ve just let you find out she’s missing all by yourself.”

He had a point. Owning up to his mistakes wasn’t something Scout did often. If Spy weren’t mad at him he probably would’ve been proud.

“Fine. Help me find her. And if anything bad happens to her, I’m holding you responsible.” The area around the base was dangerous for a cat and even if she stayed inside, she posed a threat to Medic’s birds which put her in danger if Medic caught her acting on that threat. Not to mention all the various dangerous chemicals she could get into in Demo or Medic’s lab or she might get her tail or paw caught in one of the machines in Engie’s workshop. Or who knows what else? There was a reason Spy had been keeping her in his room, only letting her out under his supervision.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. We’ll find her in no time, I’m sure.”

They didn’t find her in ‘no time.’ Despite searching high and low and eventually getting most of the rest of the team in on the search there was no sign of Bijou anywhere. She was simply gone. Spy was just about to head outside to look for her out there in hopes of her still being nearby when…

“Yo, we found her.”

Spy turned to face Scout. “Where?”

“The shooting range with Soldier.”

Given Soldier’s proclivity for yelling and violence, as well as the fact it was the shooting range where he would be actively firing explosive rockets, Spy didn’t like the sound of that. So without further ado, he turned and started that way, Scout falling in step with him.

Upon reaching it, the rest of the team was inside already, gathered around presumably Soldier.

“… not allowed to move,” Soldier was just finishing up saying.

“You know,” Engie said, “I wouldn’t have thought you of all folk would be the type to who’d be so against the idea of mildly inconveniencing an animal.”

“It is not a mild inconvenience. She is sleeping. It would be un-American to wake her.” Soldier even spoke quieter than usual.

Spy quickly sidled into the group, forcing his way to the front to see what was going on. Soldier sat in the chair next to the table meant to lay out one’s ammo and guns. His rocket launcher was on it as were some rockets. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to using it though as on his lap was Bijou, curled up and asleep.

“Has she been here this whole time?” Spy asked in lieu of letting out a sigh of relief. As odd was it was to find her cuddling with Solider of all people, at least she was safe and not in danger of getting hunted by coyotes.

“Yes. She showed up as I was about to start my target practice. I sat down to pet her but then she jumped up on my lap and fell asleep. I have been here ever since.”

“Thank you very much for keeping her safe.” Spy approached, intending to pick her up. Before he could touch her though, Solider lifted the hand that had been stroking her to block him.

“She is sleeping. Do not move her.”

Spy didn’t like to disturb her when unnecessary either but there were limits. “You are aware she’s a cat, right? Cats can sit and sleep for hours at a time. You can not intend to sit there for that long.”

“If that is how long she wishes to stay, that is how long I will sit here for. Unless an emergency happens like if the enemy attacks.”

“Wow,” Scout said from somewhere behind Spy, “and here everyone was thinking you were just dumb and violent. Turns out you also like cats but I guess who doesn’t like cats.”

“Cats are nice,” Soldier said as he lowered his hand to stat petting Bijou again, very gently and lovingly.

Scout had a point though, everyone including Spy, had discounted Solider as just ‘dumb and violent’. Everyone had sides, Spy knew that well and delighted in sneakily finding the sides people liked to hide away. He hadn’t given much thought to attempting to do so with Soldier though, thinking it’d be a waste of time. Perhaps he should start paying more attention though and finding out what other kinds of depths Soldier has within him. For now though…

“Very well, I will leave her in your care for now. If you would kindly return her to my room after she wakes up and moves herself, that would be much appreciated.”

“Yes, sir. I promise she will be safe with me until then.” He even saluted. How… endearing.

#my writing #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 drabbles #spy #soldier #spysoldier #freedom fries

14 notes · View notes

edie-baby · 3 years

Text

Les Fleurs du Mal Chapter 2 | Pierre Gasly

Summary: Sava Dvorakova had big dreams for Formula One. An opportunity of a lifetime comes around, so she takes it and runs. She proved just about everyone wrong, and is awarded a very controversial seat on the F1 grid. There’s smiles and grins, hugs and kisses, love and laughter. There’s tears and sobs, fights and break ups. There’s evil where you least expect it, hidden in the garden of eden. The Flowers of Evil.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, shitty parents (they’re a recurring theme), sexism, i ignored a lot of actual f1 rules because i couldn’t be bothered writing it into the story tbh, yuki is fcking adorable, a lot of smut eventually, like a lot.

Sava woke up on Friday with no intention of getting out of bed before noon. And then realised that she wasn’t in her bed, it was a hotel room. The memories and realities of her current situation made her head spin, and with a shit eating grin on her face, she jumped out of bed and into the shower. Feeling as though she should stay on brand, Sava pulled on a white pleated skirt and tucked the oversized Carlin shirt into the waistband. She braided her hair while it was still a little wet, knowing it would be easier than the kerfuffle she had yesterday trying to walk, carry a helmet, and braid at the same time. Combat boots, a phone, and paddock pass later and Sava was leaving the hotel room to meet Amelia in the cafeteria-like space on the ground floor to have breakfast and chat about the agenda for the day before they headed to the track.

Unbeknownst to Sava, a number of the F1 drivers were staying at the same hotel, and when she stepped into the room, eyes focused on finding other Carlin shirts, many heads turned her way. Obviously, news about a girl in a Carlin race suit with pink hair had spread into the formula one paddock quite quickly. Sava gave up on trying to find her assistant when she had no luck, preferring to make her way to the coffee bench to make herself a very sweet black coffee over ice. While the coffee began brewing, she turned her back to the bench, taking another look out over the crowds of people at tables to try and find her friends again, only to see that 75% of the room was already looking at her, and those that weren’t were whispering to the people that were. The poor girl looked like a deer in the headlights, and apparently one man couldn’t see her like that, as he stood from his table and walked toward her. He was still metres away and Sava was already having to strain her neck to look up at him.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bombard you like this while you’re already quite overwhelmed. But I can tell you’re a bit lost. Would you like to come and sit with me until you find your team?” The man asked, his accent was distinctly French, and Sava kicked herself for not instantly recognising the man as Esteban Ocon.

“Oh my, yes please! This is my first time outside of karting, let alone in the actual F2 paddock, so I’m so lost and don’t know anyone.” Sava giggled, finishing up making her super sweet coffee and following Esteban’s stride toward a table of black and yellow clad people, along with the unmistakable grin of Daniel Ricciardo.

“I’m Esteban, by the way. I think I heard your name was Dvarokova?” The Frenchman questioned after a few beats of silence, realising that the 5’1 woman couldn’t walk as quickly as he.

“Ah, Dvorakova. Don’t worry about messing up the pronunciation, I misspell it sometimes. My name is Sava, but pretty much everyone calls me Bunny.” Sava replied with a giggle at the butchering of her surname. She couldn’t blame anyone, it was a hard enough name to most Eastern Europeans, she couldn’t even imagine how some of the nationalities in the paddock would pronounce it.

“Bunny. That’s quite cute.” Esteban mused, and they finally reached the rowdy table of Renault employees.

“Guys, this is Bunny. She’s going to sit with us cause she’s new and can’t find anyone from Carlin.” Esteban introduced, and a round of wolf whistles sounded as she threw up a peace sign, then took the seat next to Esteban, across from Daniel.

“Hi, I’m Danny. You’re such a little cutie.” Daniel introduced, leaning his arm over to poke at Sava’s cheeks that immediately heated up in a flaming blush. Another round of oohs and ahs went through the table and Sava giggled again.

“Pipe down, I’m only 17.” In immediate reaction to her statement, Daniel threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes connecting with a few guys nearby who all laughed at his expression.

“Way to make a man feel like a pedo.” Daniel mumbled, and more chuckles reverberated around the group who heard. The team all spoke to Sava with interest and respect, something she didn’t expect she would be getting before she had even gotten into a car. After about fifteen minutes, she spotted Yuki walking through the door with Amelia, and excused herself quickly, exchanging fist bumps with everyone she passed along the Renault table. When she got to the end, she met Yuki and Amelia with surprised looks on their faces before the three found a small table by the window to finally sit down and eat.

“How ready are you Bunny?” Yuki asked later on that morning while the two pulled their race suits up and made final preparations. Sava looked over at him nervously as she tucked her pink braids into the suit.

“Considering I’ve only ever driven a go-kart or a Hyundai I-20, I’m shitting myself. But I’m confident enough in my karting ability to do well-enough here. How about you? Amelia told me you have a seat at Alpha Tauri next season, are you still nervous about these races or are you a cool guy about it?” Sava hit back, smiling at her first friend in serious motorsport, who she could tell she would miss if she made it into F2 next year like Dr Marko had suggested.

“I still want to do well so that they don’t think they’ve made a mistake. But I’m not as nervous as I was when I didn’t know if I’d have a seat.” The Japanese man replied, and pulled on his balaclava, Sava following shortly after. They made eye contact, their mouths obscured by the fabric, and burst out laughing. Amelia guided Sava away so that she could get her helmet on and have one final chat with the engineer she would be hearing in her ears for the weekend. Yuki ran over just before Sava jumped in the car and slapped the top of her helmet, just like her uncle Sebastian had done before every race and she smiled the biggest she probably ever has. With a quick hug to Yuki and another scolding glance from Amelia, Sava climbed into her car for her first ever free practice in a single seater.

“Radio check.” Sava spoke, her voice wobbling slightly as she felt the rumble of the car beneath her.

“Confirm, Bunny. Hop to it.” Her engineer, Marcus, stated with amusement in his voice. Sava audibly laughed as she stepped on the accelerator, rolling out of the garage when she got the signal. Driving through the pitlane was surreal, and Sava knew she’d be feeling that a lot throughout the weekend. She ran two warm-up laps, getting acquainted with the car and testing the responsiveness of the brakes and the throttle. Once her tyres were at the right temperature, she got a radio message to give it hell, and so she did.

It was complete radio silence in the Carlin garage as everyone, including Yuki, sat and watched the rookie on her first hot-lap. She got a purple first sector, green second sector, and purple third sector, putting herself at the very top of the timing tower. While the practice session had only been active for around eight minutes, she had already beat two other drivers who had put in preliminary hot laps. Marcus relayed the time to Sava, and when she asked for the fastest time out of a qualifying session from the year prior, she groaned in frustration.

“Can I run a few more out laps and get comfortable with the responsiveness? I know I can do better.” Sava pleaded, and Marcus quickly agreed. If she thought she could get a better time than the one she had already given them, then hell they’d let her run all day. After four out-laps, she was brought in for a quick refuel and to look over the data of her hot-lap in comparison to Yuki’s. He was braking later, but Sava was getting better acceleration out of the corners. She knew now just how good the brakes were and considering she was known throughout the European karting scene for braking extremely late, she knew she could get better times, and maybe knock a few tenths off her entire lap. By the time she was finished looking at the data, everyone on the grid had put in multiple flying laps, and she was confident that whatever she pulled out now would be a decent comparison of her speed to the rest of the grid. With two more out-laps to get her tyres and brakes at the perfect temperature, she was off again.

Purple first sector, purple second sector, purple third sector.

As her name flew up the timing table, the Carlin garage waited with baited breath, to finally see Sava Dvorakova land at P1, four tenths quicker than the next fastest, Juri Vips.

“No fucking way.” Amelia mumbled, her eyes trained on the initials of the girl she had been following around for the past two days. Similar reactions were happening over in the Renault garage, many of the team who spoke with the girl earlier that morning tuned in to catch the first performance.

Qualifying later that day followed a very similar pattern. Finishing P2 behind Juri Vips, their times separated by one one-thousandth of a second. The real test was to see if the Czech could keep up the pace in their sprint and feature races over the next two days.

Those boys had hell to pay, and sure as shit, Sava was gonna come collect.

#pierre gasly #Pierre Gasly fanfiction #Pierre Gasly imagine #Pierre Gasly x reader #pg10 #gasly #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic

77 notes · View notes

nelapanela94 · 3 years

Text

Hi!

Levi X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, abortion, and swearing.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Y/N and Levi had been dating for a year. At the beginning, they had managed to keep their relationship a secret, but one evening, Hange caught them in the captain’s office making out. Y/N sitting on Levi’s lap and their shirts partially unbuttoned. They let out a deep sigh as Hange excitedly ran across the hallway shouting “You all owe me, it’s time to pay”. And it didn’t take long for the rest of the scouts to learn about the two.

Some people found them adorable; and others, who used to flirt with Y/N and send little presents to her, took their distance afraid that Levi might kill them with a glare. Despite their relationship was not a secret any longer, PDA was kept to a minimum. They would walk with their pinkies intertwined, caress their thighs under the table and stealing kisses when nobody was looking. Nonetheless, behind closed doors they couldn’t stay away from each other. Even when Levi was occupied with paperwork late at night, he would allow Y/N to sit on his lap and rest her head on his shoulder.

Everything seemed lovely and perfect, but lately Y/N had been distant to the black- haired captain. Even though she promised she was fine, he sensed the tint of distress in her eyes and voice.

Doesn’t she love me anymore? Is she getting bored of me?

Sometimes, Levi overthought about his relationship with Y/N and gave in into his unfounded insecurities, wondering about what Y/N saw in him in first place. Y/N was a sunbeam, with a caring and approachable personality, she was popular among the scouts. On top of that, she was born into a merchant’s family from Stohess District. Her parents, naturally, expected her to marry another merch’s son in order to expand the business.

At the other end of the spectrum was Levi. An ill-mannered, unapproachable man from the Underground City, without a family name, and last but not least, a former thug.

“Levi, you’re the only one I want” She always reassured him with a bright smile. Yet he felt he didn’t deserve her. What life could he offered? She was raised surrounded luxurious goods, expensive clothing and jewelry, never worrying about how to earn the next meal. He could not give her the life she was used to.

You’re the only one I want. Nobody else. They’re not like you. They’re not you.

Behind that stoic demeanor laid an insecure boy who was afraid of not being enough. Perhaps, that is why Kenny abandoned him back then.

Moreover, he was deadly terrified of losing Y/N. He had lost important people in his life, his mother, his closest friends, comrades, but the mere thought of losing Y/N drove him crazy.

A knock on the door disseminated his thoughts.

“It’s me Levi” Y/N slowly opened the door and came in.

“I need to tell you something” they said in unison.

“You first” She stood in front of his desk.

“You”

“You, Levi” He sighed and gave up. Arguing with her would not take it anywhere.

“Do you believe... I mean” he gulped. Why does he have to stutter when it came to her? “Do you think this... we... you and I are going somewhere?”

She raised a brow. “Will you take me on vacations?”

Levi inwardly facepalmed.

“I mean, do you see a future with you and I … together?” The last word trailed.

“What’s with that question? Of course, I do, you silly”

“What about your family? I doubt they want a former thug married to their daughter”

“Well, I can’t care less” She shrugged. “If I have to give up my inheritance, I’ll do it without a second thought” She frowned. “You know you’re the one I want” She leaned and pinched his nose.

“I don’t want you to suffer because of me” he stood up from his chair. “I can’t give you the life you deserve. Not now”

“Hold on” She shook the head and frowned. “What concept do you have of me? A spoiled brat who’ll make a tantrum for not getting a new pair of shoes? Or that I’m only with you to spare time before my parents choose the perfect suitor for me?” Tears of anger and disappointment formed in her eyes. “That’s low”

“That’s not what I meant...”

Damn.

“Levi, if you want to break up with me for your stupid, unjustified insecurities, do it then” She rubbed her eyes, and restrained from throwing a punch onto his face. “One more request before I leave. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me”

Levi’s eyes held her gaze. It was intensed, but not a single word came out of his mouth.

“Alright” she sobbed. “I don’t need a coward next to me” She turned around and headed towards the door.

“Oi! Wait! What was it? What you had to tell me” his voice was about to crack.

“It has nothing to do with you now” She replied and closed the door behind her. She sped up to her quarters, covering her mouth with both hands, hence nobody could hear her sobbing.

Levi was left agape, his jaw quivering and his gaze still glued to the door. His eyes were teary and red. He clenched his fists and cursed himself for being a jerk.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Hey, go get some rest Y/N” Moblit said with concern.

“I’m almost done, it’s alright”

Y/N was working with Moblit in the lab, transcribing the most recent findings of one of Hange’s investigations. “You have a nice handwriting”

“Thanks” she smiled. “Well, no one here can top your drawings. I guess we make a good team” she chuckled.

“You could’ve taken more days”

“No, it’d been a week and I was already missing the scouts. Besides, my family is quite suffocating”

Y/N had taken a leave due to appendicitis a week after her breakup. Shadis didn’t want her on the field until fully recovered; therefore, she was assigned to office work meanwhile. And about Levi, they avoided each other. He would take the longest path to his office, and she would sit at the furthest table during dinner.

They couldn’t be more immature.

Y/N grumbled when Commander Shadis ordered her to join Levi’s squad to capture a titan for Hange’s research. Of all available cadets, it had to be her. It wasn’t a difficult task; thus, it wouldn’t take long.

Nevertheless, things didn’t go as planned. Y/N had made a single mistake that almost led the operation into a tragedy. But Levi was there and saved her.

She woke up in the infirmary. Her abdomen was wrapped in bandages, and she whined when she sat up, resting her back against the headboard.

Levi came in minutes later, and judging by the expression on his face, he was far from content.

“What the hell was that?” He sternly demanded.

“Don’t be loud” She groaned, covering her ears.

“You almost fuck it up. Not even a rookie would have made such mistake”

“Sorry” she rolled the eyes. “Why did you come back to save me then? If you wanted me out of your life, you could’ve gotten rid of me for good” She nonchalantly shrugged.

“What’s wrong with you, Y/N?" His brows furrowed. "You're not the same since you came back from your leave”

“My boyfriend dumped me, is it a valid reason?”

Levi grunted. “you’re into opioids because you’re heartbroken?” he approached her bed and drew a small container out of his uniform pocket. Y/N’s eyes wide opened, then scowled.

Busted.

“Were you sneaking in my room?” She was cold sweating.

“You were too suspicious lately, Y/N. Sneaking out of the headquarters at night, being lethargic and tired during the day. And don’t get me started with your irritability. I had to follow you”

“Why?”

“Because I still care about you” he confessed, averting the eyes.

“Well, I don’t need you to take care of me” She crossed the arms over the chest, and bit the inside of her cheek.

He took a seat at the edge of the bed. “I won’t tell anyone about this shit.” He put the container back in the pocket. “I just want to know why” His eyes displayed his concern.

“You’ll despise me if I tell you” She looked away.

“It can’t be that bad”

“Believe me, It can. I...” her eyes became watery. “I made a terrible decision Levi, and I just wanted to forget” Her voice trembled.

“You can trust me” He placed his hand on hers.

“Levi” She began. “You don’t have to forgive me. You can hate me. Kick me off wall Rose without gear if you feel like”

“What is it?” He was growing impatient.

“That day, at your office I... I stopped by because I had big news for you” She gulped. “I was dead scared to drop that bomb, but the matter involved the two of us” Heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked up at his steel gray eyes. “I was... I was expecting, six weeks according to the midwife” His eyes went wide. “The appendicitis wasn’t appendicitis. One of the cadets knew someone in Trost who could help me out” Levi couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. A churn feeling invaded his chest, and the pressure made it hard to breath. “I was so angry and hurt I didn’t think twice” She burst into tears. “I was alone and scared. And I still regret it.”

He moved closer and hugged her tight. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, soaking his shirt with tears.

“I’ve been tormented by what it could’ve been. You and I and...”

“Shhh... don’t say it” He caressed her hair.

“I was too scared, Levi. I didn’t picture myself as a single mother and my parents would’ve turned their back against me. Then, guilt was eating my soul; I needed the fastest way to forget”

She didn’t want to see his face. She knew his heart was screaming out in pain, disappointment and ire.

Levi could not blame Y/N, though.

Maybe if he had let her talk first, if he hadn’t been that coward, the story would have been different. He also felt a hint of guilt within himself.

“In my brain, I knew it wasn’t the right moment. In my heart, however, I started imagining and dreaming about what could’ve been”

“Stop tormenting yourself, it won’t change anything” He whispered. He pulled apart and placed a hand on her cheek. “I can’t forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive. I’m not going to lie, it hurts, but I can’t blame you.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Mine” Levi growled leaning over, resting his forehead on Y/N's.

“Mine” She whispered.

He pulled off of her with a groan. She laid on his bed, drained and exhausted. Levi settled next to her, both panting, staring up at the ceiling.

“I missed you” She managed to say, still recovering her breath. He took her hand, interlacing their fingers, and placed soft kisses on the knuckles.

“I missed you, too”

“I received a letter from my parents. They want to meet you”

“Do they?”

“Yup! And don’t worry, they’ll like you. Besides, my little brother looks up to you”

She rolled on her side and placed a kiss on his cheek.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Gracias, Arigatou!

#levi x y/n #levixreader #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi fanfiction #snk levi #aot #aot fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #levi attack on titan #i should be working

43 notes · View notes

formula365 · 4 years

Text

Making the pendulum swing - Turkish GP review

There are a lot of reasons motorsports fans love a race in a wet track. For one, rain is a great leveller, reducing the advantages of superior machinery and enhancing driver ability. Another reason is that it is fun to see some of the greatest drivers in the world have to wrestle with the steering wheel; reduced grip, at least to this level, is not a desirable outcome for every single race, but to have it on occasion makes for some great entertainment. And some spins are always a bit of fun to watch.

But the main reason why racing in the wet is so exciting is the unpredictability. These are special races, in which the logic of faster driver in a faster car will win does not (always) apply. Everybody loves an underdog, and these races are the biggest opportunities for unexpected winners in modern F1. Wet races can also provide plenty of changes in momentum, with the pendulum swinging in favour of one driver or another; if someone looks like being in control by lap 10, they might be out of it by lap 20 and back in it by lap 40.

This is exactly what we had in Istanbul this Sunday. Particularly in the first half, several drivers seemed to have the upper hand but, for one reason or another, they ended up falling down the order or, at the very least, could not compete with the eventual winner. In different periods of the race, Stroll, Perez, Verstappen and Albon all seemed like having the perfect set of circumstances to win the race. But Stroll couldn’t keep his tyres from graining, Verstappen and Albon spun out of contention and Perez decided to roll the dice and take the old tyres to the end, sacrificing pace for track position.

Perez’s strategy almost worked. Yes, he was significantly slower than several drivers behind him, and almost lost a place in the podium on the last lap, but he did manage his tyres superbly, as he usually does, to finish in a fine second place. It was, however, not enough to deal with the one man that continues to rise and astonish with how he makes the pendulum swing towards him.

Lewis Hamilton knew after qualifying that he didn’t need to do much in the race to clinch the world title. Bottas had struggled even more than he had, and was three places behind. Stay out of trouble, avoid crashing early and ensure Bottas finishes behind. The Finn made his job even easier by spinning on the opening lap and falling towards the back, from where he never recovered. A scoreless Bottas meant the title was in the bag. Hamilton didn’t need to push.

But he still went for it. He was stuck behind Vettel for a considerable period of time, which meant the Racing Points were too far down the road. As the pendulum swung between different drivers ahead of him, the champion-elect never really seemed with a shot of winning. But Hamilton bid his time and once he had clear air, he saw there was still an opportunity. And he is not one to waste opportunities. He clearly wanted to win the championship in style, not simply have it fall on his lap. In the past, he hasn’t often had the change to secure the title with a win. He wasn’t going to let that go this time around.

In the end, while all the other drivers who were there, or nearly there, made mistakes and lost their cool, Hamilton disappeared down the road, finishing a whopping 30-seconds-30 ahead of the pack. It was another demonstration, as if we needed more, that he does stand head and shoulders above everyone else on the grid. The young pretenders will have to wait a bit longer to dethrone him, because he shows no sign of losing his ability with age.

I try to not focus too much on the winners of a race, and not to write too often about Hamilton, but he makes it really difficult not to. He is a unique talent in the history of the sport and we should very much enjoy watching him while we can. Although there is plenty of talent in the coming generation, we might not see another driver like him for a long while.

Talking points * On Saturday it seemed impossible that we could see a Hamilton win. The Mercedes were completely out of pace, and it was Racing Point and Red Bull who had the fastest cars. It was an intense qualifying, that finished with a first pole for Lance Stroll. The Canadian gets a lot of stick because of his father’s money, but he does have bags of talent and he showed it on Saturday. The race might not have gone his way (Racing Point reporting there was damage to his front wing which caused the excessive tyre graining) but he should take comfort that, after a tough couple of months, he showed what he is capable of. He should use Saturday as a motivator to finish the season strongly. * Saturday also provided another concerning moment in terms of safety. At the start of Q2, drivers were sent out on track while marshalls were still in a run-off area, with a crane, recovering Latifi’s car. If your heart went racing back to Suzuka 2014, you were not alone. Race direction justified it by saying they had been informed the crane would be gone by the time drivers reached that point of the track, but there is no justification to even take that risk. A delay of 2 minutes would have been fine. After the issue with the marshalls on track at Imola, this is the second race in a row with less-than-optimal decisions from race direction. We should hope it’s not a trend, but Michael Masi appeared defensive afterwards and said he didn’t think anything should have been done differently. More than the decision itself, his reaction after the fact is not a good sign. * Wasn’t it great to see Vettel up on the podium again? He has had a torrid year, but had a quietly good race and was there to take advantage of his teammate’s error on the final chicane. It was probably his last podium in red, to leave a slightly sweeter taste to the end of his years with the Scuderia. * It was also great that he was there congratulating his great rival on another title. The respect Seb and Lewis have for each other is exemplary, both of them clearly aware of the hardships they had to go through to reach the very top. It’s a shame we didn’t get to see them go toe to toe more often in their careers. It should have been the great rivalry of this generation. * Sergio Perez’s form since it was announced he wouldn’t stay at Racing Point: P5, P4, P4, P7, P6, P2. And those P7 and P6 would have been P5 and P3 without strategy stumbles from the team. It’s ridiculous if he’s not on the grid next year. * McLaren continue to do what teams that reach the top do well: maximise their results and score valuable points even when their car is not the fastest. Both their cars started behind both Racing Points and Renaults, and yet, of those four drivers, only Perez finished ahead of them. Sainz had a bullet start and kept a cool head to finish P5, just behind the group fighting for the podium. His teammate had a horrible start and was last off the line, but recovered brilliantly to P8, and had a blistering pace towards the end, setting a fastest lap that was a second faster than the next best one. The car’s development might not have gone the way they hoped, but in every other aspect, this is a team firing on all cylinders. * Bottas had a nightmare race, seemingly incapable of keeping his car on the road. The team revealed he had suffered damage in a first lap contact with Esteban Ocon which could help explain his miserable day. Regardless of the causes, P14 is not a results anyone expects at Mercedes. At least now he is free to race the last 3 GPs without the title in his mind. I wonder if a pressure-less Bottas might put up some more of a fight in the coming weekends. * The two Red Bull drivers missed out on huge opportunities this weekend. After the first round of pit stops, the race was arguably Verstappen’s to lose, and, well, lose it he did. He was too greedy when trying to overtake Perez and destroyed his tyres in a spin, which forced to a second stop that effectively ended his race. If he was miserable after missing out on pole, I can’t imagine how he must have felt after the race. As for Albon, he is very much running out of time to impress the Red Bull hierarchy. After Verstappen spun, he was in great position to at least claim a podium, but like the Dutchman, he couldn’t keep his car on the road, and opened the door to Hamilton. To make matters worse, the driver who is apparently being considered to replace him finished second. Red Bull have said he will have until the end of the year to grab that seat, but one has to wonder how much can he genuinely do in the last 3 races after missing out on so many opportunities before? * What a tremendous qualifying from Alfa Romeo. Their pace disappeared on Sunday, but on Saturday Kimi and Gio were two of the stars, putting their cars in Q3. That this happened on Sauber’s 500th Grand Prix entry was only fitting; they couldn’t score points, but there was something for the team to celebrate about the weekend nonetheless.

* Renault’s topsy-turvy season continues. After 2 podiums in 3 races, they leave Turkey with just one point and their hopes of reaching third in the constructors’ championship dashed. They should do well in the final races of the season, as the power hungry Sakhir and the long straights of Yas Marina will favour their car, but if they want to be in the mix up front, they need to better understand the car and what makes it work (and what doesn’t). They have shown they can put together a competitive car, but they can’t win titles if they don’t show up every weekend.

#turkish gp #lewis hamilton #sergio perez #sebastian vettel #Lance Stroll #mclaren #Racing Point #Red Bull #Max Verstappen #alex albon #Carlos Sainz Jr #lando norris #alfa romeo #Kimi Raikkonen #antonio giovinazzi #renault

18 notes · View notes

monobleamour · 4 years

Text

he’s the one

A/N: so today in my e-class we spent like 2 hours trying to draw our names bc all of them are stupid enough not to understand how to do it😂meanwhile i started writing this at that time😁

summary: y/n unexpectedly bumps into her soulmate, Harry but let’s say things are not meant to be the way the are becoming, not after all this time.

pairing(s): harry styles x reader

word count: 2,617

What is love? How it affects you? Why it affects you? Why is it so hard to believe that you’re in love but so easy to fall? How do you know when you love someone? What makes you fall in love and what makes you fall out of love? Mostly, what’s the craziest thing you’d do for love?

It had been a while since she last loved. Being honest she was scared to fall in love in again. Once she felt love and peace in her lover’s hug, but then it faded. You can’t blame them for falling out of love with each other, you can’t control feelings after all. But the thing is, he left as soon as she fell.

She was scared, she really was. She was scared that she may try in her whole life to find someone, but never stay with them, because they weren’t as good as him. They weren’t Harry. But love means being happy if the other is happy, even if you’re not the reason why.

Harry loved her. He still does, just not the same way. He always felt her as her best friend, so he still does. When he and y/n broke up, they decided to remain friends, no hard feelings. He was glad he still had her into his life, he couldn’t imagine a life without her, his friend.

There was a time he would look inside her eyes and see a bright future, with kids and a happy ending story. But this isn’t Disney, happy endings are for tales, the ugly truth is for life. Now he would look at her and see just his reflection.

The thing is that they never moved on in new ‘’stable’’ relationships. Yes, they held other people’s hands, but they still hold each other’s heart.

You never truly move on, once you love someone you can’t unlove them. Even if you convince yourself that you have, you haven’t. y/n knew it. She knew it when she started dating Harry. Somehow she saw the end before it even began, but she kept going closer to the end because she wanted to have a life remembering that once there was a guy that he really loved her. He loved her, just not enough to keep her.

She was just a girl. A shy, young woman. She was one of all these billions of women that exist, that he can want. But he chose her, he wanted her, he looked at her, he loved her.

Her.

She didn’t even know why she was thinking about it, it had been almost two years. It was a beautiful evening and she had to enjoy it. California was crowded with people so why the heck she still felt alone?

Who knows, maybe this time she will bump into someone who is not Harry, because that’s how they first met, so why couldn’t this happen again. Same story, different person.

She went for a walk, and she got bored because life wasn’t easy but either pretty. She looked at the sky and wondered ‘’if anything happens for a reason what is her goddamn reason?’’

And she kept looking up, until she felt coffee covering all of her. Was that the moment when she met someone new or just a person, a normal one.

‘‘I am so- I’m so sorry miss.’‘ he said, not looking at her but at the shirt.

Her shirt looked familiar in his eyes, and his voice sounded familiar in her ears.

‘‘Harry?’‘

But no, she wasn’t that lucky enough.

Same old Harry, same old story, same old love.

‘‘Ugh- long time, no see huh?’‘

‘‘Well it’s not that easy being around someone..that you know’‘ she inhaled ‘‘..had a past together.’‘ she nodded.

‘‘Yeah. Right.’‘ he guilty, but really he didn’t have a reason to. Harry was a human being and he had the right to fall in love and fall out of it, even if it breaks someone’s heart. Sometimes the truth might make the others angry but at least it makes you free. ‘‘ugh’‘ he scratched his head and said ‘‘it was a pleasure to see you, y/n, i missed you.’‘

I missed you she thought, oh god, doesn’t he know that you have to mean the words you say, or at least when you say something make sure the both of you feel the same way so you don’t fuck ‘em up? ‘’Yeah, it’s been a while. Well see you around.’’ she smiled and just walked away. She walked away from him for the second time in her while.

As soon as y/n went home, she sat on her couch, rested her arms in her lap and covered her face with her palms. Honestly she didn’t know what to think. Seeing Harry after all this time was nice, she had missed him. And being honest she missed him every day since the day the broke up. Y/n always loved Harry. She will always love Harry and she is willing to take anything.

But sometimes that isn’t enough, is it?

Harry loved her and he knew that was the begging and end of everything but he also knew true love stories don’t have happy endings. When he and y/n decided to break up he thought it would be easy, once he had convinced himself he didn’t love her anymore. But the truth was way too far.

When he realized, he wondered if it’s better to have loved and lost or never to have loved at all, at least there would be no pain. Right away he wanted to find her, talk to her, say to her everything he never did and whatever she wanted to hear. But he was too selfish to say sorry and a little insecure to risk his own heart again.

But he also loved her. He broke her once, he wouldn’t let himself break her again because he wanted her. You are willing to take everything for the one person you love, everything, even they don’t feel the same way. You gotta adore them like it’s the only thing you’ll ever do.

The thing was that they were both scared.

y/n hated to imagine how her life is going to be without Harry. Her future without him waking up next to her and sleeping with her. The kids they’ll never have, they’ll never get to grow and say ‘’we made it’’ because actually they never made it. But she liked to think that her heart is going to love again.

On the other hand, Harry liked to imagine how his life would be if y/n was still there. His future with her waking up next to him and sleeping with him. The kids they’d have, the way they’d grow up and say ‘’we made it’’ because they’d made it. But he hated to think that his heart isn’t going to love again someone else.

Love is complicated, but being in love is difficult. If they both are willing then there’s a chance. But in the end it doesn’t matter how strong someone is, everyone’s heart is fragile. And the only reason the truth hurts it’s because we live in a society full of lies, but in the end there’s so much love out there. And the only way to find it is to accept it, because whatever we refuse to accept is what really haunt us. Like, love.

y/n thought she had broken Harry’s heart because he fell in love with the idea of her but not her, but only is she knew how tragic things were, once he broke his own heart.

A soft knock at her door distracted her thoughts. She didn’t want to open the door. Not because she was tired or something but because she knew who was. But she opened, like she always does.

And there he was standing right in front of her.

‘‘Hi.’‘ Harry says putting his hands in his pockets.

‘‘Hey.’‘ she replies resting her head in the door.

‘‘So?’‘ what the fuck was he saying ‘‘is everything alright?’‘ he really had no idea how to start a conversation. He was lost for words. Didn’t even know why.

‘‘Okay.’‘ she says letting out a small sigh ‘‘so you’re telling me that you came all the way here just to make sure i’m fine?’‘ she rolled her eyes ‘‘I’m not buying it Harry, I know you.’‘

She really knew him, and because of that she knew what he wanted to tell her. The words she had been waiting for so many months, but was she actually ready? She knew that whatever he decides to say this time, he’ll mean it. And she was afraid to hear the words, because words come out from the heart and not the brain.

But she was also afraid that she won’t hear the words she had been praying to listen to, all along. She wanted it to be him. She wanted it to be him so badly. But in the end not all the wishes come true, do they?

‘‘Did I fuck things up?’‘ he asked, but he already knew the answer.

‘‘Well.’‘ she started ‘‘mostly like everything but at least you found out.’‘ her innocent tone of voice mixed with the guilty actions (practically he didn’t do something bad but it hurt at the memory of losing her) of his, taken of her mouth, made a bittersweet result.

‘‘Sorry.’‘ he was still looking at her eyes, and really, it was aching a lot.

Sincerely, it had been a long time since he last told her he’s sorry, looking at her and making a huge mistake. But was this one a mistake? He had convinced himself that every time he looked at her he saw nothing, but he knew. He knew that he was lying to himself, because when he looked at her he could see everything he ever wanted. And now y/n was the one thing he wanted.

Now, then and forever.

‘’It’s a little bit late for apologies, don’t you think so?’’ she actually wondered if this time he came to stay or just fix things and leave. But truly, you can’t fix something that is apparently broken. Even if you’re the one who did it.

She loved Harry, but when it came to him, she would become insecure. Because love means falling, and people are afraid of heights. And she doesn’t want him to let her down when he holds her.

He didn’t quite respond and she just let him in. In her house at least.

‘‘y/n you know that-’‘ he started but she quickly interrupted him by continuing herself the sentence

‘’It was a big mistake and I never meant to hurt you.’’ she ironically smiled ‘‘well guess what Harry, you did.’‘ she was nothing but devastated.

‘‘Babe-’‘ did you just- yes he did.

‘‘You are not allowed to call me that anymore!’‘ she replied the fastest she had ever responded to someone.

She felt her heart breaking. Again. And he was the reason why. Again.

‘‘When I told you I didn’t love you anymore I didn’t mean it. I had to do it because you deserved way better. I couldn’t be selfish at that, not when it came to you.’’

She wanted to punch him but really mentally she was into him and physically she felt over, over him. He broke her heart, then came and told her he didn’t mean to? She was confused.

‘‘No Harry you fucking meant it!’‘ and as his voice was still calm, she started yelling. ‘‘You told me I wasn’t enough and I should be better! You told me you didn’t love me. I would prefer to hear that you cheated or maybe did the worst thing, everything. I would prefer to hear everything rather than what you told me.’‘

‘‘You don’t know-’‘ she knew, but she hoped she didn’t.

‘‘The less I know the better, Harry.’‘ and her anger was reduced.

‘‘Y/n we were something. Together we’re more like everything.’‘ he just wanted her, just her, how difficult could it be?

‘‘Were nothing!’‘ she has to stop lying to herself.

‘’Well, the universe has existed for billions of years and by chance we ended up living at the same time? That counts for something.’‘

She hated it. She hated when he talked like that, making her feel loved. She wished she could hate him as much as she hated this.

‘‘It doesn’t work like that Harry!’‘ she was about to cry, she fell apart, mentally. She even asked herself why was she doin’ this and not just hug him till he makes her feel more loved than she has ever felt. Till he kisses every place that she’s aching and till they find their way out, together.

‘‘We’‘ and again ‘‘made something magical. But I knew you were way too bright for me, way too good. And I loved you so telling you the opposite of what I felt was the best thing for both of us.’‘

‘‘So if that was the best thing, why you came back? she needed the truth, the real one.

‘‘I was wrong and I’m sorry.’‘ of course he was, he always is, isn’t he? ‘‘but I couldn’t let you know the truth because you would come back to me and that would break me even more. That was the only thing I didn’t trust you at.’‘ he felt like something got off his chest.

‘‘You said you saw a future.’‘

‘‘And I did, I still do.’‘ was he getting her back? God, two whole years without her were only accompanied by pain.

‘‘Harry.’‘ she was calm because she knew this would end soon, they would end soon and she needed it to be done soon. ‘‘If you can’t trust me with a choice, how are you supposed to trust me with a child?’‘

Good question, bad timing, no answer.

‘‘You’‘ she continued, ‘‘you’re just not the same person I fell in love with. I loved you and I’ll always love you but we’re not who we were two years ago. And for sure we aren’t going to have the same thing we had back then.’‘ she felt peace in his wrecking hell.

‘‘No, no, no.’‘ his words slowly getting out of his mouth while he was trying to apologize.

‘‘I hope you find a way to be yourself someday.’‘ 10 words were everything it needed and everything they had was gone. ‘‘Maybe that day things won’t be that bad, for both of us. But till that day, I can’t risk it Harry.’‘

He didn’t even respond, because he knew what was she saying was the truth even though it hurt the hell out of him. She was right. And he was willing to do anything for her, but some more time maybe did well for both of ‘em.

And he left again, like he always does. She didn’t hear the words she wanted to hear, those 3 little simple words, but at least she felt alright. This time, she found herself.

She really wanted him to be the one.

He’s not the one, he’s just one.

After all, true love stories don’t have happy endings.

But really, what is love? How it affects you? Why it affects you? Why is it so hard to believe that you’re in love but so easy to fall? How do you know when you love someone? What makes you fall in love and what makes you fall out of love? Mostly, what’s the craziest thing you’d do for love?

What’s the craziest thing you’d do for love? Push them away to find themselves, because once they’re happy, you’re happy.

143 notes · View notes

meaningofmotorsport · 3 years

Text

A Perfect Wet Qualifying Session!

I don’t think it gets any better than when the track dries throughout the sessions, only for everyone to switch to dry tyres as qualifying reaches its climax, which only further adds to the intensity! Russia did not disappoint today, as Norris took his first ever pole, with a spectacular lap right at the end of the session. After losing out on a chance of fighting for a wet pole at Spa, he made up for it here, off the back of an incredible Monza for the team. In the race, he has a great chance for at least a podium, maybe even more! He truly is becoming one of the best drivers in the sport!

Sainz was unlucky to be one of the first cars to take the chequered flag in Q3, as otherwise it could have been even better, although 2nd is still great for them on a power hungry track! He could challenge Norris into Turn 2, otherwise he will be fending off the faster cars behind during the race, as they probably don’t have the race pace to keep with Lando. Even better, was Russell, who yet again did amazing things when the rain came, and starts 3rd tomorrow. He was well down in Q1, but was the first onto slicks in Q3, and made the most of it. That being said, the race will be difficult for him, with many faster cars behind him!

4th and 7th may not look like a disaster for Mercedes, especially as they have the whole race to make up for it, however, it puts pressure on them, on a weekend where they hoped to make major gains on Verstappen. Also, they are right in amongst drivers who see an opportunity to score big tomorrow, so there are a lot of risks in the run to Turn 2 for them on Lap 1. Surprisingly in the wet, it was Hamilton who made all the mistakes today which caused the issues, as he hit the wall in the pit lane. This cost both him and Bottas a lot of time, as they only had one flying lap on slicks, which didn’t work for them. Who knows what would have happened without that, but you would expect they could have had a good shot at pole? As I said, they need to be careful tomorrow, and play the long game, as they both still have a great chance at the win.

Ricciardo and Alonso line up 5th and 6th, which you would expect from two drivers who have a lot of experience in the sport. Daniel is still off the pace of his teammate slightly, but in these conditions, you would expect any small gaps to be exaggerated, so I wouldn’t worry too much. Alpine do have a chance to gain some points on Aston Martin, especially if Alonso has another mega first lap. Stroll is in 8th; however, Vettel was very annoyed to barely miss out on the top 10.

Another driver who was lower than expected, and is probably the angriest man in the paddock is Gasly. He was one of those people, like Norris, who you would have picked to do very well in these conditions. He said that the team didn’t pit him for a new set of inters, but that can be his responsibility too, to tell the team he needs new tyres. His result makes Tsunoda look much better today, as he was only a position or two behind him.

Schumacher did pretty well in the wet, and was fairly close to reaching Q2, given how bad his car is. Alfa Romeo continue to underperform in 2021, despite a few good qualifying’s for Giovinazzi in recent races, and are now probably the 9th fastest team in F1. The slightly mixed up grid will play into the advantage of Leclerc and Verstappen, as it may keep the pack closer together in the early part of the race, and could cause some drama too at the front!

Despite all that happened today, it is still quite likely that Hamilton will win tomorrow, however, the incidents we saw, have made it a much harder challenge, and could potentially spell disaster if things don’t go well in the race for Lewis!

-M

Thank you very much for reading this article! To keep up to date with when they go out, and to see my reactions to races and other news, follow me on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/MeaningofMotor1

Also, if you want to support me, I have a Patreon Page at: https://www.patreon.com/meaningofmotorsport

#f1 #russiangp #russian gp 2021 #f12021 #formula one #motorsport #russian grand prix

1 note · View note

f1-writer · 4 years

Text

Sakhir GP Race Review

I held off writing this for a while so that I could collect my thoughts and not write out of frustration/anger/sadness/literally any negative emotion one can feel. However, I think I hold the crown as Pettiest Bitch Alive so I will try to be objective in the first half and be very much opinionated in the second half.

The lights went out, and George had a really good start despite being on the worse side of the track. Kimi ended up spinning at the same place Romain had his accident last week, but luckily the new tyre barrier wasn’t needed as Kimi just spun all the way around, not touching the wall. Only a few seconds later, Checo and Charles collided as Checo turned in on him through a corner. Technically Checo did have the right of the racing line, but he also left Charles nowhere to go. Max, who was right behind them, turned left to try and avoid their collision, but lost it a little, leading him straight into the unforgiving hands of the gravel trap as he traveled agonizingly across it and into the wall. Charles, with his front left suspension completely gone, also slid right in front of the wall, just a few feet from Max. These brought out a safety car, which was pretty bad for George as he pulled a Lewis and was gone after the first corner. George’s safety car restart was also very good, and he managed to maintain a gap to Valtteri of about 2 to 3 seconds. The race was fairly uneventful barring a VSC brought out by Nicky until shit hit the fan in the last quarter of the race. Jack managed to lose just the front of his front wing, ducking quickly into the pits, but debris still on the track. A VSC was brought out at first, but quickly turned into a full-on safety car. I don’t exactly remember every event that happened, but basically Mercedes made a bad call on a pit stop and managed to make a “colossal fuck up” in the wise words of Toto by putting Valtteri’s tyres on George’s car and nearly put George’s on Valttteri’s car until a mechanic realized and they switched at the last second, creating about a 27 second pit stop. This gave George no advantage however, as he immediately had to duck back into the pits, once again putting him and Valtteri on the same playing field. At this point, things were looking bad, but not impossible for George to recover from. Our hopes, dreams, and general happiness were all crushed when George got a puncture, meaning a race that could have been a 1-stop had turned into a 4-stop. By this point, there were less than 10 laps left, and George was down near 15th place. The shining moments for him, in my opinion, were those last 10 laps. His spirit must’ve been crushed, and they obviously were as he was crying after the race in parc ferme, yet he showed us what a strong person he is, and did something that no one really expected. He was pulling over a second a lap on Lando (P10), and ended up just over 2 seconds behind Valtteri, even with his additional pit stop. He easily had fastest lap, with his time (I believe) less than a millisecond over 53 seconds flat, an improvement of over three tenths from Bottas’s pole-taking time. Every fastest sector said one word: Russell. Instead of letting the mistake put him down like Valtteri seemingly did, George channeled that negative energy into proving himself, storming to his first, albeit bittersweet, points in Formula 1. After the race, Toto and Bono came on the radio to George, apologizing profusely to him and telling him that he did a great job, an obvious testament to how much they respect him.

Now for my opinions (this is literally just me venting because nothing makes me more upset than George being sad and a victory/podium being stolen from a driver, so feel free to skip because the opinions here prolly aren’t too popular):

Fuck you Checo. I really don’t have a problem with you but come on, man. You ended Charles and Max’s races when they both had incredible qualifyings, and even though it is a first lap incident, I’d say Checo was the one to blame, if anyone (feel free to disagree, again I’m the Pettiest Bitch Ever so I really don’t give a fuck). Yet, Checo was the only one who got away from that incident unscathed, got a free pit stop from the safety car that he created, and ended up winning not because he was the fastest, but because he took out two of the fastest people and the other two fastest people had stuff happen to them completely out of their control. Listen, I’m cool with Checo getting a win and all that shit, but I really don’t care. He’s had his time to prove himself and (unpopular opinion alert) so has Hulk. I love Hulk and don’t particularly care about Checo, but like come on, guys. There’s only so many times we can excuse your performances. They’ve had long enough to prove themselves, and Checo only just got around to it while Hulk still hasn’t fully proved himself. How many more chances can they ask for before people start saying no? They’ve had their chances and they blew it. So open up the seat for new drivers. Also words cannot describe how trash that podium combo was (for me, at least). I just turned off the TV because the sight of RP cheering while George was crying made me too upset, and I didn’t watch any of the podium interviews or even the podium itself (although it probably was nice to hear some different anthems). Also, I hope that this race will never be replayed because damn, it was worse than France 2019 (yes, I went there). At least France was expected to be boring and hit the standards set for it, but Bahrain initially exceeded expectations, then slammed them right into the ground, putting no mercy up for the kindest driver in F1 (he even gave Carlos, who he is not obligated or expected to help at all, a tow in quali! You can’t tell me he’s not a great person and unfortunately if you do, please remember my title and I’m not afraid to use it).

In summary, I’m very upset and would rather watch the 2019 French GP than have to rewatch this race. At least I could sleep during France.

#sakhir gp 2020 #sakhir gp #george russell #that sucked so badly #it genuinely ruined my day #and i dont usually get affected by races like this or ever get genuinely angry because of a race #but i guess there's a first time for everything #remember to stay hydrated #and don't lose hope #there's always next time #f1-writer summary

6 notes · View notes

lynneshobbydomain · 4 years

Note

“Jinx, you owe me a coke.” - *can’t speak until they buy a soda* (panta or coffee would fit better?) Saiouma? Except they also can't do coupley stuff and Kokichi *really* wants affection and Shuichi *really* wants Kokichi's weird antics. Who will give in first?

(This was an interesting prompt Anon. Especially all of the rules that you gave me. I had to really think on how to write this, so I hope this is to your liking! Thank you for your support as always!)

The Jinx Rule

Rated: T (Miu has a mouth guys and Kokichi is frustrated)

Summary: D.I.C.E made the rules. Miu just perfected them.

“Again?!” Shuichi and Kokichi asked at the same time, staring at Miu before turning towards each other. “Jinx, you owe me a drink.” They said again and Miu cackled.

They were about to turn around to leave, when the bell rang across the school grounds. Miu cackled harder and they both turned to face her. Kokichi more out of annoyance and Shuichi more out of curiosity.

“What you think that we’re just going to let your fucking organization have the fun? We’re adding onto that bullshit!” Miu proclaimed and Shuichi’s eyebrow rose higher up. “Until you guys can fulfill that stupid promise, Cockichi can’t shove his dick in your face, Suckihara. That also goes for you too though! So don’t think you can fuck your way outta this.”

Shuichi’s cheeks burned brightly. It was a mistake to introduce D.I.C.E’s rule to his friends for sure. Kokichi’s cheeks were red, and he knew that he had half of the mind to open his mouth and lay on her. Yet, he wouldn’t break a rule that D.I.C.E themselves created, and he was the type that would go all out with the extra challenge.

He couldn’t reach out to try to tug Kokichi out of his thoughts either. All he could do was head into the classroom and pray that Kokichi would get the hint and follow. This was going to be a long day.

It was hell. Normally Shuichi was all in for quiet. He usually basked in these moments when they were forced to stay silent. D.I.C.E only had the silent rule because most of their members were talkative and it was punishment. Introverts like himself, Widow, and Ouverte usually were all in for the silent games. In fact, they would try to prolong that silence as long as they possibly could. Widow had the highest streak of keeping a jinx going. It made Trick and Shuffle suffer since they were the ones that she mostly got in her web. Shuichi had to admire that.

Miu’s rule on the other hand, no matter the implications, were pretty firm. Kokichi couldn’t do his affection routine. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t hug. He couldn’t do anything. Shuichi wasn’t much of a PDA person to begin with, but it was weird hearing Kokichi behind him, and not getting jumped on.

Kokichi must have put some hidden boundaries on himself to make the challenge “extra exciting” too. Throughout class, Shuichi was able to focus on the note-taking and the lecture. Kokichi by this point would have thrown a love note or something on his desk, trying to get them into trouble, but nothing crossed his desk. He looked over his shoulder to see that he was gnawing at his pen, staring ahead determinedly. Shuichi pursed his lips together as he also turned back to face the front. It was just...weird to not have a distraction.

Shuichi was starting to miss the affection. Normally it was aggravating, a little annoying, and unnecessary. He missed being jumped on as weird as that sounded, even Shuichi was astonished by that thought. He didn’t realize how often or how much Kokichi touched. Whether it was hanging off his shoulders, arms, acting like a backpack, Kokichi was always touching.

He also missed his voice. The silent game was fun, yes, but Shuichi wasn’t the type to make it go for too long unless he was absolutely trying to concentrate on something. But even then, Kokichi normally ended the jinx by getting him a coffee from the pot and calling it a peace treaty. Sometimes, Kokichi let it go on for longer if he thought Shuichi really didn’t need his voice yelling around in their dorm room, but would lay in his lap. He’d play with Shuichi’s hair. He’s poke at his cheek just to get his attention.

They weren’t too far from each other. Shuichi might as well admit that he picked up a thing or two about being dramatic, because it really was torture feeling like Kokichi was across the room when he was just a desk away. He glanced over at Kokichi again, and this time met violet eyes.

Kokichi had bit through the pen. Blue ink was staining his lips and mouth. Shuichi’s eyes widened and Kokichi furrowed his brows at him. Shuichi knew that being silent meant not being able to gesture. Kokichi was fluent in sign language for god knows what reason, and that broke the rule of no communication. Shuichi licked his lips and Kokichi mirrored the action before his face twisted comically.

It was the fastest Shuichi ever saw someone run out of the classroom too.

The door slammed catching everyone’s attention and Shuichi turned back to face the front.

He kind of hoped that while Kokichi attempted to wash out his mouth, he’d also try to sneak towards a vending machine.

That fucking bitch was going to have another thing coming to her, Kokichi swore in his brain. He didn’t mind adding more people to the game. That made it fun. What made it suck was that Miu thought she knew how to make a game more exciting. More challenging. Kokichi fucking hated it. Shuichi would go along with it, because Shuichi was gentle and kind and liked to give everyone a chance. Kokichi thought about strangling her.

He wanted to hug his boyfriend goddamn it. He wanted to jump on his back. Kokichi didn’t miss how Shuichi had braced himself when he heard him coming up from behind. Kokichi knew the offer was loud and clear, but thanks to the no PDA fucking rule, Kokichi had to bite his tongue and hold himself back.

He hated it. Kokichi slammed the bathroom door closed behind him as he went to the sink. His teeth stained blue and his lips looked as though he just finished kissing someone with hypothermia, or a corpse. He could taste the ink still on his tongue and it made him wince. Using his elbow to not get more ink everywhere, he turned on the faucet and started running his hands into the water. He brought them up and tried to rinse his mouth out of the taste and of the pigment, spitting out blue water until it was kind of clear.

The silent game he could handle. He knew how to make silence his bitch. This though? This?! Kokichi pursed his lips together as he looked at himself in the mirror. He felt pathetic, but...he loved giving affection. Shuichi didn’t either get a whole lot at home, or maybe just didn’t know how to respond to it, but he was always so flustered when someone just ruffled his hair. Forget how shy he got with a kiss. He liked being the one to make Shuichi’s cheeks flush. All Kokichi ever wanted was to not let one day go where Shuichi questioned if he was loved.

Kokichi didn’t ask about Shuichi’s past much. They talked about the detective work, about his uncle and his family. They talked about D.I.C.E...but history wasn’t something either of them were willing to impart on each other. Kokichi was fine with that. There wasn’t much of his past that he was willing to look back on, and he was sure Shuichi felt the same. But they both lacked the same thing. Affection and love. Kokichi spent years finding that with his organization. He was willing to spend decades building it with Shuichi.

It just sucked that so far it’s been three hours since that stupid jinx happened, and Kokichi wasn’t sure if Shuichi knew if he was loved. Shuichi’s insecurity could be the death of the entire class. His humble attitude. His gentle smile.

Kokichi smacked his cheeks. There was only one way to solve this.

Screw Miu.

After school Shuichi felt something cold hit the back of his neck and he jumped out of his skin. He turned around, a lecture on his tongue, when he saw what Kokichi was holding. A cold can of coffee. The jinx was broken and Shuichi never felt more relieved. Without a second thought, he took the offered drink and set it on his desk. “Jesus Christ never again.” Kokichi groaned. “That was hell, Shumai. Literal hell. Thousand of burning hells. I’d thought I was going to die.”

“You weren’t going to die.”

“You don’t know that! I need a thousand hugs every hour, otherwise I’ll shrivel up like a houseplant and I’ll fade away into nothing! Nothing!” Kokichi proclaimed loudly as he wrapped his arms around Shuichi’s neck and started rubbing their cheeks together.

“Kokichi-”

“Don’t say you didn’t miss this.” Kokichi replied slowly.

“Of course I missed this.” Shuichi leaned a little into the cheek rub. “But you weren’t going to shrivel up like a houseplant. We could’ve left together to get a drink.”

“You don’t know that, and I wanted to end it now.”

“I do know that.” Shuichi reached up and gently hugged Kokichi’s arms that were draped around his neck.

“Shumai’s being so mean to me. What did I do?! If anything, you were the one that taught Miu our stupid rule!” To his credit, Kokichi only pulled himself closer, as though he could drape himself like a boa around Shuichi’s shoulders.

“Hey!” Miu shouted, reminding the boys that a few of their classmates hadn’t left yet.

“You went along with it!” Shuichi pouted back, leaning into the hold easily.

“Oh for fucks sake, if I trick you into doing a jinx again, will you two shut the fuck up and stop with the PDA porn? Not everyone wants to see that!” Miu groaned.

“No.” They both said together before groaning. “Jinx.” They said together in a defeated tone of voice. Kokichi slipping off of Shuichi’s shoulders reluctantly and Shuichi wishing for once he had just shut up himself.

“FUCK YES!” Miu shouted and the rest of the class erupted into snickers and giggles.

Kokichi flipped Miu off, and Shuichi wanted to bang his head on the desk. At least they’ll be quicker to get to a vending machine this time.

#trickyfindings #miu iruma #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #saiouma #oumasai #dialogue prompt #danganronpa fanfic #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #i hope you enjoyed this anon #you gave me a hell of a challenge with this #Anonymous

70 notes · View notes

blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

Text

penman47 asked: Your pages on Stirling Moss and Graham Hill have brought back fond memories of my passion for Formula 1 racing and the Grand Prix races from 1963 through1972. Mechanical failures often plagued Stirling Moss, Graham Hill and Jimmy Clark as man put machine to test. My question would be who of the three would come out on top driving the same mechanically perfect car at say the British Grand Prix Silverstone.

Thank you for your question @penman47

I received this question just before the sad news about the recent untimely death of the legendary Sir Stirling Moss. It feels prescient to respond now after a bit time to pass to reflect with a more sober perspective rather than let sentiment and emotion cloud any judgement.

In my family we are, it is fair to say, racing nuts. My grandfather had the racing bug and drove classic cars at amateur meets like Goodwood through his friendship with Freddie Richmond and was involved heavily in the RAC Club. He was fortunate to see all three of these racings icons race. He saw all of Jim Clark’s five victories at the British Grand Prix and regularly went to Monaco to see Graham Hill win there five times. He saw Stirling Moss race too and he was there for the Glover Trophy at Goodwood in 1962 when Stirling Moss had his career ending accident. Without taking anything away from the modern era drivers like Alain Prost, Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher, and Lewis Hamilton - all of whom he thinks are a credit to motor racing - he is very much of his era. As a proud Scots, he thinks Jim Clark was the best he ever saw.

My father got the racing bug too but was more of a Le Mans fan when he was growing up because spectators were closer to the action than F1. He had inherited and also built up his own classic car collection that he sometimes races at Goodwood. He was a wee laddie when he saw Clark and Hill race but he doesn’t fully recall because he was too young to fully remember. He loved watching James Hunt, Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost but had a grudging respect for Nikki Lauda. He never saw Stirling Moss race but knew him quite well through Goodwood and at the RAC Club in London. I know his head says Jim Clark but his heart says Stirling Moss was the best British driver.

For one of my older brothers, who has a thing for speed as I do, he was always a big Ayrton Senna fan. Again as a small boy he saw Ayrton Senna race and was part of the converted to consider him as the greatest driver of all time. Senna’s bravery was his own inspiration to take part in the Dakar Rally and other endurance races.

It’s indeed one of my unmet ambitions to ride in the Dakar Rally but it’s always been on the back burner. I would like to ride with my brother because he has the experience but he and I are too competitive and we would fight over who was the better driver - for the record, I know I am.

My mother - being Norwegian - is left to make dry sarcastic remarks about boys and toys whenever my grandfather, father and us siblings talked about racing. But she’s not immune to the glamour of F1 racing either. I’ve been told by my aunts that when my mother was at her Swiss boarding school, and later learning to be a ski instructor in the Alps, she would descend upon Monaco during the Grand Prix with her friends and enjoy the social side of racing i.e. the partying side of Formula One racing. But she’s quite buttoned up about her partying past. Meanwhile she and my other siblings continue roll their eyes when the subject of racing comes up.

But speaking for myself, speed has been my drug of choice and flying combat helicopters in the army for a time helped satiate that need. When I left I felt empty and bereft. But if flying single craft planes and gliders gives me weird sense of peace these days (when I can make the time to do so), I get a decent rush from riding motorbikes hard and fast on the open country roads (forget about the urban traffic congested cityscape). Racing the odd fast car I managed to get my hands on through pliant boyfriend or good friend has given me a brief thrill too but it’s been spoiled often with my driving companion screaming in my ear or pissing their pants as I take the turn hard. With my penchant for crashing - tsk, more like a graze - I’m not allowed any where near my father’s classic cars.

I have been to Grand Prix races, including ones at Silverstone, Spa-Francochamps, Singapore, Shanghai, Suzuka, Yas Marina, Monza, and Monaco, from the time I was at boarding school. I would either go as a guest of my grandfather or father or even with some school friends who lived in Monaco and had links to get entry into the drivers’ paddock. But these days it’s more likely because of wrangling a corporate hospitality invitation that I would have the chance to go - sometimes if I plan my calendar fortuitously and Lady Luck smiles upon me I can catch two birds with one stone e.g. do a business trip to Shanghai and stay on to see the Shanghai Grand Prix. So I follow racing avidly if I can. For me of course the amazing Lewis Hamilton is the driver of our generation along with Michael Schumacher’s imperious reign at the top. And I do like the cut of Max Verstappen’s gib too.

Of course it’s hard for me to credibly assess who was the better driver between Stirling Moss, Graham Hill, and Jim Clark because I wasn’t a direct witness but not many today were either. But I consider myself a racing fan and I have seen old footage. I have also read about the history of Grand Prix racing and listened to others whose expert views I respect. So I hope what I offer is just an educated opinion at the end of the day but I recognise the heart will come into it because racing - at least in the vintage years - was quite romantic even as it morphed into something more glamorous in later decades.

Anyway, your question just added more fuel to the fire in our family discussions over our recent Zoom calls.

I have to say upfront that I consider Jim Clark as the greatest British driver of all time. I’m with my grandfather on this one and I always enjoy playing contrarian to my father(!). But all things considered Jim Clark was on a different level to both Stirling Moss and Graham Hill. And why I think so I hope I can lay that case out below.

It’s important to put all three drivers in their racing context.

Firstly, they all didn’t race at their peak at the same time and in the case of Moss in a different era. But there was some overlap between Moss and Clark and Hill. Stirling Moss had active career from 1951-1961. Graham Hill had his active years between 1958 to 1975. And Jim Clark was only active for eight years from 196O to 1968.

Secondly, unless you’re a racing fan or have seen old film footage, it really is hard to convey to our present times just how dangerous driving was in that era. It was known as the Killer Years in Formula One history. Back in the days when the British government leached up to 97 per cent from a race driver’s income, a racer had at least a 40% chance of dying at the wheel, so tragedies were commonplace. Some prodded the tiger once too often and ran out of luck. It really is hard for us to fathom the extreme danger Grand Prix drivers put themselves under when they hared around the track as one mistake might well cost them their life or a body of broken bones.

And thirdly, it may sound simple to say this, but they drove extremely fast at very high speeds. The temptation again is to look at vintage racing cars in the light of modern super engineered racing cars and think they were easy to drive.

Few drivers in the history of motor sport can prove they’ve won the elusive Triple Crown. Only Graham Hill can. Formula One world champion in 1962 and 1968; winner of the 1966 Indianapolis 500; winner of the 1972 24 hours of Le Mans and five time Monaco GP winner. An incredible achievement that underlines the fact that Hill was one of the most complete drivers of his time. He was fast, but not the fastest. Talented, but not the most talented. The best, but not always and everywhere. Explosive, but predictable. Professional, but with enough self-mockery to pull his pants down at dinner parties, running up and down the tables. Hill drove his cars throughout the most dangerous years of the sport. Calmly and reserved, while he tried to fight off virtuoso's like Jim Clark, Jochen Rindt and Jackie Stewart.

When Stirling Moss drove on the track, he was there to race, not to eke out championship points. And to do it fast, faster than anyone else. For a driver whose competitive peak coincided with one of motor racing’s most dangerous periods when death regularly stalked all drivers, a time when average lap speeds escalated while safety precautions stood still, Moss’ courage and achievements were even more astonishing. Moss knew all about that: witness the serious leg injuries he suffered during practice for the 1960 Belgian Grand Prix, a race in which compatriots Chris Bristow and Alan Stacey both died, or the career-ending aftermath of his accident during the 1962 Glover Trophy at Goodwood.

But for his own unswerving sense of fair play, he could have pipped Mike Hawthorn to become Britain’s first world champion in 1958. Moss won four races to his rival’s one, but the latter benefited from greater reliability and consistency. The pivotal moment came in the Portuguese Grand Prix, from which Hawthorn was initially stripped of second place for receiving a push-start after slithering off the track. Moss was among those who came to his defence.

To this day Moss has won more world championship grands prix than any other driver never to have secured the championship, despite the ever-escalating number of such races. He has always maintained that he’d like to remembered as “a driver who preferred to lose while driving quickly than to win by driving slowly enough to get beaten”. For a few years, after the retirement of the great Juan Manuel Fangio in 1958, he was the finest and most famous racing driver in the world. He was so good that Ferrari not only wanted him to drive for them but were prepared to have the car painted blue, the team colour of his friend Rob Walker. And it is worth remembering that Enzo Ferrari rated Moss ahead of Fangio and placed him alongside Tazio Nuvolari. He is, perhaps then, the ultimate proof that raw racing statistics sometimes mean very little when you are natural racer.

Jim Clark’s raw racing statistics spoke volumes for his achievement and the astonishing records he set, a few of which still remain unsurpassed. More than that he has been hailed as one of the top three drivers of all time in any reputable survey. His achievements were a reflection of the awe and admiration many of his driving peers and others since his untimely tragic death have held about the man and the racer.

Clark began matching Stirling Moss’s speed in the second half of the 1961 season, and took over the Englishman’s mantle in 1962 when Moss was injured in a crash at Goodwood on Easter Monday. Clark narrowly lost the World Championship that year to BRM rival Graham Hill, after his Lotus developed an oil leak while dominating the finale in South Africa. Two years later he lost another championship to an oil leak, literally on the last lap of the season-closing Mexican GP. The honours fell instead to John Surtees. But in 1963 and 1965 Clark was unstoppable in Colin Chapman’s green and yellow Lotuses, and their driver/engineer relationship was symbiotic.

Jim Clark not only won his second title in 1965 but he did so by leading every single lap of every race he finished in the 1965 season. Therefore, he won every race he finished with what we now call lights to flag victories. It was an incredible feat which has been unmatched by the other truly greats of the sport, Fangio, Senna, or Schumacher.

In 1963 only some obfuscation by the establishment at Indianapolis Motor Speedway in favour of the traditional front-engined roadsters prevented him from beating Parnelli Jones to victory on his Indy 500 debut in Chapman’s rear-engined Lotus ‘funny car’. He led the 1964 Indy 500 race before his rear suspension broke, and in 1965 dominated the event and became the first Briton to win this iconic race since Dario Resta in 1916.

Clark remains the only man in history to have won the Formula One World Championship and the famed Indianapolis 500 in the same year (1965).

His tally of 25 victories was a record at the time. It has since been surpassed by several other drivers, but none in so few races. Clark's came in just 72 starts, a win ratio surpassed only by Alberto Ascari and Juan Manuel Fangio.

Likewise, his tally of 33 total pole positions was first passed by Sebsatian Vettel, with only Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher and Lewis Hamilton ahead of Clark. But in percentage terms, Clark is ahead of them all. He was on pole for 45.2% of his races - only Fangio, on 55.8%, did better.

Those numbers give a sense of how Clark towered over his era, a period when he made many grands prix mind-numbingly boring, so completely did he and his Lotus dominate them. Yes, the Lotus was often the best car, but Clark's supremacy was not in doubt. His two titles in 1963 and 1965 were exercises in crushing superiority, and he would have won in 1964 and 1967 as well had it not been for the notoriously poor reliability of Lotus's cars.

But does any of this tell us which of the three would have won between the three of them at the British Grand Prix as you suggest?

Graham Hill may have been the monarch of Monaco - his nickname was after all ‘Mr Monaco’ with his magisterial six wins between 1963 and 1969, a record only bettered by the great Ayrton Senna - but much to his regret he never won a British Grand Prix race.

Stirling Moss won two British Grand Prix races in 1955 driving a Mercedes car and in 1957 where he shared a drive in a Vanwall car with Tony Brooks.

Jim Clark won the British Grand Prix an astonishing five times. In 1962, 1963, 1964, 1965 he won driving the same Lotus-Climax car and in 1967 he won with a Lotus-Ford car. His five victories were a record that stood through the subsequent decades until Alain Prost equalled Clark’s tally in 1993 (Prost won on and off between 1983 and 1993). Clark’s record was only surpassed in 2019 when Lewis Hamilton won his amazing sixth victory at the British Grand Prix (with perhaps more to come). Even more remarkable was how peerless Clark’s domination was as he won four British Grand Prix races consecutively. It was yet another amazing record that belonged to Jim Clark until Lewis Hamilton joined him in the record books with four straight wins (2014-2017).

It might be churlish to point out that Stirling Moss, like Graham Hill, never won at Silverstone even when he raced there. Clark won three times.

In those days the British Grand Prix was not always held at Silverstone. Between 1926 and 1986 the venue track chosen rotated between Brooklands and Silverstone, then Aintree and Silverstone, and later Brands Hatch and Silverstone. Only from 1987 onwards to the present day did Silverstone become the established venue race track of the British Grand Prix.

Moss’ two British Grand Prix victories were both achieved at Aintree (1955 and 1957). The British Grand Prix races that Moss did compete at Silverstone he retired due to engine or axle trouble.

In contrast Clark won his first British Grand Prix victory at Aintree in 1962, and another one at Brands Hatch in 1964 but the other three victories were at Silverstone.

So one would have to give the win to Jim Clark on paper.

But some may argue yes, that’s all well and good but who was the fastest driver and who really was the better driver?

Here again the stats speak for themselves. The all time list of fastest laps set during their respective careers gives us some clue because the tracks they drove on were the same during their eras. Graham Hill is 34th on the all time fastest laps set with 10 fastest laps in the Grand Prix races he drove in a 17 year career (1958-1975). Stirling Moss is 15th on the all time fastest - one position above Ayrton Senna - where he set the fastest laps in 19 Grand Prix races in his 10 year career (1951-1961). Jim Clark is 7th on the all time fastest laps set by a Grand Prix driver. He recorded 28 fastest laps in Grand Prix races in his 8 year short racing career (1960-1968). Only Mansell, Vettel, Prost, Raikkonen, Hamilton and Schumacher as 1st stand ahead of him. What makes Clark’s achievement staggering is that he was competing in an era where technology was in the Bronze Age compared to the modern marvels of technology, aerodynamics, and speed. It’s also worth noting all the other drivers had much longer racing careers than Clark did before his untimely death. At the 1968 South African Grand Prix - his last before his death in Hockenheim ring in Germany 3 months later - Clark won way ahead of the pack led by Graham Hill who came in second. He was comfortably on his way to another world championship with more records to be smashed.

Clark still holds the record of eight Grand Slam race wins - that is winning pole position, putting in the fastest lap, and leading every lap of a race to the win. Only Lewis Hamilton comes close with six and Schumacher and Ascari with five. He achieved this twice at the British Grand Prix in 1962 (Aintree) and 1964 (Brands Hatch). Again it needs to be emphasised that Clark did all this while driving in the most dangerous era of Formula One - The Killer Years - where death of drivers and lack of driver and track safety was all too common. This is simply astonishing.

Of the three, Jim Clark was the fastest. I think this isn’t just about stats it’s also the they way they drove that made all three such great racers. All three certainly had limitless courage that even now demands total respect and awe. In particular it’s breath taking watching old film footage of Moss driving his most famous and greatest victory of all was the 1955 Mille Miglia in which he covered 1,000 miles of open Italian roads at an average speed of 97.96mph in 10 hours, seven minutes and 48 seconds.

But the fastest doesn’t make you best of course. When it comes to judging who was the best I think what their peers and contemporaries thought of them counts a lot in coming to some conclusions as to who was the best driver.

Sir Jackie Stewart, three times world champion and a team mate of Jim Clark as well as friends with all three drivers, is worth listening to.

Many think that Graham Hill wasn’t the most natural driver. This isn’t said to slight him or doubt his abilities but to acknowledge his approach to driving. As Jackie Stewart said, “Whereas Jimmy [Clark], Stirling, to a certain extent myself, would drive around a car’s handling problem, Graham would fiddle with the car until it was right. Graham would take very different lines around a corner to others, and I know because sometimes I was following him.”

Sir Stirling Moss has echoed Stewart’s comments. “I’d go along with Jackie and say that Graham didn’t have a natural ability to drive a car extremely quickly. But having said that, when I was to choose a partner for a sports car race at say, the Nürburgring, I would always choose Graham because he was so reliable. Quick, but unlikely to do anything stupid.”

Jackie Stewart’s comment unearth one of secrets of why not only was Jim Clark the fastest but also the best of the three. Simply put Clark knew how to take corners and know when to brake.

It must be stressed that both Moss and Clark knew how to take corners and mastered the art of breaking to a level very few drivers reached whatever car they were driving.

Moss was certainly a pioneer in taking corners and knowing when and when not to brake. Moss - especially at his peak in the Lotus - would cut into the corner early and with the brakes on.

Most drivers run deep into a corner before turning the wheel. In this way a driver could complete his braking in a straight line, as is the standard practice and one everyone did and still do, before setting the car up for the corner. But natural drivers like Moss (and Clark) preferred to cut into the corner early and even with their brakes still on to set up the car earlier. In this way such drivers almost make a false apex because they get the power on early and try to drift the car through the true apex and continue with this sliding until they are set up for the next bit of straight. In other words, the result is a smooth line as you come out of the turn and race on at faster and more seamless speed.

Clark would take this to the next evolutionary step from Moss - also in a Lotus - as cars became more mechanically challenging to handle. Clark placed a big premium on braking. In his book At the Wheel (1964) he expounded on this belief, "The most important thing you can learn in racing: how to brake. Often, if I want to go through a given corner quicker I don’t necessarily put the brakes on any later than usual, but I might not put them on very hard, and take them off earlier. Where you are led into the trap is leaving your braking too late and having to run deep into the corner and brake at the last moment, you might certainly arrive at the corner quicker, but there is a psychological tendency to brake much harder than you need to and therefore over-brake."

A good example of this is looking at footage of the 1965 French Grand Prix in Clermont-Ferrand where Jim Clark won from pole position and set the fastest lap around this new track that no one had driven on before (see below)

youtube

Fast forward to the 9 minute mark you will see all the top drivers of that era tackling a fast downhill left - unfortunately you don’t see Graham Hill, who had an off day and ended up 13th I think - but the point remains valid.

Jim Clark drives a Lotus in this 1965 French Grand Prix race and is bombing away from the rest of the pack as was his usual MO. The interesting thing to notice is the turn. Clark’s Lotus is 2-3 feet inside the painted white line as he turns into the corner. It’s really more of a smooth elegant sweep into the corner. Clark clearly turns in much more earlier with the brakes - as we now know - are lightly caressed. Clark smoothly glides through out of the turn as he disappears from view carrying crucial extra speed. Then the rest come and the difference is soon clear. Jackie Stewart’s BRM P261 car grazes the line and grappling with more understeer than he might have liked finds himself to the right of the dotted line when he comes out of the turn. The V8 Ferrari of the great John Surtees also grazes the line with a similar result. Dan Gurney’s Brabham BT11 car crosses the painted line and he pays for his aggressive stance by sitting cross the road’s dotted centre line. On this track at Clermont-Ferrand there were forty-eight corners in its five sinuous miles to perilously navigate and Clark using this MO had the nonchalant confidence and consistency as well as the driving artistry to increasingly pull ahead of the chasing pack to victory.

Analysing the Clark technique, Peter Collins (a former team manager at Team Lotus and Williams, and an avid Clark fan), who knows more about what makes great drivers than most, made a key observation, “His driving was incredibly fluid even in dramatic moments. Watching the first laps of various races you got a very strong impression that he was mentally more ahead of the car than was the opposition. Watching him leading at the ’Ring in 1967, for instance, the impressive thing was that there were no dead moments in transition from braking to turn-in, to throttle on. He was able to drive an understeering car in a four-wheel drift and judge the exits to perfection.”

Graham Hill, who was a good friend of Jim Clark’s as well as being a fiercely competitive rival on the track, knew better than most and so I shall let him have the final say on this. Hill in his penned eulogy to Jim Clark noted his mastery of taking the corner, “For a driver, the excitement of racing is controlling the car within very fine limits. It's a great big balancing act, motor racing. It's having the car broken away and drifting and doing exactly as you want it to do and getting around the corner as quickly as you can, and knowing that you've done it, and hoping that it is better than anyone else has done. You are aiming at perfection and never actually getting it. Now and then you say, "That's it. That's how I want to do that corner. Now beat that, you bastards." This is the essence of racing, and at this, Jimmy, in his era, was unsurpassed.”

A word must be said about the cars these drivers drove. Racing cars in that era were extremely fast but also extremely unreliable. One can only lament how many world championships Moss, Hill, and Clark would have won if not for some mechanical car failure that did cost them dearly. In the case of Clark, he agonisingly lost the world championships in 1962 and 1964 due to oil leaks in the final race both times.

Of the three Hill was the most technical, not surprising given that he started life with the Royal Navy as a technician specialist. When he was racing Hill took notes of every test, every practice, every race and how his car handled specific track conditions and setups. He was constantly on top of his mechanics with these early versions of telemetry and his expertise on engineering meant that the difference between mechanic and driver was nothing more than a grey area. According to some of the mechanics who worked with Hill, it was sometimes impossible to please him. Both Moss and Clark by contrast didn’t really bother with that side but rather they just jumped into the car and worked around the problems on the track relying on their natural flair and genius. That’s how brilliant they both were.

So how would Moss and Clark fare if they both had the same car and barring any technical issues. There are no certainties but they did both briefly overlap in their careers, as Moss was coming to the end of his and Clark was about to start his ascension. The race that most would point to is the 1961 South African Grand Prix. Stirling Moss was the undisputed world's best in 1961, pulling off some famous victories in inferior equipment, but Clark's performances at the end of the season showed that things were changing. Clark's Lotus Climax 21 car had beaten the slightly older Lotus Climax 18/21 model of Moss in the Natal Grand Prix earlier in the month, but the East London race stepped things up a notch. Clark was fastest in qualifying and started on pole position with Moss +0.2 seconds behind.

Both Clark and his Team Lotus team mate Trevor Taylor led the way at the start but but Moss was soon into second and took the lead when Clark spun avoiding another car. Now Clark charged, despite sustaining gearbox damage, lapping faster than his pole time, and Moss was powerless to stop him coming through to win."Moss pulled in behind Clark and tried to stay in his slipstream but could not keep up with Clark's fast and furious driving and fell slowly, but surely, behind," read Autosport's report. "Clark demonstrated that the world championship is no pipe-dream for him." Clark was a little more circumspect, though beating Moss was clearly a watershed: "I had the satisfaction of beating Stirling twice in two weeks, although, in all fairness, my car was newer than his," he wrote in his 1964 book, Jim Clark - At the wheel.

That Clark was being characteristically modest and magnanimous isn’t the main point to take away. The point is made by Colin Chapman the iconic genius behind Lotus who said of Clark, “when there was no mechanical trouble, Clark absolutely blew away the opposition. One prime example of that was the 1967 German Grand Prix when the Lotus was not an easy car to drive but still Clark got pole in it by a staggering 9 seconds. This also brought out another of Clark’s skills – to drive around problems. He was capable of driving a car with any given setup – he never asked to change the setup to make it to his liking, he went out on track and tried to make the car go faster by adjusting accordingly at corners, which was very easy for him as he had a very smooth driving style and it never looked like he was trying to muscle the car across the corners.”

Once Clark was in front he was almost unbeatable. No matter who you were or how good you were, Clark was quicker and relentless. It was almost game over once Clark took the lead and slowly pulled away from the rest. Graham Hill said in his eulogy to Jim Clark, “He was also particularly competitive, particularly aggressive, but he combined this with an extremely good sense of what not to do. One can be overthrusting—aggressive to the point of being dangerous. Well, this Jimmy was not. But he was a fighter, a fighter that you could never shake off. He invariably shot into the lead and killed off the others, building up a lead that sapped their will to win.”

This is one main reason with all things being equal, Clark would beat Moss and Moss would beat Hill. The really scary thing about Clark’s complete mastery of driving was what Colin Chapman said years later, "I think Jim never drove really 100% - he was so good, he didn’t need it to beat the others. Perhaps only in Monza 1967 he had the knife between his teeth...."

Moss is rightly celebrated as an icon of motor racing. Moss had a fantastic 15 year career on the track and just as importantly he had an even longer one off the track as the fantastic ambassador of Grand Prix racing. Moss lived to be 90 years old and he used that time to deservedly cement his legendary status as a Formula One great. He was a very charismatic and convivial personality. He is revered by contemporary drivers and racing fans because his presence was anywhere and everywhere. No racing event would be complete without the vintage stardust of the great Sir Stirling Moss. At Goodwood and at the RAC Club racing enthusiasts would mill around him and listen to his endless yarns. At race circuits during the Grand Prix season his presence in paddock would stop everything as racers and technical crew were in awe of him.

In contrast Jim Clark’s racing career was tragically cut short to a mere 8 years and yet he had achieved so much at the age of 32 years old. Arguably his death had the greater impact because it was more keenly felt by his peers and those within the racing world. So when he was killed by a puncture during the wet Formula 2 Deutschland Trophy race at Hockenheim on 7 April 1968, after his Lotus crashed into unforgiving trees by the side of the track, race drivers around the world felt death’s hand on their shoulder, and asked themselves, “If it can happen to Jim Clark, what chance do we have?”

The consequence of Clark’s death cannot be stressed enough. Clark’s death was the sacrificial blood price for the more modern era drivers to race with greater driver safety measures in place and safer tracks for spectators that these days we today take for granted. A lot of credit is due to Clark’s close friend and team mate, the great Sir Jackie Stewart, who at the risk of his own personal reputation, pushed hard for the racing world to take driver safety seriously. A lot of danger - and perhaps even the excitement - has been taken out as Moss used to say. But there is no question racing - whilst still relatively dangerous because of the higher speeds they are pushing for those micro margin of victories - is much safer than the dangerous era of Moss, Hill, and Clark.

So why isn’t he more well known or revered by the general public (as opposed to hard core racing fans and those within the racing world)? I suspect it was due to his shyness and aversion to publicity. Clark grew up on a Scottish farm and he was clear to many that this was his roots that he always returned to. While he couldn’t entirely avoid the glamour of the racing world with its hedonistic side effects of women, sex and fast cars - as personified by Graham Hill or James Hunt - Clark eschewed all that in favour of simple living on his Scottish farm. His only indulgence was an airplane that he used to piloted into race circuits in Europe - Hill could fly too and it cost him his life in 1975 in a tragic plane accident. Clark simply loved racing. The proud Scot was a gentleman with self-deprecating charm and modesty to match. He was simply a good and decent man revered by his own peers in his own time.

At Clark’s funeral, Jim Clark Snr, beloved father, confessed to Dan Gurney, a racing rival, that he was the only man his son had feared. Gurney, who died in January 2018, spoke of Clark thus: “It is certainly an honour to have had the opportunity to know him as a team-mate, a friend, and to have competed with him on so many memorable occasions. Jim whipped us so many times that we all sort of got used to it. Naturally, we didn’t like being whipped, but, it is probably a testimony to Jim’s integrity and stature among us, his peers, that we couldn’t help loving the lad in spite of it.”

Elizabeth ‘Widdy’ Cameron, whom Clark nearly married in 1960, and with whom he stayed close despite rising fame, said: “He was very shy. And he was a terrific gentleman. I didn't hear him say bad things about anybody. He was a good, good man and I hope everybody remembers that. He was very special.” Sir Jackie Stewart, the three time world champion and another great British driver, still sheds a tear when he’s asked about Jim Clark. The two Scots were close friends, and three years earlier when Stewart had arrived in F1, he played the Robin role to Clark’s undisputed Batman. “Jim Clark,” he says still, “was everything I aspired to be, as a racing driver and as a man.” When Jim Clark this humble man as a product of his upbringing on a Scottish farm in the Scottish Borders insisted that inscribed on his tomb stone would be, ‘farmer and world champion’.

Of course I never saw Moss, Hill and Clark race but I’m definitely in the camp that considers Jim Clark as not only the greatest British driver of all time but also arguably the best driver in the world of all time alongside that other most naturally gifted racer, Ayrton Senna. There’s not much to differentiate their greatness and genius.

It’s fitting that the final judgement of who was the best driver of the three should rest with their peers and contemporaries. Juan Manuel Fangio, the Argentine great is one of my favourite racers and one who is also considered one of the greatest of all time, said this about Clark in 1995: "He was better than I was - the greatest driver ever." Even the great Ayrton Senna when he went to Clark’s old Scottish boarding school, Loretto, confessed to the schoolboys, "After all - Jim Clark was the greatest driver ever."

The wonderful thing about arguing about who is the best with British icons like Moss, Hill, and Clark as examples is how the past can inspire the present generation of drivers to aspire to greater heights than the peers of the past. Who knows perhaps one day we will be talking about Lewis Hamilton or Max Verstappen in the same hushed tones of reverence and awe. Then as racing fans we should count our blessings that we can witness their special racing artistry on the track first hand while we can in the same way past generations were in awe of such special talents as Moss, Hill, and Clark.

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #grand prix #racing #driving #stirling moss #jim clark #graham hill #formula one #britain #british #sports

30 notes · View notes

suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

Text

Favored Ones, Part 4. (Joel Miller x Fem!reader)

Description: When you spend every evening with someone who's deeply under your skin, a certain relationship can be developed. So it's crushing for Joel when Y/N suddenly disappears. But there's way more to the relationship that one would've guessed.

A/N: I enjoyed myself in this chapter bcs I'm secretly in love with both Ellie and Joel.

A/N 2: Sorry for bigger mistakes than usual, but my Grammarly is acting like a fucking jackass and it fucked up my mood.

Warnings: ELLIE BEING THE QUEER EMOTIONAL SUPPORT YOU FUCKING NEED IN UR LIFE.

Word count: 1.8 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme

If you like this story, please, more parts can be found here! :): H E R E

Two weeks before events of the hunt, November 2038:

You felt like dying for a few days straight, you only laid in your bed, staring into the ceiling, feeling hurt like fuck. You wanted to stop crying, but you couldn't bring yourself to act like the adult you should be.

Dina and Ellie, of course, took notice of your behavior and that you were missing at the dinner table for the last four days. You must've been starving when the two visited you with a plate of goulash with potatoes and deer meat which was crushed to small pieces.

"Foooood delivery!" - Dina stepped into your room dramatically with a laugh, making a diva pose. But then she stopped and her jaw dropped when she saw you laying in bed like a dead body. Your nose was full, sou it was hard to understand you.

"I hant to be ahone. Go ahay." - You cried out and turned on your second side. It still hurt so much and you were afraid that you would meet him if you would find the courage to go out. Dina slowly approached your bed and smoothed your leg. Ellie put your goulash on the table and sat on the chair close to your bed to smooth your hair. At least you took showers because you smell nice and your hair was still soft, not even a bit greasy.

"Baby. You're scaring the shit out of us. Why don't you come to have dinner with us? We miss your jokes and dickness." - Ellie tried to make you laugh, but you just exhaled out loud.

"Yeah. Nobody's keeping Jesse's ego down, so he's a fucking narcissist now. I can't listen to a fucking word he says. He went fucking wild since nobody's taming him down." - Dina took Ellie's side and both of them chuckled. - "Come on, you little shithead. Eat a bit."

And so, you sat up and began to a bit. Dina sat on your right side and Ellie was cuddling to your left side, none of them leaving you before you ate the whole plate. Dina stood up after that, taking the plate out of your palms.

"I will bring it back to the dining hall and I have a meeting with Jesse after that. I think that you'll talk about your problems though, darlings." - She smoothed your hair and kissed your forehead. That made you smile a bit, but even though you were a bit cold and pale. Ellie still snuggled your side, smiling at Dina, mouthing a silent thank you. Dina left without any other word.

"Okay. Spill the tea. What's wrong?" - Ellie laid her head on your lap so you were looking down into her eyes. She smiled as your fingers gently played with her ginger hair.

"I don't want to talk about that, Ellie." - You closed your eyes and leaned the back of your head onto the wall.

"Please, baby, you don't want to talk about something? That ain't you at all." - She smiled and her fingers brushed on yours. Ellie was always gentle with you because you were her first friend in Jackson County. She loved you like her step-sister, she knew she can be who she really is when she had you around - that one nineteen-year-lesbian with the cheesiest jokes you had ever heard. And that was why you were terrified to tell her.

Joel was basically her dead.

"It's pretty personal for me. It hurts. I'm not ready." - You whispered to her and felt as your eyes were in flames from constant crying. You couldn't even cry anymore, you barely went on a toilet to pee and your head was hurting like fuck.

"Y/N, trust me. We can talk about your situation." - Ellie sat quickly and smiled at you. She gently held your palm in hers and her green eyes made eye contact with yours. She was a gentle and dumb lesbian. You loved her. Ellie was always honest and nice to you - like your little personal angel. - "So start talking before I'll smack it out of your stupid ass."

Maybe it would help to tell her, she could help you with the situation. She could give some good reasoning, some tips, and tricks or just tell you that you're a dumb bitch. Anything would be great at the moment.

"Well-I-told-your-old-man-what-I-was-feeling-for-him-and-he-turned-me-down." - You said at the pace of the fastest animal on the planet, so Ellie rose her eyebrows as she watched you. She knew perfectly what you've said, but she wanted to hear it again.

"What have you done?" - She held your palm tighter and her palm was a bit sweaty. What the fuck should she tell you? Holy fuck, she was fucking panicking.

"I found out I had feelings for Joel and I told him... And he told me he doesn't do these things. He just blatantly turned everything down and I... Just can't." - You started to cry again even if you felt like your eyes were on fire. That could be understood, you were heartbroken for the first time - not like the first time ever, but this felt so real for the first time ever.

"Oh, baby girl. Come here, come on..." - Ellie whispered with a sad voice and she didn't have to repeat herself since you basically threw your head into her left boob. She cuddled you in and kissed the temple of your head. She nor your other friends would've guessed that you maybe felt for that old jackass. It was an unpleasant surprise - not like they would not happy if you two ended up together, but Ellie knew Joel.

He was a tough nut to crack

And she was partially stressed. What should she do to help you? She brought your head to her lips once again.

"Okay. I'll tell you something too..." - She smiled and let you sit, drying your tears off your cheeks. - "It's extremely cringy as well, so I hope that I'll make you laugh at least a bit." - She shrugged her shoulders so you knew that she'll be extremely uncomfortable during your conversation. Ellie was always shrugging when she wasn't comfortable. You tried to smile, but in combination with your teary eyes, it made an extremely cringe-worthy face.

"I fell in love with Dina." - Ellie sighed. From moment to moment, you forgot that Joel said that he simply doesn't do those things. Holy fucking shit. You were really aware of Ellie being a lesbian, and Dina was a really nice girl, but some plot twists were just random and unexpected. - "It's crazy, but it happened some time ago and since that, I'm just crazy about that girl. She says something and I need to breathe out because I would jump her bones right on the spot."

You opened up your eyes and your lips parted when you tried to understand the situation. But it was somehow impossible and your brain was not comprehending with your mind at all. Ellie and Dina.

Okay. You somehow got over Dina and Jesse over time, even if it was strange to see the two people you knew since they were little kids to grow into two human beings who were able to have a grown-up relationship. Strange and surreal.

But Dina and Ellie? No. Stop yourself. It wasn't a sure thing. But still... Ellie having feelings for Dina, that was fucking will and beyond your wildest dreams. It was enough to make you completely forget about Joel.

Dina and Ellie.

"Oh, my dear motherfucking God." - You whispered and Ellie shrugged again. But then she smiled, rose her eyebrows and smiled without any other words to say.

"See? That's the Y/N I know. Oh my dear motherfucking God indeed." - Ellie sat next to you and leaned into the wall, looking in front of herself. - "I love to see you smiling again. My lovely heterosexual wife, who's clearly into gross old men." - Ellie nudged your shoulder playfully. You opened your mouth and started to squeal by laughter.

"Sorry not sorry, but Joel is a fucking sex bomb." - You sighed and leaned your temple into her shoulder.

"So I think that you agree that we need a fucking plan." - Ellie gave you a completely serious look. - "Because I need to tell Dina and you need to show that old dipshit what he's losing. We don't know if you'll be able to make a move, but we need to show him. Kick his ass, show him."

"So the plan is to make Dina fucking break up with Jesse and that you'll have sex that night, but nobody's caring about me or my vanana? I'm fucking touched." - You sighed dramatically even though you still had teary eyes. Your broken heart still hurt, but Ellie's trouble made you at least smile and joke around.

"I'm thinking about your vanana as much as I think about your heart, dear. What about Philip? He's nice, young and he likes you." - She asked completely serious. Okay, she and Joel were a complete match like father and daughter.

"Philip? Really? You and Joel are one person in two bodies. He thought that I'm after Philip as well. I'm not into the fisherman's son at all, no matter how many girls are into him." - You stood up and decided to change clothes. You needed to get off that one small room. At least on a small walk.

"But what if you were?" - Ellie screamed and stood up, her brain almost exploding with sudden inspiration. She took your naked shoulders while you stood in front her only in your bra. - "That is the fucking question. What if you were?"

"You are a fucking psycho, Ellie." - You put her hands off your shoulders, so you could put on at least your sweater on.

"No, you fucking idiot. Listen to a word I'm saying." - Ellie sat on your table while you changed into your jeans. - "Old man thinks that you're into Philip. But you told him that you're into him. So we'll play a little mind game." - Ellie started to giggle as playfully swung her feet.

"A mind game. With Joel fucking Miller? You're a fucking savage." - You chuckled, putting your hiking boots on. You felt much, much better.

"Missy, you don't know Joel Miller the way I do. I will make him come and you'll dance with Philip. Make Joel feel what an ass he had lost by his dickish behavior." - She laughed loudly and waited for you to come after her into the cold night.

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #ellie tlou #joel and ellie tlou #joel miller imagines #the last of us #tlou #naughty dog #joel miller imagine #ellie williams #dina #jesse

102 notes · View notes

starkerdayss · 5 years

Photo

A DROP OF POISON

It just never occured to them that they would have to deal another Tony, specially one so... young and indecent.

Words: 2,3k

Soon on AO3: @/tinygiantsam (link will be added)

When the sun started to come out of the horizon, Peter knew it was time to get up. He had been scrolling through his Instagram feed for two hours now, and even if he had known he could’ve gone back to sleep, this was the only time where he could be at peace. Everybody thought he was asleep, and he had no obligations with the world.

His curtains were a heavy red that made the sunlight look very orange. It stained his face and his room, and it didn’t matter how many places he met, how many hotels he stayed in, how many moments he shared with people that he loved, this precise moment was always going to be home for him.

A door opened in the distance and that was it. The start of a new day. Aunt May was up and ready to cook breakfast.

A sigh left Peter’s mouth as he touched the little green app on his phone, searching for Tony’s number, then slowly typing the phrase: “Good morning, handsome” and pressing send. It was read within seconds, but before receiving a reply, he pushed the covers out of his body and stood up, leaving his phone facing down on his little black nightstand, the yellow phone case seeming way too bright for the dismal colors of his walls and sheets.

He separated the two ends of the curtain and let the sun in, appreciating it for a moment before making his way to the bathroom, starting the shower and brushing his teeth with the cold water that was coming out of the showerhead. He was very green, sue him.

Before the water turned hot, he heard the sound of a text, but decided to look at it later, it was probably a derivation from the same text he sent five minutes ago.

So, you see, his life was pretty domestic. After the shower, breakfast awaited, and after that, school. Day after day of projects, and tests and homework. Senior year just never seemed to finish. The only thing making it better was the fact that he had Tony Stark, the great fucking Tony Stark as his sweet, sweet boyfriend (okay, that title never existed, but there were no wrongs in assumptions). He always ended up on the tower, either helping him out with some nerdy thing, or sitting in his lap in long make out sessions.

That day, though, something was off. The minute he stepped outside of his home, he felt odd. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something that just didn’t fit in. He looked around, but there was nothing out of place. Nothing visible, at least.

He was used to Tony making him feel better when he wasn’t, so his hand moved instinctively towards his pocket, bringing out his phone, preparing himself for a sappy message from his lover calling him something sweet and overall just making him swoon. But, when he opened the little blue dot with his boyfriend’s name on it, the message was not something he could have ever guessed.

‘Peter, I need you to come to the lab right now’

No explication, no missed calls, no nothing.

His heart started racing as he looked at the time. It had been about forty-five minutes since the message was delivered and he was standing there, like a fool. He looked around and decided the fastest way to get there without being too suspicious was his bike, so, he hopped on top of it, backpack hanging from his arm and heart destroying his ribcage with beating force.

The ride itself was always a little over twenty minutes, but adrenaline can do a hell lot to you. Before he even knew it, he was entering the tower without saying anything to any of the guards. This was probably a super-secret situation, because they would all be alarmed if something bad had happened and they were aware of it.

The elevator wasn’t fast enough, and his anxiety was taking over his little body, his leg bouncing up and down while he was standing there, pressing the button over and over again, attracting one of the guard’s attention.

“Everything alright, Mr. Parker?” he asked, with that very polish accent of his. Peter had to physically stop himself from screaming at him that he needed to get to Tony now. He had to respect the man’s wishes, and his security knowing about this wasn’t it.

“Yes, Alek, don’t worry, I just have some news for him, and I couldn’t wait”

“Alright…” trailed off Alek, looking at the boy up and down as the elevator finally descended to the first floor. “If you have any problems, you tell me, Mr. Parker”.

As soon as the door opened, the younger male stepped inside and started pressing the button of the tenth floor with the same speed as the outside button. “Of course, Alek. Thank you for your incredible service”

The calm music strategically placed on the elevator to calm the usual clients that rode it made Peter’s blood boil. He didn’t need to hear to Beethoven, he needed to get to his boyfriend right in that second and find out what the fuck had happened.

Once again, as soon as he was able to, he stepped outside, looking around the room, trying to find any signs of what had happened, even if he was smart enough to know that there couldn’t be any signs of struggle because Tony, first, was Iron Man, second, had the best security of the country down stairs. He just needed it to be a false alarm, Tony being his usual self and making things way more dramatic than they needed to be.

He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. Everything is okay.

“Tony!” he screamed from the living room, making his way rather quickly to the laboratory, where the man had originally summoned him to.

To his horror, the door where closed. The doors that led to the stairs that eventually led to the laboratory were closed. Closed.

Peter tried really hard not to panic, his mind immediately going to the Obadiah situation many years ago, when he heard it announced on the local news. Of course back then, Tony didn’t have his super skilled and somehow very strong boyfriend that could potentially save him from anything.

He prepared himself to kick the doors open, but as soon as his hand touched them, he noticed that they were simply closed, not locked, not broken, not blocked. Somebody had closed the doors.

Following his usual motto, he looked inside and when he realized it was relatively safe to continue, the rest of his body followed, making him run down the stairs, analyzing the glass and looking for the superhero that he was madly in love with. “Tony?”

His voice came out as a whisper and he noticed the outline of a big, broad man standing in front of a very big source of light that looked like… like something he had seen before but couldn’t quite remember.

The glass door was pushed open and Peter entered cautiously, repeating the name of his lover once again, a bittersweet taste in his mouth. The man turned around, his eyes were bloodshot, and Peter had a stinging sensation in his stomach. Something was wrong. “What’s going on?”

“Peter, before you say anything, I need you to know this was not my intention, I just wanted…. After what happened with Strange, I had the need to recreate a portal, something like that… I ended up meeting a lot of shady folks and…”

“Tony, common!” insisted Peter, his blood pressure raising so much he thought he was going to faint. Not before he tells you what the fuck is going on, he muttered to himself.

Before any more excuses could be made, the man slowly moved to the side, hands on his back, holding on to each other tightly enough to bruise himself.

Peter’s eyes squinted slightly, trying to decipher what exactly was behind Tony. It… had a human shape, but it was almost impossible to make out with that much lighting behind them. Peter moved forward, stumbling on his feet when the human’s face started to form correctly, little details and familiar features decorating it.

“What…?”

As he moved closer, he started to convince himself that his brain was playing tricks, that he was losing his mind, that he was having a hallucination, that he was downright batshit crazy. That… human was…

“Peter…”

It was Tony. But…

“Tony? What- what the fuck?”

“Peter, I can explain”

The little human standing right in front of Peter didn’t seem as scared as Peter, actually, he had adopted the same physical position that… real (assuming this was not real) Tony. His face was much softer and less pained, less experienced, less knowing, and his eyes were glowing as they looked at Peter up and down, taking in the beauty that his Tony had appreciated so much the first time he saw him (and all of the times after that).

“Hi, I’m Tony Stark” muttered the creature, extending his hand towards the other young male in the room, who was now gripping the counter with a lot of strength, his knuckles turning white. His eyes darted momentarily towards who he thought was his boyfriend. “Tony…?”

His man started walking towards him, not taking his eyes off the… teenager that was apparently him. “I got someone to perform magic for me, but I didn’t know how to operate it. I swear to you I was trying to reach another part of town, or the world, but I never aimed for another world, or another dimension, whatever that… whatever that was.

“I didn’t even know other dimensions existed” muttered little Tony.

The man, who had turned to Peter, suddenly looked back and frowned. “How could you? You live in…. well, judging by the shirt and that rebellious hair… nineteen eighty-nine?”

“Good guess, I’m glad to know I’m smart in every universe. Nineteen ninety’s, actually”

The real Tony nodded, then looked back at his boyfriend, who was sweating like a pig and was grabbing at his chest as if he was about to have a heart attack. “Peter, baby, do you want to lie down?”

“Baby, huh?”

Peter’s head was spinning. The reasoning behind what was apparently a mistake between worlds didn’t make sense to him. He wasn’t sure if his trained brain could handle that. A small version of his boyfriend, of the man he often slept with walking around the city. He was also his age, a little older, was he going to go to college? Oh, dear, even worse, what if he…

“Peter, come back to me, right now. Stop spiraling”

The demanding voice brought Peter back, cutting his line of thought right through the middle. He was used to listening to that, to obeying that voice, even though he was not sure he could ever look at Tony the same way.

“You” said the real Tony firmly, looking at his other self, standing in front of what used to be a portal.

“You mean ‘me’”.

“No, I mean you. Explain yourself. Where are you from, how old are you?”

Mini Tony looked at Tony and then at Peter, whose eyes were wide as a plate, trying to comprehend how his boyfriend and the younger version of himself were talking as if nothing was going on. Specially the little one, who just by the few answers he had given, had made everyone understand him as a smartass. He probably thought this was way more amazing that it was.

“Well, I’m nearly twenty, and I’m late for work. Although that doesn’t really matter right now, does it?”

“W- why?” whispered Peter, feeling a slow, cold drop of sweat fall down his spine, chills making his whole skin feel electric, his brain dizzy with heat.

His Tony sighed, looking down and then at the portal behind the smaller himself. “I- The portal closed. I’m not a magician, so, technically, I can’t bring it back, I don’t know which world he was pulled from or how exactly we ended up in this situation…”

“What does- that mean?” exclaimed Peter almost out of breath.

“That I’m stuck here with you until further notice”

The room started spinning and Peter suddenly felt very drawn to the floor. His heart was stammering so hard and his eardrums were with such an overload that he couldn’t hear his boyfriend asking him if he was okay. As he tried to have a grip on reality, he managed to ask: “What about Doctor Strange? He has to know what- how to fix this”

Silence.

“That’s a very peculiar name. You’re all superheroes, right?”

Tony rolled his eyes, then turned to himself. “I really wish I wasn’t that annoying when I was twenty, because that would mean I owe a lot of people a lot of apologies”

“T- Tony…” mumbled Peter, trying to bring the attention back to him and his really important question.

“Right, so, I called him. He’s very pissed at me, but that’s normal. He says he can’t come right now because there are some kind of time aliens trying to cross the boarder between worlds. I don’t know. Some kind of space Trump is commanding them, and well…” he paused. “He’ll be here in a week or two”

“In the meantime…” murmured little Tony, “where’s the kitchen? I haven’t eaten in a while and other me here looks like he’s rolling in cash”

Peter’s eyes darted to his boyfriend, to the other Tony, and finally to the ceiling, the words that he had pronounced resonating in his brain as he tried to understand such trivial phrase for such a stressing situation.

Those same words were the last thing he thought of before falling to the hard ground.

Out cold.

#starker #starker au #ironspider #spideriron #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #peter parker x tony stark #starker fanfiction #young Tony Stark #peter parker/young tony stark

482 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 5 years

Text

High School Teacher bullied my dad, also bullied me, and in response, we nuke her.

XXL story, TL;DR at the end.

The town where this happened is a small one, and the school that I went to is a 70 year old school. My granddad and my dad are also alumni of this school. Let me just start off by saying this that the alumni of this school are really successful, and the school has had a long history of being very charitable and also offer amazing retirement benefits to teachers depending on how long they’ve worked here. My great granddad donated some of his property to the school when it was being constructed, and he was an advisor and a part of the school board in his time. The school was an all boys school up to 1996, when they had their first Co-Ed class, and is a full Co-Ed now. The school also has all classes, from kindergarten to high school, split in two buildings, the first one houses Kindergarten to Fifth grade, and the other has the classrooms for Sixth grade to Twelfth grade.

Part 1: Teacher vs Dad - The Incident

Said teacher (we’re gonna call her MD) was my dad’s Math teacher when he started High School. She was a young woman just finishing her teaching degree, and was a masters in math and Chemistry. At that point, she was the most qualified teacher the school had.

Unfortunately, MD was also a nasty person. She walked into the class and the students were expected to be sitting in ‘ready mode’ - backs straight, legs together, and hands on the laps, with only the needed textbook and a pencil to take notes on the margins. The class was expected to greet her with a ‘Good Morning/Afternoon’ when she walked in, and she assigned tons of weekend homework. She would simply stop teaching for the entire hour long class if one person spoke without having asked to speak. You couldn’t drink water without her permission, couldn’t go to the restroom unless she finally saw your raised hand and asked you to speak.

There were multiple cases of people complaining against that, but with her being the most qualified teacher there, the school board didn’t take action. Instead, they supported her by saying that this would help discipline the students.

But this is not even the beginning of it. Her exams were incredibly hard, and with the classes being full of teenage boys, they would talk and even one of them doing so would cause her to stop teaching, and not teach until the next class. She would then lecture on a different topic, completely skipping that part of Chemistry. Suffice to say, before the finals, the entire class was in a panicked state, trying to self study enough to at least pass the class.

My dad ended up getting 41%. Our education system said you failed the class if you had under 40%, so he was relieved that he passed. But when he went through his answer sheet, my dad noticed that his totaling was incorrect, and that he in fact had a 49 on that test. He raised his hand, and after about 5 minutes or so of him just sitting in his seat, calmly, with his hand raised, he was called on and MD asked what the problem was.

Dad told her that there was a totaling mistake in the final, and that he actually had a 49. This somehow offended her. Instead of calling him forth and checking his paper, MD decided that it was simply impossible for her, a Masters in Math, to make a mistake in something as simple as addition. She waved him off, and my dad was shocked. But she just calmly turned to the next person with a question.

My dad, on the other hand was not happy. He walked up from his seat, which was basically considered a crime in her class, and put the paper on MD’s desk, and started totaling his points loudly. MD incredulously watched him do that, and was at a loss for words. Though when he was done totaling, you could see her face was flushed and she was furious. She looked furiously from the paper to my dad, and then back to the paper, and the suddenly, a cruel smile appeared on her face.

MD: “Oh okay, I see the mistake. But that is no excuse for this behavior. This awards a subtraction of ten points from your final.”

The class that was amazed at the first sentence went back to having grim looks. And my dad stood there, jaw dropped, that he now had 39 points, and had failed this class.

Instead of responding and making this situation worse, he simply took his final, packed his backpack and left the classroom.

He went and spoke to his granddad, who was on the school board. But he said he couldn’t do anything since grades were completely in the hands of the teacher concerned. My dad took his loss, and decided that revenge was not worth the trouble, and switched classes. He dropped Chem and took up Econ, and that was the last interaction he ever had with this teacher.

Part 2: Teacher vs My Brother and I

My younger brother(B) is two years younger to me, and so, when I was in freshman year, starting high school, my younger brother was in seventh grade. We had an auditorium under construction, and the library was newly renovated, so a teacher was assigned to chaperone the younger class students at the library. My younger brother’s class, unfortunately had MD as their chaperone. My dad had specifically instructed me to be very careful around MD, and I was on the lookout, but my younger brother had no idea just who he was dealing with.

Before summer, our library allows students to take any two books of their choice, for the break. So, when my brother walked past MD to the librarian, and was stopped by MD, he was really confused. He had an Enid Blyton book and a copy of Backyard Science Experiments. Both my younger brother and I are really good at science related topics, and he had been waiting for summer break to do some cool science experiments at home with me.

MD: “Wait a minute, what book do you have there, B?’

B: “A story book and a Backyard Science Book ma’am.”

MD: “What are you going to do with that Backyard Science book! (Turning to the other library staff) I taught his father. No brains in there. You would have no idea what to do with this book. Leave it for someone who does.”

And with that, she snatched the book from his hands, and walked away, the library staff giving awkward laughs behind her.

When he came looking for me, crying, I was furious. I was a really popular guy at school. I won quizzes and debates, and represented the school in national competitions. My friends and I literally had an entire showcase of trophies at school, with our names embossed on it, and most teachers loved us. Man, the Vice Principal of the school and our group were on first name basis! (He chaperoned us on all the competitions we represented the school in).

But when he told me what had happened, I was dumbfounded. I had no idea how to react, but for the moment, I went to the library and got another copy of the Backyard Science book to console my brother. But then, we were out for summer vacation, and I didn’t think too much of it.

When we came back for fall, I had a chem class with MD, the first day of school. This was also right after the assembly, where my group was given the award. So we go to the Chem lab, and MD is on the Lab Instructors desk setting up an experiment designed to liberate hydrochloric acid fumes in a gas flask. Some moments pass by, and we could see that some mistake had been done, and there was no reaction in the mixture (turns out the Zinc granules were impure and rusted). But MD somehow got the idea that turning on the Bunsen burner on full blast would help the experiment. After collecting the gas for about 3 minutes, which is 2 and a half minutes too long, since hydrochloric acid fumes are toxic if inhaled, she is satisfied. She then pulls up the flask to show the class how we do experiments.

Cherry on the icing, is when she opens the flask and brings it uncomfortably close to the girl beside me.

MD: “Does it smell pungent?”

The girl awkwardly smells it and jerks away. To someone who has no clue, that would be a plausible confirmation, but I knew that it was complete horse sh*t. I could see that the girl knew about pungent fumes and cringed away on reflex, and not because it was actually pungent.

I don’t know why I did it, but at that moment, I snorted. Loudly.

MD instantly zooms in on me. Walking toward me with her face contorting into an ugly expression, she goes, “something funny you’d care to share with us?’

I knew I messed up. But I was also angry. This person in front of me had bullied my younger brother, and my dad. I remembered that, and suddenly, all my verbal censors were shut down.

Me: “You and I both know that she didn’t smell anything pungent. That experiment you just did was a failure.”

MD: “Oh! You think you know more than me? (Turning to class) He knows more than me. You know what, I’ll step down. Why don’t you teach the class professor NicholasFiend.”

Me: “Oh absolutely.” To the absolute shock of everyone watching, I walk up to the podium, and while maintaining eye contact with MD, “First thing to remember class! Turn to experiment 1 of your lab textbook. Read the warnings. The gas is pungent, and poiso...”

MD: “HOW DARE YOU! Has no one taught you manners! This is no roadside shack, and you would do well to remember that. Else you’re gonna have a couple broken bones.” (This was in a different language, but if you want the exact translations, it was, ‘I’ll break your limbs and feed them to you’)

She is absolutely furious. Grabs me by the hand and proceeds to drag me to the Principal’s office. On the way there, we cross the Vice Principal’s office, and he sees MD dragging me away, and runs out .

VP: “What is going on here!”

Before I can say anything, MD starts ranting to him about how disrespectful and unacceptable my class behavior is, and is heaving by the end of her spiel. The VP gives me a searching look, and then responds with a, “Go back to class MD, I’ll deal with him.”

We head back to his office, and he offers me a seat, and a glass of water.

VP: “What actually happened in class, NicholasFiend?” He asks with a sigh.

I tell him exactly what happened. Once he hears my side of the story, he looks at me incredulously asks me if I really went to the podium and started lecturing the class.

I look up, and see the gobsmacked look on the VP’s normally reserved face. (Imagine someone who looks like a male Minerva McGonagall being completely shocked) I couldn’t stop myself. It started with a snigger, which turned into full blown laughter. I laughed till my stomach hurt and my eyes teared up. To my surprise, VP was also smiling widely at that.

He shook his head, and that reserved expression was back.

VP: “I know that what happened there had you concerned for class safety but that is no reason for such disruptive behavior. Aside from that, I’m personally going to investigate what happened in that class, and if MD is found to be intentionally forcing students to inhale harmful chemicals, she will be sacked immediately. Oh and you’re supposed to hand over a written apology to MD about this behavior. Now get moving.”

I sighed, and headed back to class. And I really thought that I had ended MD’s career.

Oh how wrong I was. She changed the story so it looked like she had purposely done the experiment wrong and was about to reprimand that girl for inhaling what could have been a harmful chemical. MD pulled one on me and had me look like I was just an insolent child who thought that he knew everything be reading a chapter of the book. And here, I stopped myself. This event was me just going in head on with the teacher who had been in the school for longer than 35 years.

Part 3: Pro Revenge Mode

Now I knew that to help my brother, I needed to get rid of her. My dad knew about what happened in school, and he wanted me to not engage MD. He said it was not worth it. But by now I was in the game. She had played her card. It was my turn now. I don’t know what made it so that she had such a problem with my dad and my younger brother. They were quiet and hard working students. I felt she had something against our family, and I was convinced that my younger brother would have to deal with the problem if I somehow messed up and got expelled or made a worse enemy out of MD.

This was war, and I had a new plan. I started to act really sheepish around her, and made it a point to stay back after class, and ask her questions in the most polite way possible. I was the kid who was guilty of not understanding the plans of elders. I portrayed myself as an amazing student who MD had succeeded in humbling. I slowly, but surely made my way into the category best described by the term ‘boot licker’. It hurt me inside to do it, but what I had planned, if this went well made me light headed with anticipation. I was in it to win it. I conceded defeat in a fight to win the war.

Two years later, I am in Junior year. My younger brother just started high school, and he was taking the Chem class with MD. I was the highest scorer in Chem, and was a pet to MD. She had started to like the NicholasFiend I had portrayed, and made me the Lab Assistant for that year. Two of my best friends knew what I had planned. Everyone else in class hated me for being the teachers’ pet and getting straight A’s when the next highest grade was a B-. Everything was going according to plan.

On the first day of class, I replaced her stool (one of the three legged ones) with a broken stool. This was supposed to be the first in a series of pranks that would hit her that day. She came to class and went to take her seat, and boy she fell.

Well, she somehow hit her hand on the wall and cried out. Yup that must have hurt. But she was definitely overweight. And it couldn’t be traced back to me. I smiled on the inside, as I rushed to her and helped her back up. I ran and fetched her another chair, while inside, the freshmen were trying their best not to laugh. When I got back from the room that had extra stools, I walked in to the sight of her screaming like a banshee. But what got me furious was that she was screaming at my younger brother.

Apparently, she had said something like, “Stupid stools and stupid Lab Assistant fools.” To which my brother had responded with, “It’s not my brothers’ fault you’re too heavy for the stool.” Though I loved him for it, he really needed to learn where to come to my aid. But then, I didn’t do much, and just replaced the chair silently, while silently trying to communicate to my brother to calm down.

Nothing else of concern happened that day, till the time when school was over, and the teachers were heading back. Stage 2 was in motion. We heard a loud bang, and immediately, the large crowd of students nearby all headed towards the teachers’ car parking lot.

We saw MD’s car smoking and her exhaust blown right off. Keep in mind it was an older car, and we had decided to block off the exhaust with clay, that had hardened over the course of six hours on a sunny day. Well, that car had to be towed, and she went home with some other students that day.

She didn’t show up to school for 2 days after that, but she did show up to school on the third day, which was a half school day, because our country celebrates Teachers day. It is tradition that students go to their teachers, current and old, and wish them the best, give them cards, gifts, etc. This was by far the most ambitious prank pulled in the school that I know of. The two days she was absent, we went around telling people to not visit her on children’s day. It helped a lot that my friends and I were some of the most popular people in school, and with the other ‘cool guys and girls’ agreeing to that, we spread the word and got confirmation that no one from the entire class in my year was going to go to her to wish her on Teachers’ day.

But the what actually happened was something no one could have expected. I guess it could have been because we acted so fanatical about it, that our classmates spread the word to all their friends and no one, not a single person in High School, went to her on Teachers’ day.

It was the most amazing feeling of accomplishment I have ever had. She had made this situation for herself. By being the nastiest person I’ve ever seen, it was no surprise that people were fine with doing this to her.

For the first time in 70 years, in our school, a teacher had not had a single well wisher on Teachers day.

Well things are never perfect, and as it so happened, word of what had conspired got to her. The next day, I had just set up the lab. The freshmen were getting settled in, and here comes MD, anger radiating from her in waves. She walks up to me, and I get the hardest slap I have ever gotten in my life, right across my face.

I’d hate to admit it, but that left a blue mark on my cheek, and my nose and lip bleeding. My younger brother, who saw that happening ran towards me, but my shock slowly subsided and I smiled a bloody smile that probably scared him. I told him to go get the Vice Principal.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the school emergency room, with a nurse wiping my lip and me holding a cloth to my nose. The Vice Principal comes in with the Principal and two cops in tow, and they inform me that my parents have been informed, and ask me if I would like to talk about it now or when my parents are here.

I say that I can answer their questions as soon as my lip is bandaged.

So I tell them about the cases of bullying against my brother and I, and also tell them that she is a really incompetent teacher. I tell the principal that he could check the school average in science subjects. And sure as I guessed, in the average scores in the National Exams, we had Physics and Biology come in at 92 and 90, with Chemistry at a surprising 79. Topping that off with assault charges, and she lost her license to teach, two years before she retired, and with that, lost amazing retirement benefits that the school offered. Her car also had no insurance. Huh.

That is not all though. One could ask what would be worse? Well, consider this. The fall she had off the stool, had her go to the hospital for an X-ray of her wrist and hip, that she suspected might have broken. Well, the wrist sure had a hairline fracture. The hip was fine. But well, the X-ray showed another thing.

I don’t think it is normal for anyone to laugh when someone is diagnosed with Stage III cancer. But I did.

Also, I later met with her only living family member. Her nephew, who had long cut all contact with her, but had been contacted by the police and the hospital. That’s where I found out the truth. Well I could never have guessed what I found out there. MD’s mom was my great granddad’s niece. Through my great granddad’s younger brother, who had stolen money from the family, and tried to kill my great granddad. Well, he was disowned. Good sh*t. And no one knew this entire time! Well, not that anyone would care. Happy that the nasty woman is out of our lives. For good this time. Apparently she died last year, with no one by her side.

TL;DR: Nasty teacher failed my dad for no reason. When my brother and I were in school, he got bullied by her. I made her regret it. Got her teaching license revoked, retirement benefits taken, destroyed her car, fractured her wrist, and she ended up getting diagnosed with cancer. Turned out to be a family member from a line disowned long ago for attempted murder, and she died alone.

(source) story by (/u/NicholasFiend)

#prorevenge #by /u/NicholasFiend #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

597 notes · View notes

lazuliquetzal · 4 years

Text

ain’t no rest extras pt. 1

Just realized that, since it’s over, i can now post stupid side snippets of ain’t no rest holy shit

some of these are more finished than others, some are more angsty than others. i hope if you liked my naruto OCs you’ll enjoy these tiny snips!

“I’d like to clarify something, before we start this,” Riku calls out, raising his hand up in the air.

Mori lets out a quiet breath, the only sign of his otherwise silent frustration. “Yes, Riku? And put your hand down, this isn’t the Academy.”

Riku quietly sets his hand down in his lap. “We are doing this D-Rank as a team, correct?”

Beside him, Chie stifles a chuckle and the corner of Issei’s mouth tugs up before he schools his expression into a near-flawless poker face.

He doesn’t quite succeed, though – Issei’s eyes are alight with smug amusement and superiority.

Riku, no, Mori thinks.

“Because I was thinking,” the boy continues. “‘Hey, isn’t Mori-sensei part of this team, too?’ So –”

“Just for that, I’m turning down the next C-rank the Hokage offers us.”

Chie’s eyes widen. “Wait, no!”

“Sensei –”

“Riku,” Mori says, with a grin on his face. “I taught you how to bargain. You should know better than to open up with that statement.”

“Yes, sensei,” Riku responds, disappointed, but determined. He’s going to try again.

Mori reaches out to ruffle his hair, and he finds he’s looking forward to it.

They don't know it, but one of Mori’s favorite spots in Konoha is a single tree at the edge of the Naka River. It's tall and strong and thick, and it's leaves form a perfect hiding spot. A place where Mori can sit and think by himself. Private.

He didn't need it much, those first few months since he'd returned. He was so eager to spend time with his team, his family, that he'd always had at least one of them by his side twenty-four-seven. But as the desperation and suspicion faded, as he realized yes I really am here, this is real and it won't disappear -- Mori found himself returning to his tree more and more often.

When a sudden flash of bittersweet nostalgia catches him off guard, when the familiarity of a memory recreates itself before his eyes, he needs to get away, to re-center himself. Remind himself that he’s supposed to be Hayakawa Mori, eighteen-year-old jounin, and not Hayakawa Mori, the twenty-eight-year-old dead ANBU who was unlucky enough to travel through time.

Mori sits in the tree and listens to the water trickling by. The surface of the river is deceptively smooth; the water seems to be only waist-deep. But Mori knows better: the water runs fastest here, and the clear water is closer to twenty feet deep than three. Underneath the surface is a current even the strongest swimmers can get swept up in.

(It's a painful metaphor for his life, and Mori knows it.)

It's another one of those hypothetical questions Aya likes throwing out there. When she's in the mood to be entertained, she tosses out a conversation starter. Mostly it's a lighthearted conversation: ridiculous and easy, with no real weight behind their wistful words.

This one, though, makes Izo take pause.

If you could travel back in time, what would you change?

They're grieving. He's grieving. It's only October 8th, but the sixth anniversary of the Kyuubi attack is pressing heavily on all of their minds.

They all lost something that day. Everyone did.

Yuko considers the question seriously. Her white eyes are narrowed in thought, her hands on her chin as she thinks through every regret, every mistake in her life.

“Hizashi-sama’s death,” she says, after a pause. She brushes her bangs in an unconscious gesture, and they're suddenly reminded of the burden she bears, of the death written on her forehead. Yuko doesn't bring it up, so it's easy to forget, but it doesn't change the fact that it's there.

Izo nods understandingly. The Hyuuga Affair may have been wrapped up in a neat little bow, but he knows that Yuko looked up to the man, the twin brother of their Clan Head. The leader of the Branch House, a man they all admired for his skill and bravery and selflessness.

Izo didn't know him that well, but he always thought it was messed up, the fact that he died because of their outdated clan traditions.

“Neji didn't take it well,” Yuko says quietly, and the image of her younger relative pops up in their minds. “I remember watching him when he was young, he was so bright and lively and different…”

Here she trails off, shaking her head. “Whatever.”

“Neji-kun, huh?” Aya asks. “I heard he's pretty good, even at seven years old.”

“Yeah,” Yuko says quietly. “He can already beat Sen-san. It won't be long before he's wiping the floor with me.”

“Really?” Izo asks. “You're probably the best at taijutsu in our cohort.”

“He’s on some other level,” Yuko muses. “A shame, considering…”

Branch family.

Izo feels another guilty stab of gratitude, thankful that he was born a Nara and not a Hyuuga. His Clan didn't care much for tradition. Yuko’s did.

“If I could travel back in time, I'd go to the time before the War,” Izo says, moving the conversation along.

“Knowing what we know now, about the politics and strategy,” Izo says. “End it sooner. Maybe even stop it altogether.”

Aya and Yuko make agreeing noises.

Mori is quiet. His chin rests in his hands, but his eyes are a million miles away.

“So many lives,” Yuko whispers, her face blank. “So many friends.”

Izo’s eyes involuntarily flicker over to the direction of the Memorial Stone. A name flashes in his mind, and he shakes his head.

“War,” Aya spits out. “I hope I never see another one again.”

They were young, thrust into the War as soon as they graduated from the Academy. Their brand-new hitai-ate were quickly worn down; scratched and torn and the shine rubbed away.

Mission after mission. Take this. Intercept that. Kill them. Hands stained with enemy blood even before they turned thirteen.

Years of nightmares that never fully went away.

The four friends fall into a solemn silence. No one escaped the War unscathed.

“I know what I'd do,” Aya says, bringing them back to the original question. “I'd stop the Kyuubi.”

And save sensei is what goes unsaid, but the members of the former Team Fourteen can finish the thought themselves. Izo presses his lips together. When Shima Ryuu died, it was as if the rug was swept out underneath the three of them. He'd never thought something could divide those three, not until those weeks after the attack.

Beside Izo, Mori makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat. His hands curl up and tighten into fists, and he keeps his eyes trained on the ground.

Aya chews her lip, glancing at Mori with worried eyes and an apologetic air. Yuko breathes out, her shoulders tense. Izo can feel Mori stiffening, keeping his eyes low, forcing himself to stay calm.

“It's a pointless question, isn't it?” Mori spits out, his tone uncharacteristically bitter.

Aya and Yuko blink at his harsh tone. Izo frowns.

“It's just hypothetical,” Aya says.

“Well, it's stupid,” Mori grits out. “Even if you could go back, how could you even change anything?”

“Mori,” Yuko starts, a warning in her voice, but she's cut off as Mori glares at the ground and continues his speech.

“You don't know anything,” he snaps. “Time travel isn’t some miracle fix it. You'd need an ungodly amount of information to even begin to change things. And you'll be living a nightmare. Walking with ghosts. Can you really live with that kind of pressure? Knowing that the fate of your friends and family is resting on your shoulders? Knowing that one mistake can get them killed, and it'll be your fault?”

Aya is staring at him with fear. Yuko’s arms are trembling, halfway between worry and fury.

It takes Izo a few seconds to realize Mori’s not talking about Aya.

“... This isn't about the Suna mission, is it?” he ventures carefully.

Suna. Mori had taken command on that mission, one of his first missions after being promoted to jounin. Three people left Konoha, and only one came back.

For a split second, Mori looks almost panicked. He blinks, eyes wide and filled with shock, before it’s wiped away and replaced with a bitter, self-deprecating expression. His hand drifts up, brushing his chest, before he snaps it down.

Izo frowns at the gesture, a familiar, but confusing one.

Mori screws his eyes shut and abruptly gets to his feet. “... Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Aya. I’ll just…” he trails off, shakes his head, and walks away.

Yuko, Aya, and Izo stare at the space he previously occupied. Aya chews her lip.

“Damn it,” she hisses. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright,” Izo says. “I think it’s just one of his bad days.”

Yuko stares out after Mori, before shaking her head. “We can talk to him about it tomorrow, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

One of his bad days, Izo thinks. He thinks of the panicked expression on his friend’s face, of the shock and the bitterness and the self-hatred. Izo frowns.

It wasn’t about the Suna mission.

#lazuli writes #naruto oc #naruto #naruto oc fanfiction #ain't no rest for the wicked #lazuli talks

3 notes · View notes