#Advanced Brain Formula

[neferaskingdom]

♡ From Podiums to Playpens | LN4 & OP81

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Lando and Oscar’s lives take a wild turn when an unexpected baby crash-lands at their doorstep. With zero parenting skills and all the wrong instincts, they bumble through diaper disasters and frantic calls, discovering that the only thing harder than winning a Grand Prix is keeping a tiny human alive!

A/N: Inspired by the fanart @mecachrome did of Oscar and Lando holding the baby, though this is exactly the opposite of what happened in the artwork 😝. Also I can't confirm if this will have a part 2 or not so sorry to everyone in advance for that and the cringey song at the end 🫠.

LANDO NORRIS MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | OSCAR PIASTRI MASTERLIST

Oscar Piastri had a problem. A big, life-altering, scream-inducing problem.

He was many things: a rising Formula 1 star, a recent Monaco resident, and a man who liked things calm and orderly. What he was not, however, was someone equipped to handle finding a baby on his doorstep.

Yet, here he was.

At 8:00 AM, standing in the doorway of his new Monaco apartment, staring at a very real, very giggly baby girl bundled in pink. She was nestled in a stroller beside what looked like a mountain of baby supplies, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d just detonated Oscar’s entire sense of normalcy.

He stared blankly at the tiny human swaddled in pink, her wide, curious eyes blinking up at him as she gurgled happily in her stroller. His brain was stuck in neutral, wheels spinning but going absolutely nowhere. There was a baby on his doorstep, and not in a cute, ‘aww, how nice’ way. This was in the ‘what fresh hell is this?!’ kind of way.

Oscar re-read the note attached to the stroller for the tenth time.

Oscar blinked, reread the note, then blinked some more. “Tim? Who the hell is Tim?!”

Dear Tim,

I’m leaving the country. You can take care of Amelie now. She’s your daughter too. Good luck.

—Evelyn

This was not Oscar’s baby. Oscar had no babies. Babies did not spontaneously appear in Formula 1 drivers’ lives, certainly not on doorsteps. But there she was, this tiny little bundle of chaos just... chilling. Like she was meant to be there, like this was her grand entrance into his thoroughly unprepared life.

Panic hit Oscar like a sledgehammer. He paced in frantic circles, one hand on his phone and the other on his head, like physically holding onto his hair would stop his brain from leaking out of his ears.

He needed backup. No, he needed a miracle.

Oscar frantically dialed the only person dumb enough to know what to do in a situation like this: Lando Norris.

The phone barely rang twice before Lando picked up, sounding as annoyingly chipper as ever. “Hey, Osc! What’s up?”

“There’s a baby on my doorstep.”

There was silence on the other end.

“...What?”

“A baby. There is a living, breathing baby. On. My. Doorstep.”

Lando laughed, but not the good kind of laugh, the kind that suggested he thought Oscar was messing with him. “Mate, what? You sure it’s not a prank? Did someone send you one of those doll things? Is it like, a fan thing?”

“I’m not joking, Lando! There’s a real baby with a note that says I’m supposed to take care of her. Only, I’m not Tim. I don’t even know who Tim is! She’s right here, staring at me. What do I do?!”

Lando, clearly suppressing laughter, said, “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m on my way. Hold the fort, mate.”

“Hurry!” He said, squatting down, staring at the baby like she was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode into tears, vomit, or... whatever babies did. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m not built for this.”

Twenty minutes (that felt like twenty years) later, Lando burst through the door with all the grace of a caffeinated squirrel, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Where’s this mystery baby? Let me see the little rascal!” Lando scanned the apartment and spotted the baby, his face lighting up like it was Christmas morning. “Oh my God, look at her! She’s so tiny!”

Lando immediately dropped to his knees and scooped up Amelie without hesitation, hoisting her into the air like she was Simba from The Lion King. “Aw, hi, Milly!”

“Milly?” Oscar repeated, a horrified expression plastered on his face. “You already named her?”

“Amelie’s too formal for a baby, don’t you think?” Lando said, casually ignoring Oscar’s panicked state. He bounced Milly in his arms, pulling silly faces at her. “See? She loves me.”

Oscar stared at him in disbelief. “Lando, focus! We need a plan! We’re not renaming the baby; we’re getting her out of here!”

Milly just let out a joyful giggle, tiny fists batting at Lando’s face. Oscar’s eyes widened in horror as Lando juggled the baby like a sack of flour, his nerves stretched thinner by the second. “Lando, stop! You’re gonna drop her! Babies are fragile!”

“Nah, she’s tough. Look at her! Strong grip. Good potential for karting,” Lando said, wiggling his fingers in front of Milly’s face. “Who’s a future world champion, huh? You are!”

Oscar grabbed the back of the couch like it was his last lifeline to sanity. “This is insane. We’re not keeping her. We need to call someone. Her real dad. Where the hell is Tim?!”

“Oh, relax,” Lando waved a hand dismissively, “it’s just babysitting for a few hours. How hard can it be? The mom even dropped off all the supplies we might need!”

Turns out, it was really fucking hard

By midday, the chaos had reached DEFCON 1. Lando had somehow managed to knock over a stack of baby formula cans in the kitchen while Oscar was trying to decipher the instructions on how to make a bottle.

“This says... 50ml of water for every scoop of formula,” Oscar muttered, staring at the weird spoon-thing. “But how big is the scoop? What the hell is a scoop measurement?”

Lando, who was now wearing Milly in a baby carrier that he had insisted on trying out, leaned over the counter and squinted at the instructions. “It’s like... a baby science experiment. Just add more water, it’ll balance out.”

“That’s not how science works, Lando!”

“Sure it is!” Lando grinned, opening the microwave to heat the bottle, but then proceeded to accidentally set it for five minutes instead of thirty seconds. How someone even manages to do that Oscar will never know.

Inevitably the bottle exploded.

Milk sprayed everywhere, coating the inside of the microwave in an unholy mess. Oscar screamed. “What did you do?!”

“I thought that’s how long babies need it!” Lando yelped, staring in horror at the milk-splosion.

Milly, blissfully unaware of the carnage, was happily chewing on one of Lando’s shirt buttons.

Oscar stared at the ceiling, praying for strength. “We are going to kill this baby. We’re going to accidentally kill her.”

Lando, ever the optimist, patted Oscar on the back. “Nah, babies are resilient. They’ve got, like, soft heads, right? So they can handle stuff.”

“That’s the opposite of what soft heads mean, Lando!”

Lando grabbed a spoon and casually scooped up some of the spilled milk, giving it a taste. “Hmm. Tastes weird.”

“STOP EATING THE BABY’S MILK, LANDO!”

After the bottle fiasco, they decided to tackle diaper duty. Or rather, Oscar decided, while Lando found new and creative ways to not help. At one point, Lando was making airplane noises with Milly’s pacifier while Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, furiously Googling “how to change a diaper without gagging.”

“This can’t be that hard,” Lando said confidently, grabbing a diaper and attempting to strap it onto Milly’s squirming body. He failed. Multiple times.

“You’re putting it on backwards,” Oscar muttered, half in disbelief.

“Am I? Wait, which side is the front?”

Oscar was too stressed to even respond, choosing instead to help flip the diaper the right way around. But Milly had other ideas. She kicked her tiny legs, laughing as both boys fumbled with the diaper tabs.

After several failed attempts and at least two accidental kicks to Oscar’s face, they stood back and admired their work. The diaper was barely holding together, half askew and duct-taped in place because Lando thought duct tape “solved all problems.”

Oscar looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. “We duct-taped a baby.”

“She seems cool with it!” Lando pointed at Milly, who was now rolling around happily in her makeshift duct tape diaper. “Duct tape solves everything!”

Oscar grabbed his phone. “This is not sustainable. I need to call someone. We can’t keep doing this. I need to find Tim.”

Several hours later, after a very frustrating call with his real estate agent, Oscar finally got a number for Tim—the previous tenant, who, as it turns out, had moved to America. 

Oscar punched in the number, already bracing himself for the nightmare conversation ahead. Lando sat cross-legged on the floor, Milly in his lap, reading her a book that was upside down?

Tim picked up after a few rings, his voice groggy and irritated. “Hello?”

Oscar wasted no time. “Timothy?! It’s Oscar. I live in your old apartment in Monaco. Listen, there’s a baby here. Your baby. Evelyn dropped her off with a note and now she’s... well, she’s here, with us. What do we do?!”

There was a brief silence, followed by a sound like a man whose soul had just left his body. “Oh, fuck,” Tim groaned. “Evelyn left her? Again?”

“Again?!” Oscar sputtered. “This is a thing that she does? she just goes around... leaving the baby lying around like a sack of potatoes?”

Tim let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, man, I’m in New York, okay? I got stuck with this job, corporate America’s been eating me alive. I’m lucky if I can get ten minutes of daylight. I haven’t even unpacked yet and now you’re telling me Evelyn just dropped Amelie off without a heads-up?”

Oscar’s jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack. “She didn’t just drop her off—she basically abandoned her and ran! What am I supposed to do with her? I’m a Formula 1 driver, not... not a babysitter!”

Lando, overhearing this, piped up helpfully, “We duct-taped her diaper! Worked like a charm.”

Tim screeched on the other end. “You what?”

“Look, it was either that or she’d be laying around butt naked,” Oscar said, rubbing his temples as he paced. “Focus! I need you to come back and get her, like, now. Please.”

“Man, I wish I could!” Tim sounded frantic now, as if the weight of the universe had just been dumped on him. “But I’m up to my neck in work! I’ve got back-to-back meetings, deadlines, projects—I can’t just hop on a plane!”

“Are you kidding me right now? You can’t just leave your baby with two random blokes! What kind of corporate job is this? Are they holding you hostage?”

Tim let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, might as well be! Thanks, late-stage capitalism. I’m chained to a desk, and Evelyn’s probably off somewhere sipping cocktails while you two... duct-tape diapers together?!” He sounded like he was spiraling. “Why is my life like this?”

Oscar was losing his grip on sanity. “What are we supposed to do, Tim? We’re trying here, but we can’t even heat up a bottle without blowing up the microwave! She’s going to be in worse shape than we are if this keeps up!”

Tim let out an exasperated groan. “You think I’m not freaking out here? I don’t want to leave her with you two! But I can’t do anything about it! I’ll have to talk to my boss, and that’ll take days—corporate policies, you know how it is.”

Oscar slumped against the wall. “Tim, I swear to God, if you don’t get on a plane soon, Lando will start raising her to be the next world champion, she’ll probably know more about tire degradation than I do by the time you’re back!”

Tim started to ramble, sounding more unhinged by the second. “Oh, I’m gonna kill Evelyn. I swear, if I ever make it out of this job alive, I’m flying back just to wring her neck. She’s gonna pay for this, and I’m gonna—”

Oscar interrupted him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tim, focus! Just tell us what to do. You’re the dad, for God’s sake!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Tim practically shrieked, his voice going full meltdown mode. “Change her, feed her, keep her alive! That’s all I’ve got. Just... just don’t screw it up!”

“Don’t screw it up?!” Oscar was losing his mind. “That’s your parenting advice?”

Tim sighed heavily. “Look, I’ll try to get there as soon as I can. Maybe two weeks, tops. In the meantime, you’re it. You’re her only hope.”

Oscar stared at the phone, incredulous. “Two weeks?!”

“Yeah, yeah, two weeks. You’ve got this, man,” Tim said hurriedly, like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. “You’re a driver. You’re adaptable. Just, uh, adapt to... fatherhood.”

Oscar hung up, staring blankly at Lando, who was now trying to teach Milly how to fist bump.

“So... what did he say?” Lando asked, not looking up from Milly’s tiny fist.

Oscar felt like his life was spiraling out of control. “He’s not coming back for two weeks.”

Lando, completely unbothered, grinned. “So… we’re keeping her?”

Oscar buried his face in his hands. “We are not keeping her. This is temporary. I am not a dad, and I’m not about to become one!”

Lando shrugged, giving Milly a finger to grab. “Relax, Osc. It’s just babysitting. We’ve got this.”

Oscar collapsed onto the couch, defeated. “We’re screwed.”

Lando grinned, still blissfully optimistic. “Nah, we got this. How hard can it be?”

Famous last words.

By the time evening rolled around, Oscar was teetering on the edge of a complete nervous breakdown. His hair stuck out in every direction, dark circles framed his eyes, and he was sporting the look of a man who had seen too much in one day. Meanwhile, across the room, Lando was in his own little world, completely oblivious to the chaos he had helped create.

“Please fall asleep,” Oscar muttered, his head in his hands as he slumped into the couch. He shot a pleading glance at Milly, who was, of course, still wide awake, her big eyes blinking up at him like she was in on the joke. “Please, I am begging you.”

Milly giggled in response, showing no signs of slowing down. If anything, she seemed to be gaining more energy as the night went on. And Lando, ever the optimist, had decided the solution to everything was a lullaby.

A lullaby that had nothing to do with actual lullabies and everything to do with... Formula 1.

“Alright, alright,” Lando said, grinning like this was the best night of his life. He cradled Milly in his arms, swaying back and forth like some deranged nanny. “You wanna hear a song, Milly? ‘Course you do.”

Oscar groaned into his hands. “Lando, for the love of God, just—”

Too late. Lando had already kicked into full performance mode, belting out a song so chaotic and nonsensical it would’ve made any sane adult bash their head into the wall

He bounced Milly with every line, and to Oscar’s absolute horror, she loved it. She giggled like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, her little fists grabbing onto Lando’s shirt as if demanding more.

“♪ Ohhh, race cars and pit stops,

Tires go screech, engines go vroom!

Zoom around the track, don’t look back,

Lap time’s dropping, we’re gonna attack! ♪”

Oscar rubbed his temples harder, as if somehow massaging his skull would stop the growing headache. “Why are you like this?”

But Lando was in the zone, not stopping for anything. He twirled in a circle with Milly, who was now laughing uncontrollably and continued the absolute madness.

Oscar looked on, his mind unraveling. This wasn’t a lullaby. This was... some kind of fever dream. Lando, still dancing around the living room like he was in a one-man musical, clearly had no idea how to get babies to sleep.

“♪ Pit lane’s calling, gotta switch the tires!

Box, box, baby, we’re dodging all the fires!

Fuel up quick, no time to chill,

We’re racing to bedtime, going in for the kill! ♪”

“Lando,” Oscar said through gritted teeth, “she’s supposed to be winding down, not revving up!”

Lando shot him a cheeky grin. “It’s working, mate. Look at her. She’s loving it!”

Milly squealed in delight, grabbing onto Lando’s face and pulling at his cheeks, while Lando just kept on singing like it was the most normal thing in the world.

We’re gonna celebrate with a chicken dinner! ♪”

“♪ Final lap, we’re almost there,

Through the checkered flag, feel the air!

Who needs sleep when you’re almost a winner?

Oscar could only groan in despair as Lando finished with an overly dramatic spin, still holding Milly like she was some kind of victory trophy. She clapped her tiny hands together, thoroughly entertained, while Oscar’s sanity crumbled just a little more.

Lando grinned as he plopped down on the couch next to Oscar, baby Milly perched on his knee like a royal princess. “See? We’ve got this.”

Oscar’s eye twitched. “Lando. Why do you keep saying that?”

Lando shrugged, completely at ease. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Oscar stared at him, wide-eyed, as if trying to mentally telepathize all of the worst possible things that could happen, starting with the fact that they were two twenty-something Formula 1 drivers responsible for a baby for the next two weeks.

Milly, still very much not asleep, gurgled happily and slapped Lando’s cheek, clearly delighted by the chaos she had caused.

Oscar leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling in defeat. “I’m not going to get a single second of sleep these two weeks, am I?”

Lando beamed at him, completely unfazed. “Nope. Welcome to fatherhood, mate.”

Oscar groaned and pulled a cushion over his face, muffling his scream as Milly giggled uncontrollably at his suffering.

This was going to be the longest two weeks of his life.

[bunny-jpeg]

hello! i’m here to make a bakery order! id love to see a croissant and loaf of whole wheat bread with a sangria as the side, served by daniel ricciardo! possibly christian horner’s daughter reader 🫣🫣🫣

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? go wild with the menu! there's all kinds of items on there and i'm working tiredlessly to finish them all! thank you in advance for anything you send! as for this lovely anon, this captured me right away! i find so many love our danny ricc, so thank you for the order!

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + loaf of whole wheat bread ("you're going to shut that mouth and take me.") + sangria (drunk sex) served by daniel ricciardo (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, drunk sex, horner!reader, dirty talk/degrading language, doggy style, snark and sarcasm

daniel shouldn't have let the liquor run his mouth. he knew he should've kept this words to himself, it was so fucking stupid. but what he really needed right now was the devil on his shoulder, enabling his drunken ideas. and his good friend max verstappen was the perfect man in red.

"what colour do you think her panties are?" daniel asked as he turned max's head toward your direction, max was pretty much gone. currently you were seated with a drink in your hand. he knew you were drunk because you were flirty.

max looked at you for a moment and narrowed his eyes. he then chuckled before he took another healthy sip of his gin and tonic. he hit the glass a little too hard against the table and barked, "i don't know, mate. ask her!" then slapped his teammate on the shoulder.

but there was a small problem. daniel was driving for red bull and you were christian horner's daughter.

"what did you just ask me?" you said as you downed the rest of your drink, "do you have a wager or some shit with verstappen." you rested against the table a little, "are you fucking kidding me?" you got louder when you drank, just like your father.

he looked at you with those big eyes and asked, "can i see 'em anyway?" what should've been met with a slap across the face was instead met with him being pulled into an uber. the sound of max's laugh echoed in his brain.

you were both painfully drunk, this was a mistake waiting to happen. but while he couldn't make mistakes on the track. he'd be happy to flip his entire world inside out if it meant getting to fuck your sweet pussy.

"what about your father?" he asked before you made out him in the back of the car, your hands in his tie. his hand up the skirt of your dress, rubbing your upper thigh.

you pulled away and said, "danny. i don't care what my father wants right now? he's not even in the country." which surprised daniel before he pulled back into a searing kiss. you were both hands-y. when the uber arrived back at your home, you left another tip in case for the driver for all their trouble of transporting two drunk idiots.

your apartment was small given your status. but it was filled with charm. you both bumped into things as you tried to kick your shoes off. daniel's lips were on yours as you led him to the bedroom. your back clipped the door frame before you got both of you into the room. you were both stumbling as you got the light on.

"fuck, danny."

"i know, i know. i got ya."

"i'm such an idiot for letting you pick me up with that stupid line." you dropped to the bed and started to take off your dress. you looked so pretty, even drunk as hell with heat in your cheeks. you looked at him with want, "like jesus christ i'm stupid."

he took his tie off and took off his shirt, "well, call me curious. i want to know what horner's daughter wears underneath all those baggy shirts." he laughed.

you rolled your eyes, "fuck you, ricciardo. and stop mentioning my old man."

he pouted palyfully as he swayed a little in his stance. he could feel the alcohol ruining his critical thinking skills. he said, "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

you huffed as you got down to your undergarments. cute baby blue boy shorts and a white bra with a blue bow in the middle. it made daniel stop in his tracks, his hands on his belt. you said in a stern tone, "if you want to keep talking to my dad, i can send you on a flight to let him fuck you." your words were biting.

he got the belt off and snapped it together threateningly, "don't make me gag you, princess."

"oh really?" you tilted your head to the side. the liquor you had gave you a sense of courage, "is someone worried that they're going to be shafted from the team? have to fuck me in a last ditch attempt to have a chance of being as good as max verstappen."

daniel laughed as he got closer to the bed. he got his slacks off and soon his underwear. leaving him naked, but he wasn't vulnerable. if anything there was a darkness that laid under him. the alcohol fueled something in his brain.

"oh sweet little horner. that's really sweet coming from you. at least i win, you can barely get past university. you'll be lucky to find a rich husband that can handle that mouth of yours." he got into bed with you, soon your underwear was off of you and daniel had you laid out under him. his cock pressed against your ass and his bulkier frame kept you pinned down to the bed. he held your jaw and said, "the horner name is only so good. i wonder if your pussy gives you any value. so, you're going to shut that mouth and take me. got it?"

you felt the alcohol flood your head more. you could barely form words, it was like daniel riccicardo melted any processing power in your head. you nodded and daniel slapped your ass.

"see, that's what i like to see. you feel so good under me.' daniel could already feel the heat on his back. his heart raced at the feeling of your soft skin under his hands. you were perfect for him. painfully beautiful. in all fairness, he forgot what colour your panties were, green? pink? whatever, this was more important.

he rubbed his cock up against you until he managed to get in between your thighs. getting right to your pussy, the feeling almost took the breath out of him. holy shit, you were perfect.

"where has your father been hiding you, beautiful?" he purred in a low tone which made your hips shift, "is that why he sent you to boarding school, so you wouldn't be a slut around the paddock." his words were poison and his thrusts were brutal, "i asked you what colour your panties were and you basically were sucking my cock." he groaned, "i bet if max came to you first, he'd be fucking you right now." he kissed at your cheek as he lifted your hips to get a better angle.

"never. god, never." you groaned.

"awww, is verstappen not good enough? get your bastard father and his bastard father in the same room." daniel chuckled, "in-laws from hell."

you groaned and kicked out your legs a little, "stop mentioning my dad, you asshole." but before you could say anything more, daniel had your head in the covers as he started to really work at your pussy.

"why? he's such a lovely man. zero issues with him whatsoever." he panted heavily in your ear, "i wonder if he'd know if you were here. if some loud mouth told him. that you were squirming under me, letting me use and abuse that pussy of yours."

you gripped onto the covers and moaned loudly. you felt your heart racing in your ears as you back arched. he kept you so nicely pinned between him and the best. there was no escaping out from under him.

"danny please."

"you beg so pretty." he said softly, "i should've asked you sooner. maybe i should've flashed them to max. i bet he would've liked to see what horner's been hiding from us." his words were liquid in your brain, frying any cognitive thought. the rush of everything made the liquor move through your head even more. you panted heavily against the covers as he continued to thrust inside of you.

"please, danny. fuck. i just wanted you. you stupid idiot!" you whined, "i wanted you and your dumb cock!"

"you like this don't you? you like having your insides rearranged by me." daniel barked a laugh as he continued to rut against you. he felt so deep inside of you.

"fuck." you groaned, not even able to deny it. it all felt so good, and you wanted to kill him for it. you hated that he polluted your brain like strong liquor.

he chuckled and kissed the side of your head, "see, being my good girl is always worth it. just let me take care of you." but he knew you'd be done soon. his words lived in your head and you panted into the covers.

"you drive me fucking insane."

"oh i know. i'm in your head all the time." he laughed.

"shit. danny." you whined as you clawed at the covers. your back arched like a cat and giving the perfect angle for daniel to fuck up into you. you held on for dear life as you climaxed around his cock. you panted into the covers.

daniel continued to move against you, using your hips to bounce you on his cock. you felt like a dream come true. his cock bullied your sweet pussy. he whispered in your ear, filth as he came inside of you. his hips against you a few more times before he stopped. he laid on top of you for a moment as he caught his breath.

your heart hammered in your chest as he eventually got on his side next to you. he bundled you up in his arms and held you close to him. there was heaving breathing between the two of you.

daniel pulled you in for another kiss, and the liquor in his head told him one thing. he wasn't letting you go.

-

"ricciardo." horner said. he sighed and crossed his arms. he looked like a disappointment parent more than a boss.

daniel put his best smile on, hiding the looming anxiety. why was he called into horner's office like he was a school boy in trouble. he replied, "yes, mister horner."

"you're a good driver. a good man. i hold a great deal of respect for you. so tell me why my daughter has to extend her time at university because she has asked for a semester off?"

daniel raises his eyebrows, "because academia is hard?"

"no, daniel. because according to verstappen you left a party with my daughter and now she turns up pregnant." he sighed, but kept his gaze on the man in front of him, "i hope you know if you skip out on her, you'll be in a world of trouble."

daniel swallowed at the news. he got horner's daughter pregnant. he. got. you. pregnant. the electricity of the news made him stand up, he said loudly, "shit. i have to buy a ring!" he wasn't letting his child go without! he looked to horner and said, "i have to go. tell your daughter to meet me tonight! i'll have a ring for her, sir!" before he high tailed it out of the office.

horner dropped his shoulders. at least the kid was responsible. while he didn't know the details of exactly how you ended up in bed with his driver. but it could've been a lot worse. as he rubbed his temples, it could've been worse. it could've been verstappen. <3

[8o8o8o8o8]

Much like how our brains can calculate trajectory (aka aim) even when we don't know the formula, I think Gabriel and all angels just intuitively understand advanced math, because what is god's design if not the laws of physics, and what is physics if not applied math.

And you know what is also math? Programming. He would not be entirely wrong to deify V1 as they might as well have divinity running in their circuits. In this essay I will

[leclerc-hs]

fille stupide pt. 2 - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader / max verstappen x fem!reader Summary: in which you now kind of know French and a not so stranger crosses paths with you again Warnings: smuuuuttttt, mean charles, bad French (please correct me!!!), bad Dutch (please correct me!!!), spitting, CHEATING!!!! (i apologize in advance), unprotected sex, 18+!, not proofread!! Word Count: 3294 Author's Note: I have absolutely no words for what I have written other than please enjoy..... ;) let me hear some feedback please!!! feedback is the only thing that keeps me writing for y'all. french edited by @dannyramirezwife!!! dutch edited by @deanlovescassie!!! PART 3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Charles.

THE PASSING MONTHS did little to erase the imprint he left on your memory. After all, it’s not all that often you let a total stranger fuck your brains out like he did. His presence lingered in your thoughts like a haunting melody. As time stretched on, the details of his face may have blurred slightly, but the essence of his touch and the way he made you feel remained vivid. He remained a part of your past, but the world seemed to conspire in mysterious ways, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the story was far from over.

The sunglasses, once perched on his nose, now gather dust on your bedside table, serving as a tangible reminder of the indelible memory he left behind. 

While the desire to see him again lingered, you weren’t idly waiting. Life continued its course – you met cute men, went on dates, delved into learning some French and Dutch, and became adept at navigating the intricacies of Monaco. You even have a kind-of boyfriend now. It was still new, about five weeks, not yet too serious. Hence, the Dutch.

“Ben je klaar?” Are you ready? He says, smiling at you as he presses gentle kisses to the top of your head before really looking at you. “Prachtig,” Beautiful. He adds on. You can’t help but blush like an enamored schoolgirl when he is around.

You weren’t sure about the question, but the word ‘beautiful’ was unmistakable. “Max, you know I’m not that good at Dutch yet,” you playfully rolled your eyes before smiling up at him. The word ‘yet’ tugged at his heart strings, as if you were implying that you would master Dutch in the future. It felt like a subtle confirmation of a shared future together.

He looked so handsome in his suit. Tonight, you were accompanying him to a gala event related to his job. Although you weren’t an avid watcher of Formula 1, you were aware of his substantial role in the sport based on what he had shared with you.

As you make your way into the ballroom, his hand gently settles on the small of your back, his thumb soothingly rubbing in a comforting gesture that eases the fluttering nerves within you. A vision of elegance, you enter the scene adorned in a breathtaking silk navy gown with a tasteful high slit. The luxurious fabric drapes gracefully, sculpting a silhouette that effortlessly captures attention with its captivating and refined allure. The high slit, starting just above the knee, ascends provocatively with each step you take.

Entering the room alongside Max, you couldn’t help but sense multiple pairs of eyes fixated on the two of you. With a small smile, you playfully dismiss the stares as if they were all directed at Max. Although, the attention is drawn to you, and it’s clear to Max that you are the center of attraction. 

You feel Max bring his lips softly to the shell of your ear as you finally reach your table for the night, “Looks like I might have to fight off some people tonight, schat.” Darling. You instantly blush as a gentle laugh escapes your glossy lips. With a courteous gesture, he pulls out your chair, and you graciously take a seat, appreciating the chivalry. Afterward, he settles into his own chair, pouring you a glass of champagne.

“Mon dieu, looks like we’re at the same table tonight,” a velvety voice remarks, sending a shiver down your spine. The mere sound of it makes your stomach churn. It couldn’t be. As the words were spoken from behind your chair, you still haven’t seen him to confirm. Max looked over the left of his shoulder, a broad smile on his face.

“Charles! This will be a fun night, don’t you think?” 

The sound of the chair being pulled out across from you reaches your ears, yet you resist the urge to look over just yet. Instead, your attention remains fixed on the half-drained champagne glass in your hand, contemplating whether you should down it like a shot.

Looking up, you summoned a smile as expansive as possible, instantly meeting with a pair of green ones. Your felt your stomach do flips. It’s him. The glint in his eyes gave you full notice that he remembered you too.

“Schat, this is Charles. He drives for Ferrari.” Max introduced him with enthusiasm, as if Charles were a long-lost friend from childhood. You noticed the slight clench of his jaw as the pet-name escaped Max’s lips.

“Enchantée,” Nice to meet you. You uttered the words, your smile not faltering as your eyes shifted to the brunette beauty beside him. You saw a light form in his eyes at the words. French. You were challenging him, unbeknownst to both your dates. You were still clueless to the language, but you were less clueless this time.

You eventually learned that his date’s name is Alexandra and was also a student, like you. She was stunning and so sweet, truly. As Max casually extended an arm over your chair, his fingers grazed your bare shoulder absentmindedly. Charles’s eyes tracked his every move, his stare seemingly burned into your skin.

As the event progressed and more people joined the table, you subtly adjusted your position, angling your body more towards Max on the right of you. It wasn’t to be rude to the rest, but with the increasing noise, you desired to engage in conversation with Max.

Max plants tender kisses to your cheek, whispering, “Je bent zo mooi. So pretty.” You’re so pretty. The compliment lingers, and it feels like the blush on your cheeks will be a constant companion throughout the night.

Across the table, Charles sat, his gaze tracking your every movement. He couldn’t help but notice that you skillfully managed to overlook his presence, and a surge of anger began to form in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t quite justify the anger, considering the two of you barely knew each other. Yet, from the moment he laid eyes on you all those months ago, it felt as if you belonged to him at first sight. Or at least your body did.

“So, how did you two meet?” You resisted the temptation to roll your eyes. Rule number one, you can only roll your eyes when my cock is stretching your tight little pussy. You felt yourself choke on your breath at the memory. Max immediately handed you some water, full concern etched on his face. Despite your thoughts about him, you didn’t want Max to find out, and Charles was pushing the boundaries before you could even set them.

“Ça va. I’m fine.” You patted his thigh, thankful for his concern and care.

A smirk spread across Charles’ face, as if he was privy to your every thought. It was as if he knew that you remembered his number one rule.

“Ran into her at the store a few weeks ago. She bumped right into my shopping cart with her’s.” Max smiled in remembrance. “I thought she was so beautiful and had to ask her out.”

Charles eyebrows raised in interest as he focused back on Max. Bumped into him. His eyes met yours once again for the night, a smirk on his lips as if he was saying: sounds familiar.

“I bumped into someone a few months ago,” Charles began, catching the attention of the table. You could feel the blush carry down, your neck turning red.

“I need to use the restroom,” you stood up quickly, shoving your chair back more than you anticipated. “I’ll be back.”

You eagerly walked towards the nearest restroom, moving as fast as your heels would allow. Slipping through the restroom door, you moved quickly to shut it behind you, but a hand halted the door in place, not allowing you to close it fully. You moved back with a gasp as Charles slipped through the door, closing it behind him and locking it. 

He looked murderous with rage. How could you be here with Max out of all people? He felt his patience wearing thin as you stood across from him with all flushed cheeks and looking absolutely fucking killer in that dress.

“Où sont tes manières?” Where are your manners? It was as if the smirk on his face would never fade tonight, and you had an urge to smack it right off. The French. 

“Et où sont les tiennes?” And where are yours? You countered right back, your tone laced with frustration and disbelief. “You’re the one following me into the ladies room.”

Gradually, he advanced toward you, trapping you between his presence and the vanity of the sink. The cold touch of granite countertop seeped through the thin fabric of your dress, causing goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin. His hands, warm in stark contrast to the cool surface, found their place, one wrapping around the back of your neck, holding it with a firm grip letting you look nowhere else but at him.

“Dit moi,” Tell me. He began, “does he fuck you like the whore that you are?” You felt your breathing quicken, a red siren going off in your head as you felt your legs press together. You were silent, not wanting to give into this game he wanted to play.

“I guess you remembered my number one rule, hm?” He refers to when you refrained an eye roll that he knows you desperately wanted to do. 

“Oh, va te faire foutre” Go fuck yourself. You bite back but he just smirks more. Most likely because you’re able to slightly argue in French now, you assume. You don’t know why you were even speaking in French. It was as if subconsciously you knew, you wanted to impress him.

“Did you fuck him?” Tilting his chin at you, his tone takes on a vaguely condescending note. His jaw was clenched and the grip on your neck tightens as he watches a smile spread across your lips. Confirming that yes, you fucked Max. 

It wasn’t until now that you truly took a good look at him. He was absolutely devastating in a suit. Simply breathtaking. You felt your stomach tighten with desire.

“Fucking salope.” Slut. He seethes. 

He doesn’t give you the chance to verbally answer before his lips are on yours. Your fingers instinctively tangle in his hair, exploring eagerly on their own accord. As if guided by mutual desire, you tug on the roots of his hair, and he moans hotly into your mouth. His other hand slides down to the back of your thigh, lifting your leg around his waist as he presses you up against the counter.

The other hand, still wrapped around the back of your neck, is gripping you tightly. You’re certain you might be getting a bruise, but before you can make a comment, his hand is releasing its grip.

His lips don’t leave yours. His kiss is urgent and demanding, much different than Max, who is sweet and gentle with you. You feel his lips travel down to your neck, sucking feverishly. The pressure of his lips, sobering you up from the heat of the kiss, you shove him back. He didn’t move far though; he was much stronger than you after all.

“Nous ne pouvons pas,” We can’t. You breathe, the words heavy with both desire and restraint. You were so wet. It honestly pained you to push him away.

“We have to get back before they notice.” You slid off the countertop and turned to look in the mirror. If it wasn’t for your swollen lips and out of place hair, no one would’ve said anything. Charles stood behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

You felt the flutter in your stomach as he muttered the next words, “It’s my cock you’ll be coming around tonight, Cherie.”

“A bientôt.” See you soon. And with that he was out the door. Leaving you alone to fix any imperfections before finding your way back to Max with your stomach in knots of anticipation.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Welterusten, schnat.” Goodnight, darling. Max’s kiss leaves you feeling intoxicated as you stumble into your apartment. A broad smile graces your lips as you lean against the closed door. 

Before you can even take a step away from the front door, three loud knocks reverberate from the other side, instantly sobering you up. It’s my cock you’ll be coming around tonight, Cherie. The memory of the words has you instantly squeezing your thighs together.

You swing the door open, not even bothering to fix yourself, and a brooding Charles comes rushing through immediately. The first thing he does is pull you towards your bed, which is no longer a mattress in the middle of the floor and pushes you onto it. He notices the changes in your apartment – the new bed frame and additional furniture – but he doesn’t say anything. It’s just a reminder of how long it has been. He simply stares down at you, his eyes darkening as he undoes his cufflinks, taking in the sight of you with flushed cheeks. And that dress. That fucking dress.

He teetered on the brink of insanity as he reflected on the moment you entered the ballroom tonight. In his eyes, you were the most exquisite and beautiful woman he had ever seen. He genuinely forgot about Alexandra’s presence as soon as you stepped foot in the room. It was as if he didn’t even need to see you to feel you. As if his body had a sensor for your presence. The dress you wore intensified his emotions. If you were his, you wouldn’t have even made it to the gala tonight. Thoughts of Max surfaced, fueling his anger. The realization that the dress was likely chosen for Red Bull intensified his feelings, leaving him sick and consumed by rage. You were his, and the fact that Max seemed to have a claim infuriated him. He had you first.

He brings his finger to the neckline of your dress, tracing it slowly, as his breathing grows louder. “This fucking dress.” His voice sounded strained. It happened so fast; one second your dress was securely on your body, and the next, it was split into two, your breasts exposed as the fabric gave way.

“I can’t look at you in navy for one more fucking second, salope.” Slut.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as he stood tall in front of you, your hands absentmindedly fumbling with the buckle of his dress pants. You both were feverish, in a rush, as if it was a race to who could get naked the fastest.

The kiss started out similar to the one shared earlier tonight: urgent and demanding. Charles pulled away, holding you at arm’s length as he looked at your naked body sprawled on the mattress for him. All for him.

“Merde,” Shit. He muttered before reconnecting his lips with yours. For the first time ever, he seemed intent on taking his time with kissing you. His tongue meeting yours in slow languid strokes has you mewling into his mouth. One hand held your jaw in place while the other rolled your nipple in between his two fingers, and his hips rolled into your cotton covered core. It was so much. He was everywhere at once. 

“Be a good girl,” he says, his voice coming out much deeper than normal, “Open your mouth.”

You don’t question it and open wide. His fingers wrap around your neck as he directs a dribble of spit from him directly to you. You keep it open, not closing your mouth unless he tells you to. For a few seconds, he just stares at his saliva sitting on your tongue, his hand around your neck, and the roll of his hips into you. You were his. “Swallow,” he commands, to which you react instantly.

“Thank you,” you utter the words as sweetly as possible. You want to beg for more. More everything. There is no such thing as too much with him.

A wicked smile forms on his face, “such a fucking whore, hm?”

A loud shriek left your lips as Charles scooped one arm under you, flipping you onto your stomach abruptly. His hand found its place on the back of your neck, pushing your face into the pillows, as he slipped both of your underwear off. French phrases spewing from his mouth, to which you could not understand, as he shoved his cock right into your saturated core.

“Tu me mets encolère.” You make me furious.

“Je ne partage pas putain.” I don’t fucking share.

“Ton corps m’appartient.” Your body belongs to me.

Each thrust into you was harder and harder at each proclamation. As if you would disappear into thin air if he didn’t pound into you hard enough.

“Charles,” you groaned into the pillow, but it came out as nothing but a muffled groan. At some point, you turned your head on the pillow for air, no longer face first in it. Your moans continued, now heard more clearly.

You were so close. So fucking close. Teetering over the edge of your orgasm.

The sound of his skin slapping yours and the wet sounds of your pussy echoed throughout the room. Until suddenly, it stopped. He pulled right out, leaving you groaning and empty. You yelped, turning around in frustration at the loss of contact.

Charles was already staring at you, as he rose from the bed, walking around it to sit against the headboard. His stare ignited a fire within you. You swore in that moment, you wanted his eyes on only yourself for forever.

“Beg,” he commanded. “Beg to ride my fucking cock, Cherie.”

You didn’t let more than a second pass before the words ‘please’ were spewing out of your lips. He grabbed your hips, pulling you over his lap, and centering himself in between your legs. You, now on top. 

There was no hesitation as you slid down his cock, bouncing up and down him repeatedly. You felt fucked. His cock had fucked you stupid now.

He’s insatiable; almost feral, as his hands grip your hips and lift you up and down on his cock. “Mine, you’re fucking mine.”

Nothing but choked gasps escape your lips, incapable of forming any words, as your orgasm finally hits you.

“Tu te débrouilles très bien,” You’re doing so good. You catch nothing in that sentence but the word ‘good’. Your pussy fluttering around his cock at the mere idea of him telling you that you’re good.

“Tell me who your body belongs to.” His voice is gruff, as if his own orgasm is right there.

“Je t’appartiens, Charles,” I belong to you.  You gasp the words in French, knowing it would send him undone almost immediately. His cock twitches inside of you, stuffing you full of him. He’s selfish. He wants you completely full of him, covered of him. Him, him, him. Never once does his eyes leave yours, as if you’re both in a trance. 

He carefully pulls your limp body off him, laying you down beside him and making you feel less empty than before, as he stares at the come dripping between your legs. He brings his fingers to you, pushing as much of it back inside you as he can. You didn’t even bother to argue, you were on the pill. You wanted to be full of him after all.

You were fucked stupid. Completely cockdumb and limp against the bed. You felt your eyes drooping as Charles tucked you in under the covers, hovering above you as he places a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The only words that you hear are a soft “A bientôt” and “Repose-toi” before the door of your apartment was clicked shut as you fell into a deep slumber.

[retireddaddyric]

“The fish tank”

Synopsis: Daniel uses an inappropriate nickname for a former F1 driver in the media pen and his PR manager with which he has a secret affair has to deal with it.

Warnings: 18+, minors do not interact please. Smut, oral sex, consent asked in another moment. This is all fiction, I used a made up name for the former f1 driver.

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any errors.

I open the door with a slam and immediately get out of the conference room. The hot sun of Bahrein hits my face and I lower my sunglasses from my head to my eyes. I walk fast, almost running from what I just had to witness. I shake my head in disbelief.

“(y/n) wait, come on!” I hear Daniel shout while sprinting towards me.

“Let me cool down before I even start to talk Daniel.” I snap without even bothering to look his way.

“It’s not easy to cool down in this weather.” He jokes.

“The problem is not the weather but the prick I have been assigned to.” I say shaking my head.

“Oh so you can’t cool down because I am hotter than the weather.” I hear his smirk from his voice.

“I can’t cool down because you called an ex formula one champion a ‘bald prawn’. In the media section, surrounded by journalists and photographers!”

“Well he is bald and we all know his dick is-“

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” I shout stopping in the middle of the paddock to turn towards him, the folder with my notes at my chest.

He smiles darkly when he bumps into me. “Ooops.” He says in a playful flirting voice.

“I’m not fucking joking here.” I say narrowing my eyes.

“Neither am I.” He winks and looks at my tits, always thinking with his second brain more than the first.

“Eyes up and explain what the hell is wrong in that head of yours? Are you missing a couple of brain cells? You know the amount of work I am going to face to make this shit a little better for you?” I ask agitated. “Not to mention the questions I’ll get from our team who will want to know how the hell am I doing my job if I let you talk shit in the media pen!”

“You’re overreacting, I’ll handle it.” He says smiling calm.

“How the hell can you stay so chill after the media storm coming your way?”

“Have a little faith in me come on!”

“Daniel how?”

“I have learned to swallow too much in my life, then I met you and decided to make you swallow instead.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I smack his chest with my folder.

“Come on they know you’ve been assigned to me and not to Lewis Hamilton.” He chuckles putting his hands in his cargo pants pockets.

I roll my eyes, “Right now i fucking wish I were, damn. You’re such a kid.”

“Didn’t say I was a kid when we played gynecologist in my provate room.” He giggles.

I start walking again towards the Vcarb motorhome, Daniel following just a step behind.

“We’ve been called to Peter Bayer’s office.” I tell him.

“I’ll handle him don’t worry.” He says not stressed in the least.

I shake my head in disbelief.

“He called me washed.” He says.”Voleur.” He adds.

“I know but that’s not an excuse to call him a ‘bald prawn’.” I repeat exasperated.

“A hairless little dickie would have sounded better to you?” He laughs.

I sigh and open the door of the motorhome without caring to keep it open for him before I start walking in.

He sprints inside and overtakes me smiling at the Vcarb staff and exchanging jokes. I shake my head desperately trying to think of a way to get out of all of this with grace.

I walk to the elevator and press the button. I take out my phone to unlock it and look for the scheduled appointments document.

When the doors open I walk inside reading the list. Daniel gets in with me and looks over my shoulder on my phone, his hand at my hip, sneaking under the shirt.

In that moment Christian Horner’s name pops up on the screen with an incoming call. My eyes instantly find daniel’s giving him a glare. He smiles nervously and retreat his hand.

The elevator starts his upward journey while I take the call on speakers.

“Christian I..”

“(Y/n) how did you even accept he could say something like that?”

“I didn’t! He just brought it out by himself I didn’t even know he read those lines Voleur said about him!”

“How are you even going to solve this..?”

“I have everything under control Christian don’t worry.” I lie trying to sound calm.

“Find a way to media train him again in case he forgot how to answer to journalists after 13 years in F1.”

I sigh and look at Daniel who is suppressing a smile while we get out the elevator towards Peter Bayer’s office.

Christian ends the call.

“I’m killing you after all of this.” I whisper for only him to hear.

“Please choke me.” He whispers smiling with innuendo while we enter Pete Bayer’s office. I look back at him with wide eyes, what if Pete had heard him? Luckily Pete’s on the phone at the window. I push his back inside.

Daniel sits at a chair while I stand next to him. We look like a teacher and the problematic kid in the school principal room.

Pete acknowledges our presence and ends the call immediately.

“They’re gonna start picking his side after that nickname.” Pete only says looking at Daniel.

“I’m not afraid.. i can throw punches!” He just says nonchalantly.

“Daniel!” I shut him up.

“That was a childish thing to say for a 35 years old.” Pete adds looking at him trying to figure him out.

“I never said his name, I might have been speaking about a prawn i have in the fish tank back at home for all you know, if he feels called out it means he is a prawn and if all of us thought of him it means he has a little weenie and we all know.” He says rising his hands to entwined them behind his head smiling broadly.

I blush hard and look at Pete who is looking at Daniel.

Pete’s face goes from serious to confused to.. amused.

In that moment his secretary gets in “Pete, you’re awaited in Yuki’s garage.”

Pete nods and starts following her.

“Find a way to clean this mess.” Pete says suppressing a laugh while he looks at us.

He closes the door and I look at Daniel furrowing my eyebrows.

“You’re fucking crazy.” I say shaking my head.

“I’m not, he really has a little dick.”

“Daniel again!” I scold him.

He smirks “why are you taking that at heart, I thought you liked big dicks.”

I throw my folder at him and he laughs faking getting hurt.

He puts the folder on the desk and stands up towering me. “You do.” He says in a low voice getting closer.

I take a step back but he follows me.

I push his hard chest “Daniel we’re in Pete Bayer’s office.” I whisper.

He nods smiling darkly. “And I still want you.”

He grabs my hips and rises me up against the wall, settling between my legs, holding me by my thighs.

“That fucking mouth will get you in trouble!” I say narrowing my eyes at him. His hard cock presses at my panties under the skirt.

“Up until now it only got me to very good places.” He smirks against my lips.

“I’m not joking!” I snap back.

“Neither am I, and you know you love it when I put it on your little needy pussy.”

I roll my eyes, my breath accelerating “that’s not what I was talking about..”

“No?” He jokes while his hips thrust up. I let out a little moan.

“Was that a moan?” He chuckles darkly.

“No.” I breathe out. “You should stop putting my job at risk.”

“Your job is never at risk with me, if they fire you I can hire you again.” He laughs.

“Shut up.”

“I can. You can be my babysitter.”

“I already am.”

“You are my cocksitter.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Shut up for real Daniel.”

“You know damn well I can’t.”

“Yapper.”

“Yapper lover.”

“Prawn. Your dick is as little as Voleur.”

His eyes go wide and holds back a laugh, a hint of a challenge in his brown pools. In that moment he stops holding my thighs and I fall on my feet. He pushes my shoulder down with a hand so i’m forced to kneel. His other hand works with his pants zip. My back at the wall.

“What the-“ i start asking confused but his semi hard cock is in my mouth the second after. I gasp looking up at him, the light from the room at his back, his shadowy figure towering me. One hand at the wall, the other behind my head.

“How did you call me again?” He whispers darkly.

I swallow instinctively and gag a bit as he starts to move. “How is this a prawn when it hits the back of your throat and still leaves space for your nose to breathe?”

He laughs and lets out a low moan.

“Holy shit that fucking scolding mouth, this is what I imagine doing to ‘ya anytime ‘ya say I did something wrong and start playing teacher.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as he fucks my mouth fast, his cock getting hard rock.

He guides my mouth away to let me breathe.

“I should be the one shutting that fucking mouth!” I say breathlessly, precum and saliva all over my lips. He laughs shaking his head and spits in my mouth.

He pushes my head back on his cock, my nose hitting his hair at this pelvis. “You know there’s no way to shut me up, I yapped even while I ate you out next to my millions worth f1 car rear wing.”

I slap his thigh on his jeans looking up at him with a glare while he keeps fucking my mouth with raw need. He laughs back at me breathlessly and winks. “You love my unstoppable mouth. You know I can’t let a fucking prick call me ‘washed’.”

I roll my eyes and he smirks slamming his dick harder to the back of my throat.

A loud gagging sound escapes me and he pinches my nose looking at his back towards the door. I pull away catching my breath.

“Are you insane?” I breathe heavy saying with a nasal voice since he’s keeping my nose shut.

He leaves my nose “shhh, you don’t want the team to know the driver fucks your mouth in the team principal office.”

My eyes go wide and he laughs and puts his dick back in my mouth. “Yeah, baby, just like that, fuck. i love that mouth when it’s closed around my cock.”

I suck his cock with passion, he’s a dick and I do adore the fact he doesn’t give a fuck about anyone, that he stands for himself despite those stupid rules about being polite around cameras. But I won’t tell him.

He smiles down at me “fuck I’m so close and I know what you’re thinking when you look at me like that.”

“Mh?” I ask while i put my hands and the back oh his thighs sucking harder.

“That you love me after all.”

I smirk and shake my head. He laughs and starts fucking my mouth faster.

“Yeah keep telling yourself you’d rather work for Russell or for Hamilton.” He chuckles breathlessly, his chest rising and falling faster, his balls tightening.

“At the end of the day, you’d still come to my hotel room to get those knees bruised.” He says and throws his head back groaning low as i feel his hot liquid fill my mouth and slide down my throat, the grip at the back of my head edging on pain.

He pants until I swallow all his cum. He pulls my head away tugging my hair gently and puts his dick back inside his pants.

He makes me stand up tugging at my hair and kisses me with wild passion against the wall. The kiss is messy and breathless.

He cups my face with one large hand while the other still grabs my hair. “I’ll handle it all, trust me, you’ll never lose your job because of me.” He gives me to soft kisses to my mouth and winks at me. “But that’s my job..” i say breathlessly.

“Look at me.” He says forcing me to meet his eyes. “You’re with me because you’re the only one who can handle a pain in the ass, and the whole paddock knows that I am one. They know you’re the best.”

“Sometimes I wish I could have a relaxing day.” I sigh and chuckle.

“Not with me, baby.” He smiles and pulls away. “Let’s go.” He says adjusting his jeans.

“Where?” I ask confused, still light headed from the sexual act.

“I have a prawn to feed back at home, in my fish tank.”

[il-miele-che-scrive]

Please have your asks open okay so hear me out

Charles Leclerc x Greek ! F1 driver ! Reader

You can choose the brand anything Ferrari because I want it to be like a little rivalry to lovers . Social media au or not . Reader being in f1 more time than Charles or Charles with rookie reader .

Thank you in advance

Hello!! I decided to go with rookie reader, hoping you'll like it❤️🙏

scuderiaferrari We are thrilled to announce a historic moment in Formula 1 as we welcome Y/n Y/l/n to our racing family! 🚀 Introducing Y/n Y/l/n, the first woman to compete in F1 since the iconic Lella Lombardi in 1976, and proudly representing Greece! 🇬🇷 Teaming up with our Charles Leclerc, Y/n brings a fresh wave of skill, determination and passion to the track. Together they'll conquer the 2024 season with the iconic Prancing Horse🐎

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yourusername I feel extremely honored to become a part of this family❤️

username1 Miss girl has no idea what she signed up for 💀 wishing her all the best tho

username2 A GIRL, GUYS WE FINALLY GOT A GIRL IN F1

username3 I have a bad feeling about this...

↳username1 wtf? care to explain?

username3 By the summer break she'll have hooked up with half the grid

username1 bye I'm not even participating in this conversation, misogynistic brain rot

carlossainz55 Goodluck @/yourusername 💪

↳yourusername Thank you Carlos 🙏

↳username4 Help why does his comment seem kinda salty

username2 wdym salty lol he literally wished her goodluck

username5 I get him tho, a girl stole his seat

username2 what "stealing" are you talking about? his contract expired, they didn't prolong it and went with some fresh blood that happened to be a woman, not to mention you have to be like the best of the best to get into F1, there was def no stealing done

charles_leclerc Exciting times ahead, let's see if you can keep up

↳yourusername Buckle up 🤠

↳username2 now THAT'S what I'd call a salty comment

username5 Charles forgot they're on the same team lol

achi_of_greece Hellenic Hurricane 🌪

↳yourusername I'll never escape from this nickname will I? 🫶

↳username1 NOT Y/N HAVING LITERAL ROYALTY UNDER A POST ABOUT HER

↳username3 Let's see if the hellenic hurricane can keep up with Lighting McQueen

username4 keep up? 🤡 miss girl will beat his ass up

username5 once again, i kindly remind, they are a TEAM!

lewishamilton History in the making

↳yourusername Omg sir Lewis Hamilton I'm gonna cry 🥹

username1 Y/n being a fangirl just like us

username4 she's so real for this frfr

oscarpiastri Finally🥴it was a bit lonely

↳yourusername Hi f2 bestie 🫶

logansargeant What about me

yourusername you know Oscar and I love you!!

f1 A historic day at the Imola Circuit as Y/n Y/l/n, the Hellenic Hurricane, wins the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix! Congratulations to Y/n and the entire Ferrari team for this outstanding performance.

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yourusername A dream come true honestly 😭🙏

↳carlossainz55 Great job👏

↳lewishamilton So proud

↳username4 Someone explain why the 7 (8)times WC and Charles' ex teammate are more supportive than Charles himself

username2 I think it might be an ego thing? He could be jealous? Personally I think it's Ferrari's fault, they kinda messed up the friendship between CL and CS too at the end

username5 yeah Y/n is definitely the 'favorite child' to Ferrari because she's new and they want to focus more on her or smth

maxverstappen1 Well deserved

↳yourusername THANK YOU MAX

↳username6 Why is Max here and Charles is not😭

username1 A GIRL. IN FERRARI. WINNING IN ITALY. I WASN'T READY FOR THIS

username2 The haters are pretty quiet rn

username4 No cuz I was gonna ask if she found a therapist yet... But she might not need it

username6 Excuse me it's been a few weeks and we get a Y/n win already?? I love it here

landonorris Max Verstappen is screaming crying throwing up

↳maxverstappen1 I'm literally not

landonorris You must admit it was refreshing not having to listen to the Dutch anthem again

oscarpiastri Best rookie fr

↳yourusername I learn from the best (even though you didn't have a win in your rookie year)

oscarpiastri Wdym i didn't, i won sprint in Qatar. Not to mention rookie of the year

yourusername Yeah yeah, stop flexing pookie

logansargeant Go bestie

↳yourusername Can't fvck with these hoes cuz they messy 💅

username7 live laugh love Y/n

username1 the Verstappen curse has ended🙏

↳username3 you know it's probs her first and last victory in F1 right?

username1 I just wonder why is Charles so quiet

charles_leclerc Congrats 👍

↳username7 not Charles commenting after people started to wonder why he didn't say anything 😭

↳yourusername How did you enjoy looking at the back of my car? Oh wait, you couldn't even see it from P8

username1 maybe it was better when Charles didn't comment 💀

username3 if that was how my teammate talks to me I'd be pissed too

username1 if this is angrily my name is Ayrton Senna

username2 pls if he was angry, it was only cuz he's in love with her but can't do anything about it

↳username3 he can, they're both single, if he wanted he would've, but he knows they have to keep it professional

username2 that's why I said he can't do anything, literally. i predict a relationship the moment one of them leaves ferrari (or f1 in general)

username4 dude is so in love it's embarrassing

username5 I just know he's thinking about unholy things

↳username7 angry sex lmao imagine

username6 oh to have someone who'll look at me the same way Charles looks at Y/n

username7 okay so my theory is they're attracted to each other okay? but neither of them can talk about emotions, but they tried to have a talk about it, which turned into an argument cuz both are short tempered pookies

↳username3 this is so delusional 🤡 why would they talk about it in that exact moment?

username7 let a girl fantasize

↳username5 quietly manifesting this to be true

↳username2 I'll never believe in true love if this doesn't turn out to be real

username8 No cuz hear me out guys. The LONGING gaze in the second picture? There is chemistry between them whether they admit it or not

↳username6 I totally see it, that is the stare of a man in love with the woman he's just argued with. Look at him. He doesn't look angry. He looks upset. Why? Because they had this argument and didn't make up. Now he's worried they'll get in the cars and something bad will happen either to him or Y/n and... You can imagine how the rest goes

username3 And i thought the previous person was delulu wtf

username9 I can die happily the day I see CharlesY/n happen

↳username7 be careful what you wish for, I feel like it can happen sooner than we'd expect

username10 I need to know HOW didn't Y/n fold after being looked at like this

username11 My friend went to Monaco for the GP and she has a paddock pass, she told me she overheard Y/n talk to some girl from her team that she liked Charles AND they even had "THE talk"™ (which could mean they did "IT"?), but Y/n can't imagine a relationship with him

↳username3 out of all the things that didn't happen, this didn't happen the most

↳username1 I can see that, they're very similar - competitive, short tempered - each of them is like a ticking bomb alone, so in a romantic relationship they would be truly a nuclear weapon (which doesn't mean I don't want it to happen)

yourusername A great day for some karting 🥴 summer break!

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username1 did I gaslight myself that hard or she's really in the number 16?

↳username5 nah, I see that too

↳username2 girlie giving us hints, is it soft launching yet?

username2 16 I'M SCREAMING

username4 enemies to lovers?

↳username3 when were they enemies?

username4 well they never seemed very fond of each other

username3 then just say rivals 💀

charles_leclerc You forgot to mention I won this time

↳yourusername first and last time you got a higher place than me

username4 I can see them having "the winner gets to be on top" kinda bets

↳landonorris 👀

username1 LANDO KNOWS SOMETHING

username11 i told yall, there's too much tension between Y/n and Charles to not be AT LEAST fuck buddies

oscarpiastri What's the longest you can go without being on track?

↳yourusername Mate as I'm writing this I'm waiting for a plane home, won't sit behind the wheel for like a week or more 😭

↳username2 Y/n is dedicated to her job

yourusername είσαι η αγάπη μου❤️🤍

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username1 the red and white hearts?? just saying but they're colors of the Monaco flag

↳username2 and the guy lowkey looks like Charles🤔

username3 looks like Charles? The best you can see is the back of his head

username2 and it looks exactly like Charles' 😌

francisca.cgomes Where credits for the last pic?

↳username4 KIKA WHAT ARE U DOING HERE

↳yourusername Pierre said not to tag either of you 😭 safety reasons or something 🙄

username4 AND PIERRE IS THERE?

username3 Okay, she's in a relationship, y'all can stop shipping Charles with her

↳username5 wdym 💀 this is literally Charles

username3 And y'all say that based on the back of his head, delusional

oscarpiastri @/landonorris and I want an invitation next time

↳yourusername Sorry pookie, it's not for kids

landonorris I'm not a kid

yourusername Then don't act like one

username5 lmao Ferrari had no idea they're getting a sassy queen

username6 Y/n is in love 🥹

↳username2 She's winning, she's in love, what else could a girl want?

username7 Not the soft launch as if we didn't know it's literally her teammate

username1 WHAT.

username2 I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOU.

username3 You know it's totally normal for friends to hang out? I'd take it as they finally made up

↳username2 UP OR OUT

↳username4 they totally look like just friends, sure😐

username5 IN HER HOMETOWN 😭 HE MET HER FAMILY

↳username7 I'm super curious how it went. "Mom, dad, this is Charles my teammate, I hate his guts. Oh, and we're also lovers"

username6 So where is the person who said they can die happily when CharlesY/n turns out to be real?

↳username2 dead probs lmao

username7 The power couple we needed 😭

username8 imagine their PR team lurking onto gossip pages seeing this

↳username1 I know FOR A FACT that the pr people do look at the gossip accounts

username9 Y'all remember how once someone said Y/n will hook up with half the grid? Staring with the teammate is easy, let's see who'll be next

↳username3 Yeah, I'm so surprised it didn't happen earlier

↳username2 stay mad lol Y/n is living her best life with the man she loves

username5 THIS and it doesn't matter that they met through being on the same team

username6 They knew each other before tho! Y/n used to be friends with Arthur, so she def met Charles in the past

username3 Oh so she tried to get with Arthur but because it didn't work out she went for Charles?

username6 That's literally not what I said. She was friends with Arthur. FRIENDS

username3 You know there's no such thing as friendship between a man and a woman?

username6 look at who is delulu now 🤡 I'm not having this conversation

charles_leclerc Partners on and off the track

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username1 Man literally said fuck a soft launch 😭

↳username2 as he should! we've been dying for them to announce it

yourusername Je t'aime 🩷

↳charles_leclerc Je t'aime avec tes défauts et tes qualités

yourusername EXCUSE ME

yourusername DO YOU THINK I CANT USE TRANSLATOR?

yourusername WHAT "DÉFAUTS" YOU MEAN? I HAVE NO DÉFAUTS

charles_leclerc That's adorable ❤️

pierregasly Remind me, who took the first photo? 🤔

↳yourusername Kika did 🫶 @/francisca.cgomes

francisca.cgomes First and foremost I am the biggest CharlesY/n fan

pierregasly But you took the pic with my phone, I am the author just as much 🙄

francisca.cgomes No❤️

landonorris OH

landonorris I thought you won't have the balls to hard launch

↳yourusername The balls are there indeed

yourusername And more

landonorris EWWWW TMI

yourusername 😐

landonorris exactly my face rn

oscarpiastri So that's why Lando and I weren't invited

↳yourusername It's a couples trip 🤷‍♀️ there wasn't space for the Aussie and his emotional support extrovert

oscarpiastri fuck Lando, what about the Aussie and his GIRLFRIEND?

oscarpiastri Because I do have a girlfriend, you know?

landonorris HEY that's mean

logansargeant I can't say I didn't see it coming

↳username1 We all did, Logan

↳yourusername You were literally the first person I told about my crush on Charles...

logansargeant But who said I believed it would work out?

oscarpiastri HE was the first to know?

yourusername And you were the first to know about the night Charles spent in my hotel room in Monaco

charles_leclerc You talk to them about these things, chérie?

yourusername Don't act like you didn't run to Lando to tell him all about it on the next day

username4 So the theories were real after all, the spicy night in Y/n's hotel room was the cause of their argument

↳username3 She didn't say that...

username4 But it's obvious. Look - the night happened, they felt weird about it and boom there goes the argument. It makes a lot of sense

username5 However it happened, I'm glad it happened

username6 What happens now? Are they even allowed to be a couple?

↳username7 wdym allowed lol it's better than if they were from different teams, they'd have to sign NDA or something

username6 Isn't the team worried they'll distract each other or something?

username7 At least they'll be traumatized together

scuderiaferrari 🇬🇷❤️🇲🇨

↳username6 The team is indeed not worried

yourusername The benefits of having birthday during the summer break

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username1 I love the Y/n and Charles/Kika and Pierre friend group

↳username2 they're everything I want fr

username4 okay but I NEED to know whose idea the cake was

↳username2 I would expect it from Logan and Oscar, honestly, but they weren't in Greece with them

↳yourusername ofc it was Kika's idea!!

francisca.cgomes and I'm proud of it

logansargeant It hurts to know you're making new friends 🙄

↳yourusername I figured I needed some girl friend after spending so much time with you and Oscar 🙄

logansargeant Do you even remember about us anymore?

oscarpiastri I bet 10 of your american dollars that she doesn't

yourusername how could I forget? You two still haunt me in my nightmares 🫶

username1 lmao Charles wakes up screaming box box and Y/n wakes up screaming what's a kilometer and shoe thongs 😭

yourusername that's an accurate description

charles_leclerc I swear I once heard you talk in your sleep something about running a mile in shoe thongs

yourusername And I don't even know how long a mile is, so you can only imagine how terrifying that was

lewishamilton Happy birthday to my favorite rookie

↳yourusername Every time you appear in my comment section I cry a little

lewishamilton The good tears I hope?

yourusername happiness tears of course😭

username5 Do y'all think Charles is jealous seeing his gf interact with THE Lewis Hamilton?

↳username2 No? Why? Lewis is Y/n's idol so obviously she's gonna fangirl a lil

username6 Y/n being a WAG and a driver at the same time, iconic

username7 My fav wag duo for real

[bezierballad]

this is gonna be one really hot take when it comes to the emerald witch arc, but the more I look at it, the more I kinda feel like it's one of the more... convoluted arcs?

Like, don't get me wrong: I'm not saying it's a bad arc. It's got a lot of great qualities (being the first arc to start diving into Ciel's trauma properly, showing more of Sebastian's demonic side, giving the servants—especially Finnian and Tanaka—more time to shine, and the new characters are enjoyable and interesting for the most part.)

My personal gripe, however (and this is 100% my opinion ya'll are free to disagree) is that the whole mystery itself isn't all that great.

Hear me out: it genuinely felt like Yana wanted to write a "fantasy village led by a witch that's surrounded by werewolves" and play it straight, but was too embarrassed to actually commit to it, so she bent over backwards to try and write a "real world explanation" to explain all the supernatural stuff that went on in the village, even bringing in stuff such as extremely advanced scientific devices (aka the whole high tech control room we see) that would clearly be unheard of in that time period.

And look, I get it: even Black Butler isn't free of its anachronisms.

But aside from the television and cell phones (which the story has long since stopped using) in the earlier chapters, and the high tech gardening implements that only the reaper organization uses (lawnmowers and chainsaws), the manga restricts to extremely minor anachronisms that usually wouldn't catch your eye immediately (like certain hairstyles that wouldn't exist back then, or the dynamic of servant master relationships, stuff that's not usually all "in-your-face").

Emerald Witch arc marks the point where the manga seems to completely drop the ball on this part: tanks started being used in the 1900's, not the 1880's. The high-tech control room under the castle? Impossible. They try to explain it as "oh damn they're 50-60 years ahead of us. No wonder they kept it a top secret project" but still. Why is poisonous gas such a big deal when they've created so much other crazy shit that would've been impossible back then?

And from this arc onward, these anachronisms keep piling up.

The Blue Cult arc that comes after it gives us speaker boxes, headphones and headsets, microphones, and punk/lolita boyband fashion. Hell, in the latest chapter of the current arc, we see a ferris wheel in the background. Those wouldn't start existing until about five or six years later.

Then there's the whole idea that the entire army is relying on this one little girl to create a poisonous gas that could kill anyone within seconds. Just this one child. No one else.

So no one else had the brains to create this? Just this little girl? You had to wait eleven years (at maximum) for her to create this gas herself before the rest of ya'll can start replicating it?

Even if relying on a single kid to create a military weapon isn't unheard of (which, fair, the manga's entire premise is a 13-year-old kid being assigned to solve murders along with his demon butler) why go as far as to create an entirely different environment with its own lore to get the job done? Specifically, why waste effort and resources creating this entire thing instead of using it to possibly train other chemists? Why witches? Why werewolves?

This kind of twist could've still possibly worked on paper, but there's not a lot of stuff that hints to the fact that it's all a ploy and that chemicals and futuristic machinery were involved. Because until the third act, the whole fantasy seemed to be completely played straight.

There's stuff you have to really think about to get that "wait a minute this isn't real" feeling—such as the village being comprised of only women. If it were real, there's no way they would've lasted generations without being able to reproduce. And the gas formula Sebastian finds in the "magic circle" written in a real-world mineral (I don't remember what they called it). And that's just about it—but other than that, the clues are extremely few and far in between.

There could've been more hints that the "curse" isn't due to the "werewolves" but rather the "miasma"/poisonous gas. I feel like they could've talked to one person in Germany outside the village and they'd say something among the lines of "my great uncle went into the forest to find the werewolves himself. He didn't see any, but he came back with his skin swollen and his nose bleeding".

Also, Sebastian can sense someone is human or supernatural, so why couldn't he tell that the werewolf he saw in the forest is a normal human guy in a costume and not a werewolf? Unless the gas was somehow strong enough to completely cloud his senses at the time?

(Honestly I'd love to see an alternate take where Sullivan is actually raised to be an 11-year-old scientist creating chemical weaponry without the elaborate witch scheme. Imagine all the Ciel parallels that could possibly have.)

(Though a part of me also feels like Sieglinde was created so Yana could justify why all the modern day devices are in the Blue Cult arc, cause they're Sully's inventions. Yet Sully hasn't been seen since that same arc. Just a hunch.)

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Hello! I hope you're doing well!

I've come across your posts often and they have always provided me with a ton of helpful tips as a writer, that have often helped me flesh out situations and descriptions more accurately.

Also, I wanted to ask – how to write characters in situations where they are falling asleep? Like drifting into sleep, about to sleep or already fallen. Then about how they wake up and all.

I've tried it a few times, but most of the times it just sounds dull and repetitive 😔.

Thank you, I would really appreciate tips on how to flesh out and write scenarios where a character or two are sleeping, lulled to sleep or waking up, without sounding too dull or repetitive.

Oh writer friend, THANK YOU for this question because sleep scenes are literally the sneaky little villains of fiction that NOBODY talks about enough! ✨

Sleep transitions are those moments we all experience daily but somehow become THE HARDEST THING to capture on the page without sounding like "and then they fell asleep. The end." BORING.

Let's revolutionize how we think about these moments, shall we? 👀

First off, sleep isn't just an on/off switch! It's a whole JOURNEY with sensory experiences. What does your character FEEL as consciousness slips? The heaviness in limbs? The way thoughts get weird and dream-like before actual dreams? The pillow slowly warming beneath their cheek?

USE THE SENSES in unconventional ways! As someone drifts off, their perception gets wonky - sounds might echo strangely, lights behind closed eyelids create patterns, the body feels simultaneously heavy and floating. This is GOLD for unique description!

The psychology of sleep is your secret weapon! What thoughts chase your character as they drift off? What worries resurface? What memories bubble up? Sleep is when our brains process the day - USE THAT.

For waking up scenes - please PLEASE avoid the mirror-looking cliché! Instead, how about the disorientation? The moment of "where am I?" The way the dream world and real world overlap for those first few seconds?

Character-specific sleep habits are chef's kiss for characterization! Does your protagonist always sleep with one foot sticking out from under the covers? Do they hug pillows? Talk in their sleep? Fight the alarm? These tiny details SING on the page.

Context matters SO MUCH. Is your character falling asleep somewhere safe? Somewhere dangerous? Somewhere unfamiliar? The emotional tone of sleep changes dramatically based on circumstances!

TIRED OF THE USUAL? Try describing sleep from the POV of someone watching the sleeper. Or describe only the dreams. Or focus exclusively on the liminal space between wakefulness and sleep where reality bends!

Here's a quick formula that might help shake things up:

Physical sensations + emotional state + environmental details

The drift (where thoughts begin to fragment)

Either cut to wake-up OR follow into dreams

The wake-up can mirror this in reverse, adding the emotional reaction to whatever situation they're waking up to!

Remember, - these "mundane" transitions are actually OPPORTUNITIES to reveal character, advance plot through dreams/thoughts, or create beautiful lyrical moments that give readers breathing room between plot points.

Don't just write "they fell asleep" - show us HOW they surrender to sleep and what it means for them in THIS moment of THIS story! ✨

-Rin T.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood: Polarity- Chapter 3: A Long Day

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64077811/chapters/167453419

A sheet of paper full of equations is placed in front of her, after a lecture about the order of operations and how to access the computing portion of their processors to make this trivial, they were super advanced computers after all.

And yet…

Tera stared down at the paper with a pencil in her hand, reading the first question over and over and over again, it was easy, or should have been. Simple long devision as a warm up before the harder questions. All she had to do was… compute.

Her brain-her processors attempted to calculate the numbers, only to freeze halfway through like an ancient machine running on the worlds shittiest hard drive. The numbers seemed to change the longer she looked at them, 5’s becoming 3’s and 6’s becoming 9’s. A nervous sweat started to appear on her visor, instead now trying to solve the problem organically, writing down the equation on paper and working to solve it that way. That didn’t work either, the numbers floated off the page to become unintelligible runes.

She may as well have been trying to decipher hieroglyphs.

She groaned and threw her head back.

An hour later, the paper was slammed back down on her desk with a big fat red 45% etched in huge letters on the corner. She wasn't sure if getting a 0 would be better, or worse, then at least she could claim she was just stupid. But getting something right using the incorrect formula just confused her further.

She grumbled, and stuffed it in her bag with a growl.

Rad took a single look her and chortled. “I think teach just likes to bleed all over your papers dude. I know you can't be that bad.”

It was intended to cheer her up, but it really didn't, she was a robot! A computer! Her building blocks were in fucking binary! What computer couldn't do the thing they were named after- compute?!

So she just sighed. “Just shut up man…”

Rad pouted for a moment, before his eyes lit up, if it was any more obvious he'd gotten an idea, a big green light bulb would have popped up over his head. “Bet I can beat you in a race to biology.”

Tera's tail perked up as she gathered her things, a smirk replaced a frown. “Not a chance man, I'm way faster!”

“Prove it Lucky Bat!” And with that, he raced down the hall as fast as his hydrolic powered legs could carry him.

He knew he wasn't going to win.

And when he felt the wind of Tera sprinting ahead rush past him, all he could do was laugh as the purple blur rushed inside the next class, startling several other students who gave the solver drone a nasty look as she blasted past them.

“Hah! Fuck ye-SHIT!”

Kiara was at her desk, supposedly waiting for her, her eyelights go hollow as Tera barrels towards her and the worker braces for impact with her best freind.

Tera pumps the breaks hard and fast, she can feel herself skidding across the polished stone floor, she holds her hands out to try and salvage the situation and-

She stops a hairs breath from her, panting as her arms brush against Kiara's arms, the plan being to grab her and then stop them both to avoid hurting her.

Now though it's just a slightly awkward half-hug.

Tera gulps and her visor flushes a neon flavored purple.

“Y-you okay?” She asked through her throat near closing in embarrassment, she probably needed to back up, or at least let go before asking… but she wouldn't be a Doorman if she wasn't painfully awkward.

Kiara blinked, still processing the fact she wasn't melted slag stuck to the floor before she looks up with a smile. “I'm fine! Little bit of a close one there yeah?”

Tera grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head as she stepped back. “Sorry, Rad challenged me to a race and…”

“…you can't say no to a challenge?” The worker giggled. “I figured. Looks like you won though.” Her eyes flicker to the doorway.

Rad came in panting, smiling, but panting. “Oh man… have you gotten even faster? It's like you teleported!” His vents kick up to max trying to cool him off, and he rests his hands on his knees. “Dang.”

Tera smirked. “You're just a slowpoke.”

Kiara brought her attention back with a featherlight touch to her arm, Tera tried to ignore the shock that passed up through her sensors.

“I need your help.” She spoke quietly. “Mrs. Finley gave us homework about Nightstalkers and I completely forgot about it!” Kiara pouted, looking a little ashamed of herself.

“You? Forgetting homework? How scandalous.” Tera quipped back, laughing when Kiara pouted even more.

“I… had a rough night.” The worker replied softly, rubbing her shoulder and looking away, Tera felt like she just swallowed acid.

“Yeah. I can help. Mrs.Finley gives us 15 minutes to look over it before asking for it anyway. Pull up your chair.” Tera replied, smiling down. “No copying though, that would be unethical.” She parrots her best freinds words and the worker smacks her lightly. “You!”

“Thank you…”

Tera turns back to look at Rad. “You forget yours too?”

He blinked stupidly. “Forget what?”

Tera sighed. “Pull up a chair String Bean.”

They both pull up thier chairs on either side of Tera's desk, which was luckily large enough to uncomfortably fit them all.

Rad dug out a crumpled paper from his bag, laughing warily when Kiara eyed him like he'd committed murder, Tera pulled out her completed work, along with a little leather bound journal.

“Rad you can just copy. You're not going to read it anyway.” Tera says deadpan, and the young man grins and begins copying the answers down in barely legible chicken scratch.

Then she turns to Kiara. “Alright, first question…”

How large to Nightstalkers get?

She opens her journal to a page of notes, accompanied by a rough sketch of a nightstalker.

“So they average around 20 feet in height fully grown, not counting the horns or you'd add another 2, I don't think Mrs. Finley counts them, or just would prefer the easier to remember number for us.” Tera points to where she'd jotted down their heights.

“I've never seen one that big…” Kiara writes it down, but looks up at Tera to explain.

“Their deeper in the jungle… plus that's what we have hunting parties for, V doesn't really let one that big stick around if it does wander towards us.”

When are Nightstalkers at their most deadly?

“I know that one! They get really hormonal and angry when they become teenagers… soo.” The worker taps a pen on her cheek. “What age is that?”

“2 and a half usually.” Tera answers.

The fat on the top of a Nightstalkers back is both armor and heat regulation, it is called what?

“Blubber.”

Kiara laughs. “That's not a real word.”

“I promise it is, and it's right.” Tera replies. “You haven't tried to drive a blade through that, it may as well be steel.”

They continue, Kiara asking questions, trying to actually learn the material while Tera answers with either a note from her hunting journal or a quick anecdote. All with the background noise of Rad furiously scribbling.

They finish just in time for Mrs. Finley to walk in, 15 minutes after the bell rang.

“Alright everyone. Hand me your homework and we'll get started, the next species we'll be focusing on is the Deersheep…”

Kiara and Rad scooted thier chairs back to where they should've been- to the desks either side of her.

Text flickered up on Kiara's visor. [THANK YOU!]

Rad chuckled. “Cheers Dude.”

Tera leaned back and smiled, handing up her paper to the teacher now doing laps around the classroom to collect the work, she pauses at Rads. “Mr. Hayes.”

“Yes'm?”

“Why have you written down Miss Doorman’s name in place of your own?

Tera facepalmed. Kiara rolled her eyes. Rad smiled like a dead man. “Ahah…”

Mrs.Finley's bright blue eyelights trailed over to Tera. “Did you know about this?”

Tera wracked her brain quickly. “We did a study group together, he must have done it as a joke when we were talking about how he often forgets to write his name.”

The blue eyelights narrowed, she brushed a hand though her tightly spun and frazzled brown hair, and she sighed.

“If I didn't have multiple nameless papers from you. Mr. Hayes, I wouldn't believe her. Don't do it again.”

After she walks away towards her desk, Rad untested. “Woo… saved my life there…” He said quietly.

“I can't belive you wrote my name! You dumbass!” Tera gave an incredulous and amused smile. “You could've gotten me in trouble too!” She whisper-yelled.

The rest of the day was long, tedious, and sufficiently boring enough to put her on autopilot, sure she was present for her freinds but… anywhere else. Mind off somewhere in the jungle and outwardly expressing that classic Doorman brand resting bitch face.

At lunch, they were let out into the cafeteria and served deep fried copper nuggets, bolts, and a side of batteries. Which Tera inhaled like a starving animal before her two freinds even had a chance to touch thiers.

“Dude.”

“Slow down your gonna choke!”

Her two respective freinds called out, but she didn't listen, licking her lips in satisfaction. “Ahhh~”

To finish it off, she reached into her pocket to pull out a dented and well worn silver canteen, gulping down sweet and tangy oil like it was drops of heaven.

She pulled off it when it was half empty, wiping her mouth of the excess.

In all honesty… she was still hungry.

Though she was always hungry nowadays.

“Vampire.” Rad coughed.

“It comes from the ground. I'm not a fucking vampire!” Tera immediately protested. “You eat the soup at the food court! It's the same thing!”

Kiara giggled, Rad teased poor Tera about that every chance he got. She had to be sick of it by now…

She hummed to herself as she finished out a sketch of a lion, as realistic as one could without never seeing one outside of pictures and ancient documentaries, she began to shade it so the fur looked black, letting Tera and Rads bickering become white noise.

More classes, more work; right after lunch she still had Rad and Kiara in an advanced English class, where the focus was more on the history of linguistics and the written word then reading comprehension- when your whole student body can take screenshots with thier eyes; you stop worrying about retaining information organically.

But afterwards, she was alone in an architectural engineering class that was more numbers and measurements then actually building things and she was back to slamming her head against the wall in frustration, doubled because now… the math was applied.

She did well in the practical projects like build a bridge out of sticks, or make a model pully that works under a specific weight threshold. She could trial and error that, and she was really good at eyeballing measurements even if she was shit at exact numbers- but the second she had to figure out exactly what degrees a triangle needed to be to support X amount of weight she wanted to eat the damn paper.

“Ugh…”

She crossed her arms, and tuned out of the lecture, instead spacing out while looking vaguely forward to give the illusion that she was still paying attention.

Maybe you have so much trouble because you refuse to actually pay attention.

A monotone and robotic mockery of her own voice whispered, she'd have winced at the suddenness of it if it wasn't wholly expected at this point. She ignored it.

Or maybe you're just an idiot.

That's okay though… smarts would be wasted on a killing machine.

She growled, tightening her fist but giving the entity that lived in her head no response.

At least until she blinked, and suddenly she was standing at the front of the classroom, drones screaming in fear as they tried to get out of the door in a panic. She blinked in confusion for a moment before her eyelights went hollow.

Hanging limp in her now, fleshy, bladed claws was Mr. Riker, Oil bathing her arm and pooling all over the floor, the smell was intoxicating, ever present, and assaulted her olfactory receptors like a persistent tagalong.

She jumped, the movement making the lifeless corpse slide off her bladed fingers and into a heap on the floor, she began to hyperventilate. The word “no” repeating from her lips like a mantra as she backs herself into a corner trembling like a leaf.

“No no- I didn't, I don’t know- I'm sorry!”

“Miss Doorman!”

Slam!

She's startled awake by Mr. Riker slamming a book on her desk, making her yelp in fear, a yellow solver symbol dissappearing from her eyelight. She pants, taking in the students staring at her, some snickering, before her eyelights flickered back up to the drone she just skewered.

“I know buttresses are boring, but please refrain from falling asleep in my class.”

A chorus of giggles passed through the classroom lile a wave.

The teacher rolled their eyes and left her be, which was good, because once all the eyes were off her again she let out a shaky breath and looked down at her hands, normal, even with the animal-like pads on her hands given by the solver.

She squeezed them into fists and sighed, burying her head in her hands and wanting to scream.

Instead she went back to staring at the front, stress lines under her eyes as her mind returns to silence.

She comes out of the classroom hunched over and emotionally drained, tail limp and half dragging across the floor like a zombie. She takes her canteen and drinks the rest of the oil to try and relax her… anything.

“Ter!” Kiara calls from the front door of the school, the day for the upperclassmen being over to go to their field training. Her eyelights looked up, tail perking up a little.

“I'm heading to the clinic for my last two hours, but…I was wondering if you saw my messages?”

Oh crap!

“I did! I can take you and Rad out past the walls this weekend if you want! It's just been a… weird day. Sorry.”

Kiara's eyes lit up. “Really! Awesome! Thank you, Thank you!” She pushed forward to wrap the solver drone in a tight hug. She found herself smiling, despite it all.

“Yeah yeah… keep quiet about it, you know I'm not supposed to…”

Kiara nodded, releasing her and fluttering out the door with a wave. Tera sighed as she leaned against the doorway to outside. Watching her leave.

…and off to the barracks for her field training.

[besohappily123]

the f1 system is designed to cause situations like the brocedes divorce. bear with me.

you have 20 highly ambitious indiviuals. strong-willed. used to being the best in their categories. you make them work together in pairs towards a given goal - however for most of them (probably all of them) said goal is only a secondary objective. because there is one more prize - which is awarded to an individual.

these pairs are forced to work together to achieve a common goal. supposedly teamwork should allow them to improve their equipment in a more meaningful manner. they should be discussing many aspects of their driving together. at the same time you are always being compared to that same person - because you should be doing equally as well as they are.

people possessing the above-mentioned qualities will not be able to sustain a meaningful relationship in the described circumstances. unless someone holds back. doesn't truly fight. it won't work. in most ultra-competitive settings by normal standards, such as advanced courses, top universities, high-pressure companies, people are capable of forming and maintaining relationships if they are willing to sacrifice somethin. usually their ego, sometimes the need to always be the best. in many cases it is about accepting that you cannot always be on top. however, as person who has experienced those kind of environments, i can quite confidently state that a lot of the time jealousy creeps in and facilitates friendship breakdowns. or even more often - people remain colleagues, desk-mates, not much more than strangers.

and we are not even talking about the highest of highs here. in those cases people tend to just take a step back, try to control their feelings, accept being 2nd best.

well, that's not possible when it comes to elite athletes. unless the gap/role assignment between teammates is extremely clear - something that nico rosberg has been so fircely advocating for when it comes to mclaren lately - there will be tension. same tension that makes it impossible to be actually close. we all know the drill. tension, misuderstandings, people envisioning bad faith everywhere.

i remember when i first getting into f1. my brother was explaining the basics to me. i barely knew the drivers then, but i actually pointed out to my brother that such a system isn't healthy at all. and i stand by it now. you cannot form an elite circle, make teams to antagonize against each other and then force inter-team rivalry into the mix.

we don't see the brocedes situation happen often or as explosively cause it's rare for people who know each other so well to become teammates in f1. and if they do, they aren't fighting it out for a number of years at the top. in this case, at one point, neither lewis or nico were holding back. that is an issue. but i seriously wouldn't blame it fully on them being idiots who cannot communicate. the enviorment is built in an incredibly toxic manner. and the team system is problematic because of it. if the teams had more drivers, it would probably be a bit easier. the tension kind of fading out and all. but in such a formula (wow, my tired brain is killing it)? unless you don't care too much, you will hurt each other. that's how all competitive settings work to a degree.

and maybe i am overthinking it. but just observing how nico and lewis did (not) deal with the situation then and how they are talking about it to this day - having reacted in different way, still clearly affected to some degree - is really interesting.

simply because it makes sense.

[hachama]

Step kid worries that her confidence/ ability in math means that her career options are limited. I figure she's probably not unique in that view.

As your official internet nonbinary parent friend and Actual Professional Engineer, please believe me when I say this: you don't have to be good at remembering formulas. You don't have to be good at working polynomial factorial square roots or love writing proofs.

If I need to use advanced math, I use a computer.

My math education gets used for two things: Google search terms so I can find the formula that I vaguely remember existing, and having just enough of a clue what the answer should be that I can tell if I maybe possibly set up the equation wrong. (Volume isn't negative. If you ever try to find the volume of a real, solid object and come up with a negative number? You did something wrong.)

My father was an engineer, before everyone carried a calculator with access to the sum total of human knowledge around in their pocket. He actually really liked math and was very good at it.

He called calculating Square roots in his head a "party trick." He never used that level of math professionally.

From this, you could deduce a couple things:

1) my father was a real party animal.

2) for most of us mere mortals, that level of math capabilities is unnecessary

Now, before any angry mathematicians and/or math educators turns up, there's an important addendum.

Doing math is about more than just learning to do math, it's like bicep curls for your brain.

Regardless, please don't let the math scare you away from something you like doing

[magic-shop-stories]

You are amazing, I just love your writing so much, especially BTS Dad scenarios. I am addicted! So I wanted to ask if you could write some headcanons or short imagine of the BTS members having a child, their gender is up to you, that wants to race. Like they love F1 and racing in general and want to do it as well. I cannot get this out of my head and would die to read something like this. Preferably with Yoongi of Jungkook, but I leave that up to you. I hope that's not to weird, if so just ignore me but thanks in advance.

💌 Reply:

OH MY GOD THIS REQUEST MADE ME SQUEAL LIKE A 10-YEAR-OLD AT THEIR FIRST F1 RACE!!!! 🏎️ (Which, fun fact, was me. I had a Vettel poster on my wall and everything...) THANK YOU FOR THIS MASTERPIECE OF A PROMPT!!! I loved writing these headcanons and may have fallen into a 3-hour rabbit hole about Asian F4 teams? ADHD isn't a joke xD If you want a full imagine, my DMs are WIDE OPEN. 🏁 I hope it's what you wanted, if not - let me know. – c – 💜 ohh and THANK YOU P.S. tumblr decided to crumble every time I tried to add pics, and my migraine is currently killing me, so please forgive me for the missing pics...

BTS as Racing Dads Headcanons

Pairings:  OT7 x Child!Reader (Parent/Child Dynamics) Rating: PG (K+) Genre: family fluff, sports drama, hurt/comfort Warnings: none

KIM NAMJOON (RM)

CHILD

Name: Soo-Yeon (she/her)

Team: Prema Racing (F4 → F3 → F2), Possible Future: Red Bull Junior Team (Engineering-Focused Development Route)

[note: she’ll probably be the only driver who sends Prema engineers correction emails with footnotes]

Personality: 

cerebral introvert

quiet obsession for motorsport engineering

not drawn to the glamour of racing but to the physics of it

= fluid dynamics, tire compounds, energy recovery systems

bedroom walls plastered with diagrams of F1 aerodynamics

scribbles differential equations on her homework

HOW IT BEGINS

at age 12

she stumbles upon a documentary about Adrian Newey

becomes fixated

builds miniature wind tunnels out of cardboard and obsessively testing toy car designs

Namjoon finds her at 2 a.m.

= adjusting the angle of a paper rear wing with surgical precision

First Conversation

“Appa, did you know downforce is just controlled air resistance? It’s… math in motion.”

he blinks

coffee forgotten

“You… built this?” 

kneels beside her

studying her makeshift lab

“Explain it to me. Slowly.”

NAMJOON’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“She’s a genius. A literal genius.”

Worry

“Racing is dangerous. What if she gets hurt? What if the world exploits her mind?”

Guilt

“Did I push her into overthinking? Is this my fault?”

What He Says

Day 1:

“Let’s start with the basics. What’s your favorite part? The engineering or the speed?”

Week 2:

“I found a junior karting team with a good engineer. Interested?”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

education first

enrolls her in STEM camps

tho lets her skip lectures to shadow a Hyundai N mechanic

“Experience is the best teacher.”

karting phase

buys a used kart

insists she designs the modifications herself

“You want to race? Build it first.” 

they spend nights in the garage

her hands greasy, his glasses smudged

safety obsession

researches FIA safety protocols

gifts her a custom HANS device for her 15th birthday (Head and Neck Support device)

“Your brain is your greatest asset. Protect it.”

CONFLICTS

First Crash

she flips her kart during a test run

he sprints to the track

panic clawing his throat

finds her already out, scribbling notes on a clipboard

“The roll cage held! My calculations were right!”

His Response

Outward Calm

“Good. Now let’s improve the chassis.”

Inward Meltdown

calls Yoongi at 3 a.m

“Hyung, what if I’m failing her, what if she gets hurt?”

LEAP TO F4

at 15/16

recruited by a Formula 4 team

he negotiates her contract

adding clauses for academic continuity

“You’ll finish school. And change the game.”

Proudest Moment

watching her explain energy recovery systems to engineers twice her age

“That’s my kid...”

Quote to Her

“You’re not just a driver. You’re a visionary. Make them see it too.”

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

CHILD

Name: Ha-Eun (she/her)

Team: Kart Republic → Iron Dames (F4/F3), Possible Future: Ferrari Driver Academy (if she pushes herself hard)

Personality

bubbly, competitive extrovert

lives for the thrill of the race and the cheers of the crowd

she’s less about the mechanics

more about the drama

customizing her kart with glitter sticker

naming it “Pink Lightning”

trash-talking Jin (and the rest of Bangtan) during backyard races

her dream?

= be the first (female) F1 driver with a themed victory dance

HOW IT BEGINS

during a family outing at an amusement park

she drags Jin to the go-kart track

overtakes him on the final lap

“BYE, APPA!”

staff hands her a plastic trophy

“I’m gonna be a racing queen.”

First Conversation

Ha-Eun: “Appa, I’m faster than your dad jokes!” Jin: “Yah! That’s Worldwide Handsome’s kart you’re insulting!” 

fake-pouts, then grins

“But fine. Let’s see if you can handle real competition.”

JIN’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“She’s a star. A sparkly, chaotic star.”

Panic

“What if she flips the kart? What if someone breathes on her wrong?”

Excitement

“Finally, a worthy rival for my Singin’ in the Rain karaoke crown.”

What He Says

Day 1:

“Okay, champ. Rule #1: Always let your Appa win. Rule #2: Never follow Rule #1.”

Week 2:

“I booked us matching racing suits. Yours has glitter. Mine has my face.”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

themed training

turns practice into “Jin/ Ha-Eun Grand Prix” events

cones become “dinosaur obstacles”

pit stops involve juice boxes and dad-joke riddles

“What’s a race car’s favorite snack? Vroom-sticks!”

safety first (but make it fashion)

buys her a neon pink helmet with “PRINCESS OF SPEED” on the side

“Safety’s boring unless it’s fabulous.” 

secretly researches the safest tracks

social media hype

posts slow-mo videos of her wins set to “I’m the Best” by 2NE1

caption: “Future F1 CEO. (P.S. I taught her everything.)”

CONFLICTS

First Loss

she loses a local race by 0.5 seconds

throws her gloves

yelling

“I HATE KARTING!”

Jin’s Response

outward calm

“Okay, let’s hate together. Dramatic sigh I hate… broccoli. And slow Wi-Fi.”

inward angst

texts Yoongi

“How do I fix a broken heart? Asking for a tiny dictator.”

solution

hosts a “Losers’ Party” with pizza, disco lights, and a dance-off

“Win the next race, and we’ll crash a real F1 party. Deal?”

LEAP TO COMPETITIVE KARTING

at 11

she joins a regional league

he becomes her hype man

waving a custom banners

“HA-EUN: FASTEST & PRETTIEST.”

Proudest Moment

watching her podium speech

“Thanks to my Appa, who’s almost as cool as my kart.” 

he fake-sobs into the mic

“She’s lying! I’m cooler!”

Quote to Her

“Remember: If you’re not first, you’re… still my favorite. But always try to be first.”

note: definiteley plays EA F1 with her, or the sim but NEVER wins

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

CHILD

Name: Yumi (she/her)

Team: Hitech GP or ART Grand Prix, Possible Future: Alpine Academy (quiet prodigy path)

[note: pit engineers start whispering, “She sees lines we don’t” after analyzing her onboard footage]

Personality

fierce, stubborn introvert with a gasoline-and-metal soul

she’s tactical

calculating lap times in her head during dinner

thrives under pressure

her idea of small talk? 

“Appa, do you think Verstappen’s tire strategy in Singapore ’23 was reckless?”

HOW IT BEGINS

at 10 (after years of building Carrera tracks, and decorating her walls with team posters)

she discovers an old racing sim in Yoongi’s studio

he’d bought it years ago (probably for a one time try)

she sneaks in

cracks the top 10 global leaderboard under the username “SHADOWSPEED”

Yoongi finds her asleep at the rig

hands still gripping the controller

First Conversation

“…You did this?”

gestures to the screen where her lap record glows

Yumi: “It’s not hard. Just physics.” Yoongi: “Wear these. The engine sounds are better.”

silently hands her his noise-canceling headphones

YOONGI’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“She’s a goddamn prodigy.”

Terror

flashbacks of his own accident

= rain-slick roads, injured shoulder, the smell of burnt rubber

“What if she…?”

Resolve

“If she’s gonna do this, I’ll make sure she’s safe. Even if it kills me.”

What He Says

Day 1:

“You want to race? Fine. But you learn to fix the engine first.”

Week 2

slaps a fireproof racing suit on the kitchen table

“Try it on. Before you argue.”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

karting phase

buys a secondhand kart

spends months reinforcing the chassis himself (with her)

“Safety isn’t optional. Ever.”

F4 debut

pulls all strings to get her a spot on a team

insists on meeting every engineer

“The car’s data system is shit. Upgrade it or I walk.”

rainy day ritual

texts her a single emoji before wet races: 🌧️

code for “Don’t be a hero. Just come home.”

CONFLICTS

Crash

she spins out during a monsoon-like F3 qualifier

Yoongi watches from the pit wall

jaw clenched so tight he almost cracks a molar

when she limps back, he barks

“You’re done.”

Her Rebellion

Yumi: “You don’t get it! This is my life!” Yoongi: “I do get it. I’ve..” 

slams his fist on the table

voice shaking

rolls up his sleeve

shows the surgery scar on hie shoulder

“This is what ‘life’ looks like when it goes wrong.”

Resolution

they don’t speak for days

Yoongi appears at her door with a helmet

modified with extra impact padding

“Race smart. Or I’ll sell the sim.”

SUZUKA GIFT

her 14th birthday

he tosses her an envelope

inside, two VIP passes to the Japanese Grand Prix

“Pack your bags. And… bring a notebook. Take notes on the real pros.”

At Suzuka

she vibrates with excitement

scribbling notes on tire temps and apex speeds

Yoongi is silent

grips her hand during the start

“If you ever…”

he stops

clears his throat

“Just watch, yeah?”

that night, he admits it over ramen

“I hate this. But I'd hate seeing you not do it more.”

ONGOING SUPPORT

custom safety gear

commissions a fireproof suit

her name stitched inside

“For luck. Don’t tell the team.”

post-race ritual

plays her a lullaby-like piano track he composed

“Checkered Flag Lullaby”

it calms her adrenaline

legacy

secretly funds a junior racing scholarship in her name

“So the next kid doesn’t need a scared shitless dad to make it.”

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

CHILD

Name: Min-Jae (he/him)

Team: Williams Racing Young Design Talent → Karting Support Team Livery Artist → Mercedes Junior Creative Division, Possible Future: Lead Livery Director for Mercedes or independent design phenom running his own F1 visual branding agency

Personality

bubbly, hyper-creative whirlwind with a neon imagination

hands are perpetually stained with marker ink

tarted sketching liveries at 5

he talks a mile a minute about "making cars dance with colors!"

he names his designs things like “Rainbow Rocket” and “Glitter Shark”

HOW IT BEGINS

at 5

Min-Jae scribbles a chaotic, crayon masterpiece on the living room wall

= a race car with rainbow flames and polka-dot wheels

J-Hope, mid-dance practice, freezes

“Yah! Is that… a car?” 

he beams

“Appa, it’s faster than your moves!”

First Conversation

“Explain this. Now.” 

trying to sound stern but failing miserably

Min-Jae: “The polka dots are speed bubbles! And the rainbow is for when it flies!” J-Hope: “…You’re a genius. But never draw on walls again. Here, use this.” 

hands him a F1 sketchbook

J-HOPE’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“My kid’s a creative monster! Look at those colors!”

Panic

“How do I nurture this without our house turning into a graffiti warzone?”

Excitement

“We’re gonna collab. Father-son design duo. Let’s go!”

What He Says

Day 1:

“Min-Jae-ya, let’s make a rule: Paper only. Unless it’s Appa’s dance shoes... those need glitter.”

Week 2: 

“... gonna teach you about balance. No, not math... color balance! It’s like choreography for your eyes!”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

art studio overhaul

converts the guest room into “Min-Jae’s Mad Lab”

= walls covered in whiteboard paint

shelves stocked with every art supply known to humankind

J-Hope hangs a sign: “Caution: Genius at Work.”

field trips

takes him to the Seoul Auto Show

letting him interrogate designers

“Why is that car boring? It needs fangs!” 

J-Hope translates

“He’s asking about… aerodynamic expression!”

matching kits

designs father-son overalls with “Team Hope-Jae” logos

Min-Jae adds doodles to J-Hope’s pair

= a tiny ARMY bomb with wings

CONFLICTS

Meltdown

Min-Jae throws a marker at a failed design

“It’s ugly! I hate it!” 

J-Hope swoops in

spinning him in a chair

His Response

tough love

“Yah! Markers are for art, not tantrums.”

encouragement

“Remember when Appa fell during ‘Dope’? I ate the stage! You gotta own the mess!”

collaboration

they “trash” the design together

splattering paint everywhere

the result?

livery titled “Chaos Victory”

LEAP TO KARTING

at 9/10

local karting team asks Min-Jae to design their livery

J-Hope films the entire process for VLOG content

crying behind the camera

“That’s my son! Look at him glow!”

Proudest Moment

watching Min-Jae present his design

= a tiger-striped kart with holographic accents

team owner whispers

“He’s… ten?” 

J-Hope grins

“Nine next week. Discount rate.”

Quote to Him

“You’re not just an artist. You’re joy on wheels. Make the world dance with you!”

PARK JIMIN

CHILD/TWINS

Names: Min-Jae (son) & Hae-Won (daughter)

Personalities

Min-Jae

Team: Red Bull Racing - Young Driver Programme, Possible Future: Red Bull Racing (F1) or AlphaTauri as his launchpad

[note: already has a penalty record in karting]

hot-headed

bold

fiercely competitive

drives for Red Bull Racing - Young Driver Programme

idolizes Max Verstappen’s aggression

wore his racing gloves during dinner when he was younger

Hae-Won

Team: McLaren - Young Driver Programme, Possible Future: McLaren F1 Team or Aston Martin (Talent-Precision Hybrid Route)

analytical

ice-cool under pressure

races for McLaren - Young Driver Programme

worships Lando Norris

keeps a race logbook titled “Emotion is Drag."

Dynamic

sibling rivalry on steroids

they debate tire strategies over breakfast

bet allowance money on lap times

refuse to carpool to the track

HOW IT BEGINS

at 4

they’re given toy karts for Christmas (Jungkooks gift)

Jimin films them racing around the living room

giggling as they crash into the couch

by 12, they’re dominating local karting leagues

Min-Jae wins by sheer grit

Hae-Won by calculating apex speeds

First Rivalry Flashpoint

during a regional final

Hae-Won blocks Min-Jae on the last lap

he retaliates, spinning her out

Jimin, watching in horror, sprints to the track

Jimin’s Reaction

outward:

forces them to shake hands

“You’re teammates first. Always.”

inward:

cries in the bathroom

texting Namjoon

“Hyung, what if I’m ruining them?”

JIMIN’S DAD MODE

Support System

dual team gear

wears a Red Bull cap and McLaren jacket to races

“I’m Switzerland. Neutral but fabulous.”

pre-race rituals

braids Hae-Won’s hair

for “aerodynamics”

tightens Min-Jae’s helmet strap

“Breathe. Think. Don’t murder each other.”

slips handwritten notes into their cars

“Proud of you. Love, Appa.”

Conflict Mediator

post-race debriefs

hosts “Family Meetings” with a whiteboard

“Min-Jae, stop dive-bombing. Hae-Won,stop smirking when he does.”

therapy sessions

drags them to family counseling

therapist quits after three sessions

“They’re… ��too passionate.” 

JIMIN’S FEARS

safety

stares at crash compilations at 3 a.m. 

“What if I lose them both in one day?”

sibling estrangement

finds Hae-Won crying after Min-Jae calls her a “robot”

Jimin tucks her into his side

“He doesn’t mean it. He’s just… bad at feelings.”

burnout

cancels a tour date to attend their first F3/2 race

“They’ll only be kids once. Priorities.”

BREAKTHROUGH

Monaco F2 Incident

Min-Jae and Hae-Won qualify P2 and P3

on lap 15, they battle through the hairpin

tires screeching, inches apart

Jimin clutches one of the members arms so hard he leaves bruises (they all came to watch)

Post-Race

they podium together

Hae-Won 1st, Min-Jae 3rd

instead of fighting, Min-Jae hugs her

“Don’t get used to it...” 

Jimin sobs into a custom Red Bull-McLaren flag

Jimin’s Proudest Moment

overhearing Hae-Won defend Min-Jae to a reporter

“He’s the only driver I’d trust to race wheel-to-wheel with.”

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

CHILD

Name: Min-Jae (he/him)

nicknamed "MJ" by the press

"Jae-Jae" by Taehyung

Team: Ferrari Driver Academy (F4 → F3 → F2)

Personality

firecracker with a Senna poster taped to his bedroom ceiling

brash, fearless

allergic to caution

MJ thrives on the edge

overtakes on the inside

revs engines like they’re percussion instruments

wears a permanent smirk under his helmet

media dubs him “The Little Phoenix” after he flips his kart in qualifiers only to podium the next day

Obsessions

Ayrton Senna’s 1988 Monaco GP

“He drove like it was jazz!”

customizing his gloves with paint splatters

“For luck. And style.”

collecting vintage racing helmets/suits

Tae turned his bedroom into a “museum” with display cases

HOW IT BEGINS

at 10

MJ finds Tae’s old Rush DVD

watches it 17 times in a week

then drags Tae to a go-kart track

he watches MJ lap seasoned adults while humming “Boy With Luv.”

First Conversation

MJ: “Appa, I wanna fly like Senna.” Taehyung: “…In a car? Or literally?” 

TAEHYUNG’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Awe

“He’s a painting in motion. A… Pollock with a steering wheel.”

Terror

“He’s going to die. I’m going to watch my child die.”

Pride

texts the group chat

“MY SON’S A GOD. SUCK IT, KOOK.” (ofc banter)

What He Says

Day 1:

“You’re not allowed to die. Ever. It’s in the dad contract.”

Week 2:

“Let’s make your kart art. Pink flames? Gold tires? Yes.”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

aesthetic overhaul

designs MJ’s kart livery

= neon splatter paint inspired by Basquiat

“If you’re gonna be fast, be iconic.”

mental health checks

hires a therapist who races

“Dr. Nara does donuts and CBT. Multitasking queen.”

Senna pilgrimage

takes MJ to São Paulo (his favourite track)

films him crying at Senna’s grave

posts it with “Legends recognize legends” 

MJ threatens to leak his unfinishes tracks

CONFLICTS

MJ attempts a Senna-style “no-look overtake” in the rain

kart hydroplanes into a barrier

Tae, mid-photoshoot in Milan, flies home on a private jet

still wearing Gucci loafers in the ICU

His Response

outward: 

“You’re grounded. To… the kart track. After you heal.”

inward:

paints a mural titled “Phoenix Rising” on MJ’s cast

“Scars are just proof you outran death.”

LEAP TO F4

at 14/15

MJ joins Formula 4

Tae negotiates a sponsorship deal

the car?

= a rolling canvas

abstract designs that shift under UV lights

Proudest Moment

MJ wins his first race

dedicates it to “Appa, who taught me crashes are just plot twists.”

Quote to Him

“You’re not just a driver. You’re a performance artist. The track’s your stage... burn it down.”

JEON JUNGKOOK

CHILD

Name: Haneul (Sky) (she/her)

Team: ART (Asia Racing Team) (F4 → F3 → F2)

Personality

spitfire with a lead foot and a chip on her shoulder

Haneul inherited Jungkook’s competitive strea

battles a storm of self-doubt in a male-dominated sport

she’s all grit behind the wheel

= aggressive overtakes, daring late brakes

off-track, she folds her race suits meticulously

as if perfection could armor her against the world’s whispers

“They don’t see a driver. They see a girl driver.”

HOW IT BEGINS

at 6

Haneul begs to ride shotgun in a Porsche GT3 during a track day

he lets her “steer” on a straightaway

her tiny hands gripping the wheel like it’s a lifeline

“Faster! Faster!” 

she shrieks, and Jungkook grins

First Race

he buys her a junior kart for her 8th birthday

they paint it purple and gold

“Team Jeon colors”

he kneels in the gravel

teaching her heel-toe braking

“Smooth, Haneul-ah. Like dancing.”

JUNGKOOK’S REACTION

Initial Thoughts

Pride

“She’s a natural. Look at her lines...cleaner than mine at her age.”

Fear

“What if she gets hurt? What if they break her spirit?”

Protective Fury

“I’ll crash anyone who touches her.”

What He Says

After Her First Win (Age 10)

“You’re a monster out there. Proud of you, champ.”

When She Asks for F4 (Age 15)

“You sure? It’s not just speed. It’s war.”

SUPPORT & SACRIFICES

training regimen

wakes her at 5 a.m. for endurance runs

then cooks galbi at midnight after sim sessions

“Champions don’t sleep. Naps.”

public persona

uses his fame to shield her

brings her on live, arm around her shoulders

“Meet my co-pilot. She’s better than me.”

tattoo

after her F4 debut

he inks her car number (#07) and chassis outline on his ribs

shows her post-race

“Now you’re always with me.”

CONFLICTS

First Slur

rival team owner mutters “Go back to makeup tutorials” during qualifying

Haneul pretends not to hear

Jungkook slams his fist into a garage locker

denting the metal

His Response

outward

storms into the stewards’ office

demands the man’s ban

“Apologize to my daughter. Or I’ll park my car in your pit lane.”

inward: 

cries alone

“I should’ve protected her better.”

Haneul’s Breaking Point

she quits mid-season after online trolls photoshop her into a doll

Jungkook finds her dismantling her helmet in the garage

Dialogue

Haneul: “I’m not strong like you. I can’t just… ignore it.” Jungkook: “You think I don’t see the comments? ‘Washed-up idol. Failed racer.’”

COMEBACK

Training Redemption

Jungkook hires a female ex-F1 test driver as her coach (Jessica Hawkins) 

“Learn from the best. Better than me.”

Proudest Moment

Haneul podium’s in F4

dedicating the win to “the Appa who taught me to never lift.” 

Jungkook, wearing her #07 cap, sobs into his headset

Quote to Her

“You’re not ‘Jungkook’s kid.’ I’m Haneul’s dad. Remember that.”

[twistedminutia]

A Million and One Minutia: Hair Color

Gray and the freshmen talk about different hair colors.

Read the rest of the chapters here and crossposted to AO3 here.

The cafeteria table Deuce, Ace, Grim, and I snagged at the beginning of the year has been the one we’ve been sitting at since then. There are no assigned seats in the cafeteria, but after a couple weeks, every has the Place They Sit. If someone else sits there, you’re well within your rights to march up and tell them to get out of your seat. But there’s some flexibility to the arrangement, and so the table is no longer just Deuce, Ace, Grim, and me.

Jack’s sitting with us started midway through the Octavinelle incident, when he was helping us brainstorm ways to get the anemones out of their contracts. I suppose inertia kept him sitting with us after that. Epel came along after he and Deuce connected during the VDC training, and he’s been more than happy to eat somewhere Vil doesn’t. Ortho’s got no real reason to sit with us, honestly- he doesn’t have any real reason to be at lunch, since he can’t eat. But he’s insistent on sitting with us for the experience of it, and I like him, so his presence is more than welcome.

“Ace!” Grim hops up and down on his seat. “Give me the chicken cutlet!”

“You needed to be faster if you wanted it,” Ace says, taking a massive bite of the chicken sandwich he’s put together. He chews slowly, cheeks puffed out with the amount of food. Grim’s fur fluffs up.

“I had it! It was in my paws! You grabbed it from me!” The fire in his ears flickers erratically. I’ve never seen him catch anything on fire unintentionally with them, but I move the napkins away. Just in case.

“Like I said,” Ace mumbles with a mouthful of food. “Y’need to be faster.”

Grim growls. I hastily push my plate toward him. “Grim, I have some chicken and rice leftover. You can have it.”

He grouses and glares at Ace, but accepts my tribute. I sigh and go back to poking at the green salad I picked up. I don’t really like salad, but after a month straight of Vil’s lectures about healthy eating, I hear him in my brain if I don’t grab something green with a meal.

“You shouldn’t give him your food,” Jack says, leveling his steady stare at me. “He needs to learn to deal with things himself.”

“It keeps him quiet,” I say. Jack shakes his head at me, but he doesn’t say anything else. He can have his opinions, but he’s not allowed to share them until he’s dealt with Grim’s whining for a few days. I love the little guy, don’t get me wrong. He’s like a little brother. But little brothers are annoying, too.

Epel bites his apple and flips a couple pages in his textbook. “Does anyone understand this section of the Alchemy textbook?” He flips it and slides it down the table so everyone can read it. I glance over, but magic textbooks read like mud to me. Maybe it’s easier when you’re actually doing magic.

Deuce narrows his eyes at it. “It’s… about…” He squints harder, like if he does it enough, the words will rearrange into something readable. “Something about magical infusion?”

“It’s a mathematical formula for determining the correct ratios of magical and nonmagical components in potions,” Ortho offers. “Professor Crewel hasn’t gone over it in class with you yet. You’re still learning to construct potions with recipes. That formula helps create new potions. I’m surprised it’s in the freshman textbook at all.”

Epel pulls the textbook back over to him. “It’s not. Vil gave it to me.” The way he says ‘gave’ suggests ‘forced upon.’ “But making my own potions could be useful, I guess, so I’m reading it.”

Deuce frowns. “Maybe I should try reading advanced textbooks,” he muses.

Ace snorts. “Maybe you should read the normal textbooks first, honor student. ‘Cause the last time I saw you, you were using them as a pillow.”

Deuce slams a fist into the palm of his opposite hand. “Hey! I don’t take that kind of-” He blinks. Lowers his hands to the table. “Honor student,” he says quietly. “Honor student.”

“Being an honor student doesn’t mean you need to take guff from people,” Epel says.

“I’m not getting into fights anymore,” Deuce insists. “I promised my mom. No matter how much Ace deserves it.” Ace just smirks.

“I kind of have a hard time thinking of you as a delinquent,” I say. “I mean, you get frustrated sometimes, but you don’t seem like you’d do anything really bad.”

Deuce slouches back, eyes trained on the table. “I put a lot of effort into not slipping back into my old habits,” he says. “And even now, when people get me annoyed, it can be easy to fall back into it.”

“You don’t talk about it much,” Jack says. “Was it really that bad?”

Deuce sighs. “I skipped classes all the time. Spent a lot of time hanging around with a bad crowd.” His gaze gets lower, until he’s staring almost directly at his lap. “I… bullied kids.” There’s a pause. It includes an audible swallow. “Magicless kids.”

Every gaze except Deuce’s turns to me. “Oh,” I say. “I thought- aren’t most people here magicless? Statistically, you would have bullied a lot of magicless kids.”

“I used my magic against them,” Deuce says miserably. “Because I knew they wouldn’t fight back. And because most of the people in the gang couldn’t use magic. I did it to impress them. I hurt a lot of people.”

“I fought a lot of kids with magic, too,” Epel offers.

“That’s different. You got into fights because people were being rough with you first,” Deuce says. “I just ganged up on kids because I was angry and because I could.”

“You feel bad about it now,” Ortho offers. “The guilt means you’re not the same person who did that.”

“Yeah, you’ve been nothing but nice to me,” I say. “You’ve even helped me out with some bullies, remember?” Deuce gives a slight smile.

“I don’t let people pick on my friends,” he says. “Thanks, Gray. All of you.” He smiles around the table.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all having a great bonding experience,” Ace says. “The only thing that would make this better would be seeing what Deuce looked like in his delinquent years.”

Deuce’s face goes three shades of pale as Ace slides his phone to the middle of the table. There’s a photo of a photo on it- an image of Deuce glaring over his shoulder toward the camera. He looks slightly younger, but more striking than that is his hair- it’s platinum blond, except at the roots, which are growing in blue.

“Let me see!” Grim complains. I show him the phone and he snickers. “What’s with the hair?”

“You dyed your blue hair blond?” I laugh. “That’s kinda backward.”

“Everyone had their hair dyed like that,” Deuce mumbles. “Ace, where did you even get that?”

“I was looking for your snacks and found it in a book under your bed,” Ace says.

Deuce’s eyes go wide, then angry. “That wasn’t yours to look through!”

Ace lifts his hands. “It’s not like you locked it up!”

“Why do you have that?” Epel asks.

“My mom wanted me to bring the photo album she made for me,” Deuce mutters as he drops his face into his hands. “So I could remember where I came from.”

“That’s sweet,” Ortho says. “Your mom sounds like a very nice person.”

“She is,” Deuce mumbles, bashful.

“Wait a minute. Gray, how’s Deuce dying his hair blond backward?” Epel asks, like he’s just registered what I said.

“Do delinquents usually dye their hair blue where you’re from?” Deuce asks, shoving Ace’s phone back at him.

“Kinda,” I say. “People do dye their hair blue. It’s the only way they can get it that color.”

There’s a ripple of surprise, but it’s not as big as it would been a couple months ago. I guess my group of friends is getting used to my weirdness. “Really?” Deuce says. “No one has natural blue hair?”

I shake my head. I’ll admit, the preponderance of anime hair was one of those immediate shocks I got right at the beginning. For longer than I should have, I thought that maybe everyone was using some kind of magic dye. Their eyebrows being the same color as their hair was weird, but it’s magic. No reason to think that it couldn’t make dying easier.

But I’ve seen the guy’s bare arms. Maybe people are dedicated to dye their eyebrows. Maybe even dye their facial hair. But I don’t think anyone is dedicated enough to dye their arm hair. And, well. Let’s just say that Epel’s a little bit of a late bloomer. So getting any body hair is an exciting event for him. And he wanted to show it off.

Coach Vargas, thankfully, doesn’t make me change with the rest of the boys. This does not always manage to exempt me from locker-room shenanigans.

(Epel’s chest hair was just as lavender as the stuff on his head. I also couldn’t look him in the eye for a few days after.)

“Why can’t you guys have blue hair?” Ace asks.

“It’s not like it’s just blue. We can’t have most colors as natural hair,” I say. “It’s blond, brown, black, and sometimes red. And not even proper red, it’s usually either kind of orange or really dark. Like, Ace’s hair could be natural in my world-” Ace tugs a strand of orange hair in front of his eyes to check the color. “-but Riddle’s couldn’t.”

“Woah,” Grim says. “That sounds really boring.”

“The variety of hair color here is cool,” I say. “Makes me feel a little awkward, though.” My hair is somewhere between blonde and brown. Not the most appealing color.

“It’s just hair color,” Jack shrugs. “Do all of us have hair color that’s unusual in your world?”

“Everyone but Ace,” I say. Ace looks like he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. “White’s technically a hair color you can have, but not at our age. I mean, you could, but it’s not considered normal.” I glance at Ortho. “And no one can have flame hair at all.”

“I don’t have hair,” Ortho says. “It’s a projection meant to mimic flames. And Idia’s hair couldn’t exist in a world without magic anyway, since it’s a projection of a curse.”

“Who else on campus has weird hair?” Ace asks.

“Uh.” I roll my eyes back, trying to think about the people on campus. “Heartslabyul… Riddle’s hair is too red. Trey has green hair, so he’s weird. Cater’s hair is pretty normal. Leona and Ruggie are normal. Azul, I already said white hair’s not normal. And the twins, forget it. Teal hair’s definitely not a natural color, especially not with what black streak they’ve got. Kalim’s got white hair, but Jamil’s normal.”

“What about Pomefiore?” Epel bursts in.

“Uh. Rook’s normal,” I say, which is possibly the first time anyone’s said that sentence. “Vil… Well, blonde’s normal. Does he dye his hair?”

Epel shrugs. “I try not to pay too much attention to his routine, if I can help it.”

“If he doesn’t, the purple is weird. We went over Idia. Diasomnia… Malleus is normal. Silver hair’s the same thing as white, and no one has green hair. Lilia’s hair would be weird, but Malleus told me he dyes the pink part. Apparently he’s done other colors before.”

Deuce has been attempting to count this out on his fingers. “That’s… about half?”

“Exactly half, if we’re counting Vil’s hair as normal and we aren’t counting my brother,” Ortho says. “If Vil’s hair is abnormal and we are counting my brother, then it’s over half. About 53%!”

“If we include you guys, it skews the average, since you’re pretty much all weird,” I say. “I don’t know that many other people on campus, but I’ve definitely seen other people with strange hair. Maybe in town, too.” I’ve only been to town on the few occasions that NRC sponsors a trip down, or when someone else comes with me. I try to remember what people’s hair looked like, but once you’ve been on a campus of magic, technicolor hair for a few months, it kind of fades into the background. I know there were a few people there with unusual hair color, but I can’t remember if it was more or less than on campus. “Do mages tend to have colorful hair more often than non-mages?”

“My mom has some blue hair,” Deuce says. “She’s not a mage.”

“My family isn’t magic either,” Jack says. “But the white hair is because we’re wolf beastmen. I don’t know if magic has anything to do with that.”

“Meemaw has hair like mine,” Epel says, lifting a lavender lock. “She’s a mage.”

“Mages do have a slightly higher preference for what Gray refers to as ‘non-natural’ colors,” Ortho says as holographic screens flicker on in front of his face. “Here’s a meta-analysis comparing two decades of studies on hair color. Orange, black, blonde, and brown hair all have higher percentages of appearing combined than any other color- about a sixth of the population has black hair, making it the biggest percentage of any hair color. Those colors also have higher rates of appearance in the non-mage population as well, though the study doesn’t include merfolk. That might skew it. There’s a fifteen percent rate of increased ‘non-natural’ hair colors in the mage population over the non-mage population.”

The table goes silent for a moment, bowled over by the rush of information. “Then it is more common for mages to have weird hair, then,” I muse.

“Yes. The study states that magic might be involved, or that the presence of magic originally altered hair color, but the genes spread through the population enough to end up in non-mages as well.”

Maybe humans here had natural hair at first, then, and when magic got introduced, it turned their hair different colors? Or maybe it was supposed to be a marker of who had magic at all, before genetics got involved and spread the color beyond just mages. An interesting bit of trivia, and I suppose it answers my question.

Although… “Hey, Deuce.” He looks up. “Did you dye your hair with magic?”

His cheeks go very slightly red. “No… I bleached it. I didn’t really know much about cosmetic magic. I still don’t. Once I started changing things and got my letter from NRC, I just let my roots grow out.”

“Why?” Ace asks with a half-smirk. “Looking to change your own hair color?”

“Maybe?” I say. “I actually gave myself a blue streak in middle school, but it almost immediately washed out to green. I guess a repeat would be kind of cool. Does magic hair dye work better than normal hair dye?”

Epel gives a long sigh and sits back in his seat. “Magic-based appearances always fade,” he says in the tones of someone who’s received this exact lecture about twenty times too many. “No matter what spell or cover up is used, it will always pale in comparison to continual, practiced effort.”

I blink. “So is that a yes, or-”

“Magic hair dye can keep colors vibrant for longer, and prevent it from washing out, but unless you’re reapplying the spell constantly, your roots will always grow back in their normal color,” Ortho translates.

“Oh. That’d be kind of cool if it was permanent. And I guess it’s nice that it doesn’t wash out,” I say.

“I’ve never really changed my color from blue,” Ortho says. “But I suppose it would be easy, since it’s just a projection. If I just alter the composition of the flames…” His hair flickers for a moment, then comes in a deep golden-brown.

“Is that supposed to be mine?” I laugh. Ortho nods.

“It doesn’t work as well as fire,” he admits. “I can do more colors.” His hair transitions through green to a deep blue color.

“Deuce’s hair looks good on you!” I say. Deuce looks slightly embarrassed. Ortho’s hair slowly shifts to orange-red, then white and gray, then lavender.

“Do me!” Grim yelps, hopping onto the table impatiently. Ortho laughs, then his hair goes gray with little blue flickers at the edges. Grim puffs out his chest. “Ha! The Great Grim’s colors look great on everyone!” He places a paw on his chest. “You should keep it like that all the time.”

Ortho laughs again and the flames go back to light blue. “I think I’m used to this color. And I like matching with my brother.”

Grim pouts. I pet his back. “Come on, Grim. Let Ortho look how he wants. Anyway, I think the blue hair looks nice. It’s pretty.” Ortho gives me a grateful smile. “You do look a lot alike. Same hair and eye color.” I laugh to myself. “The yellow eyes really weirded me out the first time I saw them…”

“The eye colors are weird, too?” Ace sputters. “How? Your eyes are blue!”

“Yes, people can have blue eyes, but not yellow,” I say. “Cats could have that color, but not people.”

“People’s eyes can be blue, along with brown and orange?” Epel asks.

“No, not orange. You can have orange hair, but not orange eyes, and you can have blue eyes, but not blue hair,” I clarify. “And green eyes, but not green hair, either.”

Jack looks at me. “Why?”

“I don’t know why. Genetics are weird.”

“You can have blue eyes and green eyes, but not yellow eyes?” Deuce says. “But yellow and blue make green. How can you have green eyes if there’s no yellow to make the green?”

“That’s not how eye genetics work, Deuce,” Ortho says.

“You can have brown, blue, and green eyes. And technically gray and hazel, but those are kind of just variations of blue and brown respectively,” I say. “No, I don’t know why they’re like that. Having different colored eyes than that in fiction usually indicates you’re supernatural or evil or something. Especially if they’re red, like Ace’s. Kalim and Lilia’s eyes kind of freaked me out at first.” It doesn’t help that they’ve got big, round eyes that make the red really obvious. Ace’s are more subtle.

“Red eyes are evil?” Ace asks. “What kind of sense does that make?”

“It’s pretty common in stories for eyes to mean something,” Ortho says. “Green eyes often indicate sneakiness, and purple eyes mean mystery, traditionally.”

“What do red eyes mean, then?” Ace asks.

“Power,” Ortho says. “Characters with red eyes are often tough.”

Ace smirks, chest puffed up. “Okay. I like that.”

“What do blue eyes mean?” Grim demands. Deuce and Epel look invested as well.

“Scholarly,” Ortho says. “Blue eyes tend to mean someone is serious or intellectual.”

Grim deflates. “Seriously?”

“Sounds good to me,” Deuce says. “It means you’re smart, Grim.”

“I suppose it could be worse,” Epel says. “I kind of wish I could have red eyes, now…”

“They wouldn’t go as well with your hair,” I say.

Epel grimaces, looking like he would appreciate nothing more. “Maybe Vil would get off my back, then.”

There’s a faint chiming noise and the dull murmur of the cafeteria shifts to the bustle and clatter of people cleaning up before they head to their next class. I get up, trying to nudge Grim along. “Come on. Stop trying to steal off of people’s plates!”

Grim shoves a roll from Ace’s plate into his mouth. “He wasn’t eating it!” Crumbs dribble down his muzzle.

I swipe at him with a napkin. He dodges. “No one was eating it! It was going to be thrown out. Stop trying to swipe trash.”

“I’m helping!” Grim insists. I sigh and give it up, allowing Grim to escape while I take our plates to the disposal areas. Ortho trails after me.

“Need something?” I ask as we break away from the rest of the group. “I assume you’re not just following to help me with the plates.”

Ortho floats in front of me. His expression is unusually serious. “Gray,” he says. “You shouldn’t let Grim take so much of your food.”

“I don’t let him take that much,” I scoff.

“I checked how much of your dish he took. He took ninety percent of the meat on your plate, and thirty percent of the sides.”

“I let him eat more sometimes,” I say.

“It’s been a pattern for the past week. Grim gets most of the meat and a portion of the sides, as well,” Ortho says. “He takes from everyone’s plate, but it’s from yours the most. It’s not just stealing. You’re offering him food.”

“I’m allowed to offer Grim food!” I protest as I place my plates on the dish return tray.

“Yes,” Ortho agrees. “But you’re not taking care of yourself. My calculations suggest someone of your size should have approximately 1500 to 1700 calories daily, at minimum. Your lunches don’t appear to follow that calculation.”

“I’m not that hungry,” I say.

“Low appetite can be a sign of multiple health concerns,” Ortho insists. “You should see the nurse.”

“Look. I appreciate the concern, but if I was worried, I would have seen the nurse already. I’m not sick. I’m just not that hungry recently. It happens. And I don’t mind if Grim swipes off my plate, so don’t bring this up to him, either.” I’m letting him eat off my plate. I don’t want him to feel bad about it. Plus, if Grim genuinely thinks I’m going hungry, I’m going to start finding tuna cans poorly hidden in my stuff. I don’t need to walk around reeking like fish, thanks.

Ortho looks at me. His fire-hologram hair flickers idly above him. “Okay,” he says, eventually. “But you promise you’ll go to the nurse if you feel sick.”

“I promise,” I say. Ortho looks at me for a moment longer, then nods.

We head back to the table and Grim springs at me as soon as I’m within reach. “C’mon, hench-human, we’re going to be late! Don’t be slowing the Great Grim down!”

I laugh. “I’m coming, Grim.” He trots a few paces ahead, waiting impatiently as I gather my things.

“What were you and Ortho talking about?” Deuce wonders as he falls in step beside me.

“Oh, just the board game club. We’ve been considering something with a tabletop game, and Ortho and I were thinking about trying to jointly DM it,” I say. It is something Ortho and I have discussed, though not what we were just discussing.

“Boring,” Ace decides. “Why play a game about doing cool things instead of just actually doing them?”

Because a tabletop roleplaying game is the only way I can actually do cool things like magic, I think, but do not say. Instead, I say, “No one’s making you play it. And it’s not like you do cool stuff in real life anyway.”

Ace sputters and I duck out of his playful swing before jogging a few feet down the hall. I’m puffing before I make it to the end. Ace catches up easily and rubs his fist aggressively against my head. “You have to get into a sports club, Gray,” he says. “You’re too soft.”

I shove him off of me. Admittedly, I have been feeling tired more often recently. Maybe I should try jogging with Jack, sometime. Or maybe that would kill me. “Let’s just get to class,” I sigh. And we set off again. Slower, this time.

Read the next chapter here.

[cerastes]

You know, I was just thinking, there's this game I like, I've talked about this one both on and off stream, it's Luminous Arc 2. It's one of those Way of the Samurai 4 games that are garbage games that did some things REALLY well but are still very much not good games overall, but that I LOVE. You know how much I love Way of the Samurai 4. I also love Luminous Arc 2, it's not a good game, it's a game that merits 0 playthroughs, and yet I gave it 2 full playthroughs.

With WotS4, I can explain to you what parts of it are genius hidden in an ocean of shit, but I can't with Luminous Arc 2, I've not done the mental homework on that one, so I did this weekend, and...

Luminous Arc 2 executes the Nanoha-style Magical Girl formula very very well.

Now, you may have heard that Nanoha is a mecha show but instead of mecha, there's magical girls. And that assessment is absolutely 100% correct. Luminous Arc 2 somehow distills the purely Magical Girl elements from Nanoha's mecha-magical girl execution and pulls them off REALLY well.

Allow me to elaborate.

Nanoha nails down the Good Fight Scene. Not just in fight choreography, but also, in essence of what a good fight scene aims to accomplish for an overarching narrative as an element in the bigger scheme that you can't just skip. Think about Code Geass for a moment: Is Code Geass a mecha show? It sure has mecha, but it's not a mecha show. You could replace the mecha in Code Geass with tanks and helicopters and nothing would change. In fact, at least one adaption of Code Geass does exactly this. Code Geass is a great show but it's not mecha in its themes and execution. Code Geass is a not mecha show with mecha. Nanoha is a mecha show without mecha. You can't remove the fights from Nanoha without it not being Nanoha anymore, and in each fight, we learn more about the characters, the characters learn more about each other, and even if any given fight does not move the plot forward, it does move the character arcs forward, on top of being fun to watch.

And Nanoha accomplishes this by making the same characters fight each other a bunch. Symphogear also does this. Each fight between the same characters feels different each time, because they are growing in terms of motivations and themes.

Luminous Arc 2 does the same with each of its big arcs. In the optional sidequests, you often just fight some mooks and a stronger, sometimes recolored version of a generic monster. The main story stages of the game, though? You are always fighting someone important or a consequence of someone's important's actions. Initially, you fight an ice witch named Fatima and her cat familiar and companion Josie a bunch. As the plot advances, your rogue's gallery keeps expanding, from the bandit Karen and her gang, who initially seem to be disconnected to the overall plot and is more of a Team Rocket deal, to actual lore powerhouses like Master Matthias and others who I shall omit for brevity. Luminous Arc 2 has three big arcs, and each of these have an evolving cast of reoccurring bosses that you fight for plot reasons, and you get to know each other a lot more with each fight, shedding light on their motivations, and them shedding light, in turn, on the motivations of your own side, which are actually not immediately discernible to you in their entirety.

And this is all really good! You get used to their signature moves, their animations, the way they usually structure their units, a bunch of really cool little things.

And maybe this game is sounding good to you, but make no mistake, it's a pretty fucking mediocre SRPG that you can play with your brain turned off. No cohesion, very little unit identity, incredibly self-indulgent first and everything else a distant second, it's NOT a good game... But what it did good, it really knocked it out of the park.

In terms of getting to know your enemy, their motivations, and how they in turn get to know and let you know more about you... Luminous Arc 2 does it better than most. Which is hilarious because this game sucks in every other department. It's not a good game. I did two full playthroughs and I would do a third.

[glowettee]

// part 5: the science behind manifestation (because we love being smart girlies) ✨

hey loves! mindy here again~

today i'm diving into the fascinating science that makes manifestation work. as someone who loves both spirituality and science (hello, future doctor energy!), i'm excited to break this down in a way that makes perfect sense.

the scientific principles behind manifestation:

quantum physics basics

everything is energy at its core

observer effect: we influence particles by observing them

quantum entanglement shows everything is connected

the double-slit experiment proves consciousness affects reality

neuroscience of manifestation • reticular activating system (ras)

acts like a filter for your brain

helps you notice opportunities

focuses on what you program it to see

neuroplasticity

your brain physically changes with thoughts

new neural pathways form with repetition

this is why scripting works so well

psychological framework a) cognitive behavioral principles

thoughts create emotions

emotions drive actions

actions determine results

b) self-fulfilling prophecy

your beliefs shape your reality

2. expectations influence outcomes

3. confidence attracts opportunities

4. frequency & vibration science

human thoughts emit measurable frequencies

positive thoughts = higher frequency

higher frequencies attract similar energies

practical application (how i use this):

morning brain programming

meditation to raise frequency

positive affirmations during skincare

visualization while getting ready

study session optimization

setting intentions before starting

creating a high-vibe study space

using binaural beats for focus

daily consciousness practices

mindful observation

energy checking

thought monitoring

frequency adjustments

intentional speaking

the science-backed manifestation formula:

clear intention + elevated emotion + aligned action = manifestation

why this works:

intention activates the ras

emotion creates energetic frequency

action solidifies neural pathways

consistency compounds results

pro tip: i keep a "science of success" section in my manifestation journal where i track:

daily frequency levels (1-10)

manifestation experiments

correlation between thoughts and outcomes

evidence of law of attraction working

note: you're literally a quantum creator! your thoughts are shaping your reality at a subatomic level. isn't that the most powerful thing ever?

homework for my manifestation besties:

notice your ras in action today

journal about 3 manifestations you've already achieved

measure your vibration throughout the day

practice intentional thinking for 24 hours

stay tuned for part 6 where we'll explore advanced scripting methods (my personal fave for manifesting those straight a's!) 🌙

with love, mindy xo

[johaerys-writes]

Chapter 3: El Diablo En El Ojo

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The western wind is hot and humid as it sweeps over the valley, drifting in through the half open windows. It brings with it the the smell of warm, freshly tilled soil, of hay and manure, the lowing of the cattle and the clop of hooves from the round corral where the horses train. Achilles heaves a great sigh, letting his gaze stretch far across the yellow-blue afternoon sky. 

“Abscesses, as our trusty compendium puts it, are a collection of pus or purulent matter among the tissues of the body, and are a result of acute inflammation; occurring in a weak or scrofulous person, they may last indefinitely, in which case… Achilles, are you listening to me?” 

Achilles reluctantly tears his eyes from the window to look at his tutor. Chiron is frowning at him over the rim of his round reading glasses, Dr. Hippocrates' thick Compendium of Maladies and Formulae open on the table before him. Achilles straightens in his chair, trying to look invested, and doubting very much that he’s doing a good job at it. 

“Of course,” he says. “I’m all ears.” 

“Oh yes, and they’re everywhere but here.” Chiron, of course, doesn’t look convinced. “Will you indulge me, then, by reminding me how to treat an acute abscess, in advance of a doctor?” 

Achilles takes a breath, trying to jog his memory. “When it forms near the surface, a poultice with flaxseed meal or bread and milk is preferred. Open and drain the abscess as soon as pus has formed, and keep clean with castille soap and water.” 

“Correct. And what if there are indications that the abscess is not near the surface? If it’s in, let’s say, the brain?” 

“Why, then, I think our fellow’s a goner, Chiron,” Achilles quips with a grin.

Chiron doesn’t seem to share his amusement in the slightest; he shakes his head and lets out a long-suffering sigh as he takes off his glasses. 

“I wish you would take your instruction seriously every once in a while, Achilles,” he tells him, setting down his now folded glasses on the lace tablecloth, and closing the big tome. “We’ve been here for the better part of the afternoon, and I doubt that even a third of that information has made it into that brain of yours.” 

Achilles stretches his arms over his head with a groan and arches his aching back. Though the chairs in his father’s old study are quite comfortable, it still doesn’t make it any more enjoyable to spend most of his day cooped up in the stuffy room, when he could be outside, working or training or riding until both his own and Xanthus’ skin are damp with sweat and glistening. The large clock on the far wall idly ticks away the time, an insistent reminder of how slowly it passes when he’s studying, and how fast it flows when he’s anywhere but here.

It's not that he doesn’t enjoy his lessons with Chiron. He does, a great deal. Chiron is a renowned teacher, with vast knowledge on pretty much every subject imaginable. There is nothing under the sun, Achilles thinks, that Chiron isn't at least a little familiar with. Every day, Chiron teaches him maths and language and science and philosophy, but his teachings don't stop there: his tutor often takes him to the stables, the pens and the fields to show him how to harvest plants, how to treat wounded and sick animals, how to read the signs in the sky, the clouds, the birds, the stars. 

There is no other tutor that could teach as much, and so effectively. Achilles is well aware of how lucky he is. But today, with the merry sounds of the ranch coming through the window taunting him, he simply can't sit still. His mind is elsewhere, miles away—or perhaps just a quick hop and skip away, where the stables are, where Patroclus is.

The mere thought of the boy makes Achilles all giddy and flushed. He's probably hard at work just now, tending to the horses or cleaning the stalls, his shirt sleeves bunched up to his elbows and the sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. There is nothing Achilles craves more after a long day of studying or working than spending the rest of it with him, and he knows Patroclus feels the same. The bright smiles he gives him whenever he sees him are evidence enough, and although Achilles gets to see them everyday now, they still feel like a rare gift. It hasn't been too long since Patroclus regarded him with wariness after all, but over the course of the summer, something has changed. Achilles feels changed just by being around him.

Achilles' heart skips and thumps in his chest. It’s been happening more often of late that simply thinking of Patroclus makes something warm and fuzzy blossom in his chest. It’s thrilling, but it’s also scary in its potency. As much as he likes spending time with his other friends, never before has he felt such a visceral need for someone else’s company. 

His father’s words, however, are never far from his mind. 

In the Great War, after men got their first kill… this is what their eyes looked like.

Perhaps it is Patroclus himself that scares him, sometimes.

“Chiron,” Achilles says after a while. “Can I ask you something?” 

Chiron, who was flipping through the pages of the medical compendium again and muttering under his breath about poultices and grain-pills of Hepor Sulphur to help hasten suppuration, blinks up at him. “Yes, of course.” 

Achilles licks his lips, swallowing hard. He doesn’t know how to ask the question without sounding odd, so he just goes for it. “If someone kills another person… does that mean they’re a bad person?”

Read the rest on AO3!