#Has someone checked on Lew?

[royallyprincesslilly]

[no-144444]

hi, can i req a blurb about the drivers playing mafia (like some weird among us shit or something) and how they'd kind of play it and who would win. I've watched loads videos by a creator on insta and her videos have now led to this.

the grid: mafia!

starring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, George Russell, Kimi Anotonelli, Alex Albon, Carlos Sainz, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Max Verstappen, Charles LeClerc, Lewis Hamilton, Arthur LeClerc, Zhou Guanyu, Ollie Bearman, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan, Franco Colapinto.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

(If you don't know how to play mafia i wrote out a long explanation down below so just scroll until you see RULES :)

In this, you’re the mayor and your boyfriend (driver of your choice) is playing the game with the rest of the drivers. With their name, I’ll tell you what character they are.  We’re playing with all of the regular rules, and the Nobody Knows skull, because this game clearly isn’t confusing enough. We have 18 players (plus you as the mayor), so there are 5 mafia, 2 doctors, 1 sheriff, and the rest are civilians. For the purpose of this game, I decided on two doctors, who vote separately on who should be saved. 

If y’all have any questions, comment down below :)

(BTW whoever sent this idea in i fucking love it and i love mafia)

Characters 

Oscar Piastri: Mafia Lando Norris: Civilian  George Russell: Doctor Kimi Antonelli: Civilian Alex Albon: Civilian  Carlos Sainz: Civilian  Logan Sargeant: Civilian  Daniel Riccardo: Sheriff Liam Lawson: Mafia  Max Verstappen: Mafia  Charles LeClerc: Doctor Lewis Hamilton: Civilian  Arthur LeClerc: Mafia  Zhou Guanyu: Mafia  Ollie Bearman: Civilian Jack Doohan: Civilian  Paul Aron: Civilian  Franco Colapinto: Civilian

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Round one: 

Max votes off George IMMEDIATELY, the rest of the mafia go with him. 

George saves Alex first. 

Charles saves Arthur first. 

Daniel decides to check if Max is mafia, he is correct. 

Everyone wakes up. You tell the news that George is dead, and both of the doctors saved safe people. 

Everyone agrees that Max is mafia, since well… he killed George. They then turn their attention to their next prosecution, Kimi. 

Max does not defend himself and admits to his crime. 

Kimi tries to defend himself, but they vote him out anyway. 

Everyone goes back to sleep. 

Round two: 

Arthur suggests Paul. Oscar, Zhou, and Liam agree. 

Charles saves Carlos next. 

Daniel decides to check if Lewis is mafia, he is incorrect. 

Everyone wakes up. You inform them that Paul is dead, and the one remaining doctor has saved a safe person. 

Everyone agrees that Paul is a strange choice and that it must be someone on the younger end of the grid who raced with him in F2. All attention turns to Ollie and Jack. They both attempt to defend themselves, and Ollie’s works, so they vote out Jack and turn their attention to Lando (for some godforsaken reason). He is shocked by the accusation and tries to dispute it, but he’s super awkward and suspicious, so he gets voted out. 

Everyone goes back to sleep. 

Round three: 

Oscar suggests Charles, since he thinks he’s the remaining doctor based on who he’s saving, the other boys agree. 

Charles choses to save himself this round. 

Daniel decides to see if Ollie was mafia, he is incorrect. 

Everyone wakes up. You inform them that Charles’s life was attempted, but that the doctor saved him. 

Everyone agrees that Charles is another strange choice, but they guess it may be Carlos and Arthur. After trying to convince everyone that they’re not it, they are voted off anyway, and the mafia is getting smaller. 

Everyone goes back to sleep. 

Round Four:

Liam suggests Lewis, since no one will guess it’s them, Oscar and Zhou go with him. 

Charles choses to save Oscar this round. 

Daniel decides to see if Liam is mafia, he is correct. 

Everyone wakes up. You inform them that Lewis is dead, and the doctor saved a safe person. 

Everyone decides Lews is a dangerous choice and it would have to be someone close to him. They suggest Daniel and Franco. They both try to defend themselves, but because of Daniel’s weird knowledge of who’s mafia and not, and Franco’s general weirdness(/love for Lewis), they’re voted out. 

Everyone goes to sleep. 

Round five: 

With 3 mafia and 3 players left, the boys decide to kill Charles.

Charles saves Alex this time. 

Everyone wakes up. You inform them that Charles is dead, and the doctor saved a safe person.

People suggest Logan and Liam, and they’re voted out. 

You reveal that the mafia had won, since there are only 2 civilians, and 2 mafia left. You revealed all the roles; Daniel as Sheriff, Charles and George as Doctors, Oscar, Liam, Arthur, Zhou and Max as Mafia. 

The game is over.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar Piastri: Mafia

Gives you a stink eye when he realises you put him as mafia. 

Doesn’t really mind who gets voted off, and barely does anything to convince people he’s not mafia, they just assume you’d never pick him. 

Weirdly really good at reeling Max in when he starts pointing at multiple people. 

Not great at not opening his eyes, but only so you’ll come and stand behind him. 

Just shrugs when Lando looks at him with the biggest look of betrayal after the game. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Lando Norris: Civilian 

Annoyed you didn’t pick him as mafia or something cooler (he knows it’s because you can’t trust his big mouth, but whatever, still stings). 

Tries to bribe you with kisses to give him a better role. 

Does not suspect Oscar or Arthur in the slightest, but had an inkling about Liam and Max. 

Doesn’t matter anyways, he gets voted out on the 2nd round. 

Spends the rest of the time as your assistant. (aka being deeply unhelpful and trying to distract you, so much so that the rest of them put him in time out. 

He’s frowny again, until you let him help you. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

George Russell: Doctor

Pissed that Max voted him out immediately. 

Knew it was Max. 

Whinges about it. 

Complains by your side as you try to direct the game, but you eventually have to tell him to get lost. 

Complains to Alex about that. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Kimi Antonelli: Civilian 

Does not understand the game at all. 

Kind of annoyed he gets voted out, but just relaxes by your side as you mc the game. 

Kind of enjoys watching you take control

Has a bunch of fun even though he technically lost on the first round. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Alex Albon: Civilian 

Is SO locked in. 

He acts like a detective

Listens to you no matter what. 

Shushes people. 

The most suspicious person in the circle, you were shocked that he didn’t get voted off. 

Is annoyed he lowkey lost the game, but proud he was one of the last two. 

Did not expect Oscar to be mafia at all, had thought about Zhou being mafia though. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Carlos Sainz: Civilian 

Annoyed you didn’t put him as sheriff but whatever. 

Tried to convince everyone to vote out Lando in the first round but it didn’t stick. 

Tried to convince everyone Charles was Mafia during round three, but got voted out. 

PISSED he got voted out. 

Sulked with Lando until you came over and apologised for playing the game 🙄

Enjoyed the rest of the game though, ‘watching was more fun’. 

Liar, he was so jealous Alex got to the last two. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Logan Sargeant: Civilian 

Had no idea how he got to the last round. 

Had no idea what was going on. 

Kept asking stupid questions and getting shushed by Alex. 

Sent you looks of ‘help me’ and ‘what the fuck do i do?’ every five seconds.

Had you explain the entire game again after. 

Only then got the premise. 

Annoyed at himself for not getting it the first time bc he loves murder mysteries. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Daniel Riccardo: Sheriff

LOVED his role. Thanked you with a kiss when everyone had their eyes closed. 

Told Lewis he was sheriff. 

Was annoyed when he got voted out, but he just stayed by you instead. 

Him and Lewis kind of took control of the group as the leaders (not shocking). 

Had an inkling Oscar was mafia, but wasn’t sure. 

Congratulated him on being a ‘cut-throat killer’ after the game. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Liam Lawson: Mafia 

SO into it. 

He loved his team for mafia.

Got kind of annoyed when Max basically outed himself, but it was bound to happen. 

Took control of the group after Max left. 

Was upset he didn’t get to the last two, but proud of his team for winning anyway. 

So competitive it was verging on being an ick. 

But he reeled himself in when you grimaced when he shouted at one of the town-meetings. 

Kissed you in celebration for winning and made everyone pose for a photo for his instagram. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Max Verstappen: Mafia 

Had one mission, GET GEORGE OUT FIRST ROUND. 

Fulfilled his role, and just sat by your side the rest of the time. 

Occasional shusher during town meetings. 

Pointed out who was looking when they shouldn’t be. 

Enjoyed himself for sure.  

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Charles LeClerc: Doctor

PANICKED. 

Wasn’t totally sure on the rules, but was so shocked that he saved himself. 

Lowkey thought Oscar was mafia but then thought his adopted son would never kill him. 

He was wrong, and betrayed. 

Made Oscar and Arthur publicly apologise on his instagram, tiktok, and twitter. 

Didn’t want to play again unless he was a civilian. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Lewis Hamilton: Civilian 

Enjoys the drama. 

LIVING for the George / Max beef. 

Following Daniel’s lead in town meetings, but he was deffo one of the people everyone listened to. 

Daniel told him he was the sheriff but he didn’t believe him. 

Was proud of how you set up the game so well and how everyone listened to you. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Arthur LeClerc: Mafia 

My boy was LOCKED TF IN. 

He was ready to win, until he slipped up and tried to kill his own brother (crazy work but whatever) 

When Arthur was revealed as Mafia, Charles was livid. 

Another public apology was made. 

He loved being mafia, but when he was done he kind of just lay in your lap.

He was tired 💤

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

 Zhou Guanyu: Mafia 

Glad to be on the mafia side. 

HAPPY HE WON 

Goated Guanyu fr

Luckiest mfer ever no one suspected him 

Only Paul brought it up and he died the next round so 😚

Thoroughly enjoyed the experience. 

Loved the mafia team too. 

10/10 would play again. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Ollie Bearman: Civilian 

Had no clue what tf was going on. 

Shocked he made it to the last round after almost being kicked out during round two

Opened his eyes every single time and knew Max was mafia, but thought that saying that would be super suspicious since how else would he know unless he opened his eyes? 

Told Paul he knew Max was mafia and Paul ratted on him as a cheater to you. 

He didn’t exactly enjoy the disappointed look you gave him and apologised. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Jack Doohan: Civilian 

Wanted to be in the game longer but deffo enjoyed himself. 

Annoyed it was Paul’s death that got him out. 

Wanted a better role and *also* tried to bribe you with kisses. 

Lowkey almost worked… 🤭

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Paul Aron: Civilian 

Was annoyed he didn’t get mafia. 

Pissed he got murdered in the second round too, so just brooded in the corner before you called him back to help you keep track of everything. 

Took his job very seriously. 

SHOCKED AND APPALLED that oscar was mafia. 

Enjoyed himself anyway. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Franco Colapinto: Civilian 

Hurt by the fact that people thought HE would vote out sir lewis hamilton. 

Shat himself when he actually got voted out for it and swore up and down to Lewis it wasn’t him. 

They spent the rest of the game theorising about the outcome. 

Cute bonding moment for them. 🥰

He did not shut up about Lewis for like a week. 

It was cute though.

RULES:

So basically, I’ve always played mafia without cards so I’m going to explain it like that. If you know how to play mafia, skip down to the part that says 'must read', if you don't, here's the basic outline of the rules:

You need at least 4 people to play this, plus one GM (game master), who fills the role of the Mayor. Under this will be the list of what every character does, but here’s an explanation of the rules in steps . 

1: The mayor tells everyone to close their eyes

2: The mayor tells mafia to wake up and choose their target, then to go back to sleep 3: The mayor tells the doctor to wake up and choose someone to save, then to go back to sleep.

4: The mayor tells the sheriff to wake up and investigate someone.

5: The mayor tells the sheriff if he is right or wrong and tells him o go back to sleep

6: The mayor tells everyone to wake up and prepares the story

7: At this point, the mayor will summarise what happened during ‘the night’. Example: Mayor says "last night, the mafia was angry at somebody who was stealing his money, so he killed person (A), the doctor saved the wrong person." OR "last night... Mafia killed person (A) but the doctor saved him."

8: The mayor: If a person has died at the hand of the Mafia, they are out, but they are still not allowed to reveal their role.)

9: The mayor allows the townspeople to discuss who the mafia might be. The mayor then calls for a vote (here any player can make a claim against any suspicious person.) Only two people can be nominated for prosecution. The mayor then allows the prosecuted to defend themselves, then a vote happens.

10: After a player has received a majority vote against him, he receives the death penalty. (Check "skulls" for variables).

11: Then, the cycle starts again.

How to win the game:

Mafia Win= Killing off everyone until you can't play anymore. Example: There were 8 people in the game with 2 mafia, and the mafia kills 4 people, so there are 2 mafia and 2 other players. The two other players may be able to vote off one of the mafia, but in the next round, one of the normal players will be killed, meaning the last 2 players are 1 mafia and 1 normal person, so you can't win a 1v1 against mafia.

Civilian/Doctor/Sheriff Win= When all mafia are killed off, self explanatory. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Character List: 

Mayor: Has control over the players and directs the game, picks who plays as the other characters. Aim: help the game progress. 

Mafias: ‘Kill’ the other players and try to convince the other players who the mafia is without revealing themself/ themselves.

Doctors: Can save other characters and self, but only self every second round. 

Sheriff: Points out another player and the mayor can say whether or not they’re mafia, the sheriff then uses this information to sway the rest of the group's opinion. 

Civilian

The aim of the game for the civilians, sheriff, and doctor, is to vote out the mafias. The mafia's objective is to stay in the game. Obviously you don’t want to reveal your role if you have an important one but rather convince others you are a civilian.

Main Rules:

The Mayor has the right to silence the group entirely, or restart the game. 

Mafia can only choose one target per round (x number of Mafia vote on 1 target together)

Telling someone (other than the Mayor who already knows/ the other people who share your character) what role you play is cheating. 

Opening your eyes when not permitted is cheating. 

The dead ‘cannot speak’ - as in real life, the dead can give no hints to who the mafia are and can do nothing to sway the group's opinion. 

‘Skulls’ Rules: These are optional rules to make the game harder/ more exciting:

You were it? Skull: Allows the mayor to ask if "someone was mafia or not" when they get voted out. It makes the game easier so the group will know how many more mafia are left.

Reveal Yourself! Skull: The only time the mayor asks if somebody "if they are mafia or not" is when that person is voted off, not killed by the mafia. Activating this skull allows for the other roles to reveal themselves when they normally couldn't. Example: When the doctor gets voted off, he/she can now say they were the doctor. (This skull cannot be activated at the same time as the Nobody Knows skull.)

Nobody Knows skull: Activating this skull means that when a person is voted off, they will not state whether or not they were mafia, so it's more difficult to find out if there is still more than one mafia out there.

Wait, the sheriff has a gun? Skull: The sheriff has a gun with 2 bullets. He has a choice whether or not to use it at the beginning of the first two rounds, but he will be unable to check people's innocence, and if he checks for people's innocence first, he will be unable to use the gun. Example: Round 1, the mayor asks the sheriff who he wants to check, but if the sheriff shapes his finger into a gun and points at someone, then the mayor will nod. In the recap, that person dies, but their role cannot be revealed. Round 2, the mayor asks the sheriff who he wants to check, and if the sheriff does check, then his gun is rendered useless.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[ayrtonswnna]

⠀⠀⠀MENTOR 〃 lewis hamilton x amala wilson (female driver!oc)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺ oneshot. fluff/slight angst/hurt/comfort; word count: 4.3K

✧ my masterlist! ✧ requests are open! ✧ more lewis!

amala and lewis' best moments as the ferrari's 2025 duo.

warnings: just soft sweet light hearted fluff, it's supposed to be very chill. not really conected to the reality at all, parents issues, slight swearing. guess that's all.

The first day in Maranello had all the grandeur you’d expect. The sun gleamed off the red of the Ferrari factory, and the hum of engines was constant in the background. It was a scene Lewis Hamilton had lived countless times before, yet today felt different. This was a new chapter, even for him. The legend, the seven-time World Champion, now stepping into the iconic red suit at 40. He was ready to lead.

Amala, on the other hand, felt the weight of her helmet even before the season had begun. Twenty-three years old, fresh from an F2 championship, and walking into a world where everything was bigger, louder, and far more intense than anything she’d known. Ferrari wasn’t just a team; it was a legacy.

Lewis caught sight of her during a team meeting. She sat quietly at the edge of the room, her shoulders squared but her hands gripping her notebook a little too tight. When it was her turn to speak, she kept it short and to the point, her voice steady but soft. Lewis smiled to himself. She reminded him of how he’d felt in his rookie days—focused but slightly unsure where to place himself.

After the meeting, he approached her casually, hands in his pockets. “Hey, Amala,” he said, his voice warm and relaxed. “You handled yourself really well in there. It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

She blinked, caught off guard by his friendliness. “Oh… thanks. Yeah, it’s definitely… a lot.”

Lewis chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. And hey, if you ever need anything — advice, someone to vent to, whatever — I’m here.”

Amala nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Lewis. That… means a lot.”

“Call me Lew,” he said with a grin. “We’re teammates now, after all.”

001. “see my environment?”

The first race weekend of the season came with all the chaos and nerves Amala expected — and then some more. She finished a respectable P8, scoring points on her debut, while Lewis took P2, narrowly missing out on the win. The team was thrilled, and the paddock buzzed with energy. But as the celebrations roared on, Amala slipped away quietly to her driver’s room. Lewis watched from across the garage, in his dad’s arms shaking him excitedly while the team set the — freshly out the podium trophy for some pictures.

Amala sat on the small sofa, her head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, but the emptiness of the room was a stark contrast to the noise outside. She just needed some time to let it sink in. A lot has changed over the past few moments and that’s a focused one. She never knows when it’s time to celebrate. It’s always just a break until the next fight.

A soft knock on the door made her sit up. Before she could answer, Lewis poked his head in. “Hey, mind if I come in?”

She shook her head, a little startled. “No, uh, come in.”

Lewis stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and studied her for a moment. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” she said quickly, though her voice betrayed her. “Do you… Do you need anything?”

“No, hum… Just checking in. You sure you’re ok? You were great out there today, pretty impressive. Rookie year with that confidence? Lucky you’re my teammate.” His tone was easy, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that made her chest tighten.

She is a quiet one, her presence could be unnoticed in many places. But not inside the car, Lewis is more than right. She’s a statement behind the wheel.

“Thanks,” she said softly, looking down at her hands. “It’s alright, I swear. Just keeping the focus. Haven't won anything yet. Trying to keep it down.”

Lewis nodded, understanding instantly, but obligating himself to disagree.  “I get that. But… You gotta celebrate the small things too, you know? It’s good to give yourself the credits. Imagine if we get on a tight fight by the end of the season, and then… Your points from today earn us the championship?”

Amala looked up at him, her expression softening. 

“That’d be crazy.” she chuckled a bit, finding fun in the near-the-impossible-possibility. Him making up scenarios just to cheer her up was funny in fact. “But no celebrating before anything like that happens — see my environment?” she looked around the empty room. “I’d rather not get ahead of myself.”

He smiled and pushed off the wall; that might be their longest casual conversation. “How about this — come have dinner with my family tonight. We do get a bit ahead of ourselves but… It’s fun anyways.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—” she started, but he held up a hand.

“No arguments. You’re coming. Besides, my niece would love you. She’s a little obsessed with fast cars.”

Amala couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Alright. Thanks, Lew.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink before heading for the door. “See you in an hour. Don’t be late.”

002. “maybe we should change that.”

The cafeteria at the track was bustling, but Amala found a quiet corner where she could eat in peace. She had just started on her pasta when a tray plopped down across from her. It’s media day thursday, more staff, less noise. Just the good-old-garage-buzz.

“Mind if I join?” Lewis asked, already sitting down with a grin.

“Uh, sure.” she said, slightly caught off guard.

“Cool. Needed an excuse to get away from all the tech talk. Sometimes I swear they just make up words to mess with me,” he joked, twirling a forkful of food.

Amala chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard some pretty creative terms this week.”

Lewis leaned in conspiratorially. “I personally just nod and say, ‘Ah, yes, the flux capacitor.’ Works every time.”

“You’re kidding.” Amala snorted, laying back on the chair. “You don’t even know what that means, Lewis.”

“Dead serious,” he said, laughing. “And- Yeah, but they don't know that I don’t know. You’ve got a lot to learn with me, rookie.”

As they ate, Lewis kept the conversation light, sharing funny stories from his career and occasionally poking fun at himself. “I once called my engineer ‘mum’ over the radio,” he admitted. “Didn’t live that one down for months.”

Amala laughed so hard she nearly choked. “Stop, you’re making me look ridiculous.”

“Nah.” he said, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “That’s your best look, I don’t see you laughing a lot.”

“Yeah, Sir Lewis Hamilton. I am in a helmet for most of the times you see me.” she squinted her eyes, not even noticing she just built up to exactly what Lewis wanted.

“Right. You are right. Maybe we should change that.”

003. “you make it look so easy.”

The day at the karting track was meant to be a lighthearted PR event for Ferrari,even if it was all news for their second driver. The Ferrari social media team had organized a "friendly" race between her and Lewis, with enough microphones and GoPros strapped to them to make anyone nervous.

“Alright, rookie.” Lewis said, walking up to her with his helmet tucked under his arm. “You ready to lose?”

Amala raised an eyebrow, trying to match his playful tone. “Confident for someone who hasn’t seen me drive a kart yet.”

Lewis grinned. “Fair. But you haven’t seen me drive one either.”

“Pretty sure I’ve seen you drive everything.” she said, rolling her eyes. “You forget you’re old, Sir.”

“Wow! Right at me!” he laughed, nudging her shoulder lightly. “Touché. But that also means I’ve got years of experience with these bad boys. You’re going down.”

They lined up on the track, and as soon as the green flag waved, Amala’s nerves gave way to her competitive instincts. She wasn’t about to let him win without a fight. Lap after lap, she stayed right on his tail, taking every opportunity to challenge him in the corners.

After crossing the finish line — Lewis barely ahead of her — he hopped out of his kart with a victorious cheer. “Still got it!” he said, raising his arms in mock celebration.

Amala unbuckled the seatbelts, shaking her head with a small smile. “You know I let you win, right?”

“Oh, is that what happened?” he teased, walking over to her. Without thinking, he placed a hand on her waist to steady her as she stepped down from the kart. “Don’t worry, next time I’ll go easy on you.”

She froze for a moment at the casual touch, but his hand fell away as quickly as it had landed. It felt natural—friendly, even. She tried not to think too much about it.

After the event wrapped up, they found themselves sitting on a bench near the track, sharing a basket of fries. “So,” Lewis said, dipping a fry into ketchup, “having fun yet?”

Amala nodded. “More than I thought I would. I guess I’m still getting used to… all of this.” She gestured vaguely to the cameras, the team, the whole Ferrari whirlwind.

“I get it,” Lewis said, leaning back. “It’s a lot, especially when you’re new. But you’re handling it like a pro.”

She hesitated before speaking. “You make it look so easy.”

Lewis shrugged. “Trust me, it wasn’t always. My first few years? I had no clue what I was doing half the time. And don’t get me started on the pressure. But it helps when you have people in your corner. Like… I don’t remember a single time I didn’t have my dad, or mom. And now with my sister’s kids… It gets easier to face things.”

Amala glanced at him, her voice soft. “That’s very sweet.” she smiled. “Not for me, though. Mom and dad are all about fighting and- Uh, I can’t even imagine what would have happened if they were around like that.” she scoffed, so comfortable by his side that it felt natural to speak. “That’s why Miss-big-girl right here handles shit alone. It works too, I swear.”

Lewis’s expression shifted, his usual easygoing smile replaced by something more thoughtful. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused, then added, “But you’ve got people now. The team, me… We’re here for you, Amala. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Her chest tightened at his words, but in a good way. “Thanks.” she smiled. “You really are good company- like… for a man of age? You’re doing great.”

He grinned, nudging her shoulder again. “How did you become such a meanie, dear Lord!” it’s a full laugh now. “But alright, since I am man of age… I deserve proper treatment! These fries you’ve ordered?” he takes a small one from the fries, slowly throwing at her. “Disrespectful. I know you couldn’t find any other vegan option. Simply disrespectful.”

Amala laughed, finally feeling at ease. “Noted. Next time, I’ll make sure to get something you approve of, grandpa.”

004. “I really don’t want to mess this up.”

The energy after the double podium was electric. Lewis had taken P1, and Amala secured her first podium with a solid P3. The team flooded the podium with cheers, and the champagne flowed freely as they celebrated under the floodlights.

Lewis, in his element, sprayed champagne at Amala, laughing as she shrieked and tried to dodge. She retaliated, soaking him in return, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t thinking about the cameras or the pressure — just the sheer joy of the moment.

Amala barely had a second to catch her breath before Lewis was grabbing her by the wrist, a wide grin spread across his face. The champagne bottle in his other hand was already half-empty from the chaos of celebration, but that didn’t stop him from tilting it toward her.

“You’re way too dry for someone who just got a podium,” he teased, shaking the bottle again.

“Lewis, don’t you d—”

Too late. The icy spray hit her square in the chest, and she let out a loud squeal, stumbling back as he kept going, grinning like a kid causing trouble. She turned away, trying to shield herself, but he just followed, relentless.

“Alright, alright! You made your point!” she laughed, holding up her hands in surrender.

Lewis just raised an eyebrow, still aiming the bottle at her. “Nah, I don’t think I did.”

Another wave of champagne rained over her, and Amala groaned, wiping at her soaked race suit. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love it,” he shot back without missing a beat, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

She wanted to shove him, to get back at him somehow, but then it all hit her — the flashing cameras, the roaring cheers, the red sea of Ferrari fans losing their minds, the sight of her name on the podium next to his. She had dreamed of this since she was a kid, since she first understood what Formula 1 was. And now she was here. Really here.

The smile was still stretched across her face, but suddenly, her throat felt tight. Her vision blurred, and before she could even think about wiping away the tears, Lewis saw them. His expression softened instantly, the teasing gone in a heartbeat.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. “Come here.”

And then she was in his arms — no hesitation, no second-guessing. He wrapped her up in the biggest hug, lifting her off the ground like she weighed nothing, spinning her in circles as the crowd cheered even louder. She let out a breathless laugh, clinging to his shoulders, tears mixing with the champagne on her face.

“You did it,” Lewis murmured against her hair, holding her tight. “You fucking did it.”

And for the first time, Amala let herself believe it.

After the podium ceremony, the team threw an afterparty, and the champagne continued to flow. Amala stuck close to Lewis, the two of them laughing and joking as the night went on. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but the bubbly made her cheeks flush and her inhibitions loosen.

“You’re a lightweight,” Lewis teased as they sat in a quieter corner of the party.

“Am not,” she argued, though her giggle betrayed her.

Lewis leaned closer, his voice softer now. “I’m serious, though. You were incredible today. You’re even allowed to get that drunk today. I won’t tell anybody.”

Amala looked down at her glass, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, thanks. I feel even more incredible being by your side, you know? No one else in the grid has this privilege, and I do… So… Yes. You are even more incredible.”

Lewis let out a soft chuckle, recognizing his teammate is a bit more tipsy than he thought. She rested her head on his shoulder, taking a breath within the silence.

“Nah… I’m just the man of age.” he kept the funny tone as he reached over, his hand brushing hers and a kiss to her head. “You are incredible by your own merits, but we can talk about it when you’re sober.”

She looked up at him, her heart racing. “Thanks, Lew. For everything.”

He smiled, his hand lingering for just a moment longer. “You don’t have to thank me. I like looking out for you.”

The words hung in the air between them, charged with something unspoken. Amala felt her breath catch as she looked into his eyes, and before she could think, she leaned in.

It started soft, almost hesitant — like they were both testing the waters, caught in the gravity of something neither of them could pull away from. Amala felt the warmth of Lewis' hand cupping her jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin, as if reassuring her this was real. She melted into it, her fingers curling into the fabric of his surely expensive shirt, anchoring herself as the world around them faded away.

But then, something shifted. The hesitation dissolved, replaced by something deeper, something neither of them could hold back. Lewis tilted his head, pulling her closer, and the kiss deepened — slow, lingering, like they were learning each other in a way they hadn’t before. His lips were warm, coaxing, stealing the breath from her lungs as her heart pounded against her ribs.

When they finally broke apart, neither of them moved far. Lewis' forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the space between them. His eyes fluttered open, dark and searching, like he was still caught somewhere between reality and the weight of the moment.

“We should…” he started, his voice rough, a little unsteady.

But neither of them moved. Neither of them let go. “Yeah,” Amala agreed, though she didn’t move.

He chuckled softly. “You’ve had a bit to drink. Let’s… talk about this tomorrow, yeah?”

Her cheeks burned, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Because I really don’t want to mess this up.”

005. “I’m taking credit for that.”

The Ferrari garage was alive with the usual buzz of preparation, the sound of drills, chatter, and engineers poring over data. Amala, for once, wasn’t hovering over her own station, overthinking setups or tire strategies. She was at the central computer station, scrolling through the playlist for the garage speakers. She’d recently learned that Lewis shared her love for Kendrick Lamar, and she was determined to pick the perfect track.

"Don’t mess this up, rookie," came his familiar, teasing voice behind her.

She turned to see Lewis strolling up, hands in his fireproofs, looking far too smug.

“Don’t worry, old man.” she shot back, trying to play it cool. “I got this.”

As she selected “HUMBLE.”, the bass-heavy opening beat dropped, and the crew collectively nodded in approval. Even Ricky, Lewis’s race engineer, gave her a thumbs-up from across the garage.

Lewis leaned over her shoulder, arms resting lightly on her back as he peeked at the screen. “Solid choice,” he murmured, his voice low near her ear.

Amala stiffened for half a second, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, but when he chuckled and gave her shoulders a playful squeeze, the tension dissolved.

“You’re way too proud of yourself,” she said, shaking her head.

He grinned. “Hey, if you’re finally loosening up in the garage, I’m taking credit for that.”

As the song played on, the crew got into the rhythm, and Ricky even started rapping along to the chorus, earning a collective laugh. Amala found herself laughing too — really laughing — as Lewis joined in, half-singing, half-mocking Ricky’s performance.

“Okay, okay, stop,” she said, holding her sides from laughing too hard. “This is a disaster.”

“Disaster?” Lewis said, pretending to be offended. “This is team bonding, Amala. You should appreciate it.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Sure, Lew. Whatever you say.”

He nudged her again, a playful glint in his eyes. “There it is… You know I love it when you smile like that.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she turned back to the screen, pretending to scroll through more songs. “Thanks… I guess.”

As casual as the moment seemed, the warmth in his voice lingered, and for the first time in weeks, the garage felt like a place she truly belonged.

006. “It’s just me.”

The days go on fast, and this time, it all happened so fast. One moment, Amala was pushing the limits in FP2, trying to get more out of the car ahead of qualifying, and the next, she was careening into the barriers. The impact rattled her, her heart pounding as the car came to a halt.

The radio crackled to life. “Amala, are you okay? Talk to us.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” she managed, though her voice was shaky.

Back in the garage, Lewis’s face tightened as he watched the replay on the monitors. He didn’t hesitate, heading straight for the trackside to check on her.

When he reached her car, she was still sitting inside, her hands gripping the steering wheel. He crouched beside the cockpit, his helmet already off, and tapped gently on the side. “Hey, sweetie,” he said softly. “It’s just me.”

Amala looked at him, her eyes wide and glassy. “I… I messed up.”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “You pushed. That’s what we do. Now let’s get you out of here.”

He helped her with her helmet and balaclava, his touch gentle but steady. “Take your time,” he said, fingers brushing the hair strands out of her sweaty face.

It hit like a tidal wave, it’s her first big crash in a Formula One car, and it wasn’t even a big one. Maybe it is just the scare.  “I’m so sorry, Lewis. I didn’t mean—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. “Don’t do that. This isn’t on you. The team’s already working on the car, and you’ll be back out there before you know it.” he offered a hand, witch she took in no time.

“But what if—”

“Amala,” he said, cutting her off again. His hands rested on her shoulders, grounding her as soon as she stood. “Look at me. You’re fine. The car will be fine. And tomorrow, you’ll remind everyone why you’re here. Got it?”

She nodded, though her eyes still shimmered with unshed tears.

Just then, someone from the team called out, “Its controlled, you guys. No big damage!”

Lewis smirked, glancing over his shoulder. “See? Told you.”

Her lips twitched into a small smile, and for a brief moment, the chaos around them faded.

As they walked back to the garage, their shoulders brushed, and there was a fleeting moment where their hands almost — almost — met. But neither of them crossed the line, not here, not now.

007. “I’m so proud of you”

It was a matter of time; everyone knew. A bond so strong could only lead the way to the trophy. Both of them.

The FIA Gala was every bit as glamorous as Amala had imagined. She stood at the entrance in a sleek black dress, feeling slightly out of place among the glitz and glamor. But when Lewis appeared at her side, offering his arm, all her nerves melted away.

“You look stunning.” he said, his eyes scanning her with an approving smile.

She laughed softly. “Had to keep up with you..”

Together, they made their way into the ballroom, their arrival causing a ripple of whispers and glances. It wasn’t exactly a secret that the Ferrari duo was close, but tonight, there was no hiding it. Lewis’s hand rested lightly on her back, guiding her through the crowd, and when they stopped to pose for photos, he held her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When it came time to accept their trophies, Amala followed Lewis up the steps, the bright lights of the gala stage shining down on them. The applause was deafening, a mix of cheers from the crowd and the proud faces of their team members watching from below. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest — not in a heavy way, but in a way that made her breath hitch, like she was finally standing inside one of her own dreams.

Lewis was the first to be handed his trophy, the gold gleaming in his hands as he lifted it effortlessly, a wide grin stretched across his face. He turned to her as she was handed her own, and for a second, they just stood there, side by side, both of them holding their awards for securing the Constructors’ Championship — both of them knowing exactly what it took to get here.

Amala glanced up at him, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of it all, and Lewis met her gaze with that knowing, almost teasing smile, like he had seen this moment coming all along. Without thinking, she laughed — giddy, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy. And then, before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped into his space.

Lewis barely hesitated. He wrapped her up in a hug just like he had on every podium throughout the whole year — tight, warm, lifting her slightly off the ground as he swayed them both side to side. The crowd loved it, the cameras flashed, but Amala didn’t care. She buried her face into his shoulder for just a second, soaking it all in.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured, just for her.

She closed her eyes, gripping the trophy in one hand and holding onto him with the other. “Right back at you.”

When they finally pulled back, Lewis slung an arm around her shoulders, still grinning. “Alright, champ. Let’s celebrate.”

And as the cheers grew louder, as the night stretched on, Amala let herself believe — fully, completely — that this was just the beginning.

As they stepped off the stage, she turned to him, her voice barely audible over the applause. “We did it.”

He smiled, leaning closer. “No, you did it. This is just the beginning for you, Amala.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and when they returned to their table, she found herself lacing her fingers through his under the tablecloth.

The night ended with them sitting on the balcony, away from the noise of the party. The city lights stretched out before them, and Lewis turned to her, his expression soft. “You know,” he said, “I’ve had a lot of teammates over the years. But none of them… none of them have made me feel the way you do.”

Amala’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around his. “I’ve been on Twitter and I’ve read something about Brocedes so-”

“Don’t.” he laughed, playfully shaking her before leaning in just enough that their foreheads touched. “I mean it. You’re special, Amala. And I’m so damn proud of you.”

She closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. “I’m proud of you too. For everything.”

When their lips met this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing — 0just the quiet certainty that this was exactly where they were meant to be.

↳ requests are open!⠀⠀↳ check my AO3!⠀⠀↳ main content's table

[lsunstreakerl]

I'm not sure if this is because I have a lot of sympathy for Lewis, want him to hurt, get a hug (or all of the above) but I could absolutely see him tempted to go on a bender after he learns.

Like right after Max leaves, the silence he leaves in his wake. How does he even move on from that? Maybe I'm not a well-adjusted person but I would go on a bender from hell after that.

uhhhh I think I checked all of the above here :)

Nico clears his throat behind him.

Lewis is standing in the hallway still, feet rooted to the floor, Roscoe in his arms.

"Lew- I think you should come back inside."

Nico's voice is soft, gentle behind him. Nico hasn't been gentle with him in years. Decades, even.

Lewis wonders what it says that he's doing it now.

He swallows, a lump in his throat as he turns, letting Roscoe back down to the floor as he steps inside the flat.

Everything feels like it's underwater, through layers of muffled noise. Nothing like the actual race day, when he thought his eardrums would burst from the cheers, because he won Silverstone, his home, took the cocky brat down a few pegs-

Lewis feels like he's splintering. Not a cocky brat-

Max.

Not down a few pegs-

Slammed into his car, slammed into the walls, rattled inside his helmet at 51g, snapped so hard his eyes are damaged and his brain is damaged and he's out, out for good-

"Lewis, you're shaking."

Nico's hand rests softly onto Lewis' shoulder, and he recoils from the touch, because he has no right, none, to get soft things right now, not when he's-

When he's-

"Nico,"

His voice wavers, slightly wet, and Lewis hasn't felt like this in a long time, where everything is quiet and still, where he feels like he's teetering on the edge of... something.

He feels like a balloon, like everything inside him is expanding and won't stop, and the pressure is almost too much-

"What if I'd killed him."

His voice cracks, and it's- it's fucking eating away at him, started splintering inside as Max had walked away.

His sweater is still damp where Max had cried into his shoulder.

Seeking comfort, comfort from Lewis, even though it was Lewis who hit him, Lewis who lost himself in adoring hands-

He feels his nails digging into his palms.

Every pat on the shoulder, every adoring fan, and Max had probably received the same amount of hands on him, but it wasn't love, it was medical gloves and equipment, it was monitors and medicine, because-

Because of Lewis.

Max could have died, and Lewis wouldn't have known, and still he'd wanted Lewis to forgive him, like there was anything there Max needed to be forgiven for.

He blinks rapidly, and suddenly Nico is in front of him, arms wrapping around his waist.

"It's okay, Lew. Let it out."

Lewis doesn't want to let it out, Lewis wants to shove it in a box and let it fester, wants to never touch it again.

When he breathes out it's a sob, and he's gripping Nico as he squeezes his eyes shut, because for the second time tonight someone is going to cry about this accident.

"Fuck, Nico."

He takes another rattling inhale, and then he's stepping away, slams his closed fist onto the marble countertop.

"Fuck!"

He turns back, and he's sure his eyes are wild based on the way Nico is watching him warily, but he doesn't care.

"What is with this damn sport, huh? What is it about these fucking cars and these teams, why does it just- just eliminate the humanity in any of us?"

"Lewis-"

"I never once checked on him, and it's not because it was water under the bridge, it's because I didn't fucking want to know, because I'm not stupid, none of us are, we all should've known there would be serious consequences from that kind of crash-"

He hits the countertop again, feels it all cracking and crumbling to pieces inside of him.

"This sport, man. It turns kids into enemies- he was never- I shouldn't have-"

Nico steps closer, still wary, but his hand is gentle on Lewis' shoulder.

"You're not above it, Lewis. It does that to all of us."

Lewis sinks into the barstool, head in his hands.

"I'm supposed to be better than that, Nico."

"You can't be everything at once."

He laughs, but it's cracked and brittle.

"And whose expense is that at, huh? Certainly not mine."

[gguk-n]

hii can you write one where y/n is dating brocedes at the same time in 2016 and then they find out?

Triple Threat

2016 was a tough year for Lewis and Nico’s friendship; not only on track but off track. Everyone knew how things were going on track but no one knew of the turmoil Y/N was causing off track.

“Lew, you were great” Y/N cooed as they cuddled after the British GP. The title fight was in full swing; “I’m just happy I have you” Lewis mumbled as he sucked on her neck. Y/N moaned softly pulling Lewis in for a kiss. The spent the whole night together as her phone buzzed away. In the morning Y/N left the room with a note on the table saying she was checking up on Nico.

Y/N, Lewis and Nico had been friends since they could remember. They had grown up racing each other in karting and now she watched her two favourite boys race against each other in the same team.

It was almost a year back when Lewis had told her he liked her. Y/N had been dating Nico at that time, unbeknownst to Lewis. They had started dating six months ago and decided to keep it quiet for a while. Y/N could never choose between the two; so when Nico asked her out she agreed; having nursing a crush on the pair since they were teens. So when Lewis asked her out later, she agreed. The two never spoke about their feelings towards Y/N and now they wouldn’t either with the raging title fight. Y/N would end up dividing her time between the two, enjoying the best of both worlds.

After leaving Lewis’s room, Y/N entered Nico’s with the key card she had. The two of them always gave her a key card so that she could come and leave as she wished.

Nico was asleep when she slipped under the covers. The movement of the bed made Nico stir, wrapping his arms around her. “You don’t care about your poor boyfriend” he chided. She pressed a kiss on his lips. “I do but Lewis is my friend too” she remarked snuggling closer. “Stupid Lewis, he gets everything” he muttered and closed his eyes to get some sleep. Little did Nico know, he was correct.

Things went on like that, Y/N juggling her time with the two. Since they were barely interacting without cussing each other out; she was able to continue to date them. But it all came to a head at the Abu Dhabi GP when Nico won the championship with just 5 points after finishing the race behind Lewis. The anger bubbling under Lewis was uncontrollable. Nico in his happiness ran towards Y/N who was with their team. He swept her in his arms and planted a sweaty and messy kiss on her lips. Lewis, who was only a few feet away saw the scene unfold in front of him. Y/N's eyes were wide and she could see Lewis's heart shatter for the second time that night. She moved away from Nico trying to get to Lewis only to be pulled back by Nico who had turned to look at Lewis but he was charging towards the pair. In a flash, Lewis's fist made contact with Nico's face. There were people trying to pull them off each other and cameras flashing, everyone knew what the next headline was going to be. It was only after a while were they able to do that. The cameras flashed as 2 bruised Formula One drivers stood in front of each other, Nico wiping the blood off the corner of his mouth.

"Cheater" Lewis spat towards Y/N who was stood there in shock with tears in her eyes. "I have no clue how long this has been going on for but she's been dating you behind my back" Lewis spoke. "I can explain" Y/N stuttered. "No. You played me, for that fact us" Lewis chided before he stormed off. "What is saying?" Nico asked with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry" was all that came out of her mouth. "Way to ruin someone" Nico said before leaving for the weigh in.

Mercedes were able to get Y/N out of harms way. She tried to talk to the both of them but she realised than that her selfishness had lost her the two people she loved the most in the world.

[forfucksakesniall]

Hi bestie, when you have the time could you make something for lewis, like just domestic vibes and/or he being a complete simp

Domestic Vibes and being a Complete Simp

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Trigger Warning/Content Advisory: Too much fluff

He doesn't show it much, but Lewis is a huge cuddler. When it's a lazy morning, he would bury his face in the crook of your neck and wrap his arms around you. It's a force of habit by now.

Lewis doesn't mind being the "little spoon," wrapping his arms around you as you both cuddle. His reason is because he can hear your heartbeat, but you know why he lays on your chest. You can feel the way he nuzzles his face and leaves small kisses.

He would turn the TV on and watch your favorite shows together while your koala of a boyfriend cuddles under a cozy blanket.

He talks about cooking pasta in an interview, but in reality, he is a menace in the kitchen.

But you enjoy spending time "trying" to cook something decent with him in the kitchen.

"No, Lewis. You need to add the water after." He does his old man laugh. "Oh well, we can just do it again. I guess."

When working out on his balcony in Monaco, he would encourage you to join him, making him your personal trainer. "Just one more, baby," he whispers in your ear. "I can't anymore, Lew." you try to catch your breath. "But you've only done one squat, baby."

When he did have work, he would wake up early and give you a kiss on the head before getting ready. Before he leaves the house, he would give you a kiss goodbye while you were still asleep and leave a message on your phone to see when you get up.

Lewis:

Good morning, baby.

Didn't want to wake you up.

You deserve some rest after last night ;)

I'll see you later.

I love you so much!

I love you too!!

If you ever did wake up before he left, he'd make breakfast for you and make sure to use all the time he has with you.

"You'll be late!" you tell him while he has you caged under him. "I still have some time, baby. Just let me take care of you. Don't want you feeling neglected."

When he comes late, you would wait for him in bed watching a movie or reading a book.

"Hey, baby. Why are you still awake?" he asks you. "I wanted to wait for you. You've been gone all day."

Both of you would end up in long, late-night conversations about life and dreams, making sure you always feel listened to and supported.

There may be times when you feel under the weather or when your hormones are acting up. He would stay with you longer and even call in sick if needed.

"You shouldn't have done that... This will pass. I'll be fine later anyway," you say as you cradle his face while lying in bed.

"I don't want to leave knowing that you're not feeling okay. I would be thinking about you even if I leave. Might as well stay here and take care of you," he says, leaning in close to give you a sweet kiss.

Lewis is known for being fashion-forward. While he shops for himself, he would go to the women's section to check out anything that you might like.

He would come home with dozens of bags from different brands."Looks like someone had Christmas early," you tease him. "Oh baby, this isn't even close to Christmas for you," he tells you while setting all the bags down on the floor. "I need you to be a good girl and try some things for me," he winks while getting more bags from the car.

He is seen on all your social media posts. He can't resist leaving flirty comments and adorable emojis, making sure everyone knows he's head over heels for you.

Lewis is known to be very private with his life, definitely with you. So, whenever you guys were in public, he would always take you to a place where there's a private area to be with you. Being this protective also had its perks. He knows that after they serve your food, no one would come over to check on you two again unless you both are done with your meals. He would be really handsy under the table. Light touches on your arm, the way he looks into your eyes then lips and at the same time leans in closer to you. At this point, the only thing stopping him was the table between you.

But when you're with him or your friends, he doesn't shy away from PDA. He would hug you from behind, holding your waist, have you sit on his lap, kiss your cheek from time to time, and whisper sweet nothings.

Lewis loves taking pictures with you or of you, creating a personalized gallery of your love story.

[its-avalon-08]

hearts intertwined (hamilton x sister! driver!rosberg) p9

chapter 9: don't let your guard down

warnings - none at all

series masterlist

As the warmth of the coffee spread through them, so did the conversation. They delved back into their childhood, sharing forgotten memories with easy laughter. Lewis spoke of his surprise and (secretly) delight when Y/N began showing up at his and Nico's racing practice sessions, her bright personality a welcome change to their competitive intensity.

Y/N, in turn, confessed her childhood crush on him, a secret she'd harbored for years. "I used to sneak peeks at you during races," she admitted with a blush, "just waiting around with cold bottles of water and hoping you'd notice me cheering you on from the stands."

Lewis chuckled, a genuine smile warming his features. "Believe me, I noticed." He felt a warm feeling bloom in his chest

The conversation grew more serious as they touched upon the rift between Lewis and Nico. Y/N listened intently as Lewis spoke of the crushing pressure to win, the constant need to prove himself. "It's frightening. I turned into a totally different person and I wasn't able to recognize myself after everything with-with.. Nico," Lewis's voice broke towards the end truly giving away how hurt he was. He admitted his fear of commitment, not just on the track but in his personal life.

"Dating is… complicated," Lewis confessed, running a hand through his hair. "There's never enough time, and the fear of failing… it spills over into everything. I am not able to enjoy the simple things like movie nights because I'm always checking my phone to see if Toto sent me something. I forget anniversaries because I'm occupied with all the other overwhelming things."

Y/N nodded in understanding. "I totally get it," she said softly. "I had a serious relationship a few years ago with this guy called Aaron. We were together for a year but it crashed and burned because of his.. inability to stay away from his ex's bed. We just weren't right for each other. I wanted my career and he wanted someone who stayed at home and didn't travel as much. I just could never be that person for him."

A shadow crossed Lewis's face. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It's okay," Y/N forced a smile. "I learned a lot from it, mostly that I deserve someone who can be honest and true."

Suddenly, a playful glint returned to her eyes. "Speaking of which, I'm actually seeing someone casually right now. It keeps the pressure off from being permanently held to someone and just allows me to have a fun time. Just to keep things interesting, you know?"

Lewis's smile faltered, a flicker of something akin to jealousy crossing his features. He quickly masked it, but Y/N caught the shift in his demeanor.

"Oh," he said, his voice a touch colder. "That's… nice. yeah, that's good."

The conversation stalled, a heavy silence settling between them. Y/N's phone buzzed insistently in her pocket. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was her brother calling. Her face paled considering she had just spent over an hour talking to Nico's rival.

"Well," she said, standing up. "This has been… nice. Unexpected, but nice. I should probably get going."

Lewis rose as well, a strange mixture of emotions swirling within him. "Yeah, of course. See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," she echoed, feeling the awkwardness return. "Bye, Lew- Lewis." She corrected herself from muttering his nickname. Lewis noticed and he felt his heart freeze.

With a mumbled goodbye, Y/N exited the apartment, leaving Lewis alone with the lingering scent of her vanilla perfume and a tangled web of emotions. He watched her disappear down the hallway, a strange ache settling in his chest. He hadn't expected her to be seeing someone, and the realization stung more than he cared to admit.

Lewis sank back into the chair, the worn leather a stark reminder of a simpler time. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to rebuild the bridges that had been burned. But first, he had to confront his own fears, both on and off the track. As the afternoon sun streamed through the window, Lewis knew his journey to redemption had just begun.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @xoscar03 , @torossosebs , @jajouska , @lindsayjoy444 , @barcelonaloverf1life , @charli123456789

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

leave a like! leave a comment! reblogs are appreciated!

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | MS47 | part. 22

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!hamilton!reader ― Word count: 2.2k ― Warnings: graphic description of unprotected sex (fingering, dirty talk, and p in v), mentions of alcohol, and jealousy.  ― Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

part. 21 | series masterlist | part 23

The first beads of sun slipped through the open blinds waking Yn from her deep slumber. With her head pounding slightly, and her body sore, she snuggled closer to the body she knew belonged to her boyfriend. Mick mumbled something in German, which she chose to ignore in favor of catching a few more minutes of sleep. 

They were tired. Last night was a blast for them, and though the couple had a bit too much to drink, both were well aware of exactly what happened when they were at the party and when they got home. 

Between unmade bed sheets, and naked limbs laced together, Yn and Mick caught a few more minutes of sleep, and those minutes would probably turn into hours if it hadn’t been for her phone ringing somewhere in the room. The unstoppable sound wakes Mick up too. He looked around, threw a pillow where he thought the sound was coming from, and turned his body, fitting his head on Yn’s neck. She grumbled, and hugged her lover, trying to ignore whoever it was, but the sound kept going until she got up, cursing technology and the caller’s generation. And as it just so happens, she had cursed her older brother, Lewis.

“Yes?” She sighed, walking back to bed and into Mick’s open arma. His body was warm, and she took the opportunity to leave a peck on his chest.

“Did you just wake up?!” 

“Well, yes? It’s early. I don’t know how you travel so much and still get confused with timezones…” 

Lewis rolls his eyes, she can’t see it, but she can tell just by his sassy answer, “Early to who exactly, Yn Y/l/n Hamilton?”

“Me, of course.”

“Check the clock,” he orders and she does, groaning when she realizes it's almost noon.

“Who is it?” Mick asks, finally starting to wake up. 

“It’s Lew,” she explains, clicking on the speaker button.

“Oh, Mick is there too?” 

“Yeah, we were sleeping,” Yn keeps her answer short.

“Where’s Gina?”

“I don’t know, Lew, you have her number, you could just call her directly? Also, did you call me to ask a bunch of random questions?” she complains, the sleeplessness in her voice showing, and her brother rolling his eyes again. He knows how stressed Yn could get when someone woke her up before her alarm, and something about waking up to the phone ringing just made her more stressed.

“I was just wondering if she knew you guys were making it public, or if I was the only clueless one.” Yn cursed, hiding her face on Mick’s neck, “Do you even remember it?” 

“Yes, I remember. I’m sorry, Lew,” she didn’t want to do things the way it happened, but sometimes you can’t get around planning everything. She didn’t plan on paparazzi to stress her out until she deactivated her social media accounts. Nor did she plan on falling in love with her brother’s friend and coworker. At this point, Yn was getting used to following the flow of life, sometimes it has its own wants, and you just gotta go with it. “We did drink, but we weren’t crazy drunk, we…uhm…how do I explain this?” she bites her lips and Mick chuckles.

“The simple way.”

“We got sick of pretending,” Mick finally speaks. His deep morning voice brought chills down Yn’s body.

“People were hitting on us, and we showed them why we reeeeally weren’t interested,” Yn adds, and Mick chuckles. 

“She got jealous.”

“I did not get jealous, Mickolas.”

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbles, landing a slap on her ass and making her yelp, then giggle.

“Anyways, I didn’t get jealous, Lew. I’m not a jealous person and you know that, right? Tell him how I’m hardly the jealous type.”

Her brother laughs from the other side of the line, “She cried when a friend of mine started calling herself my sister during my high school years.”

Mick moves his face to the ceiling and his laughs boom around the room.

“Shut up, I was just a kid, and she had a brother, why would she want mine?” Yn tries to reason, and the two men can only get amused with the whole situation. “And Lew, those people were CRAZY! We told one of them we were dating, Mick kissed me just to make a point, and this girl just suggested a threesome!!! Of course, I was pissed.”

Lewis makes a disgusted noise and Yn looks pointedly at Mick as if to prove her point: she wasn’t jealous, someone just crossed the line at the party and she had to grab the reins.

“You’re so hot when you’re all bossy, and jealous,” Mick moves his lips to her ears, his whisper is warm against her exposed skin and so are his lips when he kisses and nips her neck.

“Are you hard launching right now? Or dropping a note, I don’t know,” Lewis asks, unaware of how distracted his sister is.

“We haven’t talked about it yet, we just woke up,” Yn didn’t know how her brain was able to form coherent sentences and let them leave her mouth because the way Mick’s kisses were trailing up her collarbone was enough to make her lose all senses.

“Yup, we’re exhausted,” Mick detaches his lips from her skin to speak, “We really need to get some sleep, can we call you later, man?”

“Yeah, take care you two, love you guys,” Lewis’ answer is followed by an “I love you” from Yn and a quick “bye” from Mick before the German threw the phone behind his back.

“Mickolas, my phone!” Yn screeched and moaned between a laugh when his hands found her ass.

“I already told you to stop calling me that.” 

“It’s funny,” she bit her lips and chuckled remembering how some fans were calling him that as if it was his real name.

“I’ll show you funny,” his blue orbs pierced hers with such an intensity her smile faltered, and she had to bite back a moan. That was his power over her, one look, and Mick had Yn in dreamland, twisting in anticipation.

Still, she has it in her to be sassy. Anything but losing the joke, “Are you sure you’re about to show me funny? Because I have a feeling it’s a different thing.”

“Well, it can be funny, you know, but since you’re in a silly mood, I guess we can adopt a new approach,” his mouth trailed lower until they found one of her breasts. Yn curved her body, exposing more of her naked brown skin just for him. She looked so good. The previous night Yn had skipped the bonnet and the night ritual they usually had, both too tipsy to think about something but finish what they started at the bar and then go to sleep, so now her curls were everywhere framing her face like a crown. Mick had traveled everywhere, seen too much of the world, and known a lot of people, but Yn was his favorite sight. He loved the sunset, but he would give it up to see her going to sleep every night, the way her lashes would caress her smooth skin, her breath starting to even, and her body going soft on top of his. He had been in love with sunrises since he was a little boy, watching them with his family during vacation, climbing mountains to get a new version of it, but no questions asked, Mick would exchange it for waking up next to Yn, the way her eyes would slowly open like the sun climbing up to show all its light, how her body would stretch taking its needed space like one claim their land, and how her lips would stretch into his favorite smile shining over the whole room. She was his favorite person. 

He put his mouth on her with the same intensity one crawls to their knee at an altar. The same devotion one would previously kneel in front of their queen, head bowed, ears perked, body ready to obey. She was the queen of his heart, she had all its land, she dominated his mind, and all it would take was one word for Mick to make it happen. 

Yn threaded her fingers through his messy blond strands, moaning when he twisted one of her nipples inside his mouth, sucking and biting as if wanting to leave his mark there. It hurt so good.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, kissing down her belly, letting his teeth graze into her skin every second just to watch the way her body would jolt in pleasure under him, “So so pretty, Schatzi.” 

His pink plush lips were home to more praises, while they kissed down her body separating her thighs and stopping between them. His thick accent gave space to German sentences and Yn reached for him again, this time intertwining their fingers while he kept going, softly giving her words she didn’t really recognize, but knew to be love ones. 

Such a sweet talker.

“So sweet,” he mouthed against her pussy, making a jolt run through her body. “And mine, aren’t you all mine, Schatz?” 

Yn closed her eyes, panting something that neither one of them could understand, too at the moment to care. All of her senses focused on the tight hold his fingers had around hers, and how he feasted between her legs, like a starved man, a thirsty one. 

“I didn’t hear you, love,” he teases, stopping his ministrations to look at her. 

Yn huffs, then whines taking her hand from her nipple to his hair, but the blonde down her body doesn’t move an inch, big shoulders keeping her legs apart, face right in front of her needing core, but attention now set on her face.

“I’m yours,” it's a whisper, but he catches it by the stretch on his lips. The kind of smirk only she can take. “I’m all yours, Mick,” and those three words accompanied by his name like a prayer were all it took for the German to flatten his tongue against her core, feeling her pussy dampen even more. 

He used his fingers to spread her lips for him before inserting two. They slid in so easily that Mick couldn’t help but groan moving his lower half against the white sheets. He licked and frantically moved his fingers making Yn’s head lull from side to side, her lips conjuring what she could only say were prayers, his name clear as the sunlight that beamed their bodies through the windows. 

Still sore from the previous night’s ministrations, Yn felt the pulsing between her legs start to grow, her body screaming to reach the top of the rollercoaster, only for Mick to stop his fingers and detach his mouth from her clit. She protested, but his lips were quick to crash against hers in a languid kiss. Yn moaned, pulling him into her, and Mick took the opportunity to swiftly align their bodies, sliding inside her smoothly. With one of her hands on his hair, the other on his back, and legs laced around his narrow waist, they felt the jolts of pleasure buzzing through their bodies. 

He pounds lazily, building Yn’s orgasm all over again. His face hid against her neck while he kissed and nipped at her skin, putting his lips on her ears and dirty talking every once in a while. The last time he did so he let a moan there, and he wasn’t expecting her to be so affected, because the second Mick did Yn clenched around him, legs tightening around him, and teeth sinking into his shoulder, her orgasm washing like a high wave, before her body went limp under him. 

He gives her a few more thrusts, enough to ride her climax, and to cause his. A choked groan leaves his lips, as he presses their foreheads together, body dissolving into pleasure. Mick sighed, lying on his back and bringing Yn’s body on top of his. He pecked her lips and stopped a drop of sweat that rolled down her forehead. 

Yn only hummed in satisfaction enjoying the warm feeling of their sweaty bodies intertwined.

“What do you wanna do, babe?” Mick asks while his fingers lazily strum on her naked back.

“I think it’s time we make it public. I’m tired of all the speculation, and also it wasn’t the highlight of my night watching people flirt with you as if you were single,” she grumbled the last part and the blonde chuckled. 

“You were jealous,” it’s a statement, but his tone gives away he’s making fun of her. A tease.

“You’re the one who grabbed me and sat me on your lap.”

“You’re the one who kissed me.” 

“Well, sitting on someone’s lap proves a point, I figured you wanted to make it public,” she shrugs, dragging her nails softly from his hips to the middle of his abdomen. “Also, why would you put me in your lap out of the blue, huh?” 

Mick rolls his eyes and bites back a chuckle. She had a point. He kind of started it, but “Was I supposed to watch that douche shoot his shot?” 

“Ha! See?! You were jealous.” 

He seals their lips in a kiss, “doesn’t matter anymore, now we get to shut the flirts down without too much work.” His statement makes Yn giggle between the kiss, and he can’t help but smile. His sunshine. 

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, lovelies! I hope you liked this chapter. I know it took me forever again, but the waiting is about to be over hehe, I wanted to add a huge shout-out to C (my Coffee emoji anon here on Tumblr) for proofreading this and for keeping my komh thoughts alive, I was honestly a bit unmotivated, thanks C! <3. Let me know your thoughts with a reblog or an ask *mwah*.  

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @ferrariloverr @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @heelariously @scopeiguess @princewis @thatgibbsygirl @leclercsluv @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @@barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.  

[bloodstainedsaint]

loose lips sink ships (lewis nixon x medic! reader)

summary: lewis nixon's alcoholism has been getting worse. you, a medic of easy company, are responsible for the well-being of the men, so you're sent to babysit look after an inebriated lew.

word count: 2100+

warnings: pathetic attempts (multiple) at comedy, drinking, alcoholism, drunken love confessions, lil pining, lil angst, nixon being a lil shit and a cheater??? but his wife divorces him so idk

notes: sorry if this is sloppy 😭 writing dialogue is hard

Your first time speaking to Captain (actually, you weren't sure of his rank anymore— you'd heard he'd gotten demoted to Battalion S3 by Colonel Sink recently) Lewis Nixon was after Operation Market Garden, where he got lightly burned by a stray shot to his helmet. You recalled it going something like this:

“You’re lucky to be alive, sir,” you said at the aid station where the then Lieutenant Winters had sent Nixon to get his graze checked, though there was really no use for it.

“I sure feel lucky,” he responded with a weird, almost dazed stare at you, as if you were some kind of angel sent from heaven to save him from his minor injury.

You met his eyes with a slightly raised eyebrow and assumed that he was just coming to terms with his brush with death. “You'll be fine, sir. Just try not to be in the trajectory of any other stray bullets, and you'll stay that way.”

He nodded and procured a flask from his pocket. “You drink?”

You narrowed your eyes at the container. “I try not to on the job.”

“Well, cheers to being alive, then,” he said, taking a swig.

“...Cheers.”

Following that encounter, you found yourself worrying about the officer more than you thought was normal— if a medic being especially troubled over one soldier was normal at all. Your eyes would search for him in a sea of people to see how tired or hungover he appeared. Whenever you got a chance to talk to him, you would brew him coffee or tea to help with his hangovers, seeing as medicine was always scarce and never spare enough to freely hand out.

You weren't sure where your worry for his well-being came from, but whatever it was, it wasn't quelled by the way he would ask you to stay and chat while he finished his cup— if you weren't busy, of course. The wry grin he would occasionally flash at you was burned into your mind, and his sardonic wit along with his competence as an officer, regardless of his love for alcohol, was impressed upon you. In these fleeting moments of peace, you learned of his rather privileged upbringing, his military background, and that he had a family waiting for him back home. Despite not even knowing what your own intentions were getting close to him, when he told you that last fact, your heart sank a little in your chest.

Your concern for him grew with the recent news that his alcoholism had reared its head again while the company was sent to idly occupy Germany. Someone had broken into a drugstore earlier that week; you'd suspected it was Lew scrounging around for booze. Though the war was coming to an end, he’d been looking more exhausted and ill-tempered as of late. You had yet to really talk to him about how he was holding up; in the meantime, you had been eyeing him from afar, trying to gauge where he was physically and mentally, your heart breaking at how you rarely saw him smile or laugh anymore. Everyone in the company had changed after Bastogne, but you suspected it was his disastrous third combat jump that prompted him to hit the bottle this time.

Now in Landsberg, you were in the middle of playing cards with some of the men in your billet’s living room when Major Winters knocked on the doorway.

“(Y/N),” he called. “Could I speak with you?”

You placed your cards on the table face up, presenting your good hand to the men who groaned in unison at the sight. “Coming, sir.”

As Winters brought you down the hall, you pondered what could be so important that the Major would come personally to speak to you, of all people.

He stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to you, seeming to have read your mind. “It's about Nixon.”

Your eyebrows creased slightly in concern. “Oh. Nixon.”

“Yeah, you know him?” Winters offered a dry smile that you returned.

“What happened?”

“I'm worried about him. Ever since his jump with the 17th Airborne, he’s been drinking more than usual.”

You sighed and cast your eyes downward. “I've heard.”

“I’d like you to look after him for a while. For tonight, at least. Make sure he doesn't drink himself into a coma.”

“Me?” You looked back up at him. “Why not Doc Roe?”

“You’ve been taking care of him for a while, (Y/N). I've noticed.” He didn't sound accusing in the slightest, yet you felt your cheeks warm from embarrassment. Winters continued in a slightly more conspiratorial voice, “And Nix asked for you specifically.”

You fought the blush creeping up to your ears. “Is that right…I'll, uh, have to lord that over Eugene.”

The corner of Winters’ lips quirked up knowingly. “Of course.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder. “Good luck, Doc. He's in his room. You know how to get there.”

Winters turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway. It was true that you knew which house he was quartered in; you made it a point to know ever since you began treating his hangovers. However, the thought of being alone with Lew was always nerve-wracking and had been from the start, for reasons you didn't have the courage to explore.

-

With a glass of water and a book in hand, anticipating him to be knocked out from all the liquor in his system, you knocked on the door to his room. As you expected, there was no response save for the soft snoring coming from within. You opened the door a sliver and found the floral-wallpapered room lit up with a bedside lamp and the moonlight pouring in from the open window as the day spanned into night. You spotted a messy-haired head poking out from under the strewn blankets and smelled whiskey in the air. Upon fully opening the door and entering the room, the snoring abruptly stopped. He slurred, half-muffled by the pillow his face was buried in, “Who's there?”

“It’s (Y/N),” you replied, turning on some more lamps around the space.

“Oh. Hey, (Y/N).” Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. It wasn’t the first time you'd seen him in just a tanktop and shorts, his dog tags dangling around his neck, but he had always been half-conscious from a hangover when you saw him like this. Not awake and actively drunk like he was now. “How're you?”

“You're on your way to liver failure, Lewis,” you said sternly as you pulled up a chair next to his bed. “As for me, I'm doing better than you right now.”

He pouted petulantly. “You only call me Lewis when you're mad at me.”

You shot him a look. “And why would I be mad at you?”

“I dunno, you tell me.” Nixon gave you a lazy smile.

You sighed, directing your glare to the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, which you observed was not even his favorite brand of Vat 69. You handed him the glass of water. “Here, drink up.”

Squinting, he sniffed it. “It's not more liquor, is it?”

“No, it's motor fuel, now drink.”

“Oh no, not more ethanol,” he joked, raising the glass in a cheers motion before downing it and clumsily setting the empty glass on the nightstand. He kept his gaze on you as you sat down, opened up your book, and attempted to read, avoiding his stare.

Crossing his arms behind his neck at your efforts to ignore him, he leaned on the headboard. “What is that? Twain? Poe? Ah, Shakespeare? ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’”

You spared a glance at him. “Sometimes I forget you're a scholar, Lew.”

“Ohoho. Try to play some Beethoven and tell me it's Mozart. I’ll figure it out”—he snaps—“like that.”

“Not in this state you will,” you glowered. Nix retained his expectant countenance, so you answered, “It's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Some of the guys got done reading it, so now it's my turn.”

He hummed. “What’s it about then, Miss (Y/N)? Enlighten me.”

“If you’d let me read it, then I could tell you,” you said, continuing in a lower voice, "How are you an intelligence officer if you're this mouthy when drunk...and you're drunk most of the time."

“You say somethin’?”

“Nothing, Lew.” You tried to take in the words on the page, but the way he was looking at you made your skin feel hot. Exhaling and setting down your book, you turned your focus to him.

“You still hiding Vat 69 in Winters’ footlocker?” you asked, silently cursing the satisfied expression that spread over his face at your attention.

“Wha, hey, how'd you know about that?”

“You told me. While half-asleep and hungover.”

His lips stretched into a smile as he seemed to recall. “That I did. See, the real shame is that there’s not a single drop of the thing in the whole damn country. So no, there’s no booze in Dick’s footlocker.”

You glanced again at the unfamiliar bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. “And that’s why you've been drinking alternatives?”

“Beggars can't be choosers.” He shrugged with a sluggish wave of the hand. “I'm half-convinced you and Dick are hiding some from me!”

You chuckled. “That's not a half-bad idea. It wouldn't stop you from getting drunk off other kinds of hooch, though. Speaking of… why'd you start drinking this time?”

“Oh, you know.” He gestured vaguely. “I got divorced. She sent me a letter in the mail. Real sweet of her.”

Your face fell, the mood suddenly not so lighthearted. “...I’m sorry to hear that, Nix.”

“It’s alright. Didn’t like her much anyway. She took the dog.” A beat of silence passed, and he gave you an unreadable look. “Was kinda waitin' for it anyhow.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Waiting for it? But before you could question it, you noticed his eyelids drooping as he uncrossed his arms from behind his neck to cover a yawn with his hands. You figured it was better to let him rest before pressing him on it.

“You settling down now?” you asked, getting up to brush his unkempt hair from his face and check his temperature with the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” he murmured. He settled into his bed before tiredly swatting your hand away, complaining, “I’m not hungover yet!”

A slight smile graced your face. “Not gonna piss into a cup this time, are you?”

“Maybe next time,” he said with a smirk before blearily staring at you for a while, like the same way he did all those months ago in Holland. Your heart felt strangled in your chest.

Clearing your throat, you turned and grabbed your book and the glass. “Goodnight, Lew.”

He blinked up at you. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ve got people who need me,” you said, a small laugh bubbling up from your throat.

“What if I need you?”

“Beside a hangover, you'll be fine,” you smiled, believing he was joking until you looked at him and found his face dead serious, almost pleading. Your eyes had to be deceiving you, right? Or maybe your mind was spinning things the wrong way.

He propped himself up on his elbows. “Before you leave," he started, breaking his gaze for a second before meeting yours. "You're really beautiful, you know that?”

You were stunned into silence with widened eyes, floundering for words. “Lew, I…”

“And don't say, ‘You’re drunk, Lewis, you don't know what you're talking about.’ I’ve liked you for months now, (Y/N). Sometimes it feels like I'm fighting this war for you, so we could be together after.” Somehow his voice was the steadiest it’s been the entire night, and that scared you.

You suddenly felt bashful, afraid he could hear your heart pounding loud in your chest. “I…like you, too, Lew.”

A soft beam adorned his flushed face. “And if I forget in the morning, I’ll just tell you again. I’ll tell you over and over until it's the only thing I can remember piss-drunk.”

“I’ll be making sure you're never piss-drunk again, but… I’ll remind you. Keep your word.” You leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“That you will,” he said impishly, grabbing you from around the waist and pulling you next to him in the sheets, his arms encircling your body.

“Hey!” you giggled, struggling against his bear-like grasp. “Can I at least get my boots off?”

He snickered into your hair and held you close.

“Nope.”

-

Bonus:

A couple of hours had passed, and there was no sign of Doc (Y/N). Figuring she was still with Nix, Dick decided to check in on them.

Knocking on the door and receiving no response, he let himself in, saying while surveying the room, “Doc, you still there— Oh.”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley

[tavolgisvist]

Allen Klein is a businessman. He has had dealings with a guy called Tony Calder who worked as a partner for Andrew Oldham. The three of them managed the affairs of the Rolling Stones. Oldham & Calder left the Stones scene, but Klein stayed. … Tony has something on his mind that is why he is taking me to work in his Morgan. He says: ‘Allen Klein says you are in his way. Allen says you are blocking him from meeting the Beatles and doing business with them.’ I am amazed. I say, ‘I never give Allen Klein a thought from one year to the next. What is the guy talking about, me being in his way?’ … So I tell Tony if Klein thinks I am in his way, and as I’m not in his way, I’d better show the guy I’m not, by moving out of the way anyone else who might be in his way. I tell Tony to tell Klein I am (a) not in his way, and (b) if anyon I tell Tony to tell Klein to call. I go into work at Apple and I see Peter Brown, Brian’s old pal, mine, the Beatles, Apple’s and so on. Peter knows many things. I say, ‘Allen Klein wants to meet the Beatles.’ ‘Does he ever,’ says Peter. I ask: ‘Is there anyone in his way?’ Peter says, ‘Only the Beatles.’ He explains Brian didn’t like Klein and the Beatles had never heard anything about him that attracted them either. … I say there is this guy Klein who badly wants to see them. John says yeah, Klein’s been trying to reach him but he won’t take the call. I do some hype for Klein and say he is a strange cat, hated by some of the people who met him and also by some of the people who have only heard of him. George says, ‘he sounds really nice’, and I say that if they want someone to run their money scene then Klein may be the man. But I also say they had better look at him very hard and ask around Jagger and Donovan and the others he handles. I mean really check Klein out. But see him too. See him face to face. John says OK, I’ll see him and the others rhubarb a bit and that’s the lunch over. I call Les Perrin and tell him tell Klein to call and Klein does and then he flies over really fast, like yesterday. He meets John, they talk all night and boy do they dig each other. John comes into the office and says, ‘Don’t care about the others, don’t give a shit … but I’m having Klein, he can have all of my stuff and get it sorted out.’ John says there is too much fear around, everyone must stop being frightened, everything is going to be fantastic, like Klein is going to be the genie of the lamp. Paul, George and Ringo get to meet Klein and he begins to act as if he is half-hired but maybe not. He says he will save Northern Songs from the wicked Lew Grade. He says he will buy NEMS Enterprises. He says he will take EMI to the cleaners. In the end he doesn’t save Northern Songs and he doesn’t buy NEMS Enterprises, but takes EMI and Capitol to the cleaners and to hell and back… …

It is 1970. Paul still doesn’t like Klein but John digs him more than ever and George digs him more than that and Ringo doesn’t mind him. Paul? He is so uptight about Klein he only leaves the Beatles, that’s all. Klein and me meet the press and TV and all that; together we sit on a sofa and talk about Paul. Mr Klein, why doesn’t Paul like you? Mr Taylor, why doesn’t Paul like Mr Klein? I don’t know, don’t ask me, man, don’t ask me. Paul releases his album and Klein releases the Beatles’ album and they both make a million and Klein has had Phil Spector remix Paul’s song ‘The Long and Winding Road’, adding a women’s choir and some violins etc. Paul thinks this is the shittiest thing anyone has ever done to him and that is saying something, but Klein laughs up his silk sleeve and releases ‘Long and Winding Road’ as a single anyway and still with Phil’s new arrangement. Up there in Scotland, Paul McCartney, one of the four owners of Apple, the company formed to give total freedom, artistic control, to struggling performers and writers, wonders what went wrong, when even he can’t control his own work. I am wondering too. Everyone is wondering. But Klein isn’t wondering. He knows, he knows. …

Money is pouring into Apple so I guess you could say that Allen Klein straightened Apple out as the Beatles wanted it. The only thing is … where is Apple and where are the Beatles? If you find out, please let me know, I haven’t seen them in a long time. The way I see it, Klein is really bringing a whole lot of people down, including me sometimes and I have a deal which keeps me at home writing stuff like this so what am I whining about? Well, being as how I brought Klein to Apple, by making sure the way was clear, I owe someone, somewhere something, that’s for sure. What is it and what have I done? Our Apple is all chewed up. It is the most ungroovy place I ever knew and I have to say it, we have all let it happen, all of us, but me, I told Tony Calder to tell Klein to call and if I am going to make any more mistakes about Allen Klein, then let it be writing this, let it be.

(Derek Taylor, As Time Goes By, 1973)

(Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI)

[nightfurylover31]

I’ve seen a few recent posts about Amy’s character recently. Saying “she’s not allowed to chase Sonic is bad” or “they took her perkiness,” etc. Now, if you guys think how she’s being written is bad, then you guys should see Amy in the Fleetway comics. I read them, and much as I enjoyed her, there is very little “Amy about her.

While Amy did start off as the lovestruck girl, she would go through a lot of changes. Even though she was the newest member of the Freedom Fighters, yes Fleetway used the same name, she quickly rose to being the brains, as well as second-in-command. Whenever Sonic got pulled away on solo missions or incapacitated, which happened a lot, Amy was the one who took the lead. I do like how this Amy uses a crossbow instead of a hammer, this was before Sonic the Fighters.

And if people think Amy in IDW is bland, boy do they need a double check! While Amy did seem to have feelings for Sonic in the beginning, it would eventually dwindle completely out of existence. Nigel Kitching would later go on to say that crush might have been just to annoy Sonic. And while a lot of the characters have their own flaws, Amy pretty much has none. She’s always right, comes up with the winning strategies, sharp-witted, and hardly ever loses her cool. And all the cheerfulness and compassion Amy is usually known for is not there. Let me put it another way. You know how Amy was able to talk down Gamma and Shadow? This Amy would more than likely just shoot them with her crossbow.

I really, REALLY hate to say this, but Fleetway Amy is the one that really comes off as a Sally knock off. I like both characters, and it feels insulting to both of them to say that, but it’s true. Especially with how Deborah Tate and Lew Stringer took over for writing. Tate wanted a more level headed version for girls, but this took away anything lot that could lead to character development. Heck, even Amy’s backstory was changed. Even though she was easily captured in her first appearance, in issue #127, the origins of her pink coloring, she took down a base all by herself. This happened before she met Sonic.

While I agree Amy has been very toned down from what she was in the 2000s, some of her old habits are still there. She hugs Sonic, she gets lovestruck eyes, and throws out the occasional flirt. And she still has her moments of comfort and encouragement. Like reassuring Jewel during the forest fire, She also didn’t fully trust Surge and Kit, but still wanted to give them a chance to change. Amy can even lose her temper at times, she just doesn’t direct to towards her friends.

As for her leading, she was operations commander in Sonic Forces, and she has led her own teams in various other games. But leading an entire organization, one where Knuckles was no longer co-leader, that was too much. And we didn’t have an extended enough cast established yet for someone else to take over. If you look deeper into Amy’s character of how she is portrayed now, you still see some of her old self.

[sixth-light]

WoT 2x08 thoughts

WoT s2 really, I haven't got to blog the season like I would have wanted because (checks notes) everybody in this household has been sick for a month and counting (do not recommend). No order here, just things as I think of them, full series book spoilers possible:

They really did stick the landing on this season for me, as well as line everything up so neatly for next season. I think S2 is really going to reward a rewatch.

Particularly re:Lanfear. I literally choked when she walked up to Bayle Domon and started talking about the pieces of cuendillar she'd sold him. I know the Dark Prophecy is probably still legit because we flashed back to Ishamael reciting it as he released her BUT ALSO I am now imagining her lying on her bed surrounded by screwed-up drafts as she tries to make it sufficiently ominous.

The Forsaken shenanigans this season have just smashed it out of the park and we only had two of them. I presume we're going to highlight one or two a season for practical purposes (and ofc TSR/TFoH are the Moghedien-Nynaeve books) so I reckon next season we mostly get Moghedien and...I guess Asmodean if we're doing that plotline at all?

Man I so liked my "evil Seanchan/less evil Seanchan" theory but the way they ruthlessly killed off every named Seanchan character this episode (yes we didn't see Suroth and Alwhin's bodies, but that seemed pretty fatal, they explicitly did NOT show any ships getting away) says to me that they want to put that plotline on ice until the Corenne and Tuon arrive. It could still work but we'd have to introduce more Seanchan nobles to make it happen...or...they could make the whole Extremely Dysfunctional Imperial Family dynamic real by having one or more of Tuon's siblings tag along. That was a very tell-not-show element of the books and then rendered irrelevant by Semirhage murdering all of them at once.

Extremely out-there theory: the way they're focusing on Moghedien being 'insane' and having Lanfear refer to the rest of the Forsaken as 'the boys' and being visibly wary of Moggy...what if they merge Moghedien and Semirhage? After all, Moggy goes after the Sad Bracelets first even if Semirhage is the one who uses them...

THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP as that gifset going around demonstrates, this really was the theme of the season. I continue to love how much these kids love each other (and the lingering fear the show has planted that it won't matter, because look where Lews Therin and Ishamael and Lanfear ended up...). Totally bought that they would all just roll with running into each other like that when there was a clear and present threat.

Rand is still so much in his 'just trying to protect my friends' era, poor kiddo, we're going to see that get more and more worn away as the Pattern forces him into bigger and bigger confrontations.

MAT, goddamn, his story took a bit of time to get moving but looking back all the pieces are there. Everything about the knife-on-a-stick sequences was just. fjlkfsdjklfsadjlkfsd. Amazing foreshadowing AND a funny and effective piece of storytelling in the moment. Particularly enjoyed the use of the dagger to open the box with the Horn.

Re: Min's vision: I'm thinking that at some point next season someone will report back to her what actually happened and we're going to see an arc with her learning about her own power and realising that her visions can be partial or metaphorical.

Man I hope Egwene gets lots of nice things next season because this one has been (not unexpectedly) brutal. Completely on board with her killing Renna. I wonder if they're getting rid of the 'sparker/learner' distinction in the show, given what she said to Renna about sul'dam just being very weak in the Power. I also wonder what 'very weak' actually means coming from Egwene, who canonically in the show can hold up against a Forsaken for some length of time (another change I am fine with).

Fascinating to think about Perrin in 2x08, straight-up killing Geofram Bornhald for killing Hopper, vs Perrin in 1x08 deliberately choosing pacifism. I don't actually mind that they gave him some unquestionable culpability here; in the books it was always SO obvious he wasn't in the wrong that it felt silly.

Relatedly, I think what's going on with Nynaeve (to the extent that anything is, she certainly didn't suffer for screentime this season) is that like Perrin her PERSONAL plot actually stalls out around book 8-9 - they're slowburning her block storyline for the same reasons they're slowburning his Wolfbrother one, I reckon. I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't heal stilling until much later in the show than the equivalent of book 6.

I didn't even notice that we left all the White Tower-related plotlines behind entirely this episode until I got to writing this post. FASCINATED to see where we pick up with Verin, Alanna, Siuan, et al next season...not to mention Liandrin

I haven't even talked about Aviendha! She hasn't had a lot to do beyond be introduced/introduce the concept of the Maidens and the Car'a'carn but it was solid set-up for next season and in line with how much she actually had to do in TDR.

My one big lingering question for this season is whether Ingtar isn't a Darkfriend on the show or whether he IS and they decided that his verbal confession wouldn't happen/work in the show and left it as a subtextual easter egg for book readers. I think both positions are arguable from the text, I'm curious what the intent was.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 48: First Claiming

Today has not been good so let me summarize:

This post contains lots of spoilers.

Specifically the spoilers are for Wheel of Time.

ALL OF IT

Don't read if you don't want those.

We have the Dragon's Fang symbol because Rand has been marked as the Dragon in a variety of ways.

And there was something drawing her on, as surely as if she had a string tied to her.

Poor Min is already being strangled by the red strings of fate.

She did not blame Bayle Domon for not waiting longer, not after what she had seen; she thought it a wonder he had remained so long.

Makes me wonder why we looked in to see him still waiting resolutely when we could have looked in to see him finally decide to give up.

Silver glittered as the figure raised a bow; a streak of silver lanced to the boxy ship, a gleaming line connecting bow and ship. With a roar she could hear even at that distance, fire engulfed the foretower anew, and sailors rushed about the deck.

Birgitte is a badass. I really don't have anything else to say about it. She's just that cool.

She pried his hand open, and winced when the hilt stuck to his palm. She tossed it aside with a grimace. The heron on the hilt had branded itself into his hand.

It's funny that the prophecy mentions the Dragons and the Herons as twice markings but not the double unhealing wounds on his side. It can't be that Fain sidestepped fate there - otherwise Rand would not have been able to cleanse saidin on schedule - so one wonders what the deal is. Just the lack of a cool animal?

What shook her was the feel of his flesh. It had a touch of ice in it; he made the air seem warm.

Medically speaking that's pretty terrible.

With a put-upon sigh, she wriggled under the covers beside him.

This really is how you treat hypothermia, though technically speaking you're supposed to remove as much clothing as possible first to encourage thermal exchange. It's basically the only time you can remove an unconscious person's clothing and get into bed with them without being a bad person so I'm disappointed that Min's not taking full advantage of the situation.

Light, why did the Pattern have to catch me up with you? Why couldn’t I have something safe and simple, like being shipwrecked with no food and a dozen hungry Aielmen?

That's pretty racist, Min. And you probably would have been as safe as a starving person could be; I expect the Aiel would find it bad form to cannibalize someone.

“I—I felt him pulling at me. Needing me. Elayne felt it, too. I thought it must be something to do with—with what he is, but Nynaeve didn’t feel anything.”

Odd that Egwene is being tangled up in the red string of fate too. Funnier still that the Wheel doesn't point the healer at Rand, though perhaps she wouldn't have been able to stay angry at the sight of him.

Egwene looked at her for what seemed a long time. Not at Rand, not at all, only at her.

Egwene is clearly struggling between the understandable urge to scream "He'll go mad and kill you!" at Min to punish her petty comments and the desire to not think about Rand that way. Also she's fucking exhausted and just spent some time a slave, so Min's really not being cool here.

Light, I don’t even know if I am the one you’ll choose. I don’t know if I want you to choose me. Or will you try to dandle all three of us on your knee?

Not gonna lie but with how this particular polycule plays out I honestly wouldn't have minded if Rand had just tried to be a player with each gal in turn (maybe circling back to Elayne towards the end). Just for Min's sake, since she's the one who doesn't really fit in the rest at all and would probably prefer to be a FWB followed by being out the door.

Ishamael thinks he controls events, but I do.

Bold claim from somebody who...

*checks notes*

...fucked around with Rand on one occasion and had virtually no influence over him. Lanfear is incredibly high on her own supply.

“Lews Therin was and is mine, girl. Tend him well for me until I come for him.” And she was gone.

Least realistic part of this. Lanfear would have insta-gibbed Min for the sin of touching her man.

The legion was dead, Lord Captain Geofram Bornhald was dead, and there was only one explanation for that; Darkfriends had betrayed them, Darkfriends like that Perrin of the Two Rivers.

It's incredible how close to right Byar is while still being utterly wrong on all counts. Anyway, this is another odd aside in that we pretty much already knew that he was going to go tell the Whitecloaks that Perrin was responsible. Ah well.

Next time: Double feature! Chapters 49 and 50!

[burningthrucelluloid]

Christmas Carol-cember, Day 20

There are movies that feel like someone came up with them as an elevator pitch.

Movies where someone literally ran into an elevator with a Hollywood producer and made their pitch fast and quick that, by the time the elevator reached the desired floor, that producer already wrote a check and told you to have it ready within a year.

Movies like “A Quiet Place,” where the pitch was no doubt “monsters attack people if they’re noisy so people have to be absolute silent to survive.”

In this case, I get the feeling the pitch for this movie was “Bill Murray is Scrooge in modern day New York.”

The producer probably took one look at the person, blinked once or twice and then pulled out the checkbook, wrote a number down, handed the check and said “Here’s $32 million, including a $6 million fee for Murray. Have it ready by Thanksgiving.”

At least that’s how I imagined it. 

This film was the brainchild of former SNL writers Mitch Glazer and Michael O’Donoghue as well as the mind behind “The Omen,” “The Goonies,” “Lethal Weapon” and the film that redefined action blockbusters, 1978’s “Superman.” Bill Murray was their first and only choice as Glazer and O’Donoghue had been talking about a film like this during an acting hiatus Bill Murray took after the success of Ghostbusters. While Bill was interested in the idea, he would only go for it if the director and cast was to his liking, leading to a lot of scenes Murray insisted on with actors who might not have been entirely up for it, nor would Murray as he inhaled fake snow that damaged his nasal passages as well as the real beatings he took from Carol Kane on set. That’s not even getting into the scenes that was filmed for the movie or scenes that were written by Glazer and O’Donoghue that were completely cut, which pissed off O’Donoghue something fierce as, even to this day, the man still declares the finished film is “a piece of sh*t"

While the film was a modest hit on release, contemporary critics at the time were very hard on the film, citing it removed the good cheer and joy of the story and made a very cynical holiday film.

Did they have a point? Let’s take a look.

Frank Cross (Bill Murray) is a fast-talking, cut-throat television station president who is driving his employees hard in order to air an over the top and raunchy version of A Christmas Carol to air on Christmas Eve. He’s hard on his assistant Grace (Alfre Woodward) who would rather be home to care for her traumatized son Calvin (Nicolas Phillips), sends expensive gifts to the TV higher-ups while sends complimentary towels to everyone else and fires an executive named Eliot (Bobcat Goldthwait) for daring to speak up and challenge him as this poor guy goes on a rollercoaster of a bad day. 

In short, this is Bill Murray at his Bill Murray-ist.

After taking a break to nurse a headache and drink, he’s mysteriously visited by his mentor, the rotting corpse of Lew Hayward (John Forsythe), here to deliver a dire warning to Cross that he risks becoming as forgotten and despised as he was. He delivers his warning of the ghosts to haunt him and then gets Frank to call his ex-girlfriend Claire (Karen Allen), who runs a homeless shelter but clearly still feels something for Frank.

On the day of the broadcast, Frank has his hands full: Eliot is on a rampage after a mental breakdown, a wannabe executive named Brice (John Glover) is clearly ramping to take over the station from Frank and Frank is confronted with the ghosts of Christmas who take him away at the most unexpected moments and reveal themselves as the most unexpected ways. The Ghost of Christmas Past (David Johansen) is a chain-smoking cab driver who knows all the roads in and out of the city, even taking roads that go back in time. The Ghost of Christmas Present (Carol Kane) is a chipper fairy who loves to lay the smackdown on Frank while dragging him around the city. As for the Ghost of Christmas Future? Well, I’m pretty sure that tall dude with the TV screen face and wailing haunts under the robes aren’t part of the broadcast…

It’s rather surprising how much of watching this film felt very, well, modern.

Weird as that is to say, the way the film tackles industry BS and the talks of being “bold and hip” while contradicting the story feels like themes that are just as modern today as it was in 1988. The fact the 2022 “Spirited” was even calling attention to this is proof of that.

Yet even that said, I can understand where that criticism from the time came from.  This is a film that is baked in ugliness. From the ghosts to the backroom meetings to the sarcastic biting dialogue, it’s a film that is deeply rooted in the cynicism of an industry that has lost faith or passion for the Christmas spirit. Even the television ad for the television special within the movie is rooted in fear-mongering to entice viewers, complete with images of people shooting up heroin and a nuclear explosion.

And yet? That kind of works with the environment the film is set in as well as the dog-eat-dog world of television.

It’s an environment where Bill Murray’s character has clearly been shaped by this and his cold, sarcastic cruelty is his rationalization for his success. It also should not be any surprise to know Bill Murray excels in the role as he might be the most manic “Scrooge” thus far. Even with all the ghostly hauntings happening around him, he acts so out there and wild around others, you kind of feel for his co-workers thinking if he has snapped.

Course that manic energy carries throughout the film with a crazy cab driving ghost, a fairy ghost who smacks Bill Murray with a toaster and Eliot chases Frank around with a shotgun.

But that still circles back to how this movie takes the knowledge of its concepts and integrates them. That’s where Richard Donner’s direction keeps it concise and poignant, even when the dark edge threatens to take it over the line. Even with the movie not following the original screenplay intended, Donner finds a line between sentimentality, which often goes up against the dark edge the film sets for itself. Whether that bothers you or not is subjective, for me, it had moments where that tone clashed but Bill Murray’s performance kept itself from completely falling off.

I don’t dislike “Scrooged,” but every time I watch it around this season, I find myself getting less and less excited by it or enjoying it. I respect the filmmakers opting to make a less sappy film than something Frank Capra would have done, even if O’Donoghue swears the final product is nothing like what he wrote, but the cynical edge from it’s characters runs against it’s moments of joy. For all the declarations of joy and positivity to be better, in a dark cutthroat world like how this film depicts, I’m not so sure to believe this character would remain changed. 

But then again, perhaps that’s why this movie has it’s fans.

There is something palpable about someone who shines bright through joy even the the world seems bleak and unforgiving. Bill Murray, supposedly, improvised his entire speech, leaving Donner and the cast and crew around him stunned to figure out what to do in the speech. The comedy lands and it is perhaps the most modern feeling version of this story that feels like it speaks to a generation who probably felt Christmas was a commercial racket.

If you liked it, fine, more power to ya. But for me? I’m not exactly planning to watch this again next year. 

Course this wasn’t exactly a week to feel festive while being cynical. I can’t balance that very well either. So much stuff to move...

“Scrooged” is free to watch on PlutoTV but can be streamed on Amazon Prime, Paramount+, Hulu and YouTube.

Next time, we take a wild turn and cover an adaptation where Scrooge…raps? What the dickens?

[mercurygray]

Post-war Eileen and Nix: How, when, and why do they get together?

Nix is going to ask her, at the end of the war - but suddenly she's off to California for a movie contract, and he never gets the chance. His divorce is final, and the war is over, and he doesn't really know what to do with himself. All the fixed points in his life are no longer fixed.

And Eileen has what she's always wanted - a chance at fame, a chance to chase her dreams. She's not going to slow that down to chase him. I don't know that it's love, for her, yet. It is for him.

So he gets married a second time to a woman he hardly knows, hoping it will make him happy. (In this timeline, I think she's French.) They move to Jersey and the factory town. Nix tries to settle, but she's unhappy and high strung and wants an unconditional adoration that he just can't give. They start traveling a lot - separately.

And then Eileen gets married.

It's a Hollywood marriage, over in twelve months - two pretty people who made a movie together and thought they loved each other more than they did. The divorce, however, isn't pretty. A lot of mud gets thrown. (His wife comments on a lot of it, and he realizes, as his hackles get up, how much he still cares.)

He meets up with Eileen in New York - she's established now, has made several really good pictures, trying to get into stage to put some distance between her and the divorce. Sparks fly again over lunch, and then dinner, and then a play. He starts making a lot of business trips to the city and a lot of late-night calls. (Joan notices he drinks less, after he's spent time Eileen.) She's always dating someone, for the gossip magazines, but she also always has time for Lew.

Second wife asks for a divorce - she's found someone else. The Eileen thing doesn't even come up. Lew doesn't know if she knows or if she even cares. They've tried so hard to be discreet. "Just don't break his heart," Dick asks Eileen, sitting on the porch of the farm in Lancaster, watching the morning fog burn off the fields. "He's already breaking mine," Eileen admits.

It's the drinking, right? It always is. He's still the same Lew, still lovely and charming …and slowly killing himself, and it shows. More than one friend tries to get him help, but it never seems to stick. And then Eileen makes a movie where the man she loves is an alcoholic.

This is the film that wins her the Oscar - more than a few critics comment on the subject matter, how they shouldn't be putting things like that on screen, but she is radiant and raw and as he sits, in the theater, watching her ten feet tall on screen, he realizes what he's been doing to her, to everyone.

He checks into the clinic. No friends to drag him there - Lew Nixon finally drags himself, and he does it for her, because if he's going to marry Eileen Hammond, he'd better be presentable to the movie-going public.

It's not easy - he backslides a bit, because who doesn't? He spends a lot of time unpicking all the threads of his childhood and the war and the work he hates and the women who've put up with him before the well he's needed to keep filling with whiskey finally runs dry. But he does it, and he marries Eileen in a tiny ceremony with his one year coin in his pocket, and they toast the bride and groom with lemonade.

Lew moves to California and Eileen's beautiful Spanish-revival mansion in the Hills. They get a dog. He gets into photography, and sailing, and fundraising for the humane society, and the USO, things to keep him busy while Eileen is making movies. They don't necessarily go to the reunions, but there are always signed photos, when someone needs something for a fundraiser, and they always make time for Dick and Joan.

He dies well before the book gets optioned for a miniseries. Eileen turns over an extensive home-movie collection to the actor that plays him. "He was the love of my life," she says, and that's exactly the way they play it.

[ccaptain]

It's really rare for Kaeya to make sounds in bed.

I believe that it's something a little psychological: most of the time where he was in bed with someone, obtaining moans and lews sounds out of them was easy- and the people under him happily gave him these sounds, not knowing that he wasn't even really trying his best to please them. There's some times where he couldn't even stay hard and resorted to his skilled fingers to bring his partner to completition. None of them ever complained, happy to have gained an orgasm and an intimate encounter with the cavalry captain.

Meanwhile, an orgasm-less Kaeya has internalized the fact that people don't really care if they sound like a squeaky toy in bed- nor how Kaeya brings these sounds out of them, if with his fingers or something else, as long as it was the cavalry captain who brought them to completition, and they could enjoy their boneless orgasm and afterglow.

Of course, they also believed that Kaeya had his orgasm, and didn't cared much to check otherwise. While I'm sure that some of these people, if they knew, would insist on helping him out- unspoken things tend to weight worse than misurestandings.

In retaliation to this, Kaeya is not deadly quiet in bed- there'll be a little sigh and the occasional quiet groan from him- and if he's genuinely enjoying himself his body language will be extremely clear on that... but no sounds will be made. Kaeya isn't loud and has taught himself not to be.

He firmly believes that, if his partner cares about his pleasure, they'll do their worst to rip those sounds out of him. If they want a moan out of Kaeya, they'll have to work for it- they'll have to discover what his body likes through trial and error.

It's a challenge, a test- do they really care to hear him moan, or do they only care that he's the cavalry captain, only interested in bragging about bedding him? Will they actually take the challenge, or are they just going to vanish in the background of his life after an unsatisfying session?

Once a potential partner of his gets past this barrier of Kaeya, it's all smooth sailing- he'll start being loud in bed no problem, because the test was actually passed and now he can genuinely relax in their presence.