#Tarmac Pro

[alwayswonderingandwandering]

atenció

[ch4mpagnedrought]

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

[wileys-russo]

can you write smt for kyra with that photo of her with flowers as inspo?

airport flowers II k.cooney-cross

the plan was simple.

you'd told your girlfriend there was a last minute work emergency and you'd need to fly out to melbourne for the few days she was back in australia for national duty in perth.

but really you'd be landing the same day as kyras first match back in australia and would be going from the airport right to the game to surprise her. then you'd also not yet told her with some other tillies help you'd be taking the same flight home back to england with her, when she thought you'd need to be based back in australia for another month.

you'd not seen her in person for almost five weeks now due to your job and with the footballer normally the one to create surprises for you and organise cute little gestures, you decided it was your turn.

to kyras credit when you told her initially you'd be unable to make it to her games or see her while she was here she put on a brave face and as per usual was as supportive as could be.

you worked as the sole social media and marketing manager for a clothing brand started and ran by one of your childhood best friends, having been there on board to watch and help the brand grow since it was just a seemingly silly little idea floated on a drunken night out when you were teenagers.

with kyra starting her pro career off in australia in the a-leagues the two of you had met during her time playing for victory. you'd reached out to her agency about a potential sponsorship deal with the brand and met up with kyra and her team a few days later.

the young midfielder was quite smitten with you and nothing but charming as she'd asked you out for a coffee with the request you show her where the best could be found.

a few coffees and kisses later and you were very happily coupled up, much to your best friends teasings that you were using his company as a means of picking up girls.

then fast forward a little with kyras move over to sweden you split your time between there and back home, able to do the majority of your obligations and meetings remotely not having a 'base' you needed to be stationed at.

now with her setting down roots in england you split your time between there and australia. you now had a small team underneath you and it meant it was rare you were really needed in australia all too often.

like you said the plan was simple, but it seemed the universe had other ideas.

it started when your flight was delayed three and a half hours, leaving you with a very narrow gap to get from the airport to the game before kick off, not for warm ups like you'd planned.

sending kyras sister a message informing her of the above she assured kyra was still in the dark about everything and seemingly in good spirits for the game.

the next hurdle came when your bag never appeared on the luggage carousel, and after following it up with management it became apparent it was left on the tarmac back in sydney where you'd flown in from.

doing your very best to keep a cool head you were informed it would be sent with the next available flight and asked to wait around for that to land...in another four and a half hours.

your patience wafer thin at that point you'd organised for the airport to hold it overnight and you'd come collect it tomorrow morning, a quick check of the time confirming you'd be lucky to make it by the second half.

the third barrier came in the realization that you'd been logged out of your uber account and unable to remember the password you were tearing your hair out as with one wrong attempt too many your account was locked.

so with time fading fast and your mental stability unraveling even faster you hurried to the nearest atm and grabbed out a wad of cash, darting into the small gift shop and grabbing the very last bunch of flowers they had.

these were of course all unopened bar two or three flowers and looked more like weeds, but in your case beggars couldn't be choosers and hailing down a taxi you could finally breath knowing you'd finally left the prison that the airport was beginning to feel like.

watching the game on your phone as the taxi sped toward the stadium, the price growing higher and higher with every minute, you couldn't help but allow your chest to swell with pride seeing just how good your girlfriend was playing.

you hadn't even realised you'd arrived until the driver cleared his throat and you glanced up, the second half having just kicked off you could hear the cheers of the crowd as you opened your door, dropping a wad of notes into the drivers hand and sprinting toward the entrance.

you breathed a sigh of relief seeing kyras mum waiting for you with one of the security guards clearly explaining the situation as the man nodded, scanning your ticket as you were given a lanyard and ushered inside.

there was a cheer from kyras friends and family all of whom you'd met before as you finally arrived, all of you in the matildas family section right above the subs bench.

you gave a wave to charli who stood on the sideline as her eyes widened and a grin grew on her face and she eagerly waved back before turning her focus to the game.

her number called she was subbed in for ellie who tapped her hand as charli raced onto the pitch to screams and cheers. settling back in your seat you fended off the teasing remarks made your way for your very poorly timed arrival and the measly bunch of flowers in hand.

you wiggled into your cooney-cross jersey you'd had in your carry on, finally breathing properly and allowing yourself to wind down and enjoy the game going on.

the matildas were up 2-0 and with sam scoring a screamer from well outside the box and steph delivering a beautiful corner right to alanas head it ended 4-0 to australia with a thunderous roar from the crowd.

you waited patiently as kyra did her lap of the pitch, shaking your head furiously at her teammates who made gestures clearly asking if you wanted them to grab her for you, not wanting to ruin the surprise that the universe had done everything to try and spoil for you.

finally she started to head back towards the family and friends section with charli and remy hanging off either of her sides you waited by the barrier with a smile, both blondes seeing you well before kyra did.

"hey space cadet, can i get your autograph?" you called out, her head whipping around and jaw almost hitting the floor as she tripped over her own feet in her haste to get to you, making the girls around her roar with laughter as her cheeks flushed pink.

"what the fuck! i thought you were in..." kyra shook her head in disbelief as she reached you, your hands moving to cup her face as you shook your head. "surprise?" you grinned, a beaming smile of her own curling onto her lips as she tugged you into a hug.

"i love you." you mumbled into her shoulder, rubbing her back, the midfielder pressing a kiss to your cheek as she pulled away. "you played alright i guess." you sighed sarcastically, grabbing the flowers from your feet and handing them to her.

"yeah thanks!" the girl shoved your head as a small blush coated her cheeks and she spun around to pose for charli with her flowers. "but i didn't see you at half time?" your girlfriend asked, free hand interlocking with yours as she sweetly kissed your knuckles now causing you to blush.

"its a very long story babe."

[harbingerscry]

Comfort (Ghost x GN!Reader)

I normally have no drive to write about Ghost but I wrote a small drabble about a week ago that I just had to flesh out. There is more to this but I feel it would be more appropriate to post it as a separate part. I hope y'all enjoy!

Aquila is just a codename, it means Eagle in Latin. I just thought it was cute because it was the nickname my Latin teacher gave me for class in high school.

This does not contain NSFW content

There aren't many men you let see you like this. Even fewer you would actively sit with as you wade through the silent but turbulent waves of your emotions. It was always the hardest after a mission. When the adrenaline that had you standing up on Everest eventually let you nosedive into the ocean after the rocks give way underneath you. It wasn't always bad, a jog to clear your head was enough to stave off the plummet. Other times, there was nothing that could help, you just had to let yourself float along. The comforting heat and pressure of another’s back pressed to yours was enough to keep you grounded though, and the nicotine filling your lungs allowed jittering nerves to settle into a comfortable buzz beneath your skin. 

“Still breathin’ Aquila?” Ghost’s gruff voice rumbled from behind you before pulling another audible drag from his own cigarette. The question was metaphorical, he could easily feel every pull and release of air from your lungs through the muscles of your back pressed to his. However, he knew you too well. After being on and off the field with you for years he could read you like a book.

“What makes any salad a Caesar salad?” The question made you turn from your thoughts and raise an inquisitive brow. He must have felt he had your attention because he was quick to drop the punch.

“As well as I'll ever be able to Ghost.” The humor in your voice was dry like a desert but it made him scoff nonetheless. That tone told him all he needed to know. The two of you were alike in similar but different ways after all. Both scarred by trauma that ran root deep. It made you an ocean, able to bring joy and comfort with the same waters that pull others to its darkest depths. His made him a mountain. Steady, strong, forever standing through tumultuous storms. He was deadly though, quick to burry you under tons of rock or let the cliffs crumble under you. It's the reason you two pulled towards one another like a set of magnets. It was also why he found himself with you right now instead of brooding alone.

“Stabbing it twenty-three times.” 

There was a short pause as you processed the joke. 

“...That was horrible.”

“Got ya to react didn't it?” Nothing could have stopped the choked snort that left your nose. He always does this when he sees you getting too far into your thoughts. You've noticed it's his way of trying to lighten the mood or keep someone from spiralling too far. Regardless of how dark the jokes can get. A smile was quick to spread across your face for the first time since landing this morning. 

“Spose you're right about that.” You stubbed out the last bit of your cancer stick and swiveled yourself to look out at the tarmac-covered base you get to call home. There were a few soldiers doing rounds due to night watch but it was an otherwise quiet night. You would even call it peaceful but you’d hate to jinx it. Ghost took his time in turning to look out at base with you; adjusting his balaclava to cover his face like usual after giving a final exhale of gray smoke. 

“Thank you for sitting with me Simon, means a lot.” Though your words were a whisper, the gratitude lined with thinly veiled affection was clear in your voice. You couldn't see it due to the face covering but hearing it made him smile. Small moments like this are what make his heart try to flutter against the tight hold of his will. 

“You're welcome (y/n)…now go to bed.” His command was met with an amused huff as you slowly rose from the ground and stretched, various parts of your body popping in protest. You’d think your joints would be less stiff considering your stretch and run around 1600, but you weren’t getting any younger you guess. 

“Getting rid of me that quick? How cruel.” The faux pout on your lips made Ghost raise a blonde eyebrow in amusement. He could never get rid of you. He wanted you around too badly, craved your presence too much. He has never had the guts to say it out loud; despite working together for well over a year now. Why? Well fear was a big reason, he has already lost so many of the people he loves. Losing you would be another nail in his coffin.

“Need my alone time.” You nodded in spite of the longing you felt, you never have enjoyed leaving his side. However, everyone requires some form of alone time, and Ghost treasures his more than most.

“I understand, but ring if you need me, okay? I'm always here.” With that you strode to the building's door, opening it and slipping inside. As you began heading towards your room; you couldn't help but wish you had x-ray vision. You wanted to look back and see if his gaze still lingered on where you once were.

Unbeknownst to you he was doing exactly that. The man was down bad, and he knew it.

[odinsblog]

Khartoum, Sudan — Days after Moscow launched its bloody war on Ukraine, a Russian cargo plane stood on a Khartoum runway, a strip of tarmac surrounded by red-orange sand. The aircraft’s manifest stated it was loaded with cookies. Sudan rarely, if ever, exports cookies.

A heated debate transpired between officials in a back office of Khartoum International Airport. They feared that inspecting the plane would vex the country’s increasingly pro-Russian military leadership. Multiple previous attempts to intercept suspicious Russian carriers had been stopped. Ultimately, however, the officials decided to board the plane.

Inside the hold, colorful boxes of cookies stretched out before them. Hidden just beneath were wooden crates of Sudan’s most precious resource. Gold. Roughly one ton of it.

This incident in February – recounted by multiple official Sudanese sources to CNN – is one of at least 16 known Russian gold smuggling flights out of Sudan, Africa’s third largest producer of the precious metal, over the last year and a half.

CNN reporter confronts staff at alleged Russian operation in Sudan

Multiple interviews with high-level Sudanese and US officials and troves of documents reviewed by CNN paint a picture of an elaborate Russian scheme to plunder Sudan’s riches in a bid to fortify Russia against increasingly robust Western sanctions and to buttress Moscow’s war effort in Ukraine.

The evidence also suggests that Russia has colluded with Sudan’s beleaguered military leadership, enabling billions of dollars in gold to bypass the Sudanese state and to deprive the poverty-stricken country of hundreds of millions in state revenue.

In exchange, Russia has lent powerful political and military backing to Sudan’s increasingly unpopular military leadership as it violently quashes the country’s pro-democracy movement.

Former and current US officials told CNN that Russia actively supported Sudan’s 2021 military coup which overthrew a transitional civilian government, dealing a devastating blow to the Sudanese pro-democracy movement that had toppled President Omar al-Bashir two years earlier.

“We’ve long known Russia is exploiting Sudan’s natural resources,” one former US official familiar with the matter told CNN. “In order to maintain access to those resources Russia encouraged the military coup.”

“As the rest of the world closed in on [Russia], they have a lot to gain from this relationship with Sudan’s generals and from helping the generals remain in power,” the former official added. “That ‘help’ runs the gamut from training and intelligence support to jointly benefiting from Sudan’s stolen gold.”

(continue reading)

[viper-motorsports]

Corvette Racing chews through the infield tarmac of the International Horseshoe towards a second place GTD Pro trophy for their N°3 Chevrolet Corvette C8.R in the 2023 IMSA 24 Hours of Daytona.

[asskickedbygirl]

I would die for a bam x reader enemies to lovers where they’re both pro skaters and she’s like super cool and gnarly and dirty and he can’t stand her but it’s because he’s so attracted to her and pretty much jealous of anybody who gets to breath in her direction

Green-Eyed Monster [Bam Margera x F!Reader]

Desc: You’re a featured skater on Tony’s latest tour and get along with everyone perfectly fine. Well everyone except pretty boy Bam Margera and you’re sure there’s a reason for it.

A/n: been thinking about this request for a while and figured it would be a perfect opportunity to write kinda dom reader for once… ik anon didn’t say smut but my mind went crazy on this idea so… enjoy! also just pretend there was a tony tour with tim idek if there was it’s kinda hard to research…

Warnings: smut (18+), p in v, masturbation, public sex, angst, hate fuck, smoking

2.4k words

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You liked to think you were pretty down to earth. Your humour was always dry and you were mean to anyone who was your friend and maybe even mean to anyone who wasn’t. You got along well with most people, in fact you had made a lot of new friends on Tony’s skate tour he had invited you on. You and Make Vallely got on like a house on fire and Tony was basically your mentor. You had also gotten pretty close with Tim O’Connor but you couldn’t lie, you thought he was pretty cute. The only dude on the bus who didn’t succumb to your boyish charms was none other than MTV pretty boy Bam Margera. He complained about your lack of care for your appearance, made crude comments on your skating and would never let you get a word in without berating you for something you said. And so you decided you didn’t like him either, making living in close quarters pretty awkward for the rest of the gang. Bam would spit something nasty at you and you would snap back, teasing him, a vicious cycle that went on and on.

You stood outside of the tour bus at the gas station, lighting up your cigarette and inhaling it, groaning when you saw the asshole approaching you. “And you wonder why your breath stinks.” He muttered, pulling his own pack of smokes out as well. You rolled your eyes, “Just come out here to yell at me or do you want something? Hmm?” You took another drag as Bam glared at you. “Got a light?” He asked, cigarette between his teeth. You rolled your eyes and took out your zippo, reluctantly lighting it for him through gritted teeth. “My Mom used to tell me if boys were mean to me it meant they had a crush on me.” You teased, making Bam scoff. “I’m sure she told you you were pretty too.” His words could’ve cut you like daggers but they were drenched with dishonesty. You knew you were pretty, pretty enough to pull any of the guys on the tour bus. Bam was just kidding himself. You laughed, taking one last inhale of your cigarette before dropping it and stomping its remnants into the tarmac. “You know if you’re really this pent up, just jerk off in the bathroom like I do with Tim.” You winked before getting back on the bus, Bam merely rolling his eyes at you.

No you weren’t fucking Tim, but the shameless flirting seemed to tick Bam off even more than anything else you did. You’d be skating with Tim and he’d grab you every time you went past him, giggling at his touchiness. Meanwhile, Bam was glaring at you through heavy lids, slamming his board down as if he’d fucked up a trick. While signing decks, Tim would slip his arm over your shoulder or mess up your hair on purpose and Bam would ‘accidentally’ shove into the two of you. It was worst of all when you and Tim would be having quiet conversations in the middle of the night across bunks and Bam would loudly tell the two of you to ‘shut the fuck up.’ and then would release a string of curses until you shut the curtains and succumbed to sleep. For a while you couldn’t understand why he had such a vendetta against you, well specifically you and Tim but you quickly realised the cause. He was jealous. It became so obvious then, every second you spent with Tim his resentment grew and his anger elevated. You rarely saw him smile by the time Tim got touchy with you and you seemed more couple-y than usual. You decided to use this to your advantage. He was kinda hot after all.

You spent the day skating in a massive indoor park with the whole gang. Tony was attempting some crazy trick while the rest of you just messed around. Tim stood behind you on the board at one stage, holding your waist as you laughed, trying to skate with two people. Bam was pissed now, grumbling that he was gonna take a piss to Mike and stomping off in a huff. Nows your chance. You told Tim you’d be right back and so followed Bam to the men’s room. Once you entered behind him you quietly locked the door before biting your lip. Bam glanced over his shoulder as he pissed, trying to take a look at who was behind him but groaning when he saw it was you. “What the fuck are you doing in the Men’s freak?!” You smiled before hoisting yourself up on the slightly grimey counter, swinging your legs childishly. “Thought you might want company.” He muttered some grievances as he tucked his dick back in his pants, not letting you take a peek. “I’m fucking out of here.” He went to head out but you kicked your leg out, barricading him from exiting. “No, talk to me.” He gave you a dirty look while your calf still pressed into his stomach. “What the fuck do you want then?” You frowned, “You didn’t wash your hands.” He scoffed, a common quirk of his. “My dick isn’t minging, thanks.” “Well you don’t know that.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re sitting on the sink anyways.” You took your bottom lip into your mouth and lifted yourself up, bringing your legs around the sink so the faucet was right in front of your heat.

He looked up at you, his eyes judging as hard as possible but you could tell there was a hint of excitement buried under them. You smiled, eyes glimmering with lust. “What the fuck are you doing?” He spat and you shot him a look of false confusion. “What do you mean? You can wash your hands now!” You leaned back against the mirror to angle your hips more forward teasingly. Bam rolled his eyes and gave in to your little scheme, turning it on and rubbing the liquid soap into his palm. You moaned quietly, laughing through it “Wow Margera, you really know how to please a woman!” You teased, referencing the obvious innuendo between your legs. He turned the stream off and rolled his eyes at you. “What are you playing at?” You grinned again, then tilted your head and presented fake puppy dog eyes. “Why do you hate me so much.” He scoffed once again. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t really like you.” You raised a brow. “Or do you just hate me with Tim?” He rolled his eyes with even more exaggeration than ever before. “You’re delusional.” You pouted, “Am I? Or do you just not want him to fuck me?” You saw some scarlet creep onto Bam’s cheeks as he acted like you were crazy. “What the fuck are you even talking about?” You pushed yourself forward a little more so your heat was pressed against the faucet through the fabric of your cargos, touching your clit lightly. “Think about it. If me and Tim start fucking all you’re gonna hear at night is-“ You began mimicking being fucked, your hips snapping against the faucet and your face contorted with fake pleasure. You moaned pornographically, “Oh fuck Tim!” You slammed your hand against the counter. “Right there, right there!”

Bam slapped his hand against your mouth, ceasing your movements and noises. “What the fuck are you doing?!” He looked disgusted, a fake disgust disguising his real feelings. You smiled, “Oh sorry, Am I getting you hard?” You murmured beneath his palm before he removed it, wiping it on his shirt. “Yeah it makes sense now see? If Tim fucks me good and I’m real nice and loud right above you on the bunk, you’re gonna get hard. And then what are you gonna do?” Bam was embarrassingly red now, arousal clouding his mind. “Or…” You began, leaning your torso forward so your face was closer to his. “You wanna be the one fucking me.” Bam pushed your chest back so you were against the mirror once more. “The fuck has gotten into you?” You pouted sarcastically, “Not you.” He poked his tongue into the side of his cheek as you leaned forward again, hand snaking up to hold his face, he didn’t stop you. “Tell me you want me.” You whispered, eyes locking into his, only inches apart. He tried to maintain his disgusted expression but it was faltering quickly, his confidence dissipating as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I don’t want you.” You smiled and leaned into him, your lips just brushing his. You felt him lean in closer and press against you but you leaned back. “Uh, uh. Tell me.” The taunting was relentless, you really were such a tease. To sweeten the deal you lifted his hand that was gripping the counter to rest on your inner thigh. You gazed into his eyes once again and grinned as you saw how flustered Bam looked. “C’mon. Give in and just fuck me already.” You pushed your hips forward again to press your clit against the faucet, earning yourself a moan which caused Bam’s eyes to light up. He reached his hands up to hold your waist before pulling you forward, encouraging you to grind against the surface. You laughed, “You want me to get off on a sink?” Bam bit his lip, only responding by pulling you more forcefully against it.

You moaned at the contact before giving in to his wishes, shifting your hips to rub yourself against it. Bam watched you with awe as you did so, your face contorting with pleasure, the fabric of your pants giving you the right amount of friction to get off. You threw your head back against the mirror as your hands steadied themselves on Bam’s shoulders, his hands still gripping your waist. Eventually you were going fast, building yourself up for your big finish, exaggerating each motion and noise leaving your lips. “Are you hard?” You panted and Bam nodded enthusiastically. “You gonna fuck me after this?” He nodded again and you smiled, blissed out. “So you want me?” “Yeah.” Bam croaked out, still focused on making you come fully clothed. “I’m gonna come.” You moaned out, fingers digging into Bam’s flesh as you rode out your high, hips stuttering against the faucet while slowly grinding.

“That was fucking hot.” Bam breathed out, releasing his grip on your waist. You swung your leg over the faucet and sat on the smooth part of the counter, grabbing Bam by his collar and kissing him roughly. You fumbled to pull down your pants and unbuckle Bam’s belt, opting to leave your shirts on as this was only supposed to be a quickie anyways. Bam pulled your panties down swiftly off of your body, leaving them to hang around your ankles. You reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. You couldn’t help but snicker a little as you pumped him. “What?” He asked, looking a little pissed off. “Oh nothing. Just knew you were compensating for something.” Bam was angry now. “The fucks that supposed to mean?!” He pulled your ass down the counter to get a better angle of your heat. You laughed, “Alright, come on and fuck me pretty boy.” You wrapped your arms around Bam’s neck as he entered you, not even wincing. “God is that all of it?” You teased, Bam’s face a violent red as he bottomed out into you. “Shut the fuck up slut.” Bam spat and you grinned. He was doing exactly what you wanted. His thrusts became more erratic, slamming into you but barely giving pleasure. You jokingly yawned which really pissed Bam off. He grabbed your face with his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Don’t act like you weren’t fucking yourself against a faucet right in front of me two minutes ago, whore.” He spat and you simply smiled. “Am I being a bad girl?” You teased, inciting cringe-worthy dirty talk.

Bam moved his hands down to grasp at your ass, slamming you down on top of him as he thrusted. “Even the faucet made me feel better.” You whispered, the anger fueling Bam to get rougher. His hips were slamming against yours then, using all his might to fuck you properly. Soon enough Bam gave up on making you come that way, instead using his thumb on the hand that wasn’t now squeezing your throat to rub at your clit. You breathed heavier, still managing to spew insults between pants. “I bet Tim has a better cock than you.” His hand tightened around your throat. “Say that again bitch.” You tried to croak it out but his hand was even tighter now, the restriction sending shocks of pleasure down to your core. He loosened his grip as he began properly plowing into you, thumb moving at an intense speed. “Come for me slut.” He demanded and you giggled at his dirty talk. “Yes Sir Margera.” You teased but eventually obliged, finishing with a loud moan, head against the mirror. His thumb continued to rub your clit with vigour, refusing to remove it when you tried pushing him away. The overstimulation was getting too much until he had built you up to that place again, just teetering on the edge. “I’m coming.” He groaned, breathing heavily as he just about made you come for the third time before his thumb stopped moving, spilling into you.

You whimpered at the feeling of his cum inside you. “I didn’t say you could come there.” You complained. Bam muttered an ‘oh shit’ and pulled out of you, watching the liquid spill out. “Fuck. You on the pill?” You laughed, “Yeah I just don’t want to skate with your cum dripping down my leg.” He shrugged and pulled you panties back up. “Problem solved.” You rolled your eyes, “Tim can fuck it back into me anyways.” Bam shot you a disdainful look and you cackled. “What’s wrong? First time a girl ever talked back to you in bed?” Bam muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, stuffing his dick back into his jeans. “I know you liked it.” He glared at you, fixing his hair in the mirror and preparing to leave the bathroom. “You’re an asshole.” He spat and you laughed, “Means a lot coming from the best.” Bam stormed out, leaving you with just your cargos pooled around your ankles, sadistic smile still playing on your face.

End.

@gnarkillknoxville @lovexjoe @jackussy420 @bambammargera @steve-osahottie @izzaaaaaa @jackassvivalabam03 @spoookyberry

[nickblaine]

season 5 script summaries

links to previous script summaries: season 4, season 3, season 2, season 1, seasons 1/2 cont’d also, check my tht scripts tag for gifs, excerpts, and more details

i got the librarian’s email about season 5 scripts, and even though driving to and parking at WGAW has become a literal nightmare, i said fuck it and flew (crawled in traffic) down there the very next day. i wanted to see what the mood was like during the strike, anyway.

the staff had the library running business as usual, but the energy was high and there were pro-union shirts everywhere. there were a couple of guys on the first floor making literal piles of picket signs. i chatted with them for a minute and they said everyone was mostly out on the streets, picketing at every major studio in the city. rock on WGA ✊

i was on a time limit to beat rush hour, so when i read the season 5 scripts it was only Nick scenes. i searched for all instances of his name and wrote down everything i could. i may go back to read the rest of the season, but i can’t make any promises on when that will be.

before i begin (same as last time):

• everything described here is from the official scripts that are archived at the Writers Guild in Los Angeles. • the scripts i read are final drafts. there is no “writing in the margins.” everything described is from dialogue and script direction that was used on set. (click for an example) • the library has a strict no copies/photos rule in place which is why i summarize what i read. • anything in italics is a direct quote for the sake of clarity. • feel free to ask questions and i’ll answer to the best of my ability. my private notes are pretty detailed, but if i need to do more research i may save the answer for a future library visit. • please do not share this post without my permission. thank you in advance for respecting my wishes.

5x01 - Morning

Nick and Rose’s morning scene in this episode is more or less the same as this early script draft. The only difference is after Nick tells Rose her coffee is good, there’s an additional line that says: “It’s a lie, and they both know it. Rose appreciates the polite kindness.”

5x02 - Ballet

There was a short scene of Nick and Joseph Lawrence having a private chat at the airport before meeting with Serena Joy. It was cut from the episode, but you can see it in the trailer.

In this scene, Lawrence confides in Nick that he’s nervous about the meeting with Serena because - in his words - “You had to let your girlfriend go after Fred.”

Nick assures Lawrence that they’re going to spin it as a savvy political move by blaming the Americans for killing Fred. Lawrence still chastises him for not doing his job. Then the conversation pivots (a little clunkily) to this line from the trailer:

NICK: Serena doesn’t know what happened.

LAWRENCE: Doesn’t matter what she knows. It matters what she believes.

When they meet Serena on the tarmac, she instantly has suspicions that they were responsible for Fred’s death. The conversation is tense until they all see Fred’s body getting rolled off the plane, then Serena needles Nick’s guilt and pokes at it with her “Fred saw promise in you” speech.

As they are leaving the tarmac, there’s a line that says “Nick acknowledges Mark with a nod” and Lawrence notices it. In the episode you can see Nick and Mark exchange looks in the background as they leave, but otherwise Lawrence doesn’t notice.

At the Putnam’s party later in the episode, you may have noticed that after the Handmaids arrive, Esther and Nick share a notable look. The script describes this as a fraught moment in which Nick is filled with remorse and wishing he could do more. It also says Esther remembers Nick from when he and the Eyes arrested her, and she’s visibly pissed about it. As they walk away from each other, “Nick can’t help but be reminded of June.”

While Serena Joy is manipulating the Commanders into broadcasting Fred’s funeral, Nick steps in because he’s moved by her bravery and “attempting to atone for his hand in killing Fred.”

In the secret meeting between Nick and Mark there were a few cut lines of dialogue. Most notable is after Nick tells him he just tries to stay out of trouble, Mark replies, “Catches up to everyone, at some point.“

Opaque, Nick thinks about that. How long does he think he can keep going?

Ok, so the end of the episode when the funeral is on TV in Canada, I’m happy to report that Nick IS mentioned in June’s inner dialogue. The scene describes her recognizing who is onscreen with Serena. First she sees Lawrence, and then... “And finally, most painfully -- NICK.” (Yes, in all caps like that, lol.)

5x03 - Border

Cute June inner-dialogue when Lily asks her if Nick’s a big Jezebels guy: “June doesn’t know how to explain what type of “guy” Nick is.”

The awkward Lawrence residence dinner scene. Commander Mackenzie genuinely loves Rose (”old friend of the family”) and is instantly distrustful of Nick. Serena doesn’t buy Nick and Rose’s relationship as genuine either, and tries to subtly acknowledge Rose’s close relationship with June’s daughter’s parents by telling him how lucky he is. Nick is tense, but then his banter with Rose relaxes him, making Serena surprised to observe real affection in their relationship.

During the dinner itself, Mackenzie is just making everyone extremely uncomfortable by bringing up June. Nothing too interesting in the script here, it’s mostly just dialogue.

There is a cut line after dinner when Nick and Rose are leaving, and she says to him, “Well I wouldn’t say that’s the most relaxing dinner party I’ve ever been to.” (He responds “Yeah. No.”) Then he spots Mark all alone. Script says Rose understands what he’s about to do. “Nick squeezes her hand, then heads over to Mark.”

The script emphasizes here that Nick is unsure talking to Mark is a good idea, but he really wants to be the one to tell June about Rose before Serena does.

Mackenzie scares the shit out of him in this scene, and the “fuck” Nick mutters at the end was originally not spoken out loud (”OFF NICK, fuck.”) but I’m so glad it was.

Alright, phone call scene. One of our few big Osblaine moments!

NICK: June. Hi.

June suddenly feels like everything is going to be okay.

This scene is mostly dialogue. The final product is all the acting that goes into it. It does say Nick is stressed to relay upsetting information about Hannah and Rose. When June hears about Rose, she knew this was coming eventually, but it’s still a blow. It also describes how painful and hard this is for both of them. But at the end of the call, right after June tells Nick to be happy, is my favorite line in the whole script:

It’s an impossible ask, maybe, for these two to be truly happy without each other.

After the phone call, there is a cut scene between Nick and Rose where they simply look at each other.

Rose knows exactly who he was on the phone with, and what he said to her.

She looks worried for him, knowing it wasn’t easy.

He nods to her -- it’s done.

5x06 - Together

According to the script, Lawrence only invited Warren Putnam over to his house to get Nick on board with killing him. Warren repulses Nick so he’s down.

The next scene they’re in is when they execute Warren. (Such a good scene.) After Nick shoots him in the head, the script describes the camera hanging onto Nick and “his soldier’s stoicism.”

Then it cuts straight to Rose in the Blaine home. “She’s disappointed in him and he knows it.”

Now this scene threw me off. It’s written much differently than how Max acted it. Nick is actually a lot more warm toward Rose in the script, much like how all their previous scenes were. Several lines of Nick’s dialogue were changed (”Can I help?” became “You gonna tell me what’s going on?” onscreen) and his body language comes across way more cold and defensive than what’s described on paper.

As for Rose, she isn’t soothed by Nick’s assurances here. And that’s it for this episode.

5x08 - Motherland

New Bethlehem opens with another cut private moment between Lawrence and Nick.

Nick is brooding by the water, “still grappling with the moral and emotional consequences of shooting Warren in the head.” Lawrence finds him and tries to prod, but Nick gives him nothing.

LAWRENCE: You look a little more moody and broody than usual. Really, you sleeping okay?  

NICK: I’m fine.

Lawrence moves on because they have work to do. He reminds Nick he’s counting on him.

Lawrence gives his New Bethlehem speech to the other Commanders. When one of them pushes back, “that’s the cue for Nick, the muscle. Enough carrots, time for sticks.”

After Nick bullies the Commanders and Lawrence consolidates his power, the script describes these two as a “dynamic duo” lol

Okay, brace yourselves, there’s a cut Osblaine scene up next. I had no idea this existed, I don’t think there are any shots of it in the trailer.

It takes place after June visits Serena in the detention center and realizes she can’t help Hannah unless she’s there. If you watch that part you will see her pull out Lawrence’s burner phone as she leaves. But instead of going to Lawrence’s office like she does in the filmed version, in the script she calls Lawrence and just says, “I want to talk to Nick.”

It cuts to the next night at the border wall between Gilead and Canada. June is waiting on the Canada side as flying drone searchlights swoop across the electrified fence. (All described in dramatic detail.) She sees Nick appear on the other side. They look at each other, waiting, and once the searchlights clear they move to meet each other at the fence.

JUNE: I need to know if this is for real. I need to know that Hannah and my family will be safe.

NICK: I know. You will be. I promise.

JUNE: How can you promise that?

NICK: Things are changing, people are scared of Lawrence. I’m in a position now where i can make sure you’ll be safe.

JUNE: I want to believe you.

NICK: June. You can finally be with Hannah, watch over her. Isn’t that what you always wanted?

She nods.

NICK (CONT’D): Then please. Come back.

“To me,” he means. June’s heart is torn.

At this point the searchlights return and they have to separate. This scene is written like a soap opera. “They can’t help but reach out to each other, almost brushing fingertips before they move apart and run back, escaping the lights.”

Photo of this scene from Max’s IG:

Later in the episode, Lawrence is back in New Bethlehem with Nick. Nick asks which way June is leaning and Lawrence says it’s toward yes. The script says here that Nick understands that Lawrence is trying to manipulate him, but he can’t help but be cautiously optimistic at the idea of having June and Nichole in New Bethlehem with him.

By the end of the conversation, Nick is “considering.”

5x09 - Allegiance

We’ll skip to 27 minutes into the episode, when June sits with Mark after the failed mission. Mark catches June off guard by bringing up Nick. She’s taken aback by the revelation that he turned down Mark’s offer, but Mark says she can still persuade him. The script says “June imagines the prospect of Nick in Toronto” which I think you can see pretty clearly on Lizzie’s face lol.

Then we cut to the big Osblaine reunion.

Lots of dramatic buildup in the script leading up to their conversation. I don’t know how to describe it other than to show you:

She looks toward the courtyard. And there he is --

NICK

Waiting for her. Strained.

JUNE

Takes a beat to soak him in. She gets out.

OUTSIDE

June approaches Nick, their eyes locked.

Like, damn. They love building tension with these two.

Anyway, dialogue proceeds as it does in the show. Nick tells June that his wife’s pregnant and June has the wind knocked out of her. She’s described as “appalled by Nick’s commitment to Gilead, but understanding of his loyalty to Rose and their future child.”

And then--

JUNE: I want what’s best for both our families.

They look at each other.

A giant chasm between them now. But they’ve shared so much. So much trauma. So much love. A daughter.

JUNE (CONT’D): Well. This is a fine mess, isn’t it?

This scene is once again described as painful for both of them. “She tries to keep it together. How can they part? How can they say goodbye?”

Before Nick says “I love you” he was supposed to wrap his arms around her, but in the final cut they keep their distance.

5x10 - Safe

Just wanna note that when Nick shows up on the bridge to meet Mark, it was originally written so American soldiers yank Nick out of his car, handcuff him, and drag him across the bridge to Mark. We were deprived.

Also the first thing out of Nick’s mouth here was supposed to be, “How is she?”

In the hospital, Mark is telling Nick what’s going on but, “Nick can’t even speak. Looking at June, with her black and blue eyes.”

Mark gets the hint and leaves Nick alone. An interesting thing to note is that the line “it’s probably better if she doesn’t know I was here” is NOT in the script. At all.

The rest of the scene is sweet and simple.

Nick crosses, sits beside June.

A beat. Nick takes her hand.

Says nothing as he watches her sleep.

And that’s it.

Mark and Nick’s second scene on the bridge is just as short and to the point. In fact it’s almost entirely dialogue, so the emotions you see onscreen came from acting and directing. The only notable difference here is when Mark tells Nick he could’ve run away with June, he was scripted to give actual examples of where. “Maybe not to Canada, but there are -- places you could’ve gone. Idaho, the Westward Territories.” (Hopefully foreshadowing lol.)

At the party, it is scripted that Rose tries to greet Nick when he arrives and he doesn’t even acknowledge her. Like she doesn’t even exist.

There isn’t much description to accompany the punch. There is a line that says if Nick wasn’t pulled off of Lawrence than he’d be happy to keep on whaling on him. It also describes Lawrence as “rattled” and Rose as “humiliated.”

At the train station, during June’s goodbye to Mark, she asks him to tell Nick that she and Nichole are safe as a nod to their phone call in episode 3. The only descriptive line here is, “A beat, as Mark clocks the deep and selfless connection between Nick and June.”

The final scene I have notes for is Nick and Rose’s breakup in jail.

There are a couple parts of their scripted conversation that didn’t make it onscreen. Starting with right after Rose tells him a good man wouldn’t leave his wife every time his girlfriend calls, Nick’s response was supposed to be, “she was almost killed.” Then Rose laments that she thought she was lucky that someone like [Nick] would deign to be with someone like [her.] Nick says, “I was the lucky one” and she tells him to shut up.

Then there’s the “You will never let go of her, will you?” line from the show. Nick explains that he tried, but Rose retorts with, “Who knows what that woman will bring to our door. I have to protect our son.” Nick is described as scared now, and pleads with her not to leave.

Now I have no idea if that “our son” drop was supposed to be a legitimate reveal or just hopeful Gilead thinking. The script says nothing else about it and it was cut from the show. But it will be fun to speculate as we wait for the final season.

[backtothefanfiction]

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Seventeen: A Friend In The Shadows

Summary: Angel is ready to run but gets turned around by a friend with some interesting information.

Warnings: 18+ Only, genre typical content, weapons, reckless driving's mentions of murder and poisoning

Word Count 1.8k+

A/N: Another slightly shorter chapter but don't worry our last couple chapters to come are much longer to make up for it. Just like our last chapter though, although it is a little short, it does still pack a punch and flesh things out. Who's ready to find out more about Harry's betrayal?

SEVENTEEN

She shouldn’t have driven. Should have ordered a car, but she didn’t want to risk someone stopping her. Her heart was in her mouth the whole journey, a lump in her throat she couldn’t quite swallow as she took shallow breaths, hands raking nervously through her hair the whole way to the airstrip. 

Her phone rang out from the centre console, yet again. Her fingers raced to decline the call. Tears welled in her eyes. She really shouldn’t be driving.

She slammed on the breaks as she pulled up to the hanger, the tires screeching against the tarmac. Her fingers clawed at her chest and the bandages still wrapped around it. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes as she slammed her head back against the headrest, her chest heaving as she tried to take slower deeper breaths. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t watch this happen. Not again.

A sudden knock at the car window made her jump. “Mrs Parker?” a concerned voice called out. “Mrs Parker, are you okay?” The voice asked again.

She reluctantly began to climb out of the car, smoothing down her clothes, a false air of composure washing over her. “Yes, Henry.” she said, flashing him a smile. “Is our Captain here yet?”

“He’s still filing a couple pieces of paperwork before we can leave, but there is someone else here to see you.”

“Who?” she quickly said, panic flying into her voice.

“Umm he didn’t really give his-”

“Angel.” A gruff voice said from the shadows of the hanger.

Angel frowned as a figure dressed in a deep red suit, with a cowl that had short horns like a devil sticking out from the top, stepped out from the shadows. “Ma-” She went to say his name but caught herself. She curtly turned her head to dismiss Henry to chase up the Captain of the jet and start unloading her cases from the car. She slowly stepped closer to the shadows of the hanger and the figure waiting.

“Matt?” she said again, questioning his presence. Matt Murdock did a quick check before deeming the coast was clear and removing his mask to her. 

After Peter had hung up his suit, there was a vacuum for vigilante work. Matt, a pro bono lawyer by day, who eventually came to be a regular at F.E.A.S.T, had taken his own umbridge with her Father’s work. He had decided to don his own vigilante suit and cause problems for her Father in Peter’s wake. Things had come to a head a between them a few years back when Matt realised Peter had been Spider-Man. Peter and Angel had promised to keep his secret safe in exchange for Matt leaving their business alone. It had also helped that they were setting up the first hub at the time and offered Matt a salary to work with clients through the community space.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I tried to call your number but you weren’t picking up. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Wait, Matt, how did you know I was even gonna be here.”

“The Vulture.” Matt said hastily.

“Wait, what?” Angel said before Matt could get another word out.

“I found where he’s been hanging out. After your Dad died I started doing my own digging because something didn’t feel right. He’s been watching you guys.” Matt informed.

“Well, yeah-” she started to say but Matt cut her off, realising she wasn’t understanding what he meant.

“He has all these cameras set up. At your house, the apartment you guys are staying in. May’s place, the hubs, all of it.”

“What?” she frowned. “But how? I mean, the only people who have access to those places are- what is it?” she asked, noticing how Matt’s face changed to one of sorrow.

“That’s the real reason I needed to talk to you. I tried to call Peter too but he wasn’t picking up.”

“Matt, what is it?” Angel asked hastily, a look of panic and worry now on her face.

“He’s been playing you guys this whole time.”

“What- who has?”

“Harry.”

Angel froze at his words. Harry. Harry Osborn. Pete’s best friend. The thorn in her side from day one who she put up with because it was his money, from his Dad’s death, that had funded everything in the beginning. “I don’t understand.” she said as she tried to process what Matt was saying, her brain taking longer to fully acknowledge all the things suddenly flying through it.

“He’s been working with The Vulture this whole time.” Matt began to explain. “Toomes is just a cover, a boogie man for hire. Osborn’s been the one planning and instigating all of this.”

“But, why?” Angel asked with a now paranoid look over her shoulder at the sound of Henry and the Captain coming back towards the hangar.

“He found out what Peter did to his Father.”

Angel looked confused. “What do you mean, what Pete did to his Father? Norman was ill.”

“How do you think he got ill?” Matt asked.

“He said it was a genetic thing.”

“Funny that Harry has never had any symptoms.” Matt tried to help her understand.

“Wait, are you trying to tell me Peter poisoned Harry’s Dad?”

“I mean Norman did kill the love of his life.” Angel’s face fell and he knew he’d used the wrong words, but he couldn’t take them back. 

She tried to shake it off, her brain slowly connecting dots in her brain she hadn’t known were there. “You’re talking about Gwen.”

“Chief Stacy’s daughter. Yes.”

Angel took a step back shaking her head. Her hands began raking through her hair again, her breathing becoming more laboured. “How long? Do you know how long he’s known?” She asked, doubling back towards Matt.

Matt shook his head. “But I do know he’s planning on killing him. You can’t leave.” Matt said, stepping forward and taking her hands in his. “If you leave he doesn’t stand a chance.”

She stood frozen, her brain rapidly trying to weigh up the pros and cons whilst simultaneously trying to come up with a plan. Matt’s phone began to ring and they broke apart so he could answer it, Angel beginning to pace back and forth while she ruminated on her options.

“Uh huh. Uh huh.” she heard Matt say down the phone. “Okay.” he said before hanging up, the motion pulling her from her thoughts.

“What is it?”

“I was able to clone the feed from their surveillance cameras.” he paused as he tried to find the right way to tell her. “They’ve taken Peter.”

It was like someone had just dunked her in an ice bath, the sudden shock snapping her from the fog in her brain. “Where?” she commanded, her gaze growing dark.

“A warehouse on the other side of the river.”

“I need you to message me the address.” she half shouted at him as she began to back away from him, racing back towards the car.

“Mrs Parker?” Henry called as he noticed her reaching for the door handle.

“Trips off, Henry.” she shouted as she pulled open the drivers door and climbed into the car. 

She started the car, revving it for good measure before she did a U turn on the tarmac and began speeding back the way she had initially come.

Her brain was on autopilot as she began to drive not towards the city, but the house. She hadn’t been back since the night of the shoot out but it was the only place she could think of to get supplies.

She sped onto the driveway, gravel flying everywhere as she powered towards the garage at the back of the house. As she pulled up her phone chirped, a message from Karen with the address of the warehouse. She ignored it for the moment as she raced to get out of the car. 

She was relieved when she checked the garage door and it flew open with eaze. Without any cars in the garage now to conceal it, she raced over to the hatch in the floor in the back corner, heaving the metal grate that covered it out of the way.

She climbed down the metal ladder, her feet slipping on a couple of the rungs in her haste. The automatic lights began to turn themselves on with her presence as she began to assess the space. Most of the shelves had been emptied already. ‘FUCK!’ She thought. But then she noticed the marks on the floor next to a stack of shelves.

Angel moved closer, kneeling down to run her fingers against the drag marks. She quickly stood, her hands taking purchase at one end of the shelves to begin shifting them in the same directions as the marks. She was relieved to find a large reinforced door hidden behind the shelves, a keypad in the wall beside it.

She breathed deeply, wincing at the pinch in her ribs with the exertion of moving the shelves but she couldn’t dwell on it, her husband needed her. “Come on, Pete.” she muttered to herself as she began to rack her brain for potential codes.

She started with her birthday. After all, it had been the code he had used for the house. No.

Next she tried their anniversary. Nope. “Okay.” she sighed. She began punching the numbers in for Aunt May’s birthday. Still no. “Oh come on Pete.” Then it hit her. She racked her brain for the numbers before punching them in. 03-13-14. Beep. Click. 

The moment and realisation that the code had been Gwen's death date was bittersweet, as the door slid sideways as it opened. Her fondness for her husband, mixed with his continued self punishment for what had happened to Gwen all those years ago, made for a melancholy feeling. It was soon pushed to the side by a whole different feeling of shock and surprise. As fluorescent lighting illuminated the room, she found herself tentatively stepping forward. It was like stepping back in time. His old suits stood on mannequins in glass boxes. Old newspaper headlines had been framed and hung on the walls. Old blueprints for web shooters lay scattered across a desk. She pressed a button on the desk and another hidden door opened. 

When she stepped forward there was a mixture of old Spider-man gear as well as a wall covered in weapons more aligned to his current work; guns, knives, small flash bombs. 

She turned and grabbed a bag and began filling it with different weapons. She grabbed an ankle holster, strapping it and a small gun to her right leg before she grabbed another gun and slotted it into her waistband. She was about to leave when she froze, her body slowly turning towards his old spider-man gear. She found herself moving towards it, a nostalgia washing over her body. She picked up one of his web shooters, turning it over in her hands. She tossed it up in the air once, then twice as she thought, before placing it too in the bag and leaving.

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

New chapters go live on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list make sure you put it in writing for me. Also if you are enjoying the story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think!

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[collapsedsquid]

A mob of anti-Israeli protesters stormed into an airport in the North Caucasus republic of Dagestan on Sunday night following calls on social media to block a flight from Tel Aviv from landing at an airport in the majority-Muslim region. Video shared on social media showed hundreds of people gathered outside Makhachkala International Airport on Sunday evening, with demonstrators brandishing Palestinian flags and shouting anti-Israel chants. [...] According to local media, some of the demonstrators were stopping cars outside Makhachkala's airport to check the personal identification documents of drivers and passengers as they searched for Israeli citizens among the motorists. The flight from Tel Aviv landed at 7:17 p.m. local time, according to the airport's website, after which the protesters stormed into the airport, breaking past security and running onto the tarmac. One group of people who ran onto the airport's tarmac surrounded a plane and jumped onto one of its wings, the pro-Kremlin newspaper Izvestia reported.

[alwayswonderingandwandering]

road

[paddockpatrol]

Best Boy

Warnings: angst (with a happy end), injury, feelings of self-loathing

Word Count: 556

Author’s Note: For @kimiraikkonen whose sentient car idea has prompted me to write something for the first time in years (who would have thought that Max Verstappen and RB16b feels would shake me out of a what-I-thought-was-a-permanent writer’s block). Thank you for allowing me to use it! I hope you like it.

----

The roar of the crowd has long drifted away on wafts of petrol fuel when softly, tentatively the sheet that has been draped over him like a body bag is gently pulled away. While the strong, capable hands of Genty and the rest of the pit crew have already eased away most the immediate pain out of his body work, it's that other, deeper ache of loss that has not subsided. 

The unshakable bond forged in the scorching heat of Bahrain has been shaken loose beyond repair. As much as his tyres had clawed at the tarmac of Copse, his speeding belly had pressed into the gravel trap, and as much as he had willed all his strength into the survival cell, his driver got hurt. The world may have heard the pain in that radio call, but they didn't feel it. They didn't feel it snarl out of the tech pro barrier, rip into the side pods, and bite down viciously into man and machine alike, severing the link that had made them a ruthless pairing in windy deserts, too-wealthy cities, and fresh alpine valleys. 

In actual time, Max may have been unconscious for only a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for him to realise that he would have to revert back to being RB16b, and nothing more than that. How could he have ever pretended to be anything more than a machine to be utilised; he wasn't even worthy of his own full number, let alone the pet name his human had given him. That reeked of affection, where none should be found. Best to revert back to what he was made to do. Win races. Full stop. Aspiring to any further bond had been hubris fuelled by a most capable pair of hands and deft pair of feet knowing how to manipulate him. Doing their job. Dangerous to think anything else.

The tarp is pulled down further, unforgivingly exposing his mangled frame, the visible manifestation of his failure. 

"Are you still here?"

If in his disorientated state he has missed who it is that is so inexorably revealing his shame to the evening's gaze, the raspy voice is unmistakable. He cowers further into himself, avoiding the soft tendrils of that magical bit of energy reaching out. He isn't worthy of the solace that lies in its acceptance. 

A soft hitch of breath pierces the silence of the garage more jarringly than a wheel gun as broad hands grab hold of the halo. His driver hoists himself back into the cockpit he had groggily exited only hours before. A rustling of clothes, some twisting of limbs, and it's almost like nothing has happened at all. Lights not out yet, away they still have to go.

They sit like that forever. 

Man. 

Machine. 

Separated. 

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry I couldn't stop you before we hit the wall."

He almost doesn't understand the sentence. Cannot comprehend it. Surely…

"I failed you."

The next time Max cries his head is pressed warmly against the front right tyre on the Abu Dhabi starting straight. The world may see that happiness, but they don't feel it. They don't feel the pride that sings over that strongest of bonds, soars high into the sky with the exuberance of fireworks, and is strengthened every time affection is given voice in the undercurrent of every thought Max sends his way:

Best Boy

[heygerald]

old habits die hard - bonus chapter (set between pt 3/4)

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x oc

Jake tries not to act like a total fucking idiot. But, that’s pretty hard when Zoe Preston manages to make him act like a total fucking idiot every time she was in the room. Oh, and to make matters worse, apparently everyone else had noticed too. What does a man have to do just to take a shower in peace? 

read the story here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / ... / part 4 / part 5 / *bonus chapter* / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / *say yes*

“Not a bad run, Hangman,” Maverick quips from the tarmac, aviators low on the crook of his nose as he raps his knuckles on the still-hot metal of his wing of his jet. “Could have pulled your turn a little faster, though. Might have shaved off some seconds to get over the hill with.”

Hangman rolls his eyes, unbuckling his helmet as he does. “I was still the fastest through the course today,” he reminds his instructor.

“There’s always room for improvement, isn’t there?” Mav says easily. 

Jake just narrows his eyes. “Maybe with the others, but I think I’m good.” 

It doesn’t knock that smile off of Maverick’s face. “You know kid, you’re not invincible,” he hums, almost thoughtfully. 

“So far, so good though,” he retorts. Still, Maverick just gives an easy going shrug, not convinced one way or the other. He didn’t seem irritated at Hangman’s attitude, but he didn’t seem impressed by it either. Really, he just seemed... 

Well, who the fuck knows what Maverick was thinking at any given time. 

“Don’t be late tomorrow,” the Captain says not giving anything away to what he might have been thinking. He just clicks his tongue with that stupid smirk in place, then offers a bemused laugh. “I got something special planned for everyone in the afternoon. Let’s see how invincible you are then.” 

And then he’s gone. A smile and another knock of the knuckles before he disappears into the hangar with Hondo in tow. And Jake tries not to linger on whatever the fuck that could mean. With Maverick, there was really no way of knowing what he would have planned for the lesson. 

Hangman rolls his eyes deciding that he didn’t really care. 

“Still faster than you could have flown it, gramps” he mutters to himself just to feel a little bit better while climbing out of the cockpit.

Yale and Harvard meet him on the ground; all three pilots are glistening with sweat, but for once, no one is particularly irritated at any one else. The flight had actually gone well today; no moments where Hangman, well, you know, left his team hanging that could have pissed them off. Instead, they had completed a clean sweep of the course that resulted in the target being obliterated. They give him nods before disappearing in Maverick’s wake.

“Nice flying,” Coyote makes up for their absence. He offers Jake a bottle of water; not cold, but still better than nothing.

“Did you expect anything else?” Hangman shoots back with a half-assed smirk. “I know you’ve been struggling with getting the groove, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle.” 

Coyote rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

Hangman wonders briefly if he was just about done with Jake’s shit as everyone else seemed to be, but Coyote had been a loyal friend of his for years, and he also doubted that this comment would be the one that pushed him over the edge. Besides, it was hard not to be in a good mood now that the day was over. The sun was shining, the breeze was cool, and Jake even heard some of the boys talking about going out for drinks after dinner.

“You keep talking like that and one of these days you’re going to eat your words, Seresin,” Coyote tells him, only half serious.

Not worried, Jake snorts. “Yeah. Sure.”

Coyote starts talking about something that he doesn’t completely listen to. Not necessarily his fault; Jake may have been a traditional American man, but he had never really quite gotten into professional football. Baseball? Sure. That was a sport he had been playing since he was five. But pro football really wasn’t in his wheelhouse of interest.

So, as Coyote said something about the upcoming game, Jake slowly started unhooking the intricate straps of his suit. Sweat dripped down his spine and onto the tarmac when he shook out his arms.

He grimaced. Even he could admit that was fucking disgusting.

“—Stich, I’m serious!” a voice peaked across the tarmac. He glanced up to find Zoe shoving Stitch as far away from her as she could manage, a glare sharpening her features as her WSO only howled in laughter. Jake didn’t even know what he had been doing to piss her off, but it wasn’t too hard to guess. Stitch seemed to have a knack of how to irritate people effortlessly. “Don’t fucking touch me right now. I’m hot and sweaty and you’re disgusting.”

“Ah, come on, Buzz. It’s just a little salt,” he told her, wiping his forehead.

Zoe grimaced just as Hangman had moments before, her lips pulling her mouth back into something halfway between a frown and a smile.

“Knowing you, it’s probably also piss and shit and—”

“Christ. Have a little faith, huh?”

She shoved him away again, though this time her features were cracked open with a smile, and her voice wasn’t so threatening as it was breathy and amused. Hangman watched as she piled her hair onto the top of her head in a bun, watched as she pulled the top half of her flight suit down to her hips where it pooled around her waist.

He hadn’t told her this—didn't know in what sort of situation she would even want to hear something like this from Jake—but he thought she looked really good. She had always been a babe back during Top Gun; a killer smile, long legs, a sharp intellect that could knock an ego even like his down without putting much effort into it. But over the years apart she had really grown into her looks even more.

Her hair was longer, sun streaked and shiny from care. Her skin was tanner, gone were the spots of sunburn, replaced with light freckles. Her cheeks were brighter, teeth whiter, eyes happier, and fuck if he didn’t feel his mouth go dry ever time he caught a glimpse of her across the room. Jake could never quite put his finger on what it was about her that captivated his attention, but as he watched her and Stitch wrestle each other under the shade of their jet, he wondered if it was just one of those things in life that he would have to accept. 

Someone waved a hand in front of his face.

Jake blinked to find Coyote looking at him with a bemused expression. “Jesus. You know, if you’re gonna stare at Buzz, the least you could do is try not to be so fucking creepy about it.”

“I—” he darted his eyes to her, watching as she plopped down onto the ground with a dramatic sigh. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Alright, gawking, whatever.”

“I wasn’t gawking,” Hangman crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, trying (and failing) to look away from Buzz as her and Stitch laughed about something that he wasn’t privy to.

“You’re not even sly about it,” Coyote told him, barreling on. He even went so far as to purse his lips and wipe the corner of it in a mocking gesture. “In fact, you might want to wipe your mouth right about here; you started drooling. You should probably fix it before she sees.”

Jake swatted his hand away.

“Don’t be an ass,” he says, though, when Coyote shakes his head with a laugh, he wipes the edge of his mouth as subtly as he can. There was no drool, of course, and he feels like a fucking idiot for letting Coyote make him think that there was. “I wasn’t staring,” he declares again.

“Right,” Coyote rolls his eyes. “You were just trying to burn a hole in the side of their jet so they wouldn’t be able to fly tomorrow. What else would it have been?”

“Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Than annoy you? Not really,” Coyote shrugs with another laugh, clearly enjoying having something to tease Jake about that isn’t going to get him decked. Or, well, won’t get him decked just yet.

“I was just wondering what they’re laughing about,” Jake says.

A pathetic excuse and they both know it.

“Those two are always laughing about something,” Coyote drawls before taking another sip of his water bottle. It was hot and standing around wasn’t making it any less hot, but Jake doesn’t feel like leaving just yet.

He wonders why that is.

Then, as another amused laugh peels through the air, he drags his gaze over to find Buzz on her back, hands clutching at her chest, as Stitch waves his arms around in the arm as if telling some dramatic story.

“Yep,” Coyote deadpans. “Totally not staring.”

“Fuck off,” he says, but finally manages to tear his gaze away from the pair long enough that he can finish unhitching his suit. His helmet bobs against his back as he peels off his gloves, and although he wants to move the conversation along, some petty part of him struggles to do so without having the last word. “And, not that it’s your business, but I was not.”

“Was not what?” Phoenix asks, having only just climbed out of her cockpit, with Bob in tow.

Hangman nearly bangs his head onto the jet beside him with a groan.

“Staring at Buzzard,” Coyote says before Jake can stop him, not a single care in the world as to hears. Jake panics a little at that as he can practically feel the smugness exuding off of Phoenix when she swings her head in his direction.

“Oh, that?” she taunts. “He’s always staring at her.”

Hangman gathers his things and heads off towards the hangar, hoping that they would get the message and just leave him out of it, but, of fucking course, that just prompts the trio to clatter after him with looks that he really doesn’t want to deal with

“What’s the matter, Hangman?” Phoenix snickers. “You worried that we’re gonna tell Buzz about your little crush on her or something?”

Her voice echoes when they make it into the cool, air-conditioned lobby, and in turn Yale and Harvard peer at the group curiously. Hangman closes his eyes hard and silently wishes that something will save him from this.

Like a stroke. Or a meteorite. Or the end of the world as they know it. 

Any would do. 

“Oh shit,” Coyote crows, realization flickering across his face when Hangman fails to make some sort of sharp-witted retort fast enough. “Dude. I thought you were just checking her out because she’s a babe. I didn’t realize that you liked her.”

“I don’t like her,” Jake turns on the group and glares as icily as he can at them all. But the topic is immature and it’s hard to sound threatening when they’re discussing whether or not he likes someone. There’s something distasteful in the back of his throat as he thinks about how middle school all of this is. “And I wasn’t staring at her. Now, can you minions go find someone else to annoy? I just want to shower.”

Phoenix bites her lip as Bob stifles a laugh under the pretense of coughing.

“Oh, screw me. I told her,” Phoenix declares, hand on her hips as she rolls her eyes. She sounds exhausted about the whole thing, suddenly; as if it was no longer funny the longer she stared at Jake’s face. “I told her it was this whole thing starting over again, like no time has passed, but of course she didn’t believe me.”

“You talked about this?” Jake asks, incredulous. Definitely just incredulous and not the tiniest bit hopeful because maybe he had misread the entire thing and she didn’t hate him as much as she acted like she did. “Why would you talk about this with her? I mean... what—what did she say?”

“Oh no, no, no,” Phoenix shakes her head with a scoff. “Nope. I am not getting dragged into the middle of this whole thing again. No way.”

“Dragged into what?” Jake asks.

He doesn’t really have a clue. Actually, the longer this conversation drags on the less and less he feels like he knows what’s going on. And it should be pissing him off; it should infuriate him that Phoenix is acting like she knows something that he doesn’t, but really...

Well, really, he just wants to know. Has to, almost. Like an itch.

But Phoenix has already decided that this conversation is not for her any longer. She tugs Bob in the opposite direction intent on getting out of the conversation before it’s too late to run, and Jake tries not to sound so desperate when he calls out, “seriously? Come on!”

She just shakes her head. 

“Not my circus,” she announces, then gives him a pointed look that he takes to mean that he better not bring this back up with her. “Not my monkey.”

“Bob?”

Bob just shrugs, that stupid grimace on his face that he got when he was uncomfortable by the situation at hand. Which was pretty much always. Bob tended to be uncomfortable no matter what was happening.

“Great,” Jake rolls his eyes, huffs, and then realizes that he is more worked up now than he was after hurtling through space at 9 G’s. He turns to Coyote and promptly smacks the pilot on the back of the head.

“Ow! What’d I do?”

“You started this whole fucking thing,” Jake tells him.

“I was just pointing out that you were staring at Buzzard,” Coyote huffs as they turn down the hallway. “I didn’t realize that you liked her or anything like that. I thought you two ended things a while ago.”

“We did,” Jake huffs.

“But—”

“I am so not having this conversation with you right now,” he cuts his friend off with the wave of his hand. Then, he considers what he had just said, and tacks on, “actually ever. I am not having this conversation with you ever. I just want to shower and eat and then maybe drink some beer before falling into an eight hour coma for the night.”

“And I totally support that,” Coyote quips. “Especially if, maybe, after a beer or two you might feel happy enough to tell me what’s going on.”

Jake throws his head back with a groan. “Christ.”

“Ah, come on, man, I’m your best friend. I didn’t even know that there was something to be going on when Phoenix and Bob knew. I mean, Bob! This is officially something that I’m in as well and you need to tell me about it so I don’t look like such an ass next time.” 

“Tell you about what?” Fritz blinks curiously at the pair as they enter the locker room. He has a towel slung low on his waist, water droplets clinging to his skin, and although they had a grueling day of training today, he looks happy.

“About whatever is going on with him and Buzzard,” Coyote announces.

“Dude!” Jake smacks him on the back of the head again, this time gaping at his friend’s insolence. He knew that Coyote didn’t have a filter, but this was seriously turning into a personal offense. Coyote rubs the back of his head painfully while moving to his locker on Fritz’ other side, but he hardly seems to mind the seething glare Hangman is shooting his way. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What?” he shrugs. “It’s the men’s locker room. It’s not like she’s gonna overhear you or anything.”

“That’s not the fucking problem!”

“Then I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Jake narrows his eyes before darting his gaze to Fritz, then back to Coyote, then to Fritz again. Fritz just surprises them by laughing. “Uh, I hate to tell you this Hangman, but it’s not like it’s a big secret or anything. You’re always staring at her.”

“I—I am not!”

“Literally always,” Fritz argues. “Like this morning during breakfast when she was peeling that banana.”

“Or yesterday during Maverick’s lecture when she was braiding her hair.”

“Or last night at dinner when her and Rooster were playing foosball.”

“Or—”

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” he pinches the bridge of his nose.

So, okay, maybe he wasn’t as subtle about watching Zoe as he thought he was, but Jake Seresin didn’t fucking stare at women. He just... liked to watch her laugh; liked the way that her cheekbones shone and her lips pulled tight and she had to wipe tears from the corner of her eyes with nails that always had a cracked paint of polish on them. And yeah, sometimes when he heard her speaking, his head swiveled on its axis. And sure, sometimes when she shouted at the other pilots, he liked to see what was going on because Zoe could actually be scary when she wanted to be. And of course, there were times when his eyes drifted in her direction if the sun caught her skin in a certain way or if she was muttering to herself without realizing it or if she was obsessively tapping her knuckles against the table for good luck.

But that wasn’t staring. He didn’t stare. He just...

Fuck.

Okay, maybe he did stare a little.

“Damn, man. You really like her, huh?” Coyote asked. He was still smiling, still amused, but there was a curious note there as well. Even Fritz looked intrigued by the idea that the great and mighty Hangman might do something as mundane as like someone.

“She’s just—we’re just friends,” he argued, slowly striping from his suit as if finally remembering why they were in the locker room in the first place. “I don’t see what the big deal about that is.” 

“You’re never just friends with a girl.”

“Uh, Phoenix.”

“Phoenix hates you.”

“No she doesn’t,” Jake scoffed, but when Fritz coughed into his hand and Coyote stared at his locker, he frowned. “She doesn’t like hate hate me, anyway. It’s just our rivalry from the first time around. Whatever. Buzz and I are friends and despite what you might think I can be friends with women without it being a whole thing.” 

They shared a glance. Coyote scratched the back of his neck before sidestepping that entirely. “Okay. Well, then do you want to explain what’s going on with you two?”

“There’s nothing going on,” Hangman tells them again. 

“I mean like what you did to piss her off so much. Because she’s been glaring at you almost as much as you’ve been staring at her.”

“I was wondering about that,” Fritz slugs his towel towards the corner hamper, now standing in nothing but his boxers as he begins adding a blue gel to his hair. “Did you try to kiss her or something? Because she does not fucking like that.”

Though he wants to, Jake does not ask him how he would know something like that. A wise proverb about not asking questions you didn’t want answers to or something like that echoing in the back of his head. Slinging his shirt off, he desperately tries to convince them that he didn’t care about her like that. 

“Trust me, Buzz would like any attention I gave her. Alright?” 

“Right,” Coyote deadpans. “That’s why she’s pissed at you right now. Because she just doesn't know how to handle your attention and like a little fangirl the emotions are just too much to comprehend.” 

Jake frowns. Okay, maybe he had played that on a little too thick.

“How am I supposed to know what she’s mad about right now?” he asks. 

“Because you’re literally always staring at her,” Fritz snorts. He seemed a little too amused by all of this, and Jake really doesn’t want to kick his ass, but he’s starting to think he might need to. “If you spend all that time drooling over her and don’t know why she’s pissed at you, then you should seriously get your eyes checked. Or ask Bob to borrow his glasses or something.” 

Jake’s face cannot be fun to look at. Fritz, somehow, still manages a grin. 

“Alright, whatever. So she’s mad at me. She’s—” furious about how he was treating Bradshaw was probably the best way to explain it, but as he thought about how she had thrown her finger in his face and spat at him yesterday afternoon, shame burns down his throat. Clearing it, he instead says, “she thought I was a little harsh on Bradshaw yesterday, but she’ll get over it. I think she has a crush on him or something.”

“Dude,” Coyote rolls his eyes, unimpressed.

But he says nothing else. Obviously, he knows Jake well enough to not call him out on that too because right now he’s not sure he can handle another therapy session. Especially not in the middle of the locker room when they were all half naked.

Fritz on the other hand accepts the half-assed deflection. Just shrugs; both his shoulders and then into a pair of jeans. “Oh that? Whatever, man. Someone had to say that. I didn’t even realize that Bradshaw knew Maverick before all of this, but now that I do, I definitely don’t want to be flying with him. His head is everywhere. He can’t use the throttle for shit. Pointing it out just makes the rest of us look better compared to him. I guess I should thank you for that one.” 

The shame burns a little hotter knowing that in a single moment he had managed to change everyone’s opinion of Rooster without even considering what that might mean for the pilot.

Then, when he realizes just how right Zoe had been, Jake kicks off his boots a little bit more aggressively than necessary. 

“It doesn’t make us all look better, Fritz,” he grunts. “I mean, there’s no amount of personal trauma that can make you pull those turns any better. It’s almost like you don’t want to get selected for the mission.” 

Fritz scoffs. “You’re such an ass, bro.”

“An ass that can complete the mission, though.”

Fritz shuts his locker with a clang. He seems pissed, but he still gives the boys a respectful nod before disappearing into the hallway. Coyote watches him go, then turns back to Jake.

“Are you gonna bite my head off too? Or did Fritz just have it coming?”

“I don’t know, Javy, what do you think?”

Coyote, apparently, thinks that he’s in the clear because he leans onto the lockers with a thoughtful hum. “So? What are you gonna do?”

“Right now?” Jake chucks his pants into his locker, then his underwear, before he slings a towel low around his waist. “Why don’t you take a glance at where we are and try to put two and two together, bud.”

“I meant about Buzz.”

“There’s nothing to do about Buzz,” he huffs and makes his way towards an empty shower stall. Coyote goes into the one beside him. The water feels so good on his overheated and sweaty skin, that he almost forgets about the conversation at hand.

“I mean you gotta do something.”

“Can I just shower in peace? Please? Is that too much to ask?”

“I’m just saying,” Coyote continues, dumping some generic shampoo onto his short-cropped hair, completely oblivious to the fact that this is a bathroom and some people didn’t want to wash their dicks while talking to the guy next door. Or, knowing Coyote, maybe he was well aware of that and didn’t care enough to stop. “She looked really pissed at lunch; maybe even pissier than Bradshaw. If that’s possible. How are you gonna fix it?”

“Who said I need to fix it?” Jake huffs.

“I’m all for ignoring problems until they go away, but I don’t think that this particular problem is gonna be such an easy solve when we literally live in the same hallway as those two. Not to mention the fact that Buzz and Stitch are doing well in the flight trials. They’ll probably be picked. You don’t think that you should clear the air before that happens?”

“I don’t think this is a conversation for the showers,” Jake groans. He dumps some shampoo onto his own head and lets the suds pile up beneath his fingers before he starts scrubbing. “I don’t even know how we’re still having this conversation. Did you drug me? Was there truth serum in that water?”

“We’re having this conversation because you want to be having it.”

“What are you, a therapist?” he scowls through the suds in his eyes.

“I’m your best friend.”

“Fucking debatable at best.”

“Man...” Coyote sighs. Jake knows that it won’t be the end of it though, and he’s starting to consider just leaving the locker room suds and all when Coyote speaks up again. “Just apologize to her. You know you want to. Plus, I happen to like Buzz. If you have a thing with her, then go for it. She might be the only girl I’ve ever known that’s capable of getting you to shut up.”

I don’t have a thing for Buzz, he almost says. I don’t have a thing with her.

But that’s not fucking true and he knows it. Maybe Buzz doesn’t have a thing for him anymore (not that he would blame her, he had managed to fuck it up the first time around pretty spectacularly) but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t drawn to her like a smoker trying to quit nicotine. She just got under his skin like no one else had done before, looked at him as if she actually saw him, and the longer they were stuck together at Top Gun he only got in further over his head.

Maybe Coyote was right. The problem wasn’t going to fix itself.

“I don’t even know how to apologize about it,” he grumbles, barely loud enough to be heard above the showers. But Coyote pauses in his scrubbing and he knows that his friend had heard. “You saw her today. She wants nothing to do with me. And Rooster is like a goddamn guard dog every time I try to get close.”

“Yeah. What’s up with the two of you?” 

“Javy,” Jake glares; so, so, so annoyed right now. “I swear to god, man, you only get to rag on me about one person. Pick a lane or I’m going to break your fucking nose.” 

“Sheesh. What the fuck is your problem?”

“You! You are so clearly my problem right now!” Jake shakes his head in complete, utter disbelief. He tries to relax a little bit by sticking his head under the stream of hot water, but then he’s stuck thinking about the other problem that they had just been talking about, and his eyes pop back open in pure misery. “Christ. I need a drink. You think Buzz will forgive me if I buy her a drink?”

“I don’t know about that.” 

“What should I do then?”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what to tell ya, man.” 

“Seriously?” he deadpans. “That’s it? You spend all this time following me into the goddamn showers so you can convince me to make things right with her, and then you don’t have any ideas about how I can do that.” 

Coyote hums, switches off his water, and moves toward his locker in search of clean clothes. “I’m still surprised that you even like her in the first place. And I don’t know her all that well, but I do know that she takes loyalty pretty seriously. You’re gonna have to make it up to her, not just apologize.”

“How are those things different?”

Coyote scrubs the water from his hair, voice a little muffled as he says, “they just are. So, figure out what it was that you did that pissed her off to start with, and then work from there.” 

And, ugh, that’s just the cherry on top of the fucking cake. Because he’s right. Zoe does take loyalty pretty seriously and he may as well have committed a cardinal sin by insulting Bradshaw so publicly. Which mean that he wouldn’t just be able to throw a half-assed apology in her direction. He would have to mean it. 

As if by divine punishment, Stitch and Rooster stride into the locker room laughing. The former has his flight suit hanging off his waist in the same way that Buzz had done, but he was bare chested and already working to strip the rest of it off. Rooster on the other hand was already dressed in clean jeans and his floral shirt, and moved towards the sink with a shaving kit in hand.

Jake sighed when he realized that in order to make things right with Zoe, first he would have to make things right with Bradshaw.

One shower, he wiped the suds off of his face with a frown so deep he could almost feel it rattling his cheekbones. That’s all he was asking for. Couldn’t he just have one goddamn shower in peace?

* Taglist (thanks for asking!) @luckyladycreator2 @rosiahills22 @the-winter-marvel33 @chaoticassidy @ashleyzhu0514 @fulla02 @puriini @yanak324 @sopheeg @alanadetigy @blue-aconite @dempy @actuallybarb​

[richardjohns12]

Features of Specialized Road Bikes

If you see a group of riders or watch a pro race, you will find most riders using scott mtb. Specialized, a California company, is one of the biggest bike brands and has dominated the market since 1974. The brand has developed ground-breaking bikes, won countless races and created a large fanbase.

The company produces all types of bikes, from entry-level to excessive dream bikes. Its expansive catalogue covers all kinds of bikes for various terrains and uses. The ranking of the models from lowest to highest is Base, Sport, Elite, Comp, Expert, Pro and then S-Works.

How will you select a Specialized road bike with so many models? How do you decide which bike is right for you?

Know the purpose: You should be aware of what type of riding you’re planning to do on your new bike. Do you want to race? Or is it for casual daily use?

Specialized build levels

All the Specialized bike models come with different component build levels. These models vary in the element spec level and the quality of carbon used in the construction is different for carbon frames. When you look for Specialized road bike sales, you will find Base and Sport as the entry-level build and are less expensive with entry-level components. On the other hand, S-Works is Specialized’s premium offering with the lightest, high-end carbon and top-of-the-line features.

Distinct models for men and women:

Although Specialized bikes have specific models for women like the Amira, Ruby, Dolce, Era and Rhyme, nowadays, most of the features are similar and don’t deviate far from men’s fits. Sot, Specialized discontinued women’s specific models. Instead, the new models offer various sizes to suit both genders and have different men’s and women’s component builds to address particular touch points.

For instance, the road racing Tarmac bike now comes in sizes ranging from 44–61cm and is available in a Tarmac Men’s and Tarmac Women’s form. The model is race-focused and suitable for both genders but with gender-specific features like bridles and handlebars. Also, Specialized offers different crank lengths to accommodate female riders.

Aluminium vs. Carbon

Many Specialized models are available in both aluminium and carbon frames. Aluminium frames are often used for more budget-oriented models, while carbon is used for higher-end builds. A carbon frame is always lighter than an aluminium equivalent. Few materials can come close to carbon fibre’s strength-to-weight ratio. Using high-modulus carbon, developers produce carbon bikes that are very strong while being ridiculously light.

Rim vs. Disc Brakes

Most Specialized road bikes come with both rim brake and disc brake options available. Rim brakes are typically lighter, less intricate and more affordable. Disc brakes furnish more stopping power and work better in harsh conditions. However, disc brakes are more in use in most bicycles, while rim brakes are more common on entry-level options.

Road Bikes

Road bikes are the most delicate, quickest and efficient for riding on paved road surfaces. The specialized road bike is available in different strengths and each bike serves another purpose.

[a-room-of-my-own]

Petite nouvelle guillerette piochée sur Telegram tout à l'heure (je suis plein de canaux de gauche, je ne te raconte pas la dose de complotisme antisémite que je me tape depuis deux semaines) au milieu d'une plâtrée de montages mal faits destinés à la propagande soi-disant propalestinienne mais surtout propognon de l'Oumma bouleversée :

... Des manifestants pro-palestiniens ont réussi à envahir le tarmac de l'aéroport de Makhatchkala au Daguestan en Russie a la recherche de juifs, après des rumeurs sur l'atterrissage d'un avion en provenance d'Israël. Les gentils messieurs scandent des « Dieu est grand » histoire de faciliter la rencontre œcuménique et tout. Un membre de l'équipage de l'un des vols arrivés à Makhachkala a demandé aux passagers de retourner d'urgence à l'avion. Les autorités ont coupé les communications dans le secteur.

« On me dit que des juifs se sont cachés dans la salle... » l'avion

Non mais c’était pour la paix et la coopération aérienne tu vois le mal partout oooooh

[hyperion-blue-gt]

Read the description on this deviation, No Rude Comments allowed on any of my art this may result a red flag warning, as long you don't get any harmful words like being rude, insult, calling mean names and Disrespectful Will get Arrested by the Federal-Art-Police. Thank you for the Inconvenience and Stay Safe. Today is the mark of a 1st Anniversary for Gran Turismo 7 since last year from 2022. Good thing i just had some fun before i went down to be as a YouTuber will become my challenge to race and compete events by following the menu books and car collections before the updates comes in with new cars, returning cars from the previous GT Games, new and old tracks as well would be very great for Gran Turismo Fans to enjoy playing the game by competing the most online event i have been to is the Gran Turismo World Series Nations Cup and Manufacturers Cup. As I always be a very busy person for everyday when I was at my YouTube Channel because of my recording sessions on my PS4 Pro I'm currently at to be focusing on main full walkthroughs on the campaign to get to menu book No.39, Championship: World GT Series as I'm planning to achieve my goals when I stopped at the Circuit Experience. it takes me one year later due to the Gran Turismo World Series that I've been looking forward to becoming an online competitor since my racing days from Gran Turismo Sport as a Driver Rating B in GT7 when i reached to become a Driver Rating A. During my Freetime, I made an excellent picture of the Mazda RX-Vision GT3 Concept and Porsche Vision Gran Turismo racing at Trial Mountain Circuit with a Red and Blue Gran Turismo Style effect filter will turn out different because 2 cars are the icon covers of the game will be giving a support to Gran Turismo 7 by celebrating the 1st Anniversary to keep on racing, stay clean is my motto as a YouTuber gamer as my personal brand. It's been so long that i still got a long way to go as I'm being absent from Season 3 in the 2022/23 Exhibition Series for Nations Cup and Manufacturers Cup because of the new update comes out that brings Grand Valley Highway 1 as a new track. I'll have to do a video by days for trying out 5 new cars with 3 classics and 2 versions of Italdesign Exeneo Vision Gran Turismo. Somehow the Exeneo is very good style concept car that drives on the dirt and track that gives the differences to the same car. it looks good to race both of them on the tarmac track whenever i get the chance to sort my video editing out to make it look better for my prediction as a YouTuber to be creative. Hope You Like it and Happy Anniversary Gran Turismo 7. Check out my Forum on GTPlanet: https://www.gtplanet.net/forum/threads/hyperion-blue-gts-vision-total-drama-liveries.394866/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hyperion_blue_gt/?hl=en Pixiv: Hyperion-Blue - pixiv DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/hyperion-blue-gtpro Twitter: twitter.com/HyperionBlueGT Subscribe to my YouTube Channel: Hyperion-Blue-GT - YouTube :icondonotuseplz::iconmyartplz: GRAN TURISMO (Series), Gran Turismo 7 © Polyphony Digital/Sony Interactive Entertainment