#automobile engine need

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

Hal and Simon argue all the time about whether planes or cars are superior modes of transportation. It gets real intense when they start talking in mechanical engineering terms that none of the other Earth GLs understand. One time John dared to suggest that high speed rail is more efficient and better for city planning, and the two of them immediately punted him into the stratosphere.

[bookwyrminspiration]

NO! are you trying to reinvent the kotlc food wars in the year of our lord and savior sophie elizabeth foster 2023. wait hang on what does elizabeth mean. okay there's a few different iterations as always with translation, but its got to do with god and oaths. fascinating. please don't drink motor oil, just eat peanut butter if you want the flavor

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Bite my lip just for the taste

nonnie request here

Blurb: Eddie isn’t only good with his hands. He worships the ground you gracefully walk on and he is determined to satisfy you in every way that he can. Your pleasure is his pleasure and thanks to your mutual friend Steve, he might just have a chance to give you what you deserve.

Pairing: Older!Mechanic!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, lust at first sight, rough!dom!Eddie (careful what you wish for, right?), oral (m receiving), p in v sex, sloppy kisses, naked bodies and underwear description, reader referred to as girl, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), alcohol, characters are of ages 25+ and 30+

-

divider by @cafekitsune

Not only was Eddie Munson phenomenal with his hands when it came to mending cars and tinkering around with bolts and nuts… but he knew a trick or two with his strong muscular tongue and his long skilled fingers; and they weren’t associated with playing guitar or singing a epic chorus.

Eddie knew how to fuck— and he was fucking great at it.

But he couldn’t just come out straight with it and tell you that— he had to ease into it. It was like a dark lustrous dance of longing and need and he didn’t mind if he were in it for the long run.

Eddie wanted you but he knew that perfection took time.

It all began on a sweltering summers day. The metal head was very well educated on how car batteries and engines reacted to intense heat— but no amount of study could have prepared him for the way your car trundled into his garage.

Wiping the sweat from his thick brow he watched how you swung open the door with a tired groan and a chesty grumble. Full of merciless rage as you rattled your hands against the metal plating of the evidently old vehicle. Swearing like a sailor on a sinking ship, “Piece of shit!! I hope they crush you!”

Eddie couldn’t control the way his jaw nearly hit the dusty courtyard floor as your heeled foot struck against the cars front tire multiple times. Your rage wasn’t what surprised Eddie— he was accustomed to watching customers let out their pent up rage onto their dying automobiles. But what stunned him was you. You presented yourself in a way that made Eddie question why you decided to bring your car all the way down to this side of town when you clearly could afford to go elsewhere.

Not to toot his own horn, but Eddie was one of the best mechanics this town had to offer. However, he did hold a reputation that much of the community did not agree with. He had a look that made people uncomfortable— that made them run away.

But not you.

You charged toward him fiercely and determined. You made Eddie shrink in his boots.

“Hi, I’m looking for Eddie? Eddie Munson? I’m told this is his place.” Your sugar coated tongue had Eddie’s mind reeling. The contrast of your actions and your personality made him want to laugh aloud— but he managed to keep his humour to himself. For now. You hoop your keys around your index finger, swirling the metal so they would clank and chime against one another.

“You’re looking at him, princess,” He wipes his large oil covered hands against the dark denim of his jeans, toying with the chunky silver rings that graced his fingers as he drank you in further— having a better view of you now, “How can I help?” He briefly glances over to your car, his two front teeth puncturing his bottom lip as he recalls the way you were attacking it just moments earlier.

“My friend Steve said if anyone can fix this hunk of shit then it would be you.” You offer Eddie a tight lipped smile, your hands resting comfortably on your hips as you also gaze back over at the rust bucket your father gifted you 4 years prior, “She isn’t much to look at, but she meant a lot to my old man so… I sort of have to keep her around, Y’know?” You roll your eyes comically and Eddie hums in acknowledgment, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his plump chest that is clad in a tarnish white tank top.

“I get it.” He grins and winks at you, walking over to where you had abandoned your prized possession, “I hope Harrington put a good word in for me, his car would’ve been scrapped last year if it weren’t for my talent.”

“He said you were the best… alongside some other things that I best not mention if you wanna keep your friendship with him on good terms.”

Eddie laughs as he leans against the bonnet of your car, his wandering eyes flickering from your skirt that is stretched across the fullness of your thighs and up to your face and all over again. He couldn’t seem to pull his attention away from you.

“It’s unlocked, if you’d like to have a look inside.” You gesture toward the hood of the car which the metal head is leisurely draped on and Eddie’s cheeks warm at the inkling that he was caught gawking at you.

“Yeah, I’ll pop it open. It might just be the heat…”

It was now your turn to rake your eyes over Eddie’s frame as he peers into the organs of your nearly dead vehicle. He was only older than you by a couple of years and yet he seemed much more experienced in life than you did. The tattoos against his pale skin had you nibbling on the plush flesh of your bottom lip. His jeans hung loosely on his hips, held up by a studded black leather belt and above the hem you could see the waistband of his boxer briefs peering out at you.

One thing Steve had failed to mention to you before your arrival was how smoking hot Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson was. If you had known sooner, you would’ve dressed up a bit more— maybe you would’ve gotten changed out of your PA office attire.

But still, your tight fitted blouse and shiny black heels would just have to suffice.

“What are you doing right now?” Boldly you move around to meet Eddie’s line of vision. His eyebrows knit together in slight confusion and he flicks his fingers toward the open hood of the car, “No, I mean, after this. What are you doing? Do you.. have plans? Maybe going home to a girlfriend, perhaps?” You weren’t very subtle, but screw it! You saw the hunger in his eyes when you first showed up— he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him and you hadn’t been taken care of in a long time.

You were needy. Desperate. And Eddie may as well have been served up to you on a silver platter!

“Plans? Oh uh… no. Not at all. I uh… I was going to go home and have some shitty wine,” His pink lips perk up into a toothy smile, a knowing smile, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress your own, “Does that maybe interest you? You don’t seem like a shitty wine girl.”

You shrug your shoulders and a transparent smugness settles deep into the apples of your cheeks, “I like shitty wine.”

“The good thing about being your own boss is that you can finish whenever you want.” He slaps the bonnet of the car shut and dusts his large hands against one another, “How about I look at this tomorrow and we can take my car back to mine? Or would you like to check out my ass for a bit longer?” He slyly winks at you and your face tilts toward the ground as you make a feeble attempt to conceal the blazing fire that was torturing your skin.

“Hmmm that depends— can you guarantee that you’re not some psycho and that I won’t end up on the front page of the paper tomorrow?” For someone whose body may as well be a ferness with how hot it is, you sure are making Eddie work for what you both want. Something about him made you brave, but it also made you… timid. Quiet… obedient.

And boy oh boy, Eddie was enjoying every second of the power he had over you.

“How about I let you drive? You have the keys… you have the control.” His husky voice drops an octave as he takes a few steady strides toward you. His gaze penetrates yours and his dangerous eyes have an addictive allure. Captivating and intimidating. Revealing little but knowing much… it was exciting. He excites you.

“That could work…” your voice betrays your facade of confidence and Eddie grins wider at the soft falter in your tone. He could read you like a book. Your inviting body language, the blown darkness in the centre of your glossy eyes and the way you don’t back away from him as he stalks even closer to you. You were his prey… and he was the hunter set on a target.

One of Eddie’s rough calloused hands gently takes yours. He positions your palm flat out toward the sky so he could drop his keys onto it all while his focus on your face remains unwavering, “The keys to the castle.”

“Fitting, since you called me a princess earlier.”

“Maybe I orchestrated this from the beginning?” An entertained eyebrow perks up behind his stringy damp bangs.

“Is that so?” The sound of your hushed voice echoes back at you and your lips part longingly at Eddie’s close proximity. He is close enough to kiss— tasty enough to devour. A banquet of all of the most desirable and finer things in life.

“I saw you in those heels and with those legs… I couldn’t resist. They don’t call me a Eddie the freak Munson for no reason, princess.” There is a clip to his voice, a new intensity piercing through his words like a pin to a voodoo doll.

“You might just have to show me how freaky you really are then, Mr. freak…”

-

Eddie was right. The wine did taste like shit.

You were currently draped across Eddie’s large sofa, the soft suede fabric welcomed the mould of your body as you sunk into airy cushions and you sipped hesitantly from your stemmed glass. Smearing your dark lipstick across the pristine rim as you did.

Eddie was perched on a chair across from you which was cut from the same material as the couch. His feet were planted to the floor and his legs were spread wide; like a King on his throne. There was a coffee table separating the two of you and part of you questioned why he was so far away.

You and Eddie locked eyes, a welcoming and long stare. It was comfortable, patient but growing. Neither of you looked away, but none of you made the first move, either.

Eddie was assessing you. He was trying to figure out how this would go. How it would play out. Who was going to be the dominant one and who was going to submit?

You wanted it to be him. You wanted him to know that you needed your decisions made for you tonight.

You bring your glass of wine back to your mouth, taking a small drink and proceeding to lick and bite your lip afterwards. An unspoken invitation that Eddie silently accepts.

The warm light that glows from the table lamp next to you illuminates Eddie in a gorgeous orange hue, darkening his tattoos and brightening the metal around his fingers and his neck. You envision how he would look above you— glistening in sweat with his necklace shimmering as it dangles atop of your face. The image nearly causes you to whine aloud.

Nearly.

You surveyed your surroundings, “This is a nice place you have— very cozy.” You place your wine glass on a coaster, coming back to snuggle into the pillows of the sofa and Eddie hums, pleased.

“It’s no bachelor pad but it’s home.” He tilts his nearly empty glass toward you and a mischievous smile toys with the edges of his lips, “Thank you.”

He finishes his drink with one swift movement before he is leaving his post from across from you. You watch him with blown eyes, eyes that are bright and eager. He settles his lean and sturdy physique against the door frame that leads into his kitchen space.

Your heart rate quickens with anticipation and your hips squirm beneath you as you try and remain confident under his abysmal and sinful demeanour.

You were overly aware of the lewd events hurtling toward you and the excitement of it causes your face to flush with colour.

“I’ve never fucked a girl in heels before… I think you should keep them on.” He prowls toward you, his body language animalistic and focused.

He’s been wanting to pounce on you from the moment you stepped foot through the door— but Eddie is a gentleman and gentlemen take their time.

Eddie was in front of you now. His eyes such a deep shade of chocolate brown that they seemed to swallow the light rather than reflect it. They were adorned by long dark eyelashes that you were envious of and strong clean eyebrows that framed the chiselled structure of his face. He looked like a painting. Like he wasn’t real.

“I… I can keep them on.” Your face tilts toward your feet as you try to remind yourself of the appearance of the shoes that you chose to wear that day however Eddie is quick to tensely grab you by the flesh of your cheeks and snatch your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me.” His voice is a hushed purr as his nose teeters on the edge of brushing yours, “I wanna see your pretty face.”

His grip remains tight and it forces your lips into a cute pout which Eddie coos at, “I wanna kiss you. Is that okay?” You nod your head feverishly. Without wasting a single second your lips finally met, tinged with impatience. His lips were magnificent, full and defined and soft. His tongue tastes of alcohol and mint and you moan at the contact of his wet tongue wrestling against yours. His teeth nip at your bottom lip and your eyes are lidded as your fingers touch the exposed skin of his shoulders with a feathery graze; causing goosebumps to arise on Eddie’s inked skin.

“I need to know that you want this…” He breathes heavy laboured breaths, “That you want me to take control. I like it rough, baby, so we need to have a safe word… okay? Safe word is Cherries. You got that?” His domineering mask slips for a quarter of a moment as his black hues sweeten. You nod again, your mind clouded with lust and desperation.

“Repeat it back to me.”

“Cherries is the safe word.”

“Clever girl.” Without a beat Eddie is dragging you up and onto your feet. You are wobbly on your legs for a moment but you are fast to regain composure. As Eddie goes to lead you through to his bedroom you stop, your body set alight.

“Eddie can I… can I taste you first?” You are a blushing mess as the words drool from your lips. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it since you seen him man spreading in front of you in his armchair earlier. You wanted to dip down between his thighs and make his cock twitch with need, “Please.”

The metal head looked bewildered for a moment however he quickly welcomed the request. How could he possibly deny such a sweet girl when she asked him so politely?

He walks the both of you over to the comfortable chair, sitting himself down and allowing his hands to have free roam of your ass and hips, “Ask me as nicely as that and I’d give you anything you want, princess.” The pet name was now tainted with naughty intention as it rolled off of his slick tongue and your knees weaken at the sight of him gazing up at you.

It was nice to be able to study a man features without any shame or embarrassment. You were so used to stealing glances at attractive men but the visual feast sitting in front of you was enjoyed without any guilt.

You offer Eddie an intoxicated smile as his eyes venture over your face, your neck, your breasts and your exposed legs. You weren’t worried about the way your body looked— there was something so calming about Eddie that struck a match of confidence within you and he seemed to like what he was looking at.

“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” He rips down your skirt from around your waist, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving you stood in the pile of bunched fabric. His hands work quickly on your blouse and Eddie growls at the sight of you. Nothing to you but your matching lace underwear set and your heels.

Your nipples peak at the change of temperature in the room and the sly man pinches them with the tips of his slender fingers, rolling the buds mercilessly and smirking devilishly as he does. The action causes a soft whine to emit from your throat and Eddie’s lips perk into a grin at the sound. He was obsessed with you.

“Kneel.”

And you do. The bones of your knees meet the floor with a pathetic thud and Eddie smooths the palm of his hand across the softness of your hair; enticing you that he will be gentle at first but he yanks the strands seconds later, causing you to yelp.

“Open up. I wanna see if I’ll fit.”

Bracing yourself with your hands on his jean clad knees you unhinge your jaw, opening wide as Eddie slots two of his fingers onto your tongue and they slide deep in the crevasse of your mouth. They tickle the back of your throat and your thighs clench together at the thought of him fucking of your face.

“It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I’m sure you can handle it. Right, hon?”

“Yes. I can take it. Please…” You babble around his digits.

There you are again with your manners and your begging bambi eyes. It awakens something within Eddie— something that had been sitting dormant but has now stirred from its slumber. A darkness. A line he had never crossed but he was so close to it now. He wanted to own you. He wanted you to belong to him… to be his and only his.

“Go on then, baby. He’s waiting.” He winks at you and your adrenaline shaken hands find the zipper of his jeans. Eddie’s thick bulge strains against the stiff denim and you chew on your bottom lip furiously as his long and full shaft springs from his boxer briefs.

Your mouth salivates at the sight and you look to him for permission, which Eddie gives, before you are popping his throbbing tip into the hot cave of your mouth. A vibration travels down Eddie’s cock and reaches his balls as you moan around him. He felt so good— so natural to have him in your mouth. Like sucking on your favourite treat.

“Fuck— that feels so good.” Dark curls spill onto the back cushion of the chair and Eddie’s hands fist your hair into a ponytail, guiding your slobbering mouth up and down the length of his aching cock.

Your mind was blank of anything except for Eddie’s body and the way he felt inside of you. He hadn’t even penetrated you yet and your panties were dampening with slick more and more with every passing bob of your head.

“Shit—“ Eddie seethes through clenched teeth, his hips rocking up to meet your sloppy movements and he punctuates each thrust with a rewarding moan. “I need to feel you.” It was abrupt, the way he ripped your mouth away from him— but you understood. You needed to feel him too. You hadn’t felt this desperate for anyone before; this sultry and seductive. This needy and submissive. You didn’t want this night to end.

You cant contain the soft pants that leave your throat, a mixture of excitement and arousal as you climbed onto straddle Eddie’s thighs. His body felt hard and masculine beneath your touch and you shivered at the way he laid a harsh spank to the meaty flesh of your ass.

“As innocent as you look, you really are just a dirty little slut, huh?” He slaps you again, this time harder than the last and you nearly collapse against his chest. Eddie laughs mockingly, forcing you to sit upright as his fingers plunge down into the soaking fabric of your panties.

You gasp, your already primed body becoming slippier as his fingers thrust softly into you— testing the waters.

“Such a wet pussy, all for me…” His fingers twitch inside of you and you release a sound which can only be described as a moan combined with a helpless whine. With his free hand Eddie rips your breasts from the confines of your bra, allowing the skin to spill free.

His tongue bathed your breast while he used his teeth, giving you peppered bites that shot pleasure through your body like a lightning bolt. He drew your coiled nipple into his mouth and he let his teeth roughly drag over the tip. You moaned loudly. He leaves your breast and looks up into your face.

“Tell me how badly you want my cock.” His voice is a clipped and cool demand.

“I want you to fill me up so bad. I need it, Eddie. Please… fuck, I want it more than anything.” Your hips grind against his fingers and your words must’ve struck Eddie in a pleasant way because before your brain has any time to catch up to his ever changing movements, his fingers are pulling your panties off to one side and his cock is teasing and toying with your dripping hole.

The eye contact between the pair of you was intense as Eddie’s entire length slowly slid inside of you. Your breathing catches in your throat at the stretch of him. Before long, Eddie settles inside of you and your eyes remain shackled to one another. Sex with a stranger shouldn’t be this intimate— so you screw your eyes shut.

Big mistake.

“Open your fucking eyes,” He snarls, his hand grabbing your throat harshly as he pulls your body down toward his, “I want you to watch me as I fuck you.” Your eyelids snap open and Eddie’s features are slack but intimidating as he looks at you. The feeling of being brutally and totally full was almost too much for you to stand. Too much for you to handle. He pulls back from you and begins to thrust.

“Wait—“ You plead and your hands find Eddie’s chest as you support yourself on top of him, “I just need a moment to adjust… you’re so big.” You squirm at the pulsing of your walls around Eddie’s shaft and he grins egotistically up at you.

“Perfect thing to say.”

He repositions his grip onto the back of your thighs, slowly readjusting himself beneath you and easing himself in and out.

“Okay,” you breathe with a soft nod, “You can fuck me now.”

Eddie sensed that your body was ready for his size and he then started to brutishly slam his body into yours. Unbelievably erotic sounds hit your ears as you feel and hear his hips slapping against yours. Sticky skin meeting sticky skin.

“Feels like someone is fisting my dick.”

“Wettest little pussy I’ve ever fucked, yknow that?”

“Shit, I could cum from just the sight of you.”

“Listen to that, baby. You hear how much your pussy is loving my cock?”

“Keep those stunning fucking eyes on me.”

Eddie’s deep grunts and moans mixed with his dirty commentary only heightened the erotica. You’re gentle to take his hand into yours, timidly welcoming two of his fingers back into your mouth as you bound up and down to meet the crack of his hips against yours. Eddie’s eyes gloss over from the view of you above him and his thrusts get snappier and more intentional. Harsher. Quicker. Deeper.

As his cock fucks your sweet hole, his fingers are busy fucking your mouth as well. He took note of how much you liked to have him in your mouth— no matter what part of his body that may be. Eddie got an inkling that this would be the first of many nights together. And he wasn’t mad at the idea— he was actually thrilled by it. It spurred him on.

“Rub your clit for me, sweet girl.” It was as if you were in a trance and the only thing you were able to do was obey Eddie’s every beckon and call. Your finger tips find your sensitive bundle of nerves and you sigh out in complete bliss at the euphoria that shocks up every vertebrae of your spine.

“That’s it, baby. I want you to cum so fucking hard. I’m getting so close— want you to cream all over my cock.”

The speed in which your fingers circled your clit increases and your eyes fight to stay open. You could feel the desperation punctuated in every one of Eddie’s quickened thrusts and you feel that familiar build coming to build in your tummy.

“Fuck— I’m gonna cum. Keep rubbing that clit, baby. You’re being such a good girl for me.” His tired pants fill the air and your mind whizzes and bubbles as you whine out loudly.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, of fuck!” Your mouth gapes open wide, mirroring the sweaty sex symbol below you and your eyes widen as your orgasm floods your every cell. Shaking your body from head to toe. You feel Eddie’s cock swell inside of you— causing your high to continue

“Shit!!” A yell breaks past Eddie’s swollen lips as his orgasm hits. You watch as his face contours as he cums inside of you. His eyes squint shut and his mouth is pulled into a grimace. The veins on his forearms bulk and tense. It was the sexiest thing you had ever fucking seen.

Your heart paced rabidly in your chest as you both breathed heavily, trying to control the heaving of your chests as you both came down. You’re relying on Eddie’s body to keep you from collapsing and Eddie is wise to this. His strong arms wrap around your body as he pulls himself out of you, bringing you to rest on his chest.

Too tired and sated to do anything else, you press yourself against Eddie’s bare and empty sack, grinding lightly down onto the tender flesh of his balls and the noise that leaves Eddie’s throat is indescribable.

You shoot up to look at him and it’s now your turn to smirk and it’s Eddie’s turn to flush a shade of bright red.

“Ignore that.” He coughs to clear his oesophagus, followed by a light hearted chuckle as you come to lay back against his limp body and a knowingness fills your mind.

This wasn’t just going to be a one night stand… and this wasn’t the last time you were going to be laying on top of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson.

This was just the sweaty, sexy beginning.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @jasminelafleur

[knightyoomyoui]

"All I Ever Need" - PART 1 : Hell In Heaven

ft. TWICE's Yoo Jeongyeon (x Male Reader)

TYPE: Fluff, Smut, Light Angst

WORD COUNT: 3928

NOTE: Another Jeongyeon series! To the anon who is waiting for a Jeongyeon smut to come out, here it is. My plan is to divide the story into 10 chapters and update it all starting from this month. Hoping I can complete it before I quit writing at the end of 2025. Enjoy goth mommy Jeongyeon that I've never been done before.

DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

TAGS: missionary, 69, mutual arrangement, doggystyle, anal sex, oral sex, introvert OC, rich girl jeongyeon

DESCRIPTION: Two broken souls finding unexpected refuge in each other when YN LN—a shy, self-effacing photographer—is evicted during the middle of a bad weather, he’s rescued by Yoo Jeongyeon, a wealthy and feared goth businesswoman with a hidden longing to feel vulnerable.

===START===

The rain came down hard and unceasing, a cold shroud thrown over the city's dark streets. Water collected in the crevices of the pavement and dripped from the split awnings like a persistent, melancholy breath. Behind the veil of night and rain, a single figure stood under a stammering streetlamp, indistinct. You held a tattered canvas bag and a scuffed camera case, the only belongings you had remaining. Your black hoodie was waterlogged, clinging to your gaunt body. You didn't move much, as if the rain had soaked into your skeleton and numbed your determination. The world around you dissolved—a haze of neon lights, blaring automobiles, and muffled footsteps. You'd been evicted that afternoon. You remember the landlord's final angry words, but now you hardly even hear them. It was the cold against your skin now, the burden of each unpaid rent, each missed attempt at catching up, and your sister—ay in a hospital bed, quiet, breakable, waiting. A black sleek car purred down the road alongside him, engine purred low, rain pattered on its gleaming hood. A passenger within, Yoo Jeongyeon observed. The city recognized her as untouchable—a powerful woman with a reputation as dark and uncompromising as her fashion. Tonight, however, something vulnerable in beholding you alone in the midst of the rain, with those suitcases and bags you carry, awakened something within her—a quiet despair she knew lay beneath the surface.

Wait, stop." she instructed the driver, her tone low and firm. She opened the door and got out, holding an umbrella.

"Maam, watch out!" The driver shouted.

Heels tapping on the wet pavement as she walked towards you. Looking up, a form emerged that merged with the black shadows. You glanced up, surprised. Your own eyes were deep pools of weariness, but there was no bitterness or rage—just a weary resignation of this harsh destiny in your life.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentler than she normally permitted herself to be. You swallowed hard. "I'll be alright, miss." you mumbled, lowering your head.

Jeongyeon stepped closer, raising the umbrella over both of you. "It's raining. You're soaking wet. Why are you carrying your stuff under this awful weather?" You shook your head. "It doesn't matter. “I won’t be ordering my driver to stop if your situation don’t matter to me,” she said softly. “You better do the same. What happened?” He glanced down at his hands, filled with nothing but callouses from the burden he always carry with him. “Got kicked out. Couldn’t pay rent.”

Jeongyeon felt disdain that you’ve suffered through. The strength of the wind and the rain alerted her that staying here outside won’t do no good for them. “Let’s continue our talk later, get into my car.”

“W-what?”

Just listen to me, I can't have you here cold and wet outside, taking the storm in just because things haven't gone well for you." Jeongyeon told her. "Now come in and we can finish our conversation at home.

Your arms were held by Jeongyeon and opted to pull you through the car as the driver helps the door. She pushes you in and she sat next to you. The car drove away from the scene. To eliminate the suffocating awkwardness and tension within, Jeongyeon cleared her throat and opted to start the conversation.

"So why did you get kicked out-

As she looked over to her side, the stranger was now sleeping peacefully, your head hanging out of the window. Jeongyeon and the driver met each other's eyes in the rearview mirror. "He must've gone through hell in order to get knocked out like this."

She continued staring at your sleeping face, and Jeongyeon felt something ignited within her curiosity.

The following day, you woke up in her mansion's guest room wrapped in plush velvet curtains and comfortable blankets, a room where the rain outside during last night must've been far away and inconsequential. Prior to rising to the bed, a small, glossy desk, a note was waiting for him:

"If you're staying, we'll talk soon about what you can do for me." - J

Eyes creased in bewilderment, you step out of her room which is situated in the second floor of her gigantic simple home. Providing your eyes with a walkthrough of the astounding exquisite pieces of furniture and artworks on the walls and ceilings, you questioned yourself whether this woman whom you met yesterday evening isn't merely a kind of a typical benevolent citizen who chanced upon your wretched condition in the rain.

At the end of the steps, you are now in what should be the living room. Three figures were observed working with the food at the kitchen, accompanied by them has the unmistakable attire, a black oversized shirt, thigh high shorts and a rumpled hair that directs the maids through the preparation.

One of the maids could have noticed you just gaping at them uncomfortably, so the woman turned around. You get the first glimpse of her appearance. Black eyeliners, not so thick make-up, a gloomy aura that symbolizes her gothic personality and taste. are what make her interesting and distinctive.

"You're awake." Jeongyeon dried her hands with a towel. " "Do you get what I'm saying on that point?" she asked as she started pouring coffee in two cups.

You shook his head. "Not really."

She exited the kitchen and walks toward you, her features became clearer to be seen by you. She's truly beautiful, her aura bellows fierce and bold, and her physique was equally as unbelievable as her facial appearance. She provided you with another cup of coffee she prepared. You and she are now sitting together in front of the dining table.

She moderated her tone softer than ever, a departure from her style. "I'm making an offer on a condition to our deal if you permit me to assist you by remaining here on my property for as long as you want."

"And that would be?"

"I desire someone to be in charge of my life—a secretary, yes, but more than that. Someone who can hold space for me when I'm not well."

You scowled, not anticipating this type of request. "Hold space?" “Be there when I’m overwhelmed. Help me find balance. Not just with my work, but with myself.” You lowered your eyes, the impact of her words weighing heavily. "I don't know if I can do that. Whatever you've been dealing with, I'm at least as bad as you are now. And, you're also rich. Why couldn't you get a psychiatrist to handle it?"

"Because what I desire, couldn't just be fulfilled by anybody, not even a psychiatrist you're talking of. I like it with… the likes of you."

"Oh, so you're into the negative meets negative for a positive result, huh?" "Guess you can do that." She smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. "What I got inside me must get treated at any time I desire it to, and I want whoever that person is to be with me whenever I ask to handle it for me. And I found you to be the… company I prefer to."

"Then you want to remain here, with me doing all these… whatever can amuse you?"

"A win-win deal for us. You get to discover your temporary refuge while I enjoy what I desire, someone to keep me company as my personal secretary whom I shall be tagging along with me."

You ponder her proposal carefully. She awaits your response, simultaneously providing you these enticing stare that makes you believe that taking her deal will give you an entry into your life that will provide you greater chance to live by it without any more trouble. Just calmness, ease, and satisfaction.

I know you're taking this seriously, but I'm not doing this like as if your life depends on it. I just want you help me as much as I help you." Jeongyeon said. "And you don't have to be perfect. You just have to try."

You gulped hard, the softness of her solace giving you comfort. "I don't want to fail you.

Jeongyeon extended her hand, touching his with an easiness which surprised you. "You won't. Because this isn't just work. It's trust. And I'm willing to trust you if you really need it."

He gave a harsh laugh. "But not that ease. You don't know me, Jeongyeon. You can't just do that just because you pity me."

"And I want to know. I do pity you, yes… but my plan of assisting you was evident. This, proposition between us. I'm doing this instead because you caught my interest, YN." she stated, catching herself off guard that caused her to freeze for a moment after uttering those words. "Why did you even turn out like that? What happened yesterday anyway? You've not been able to tell me you see because you dozed off on how much you suffered being out there.

You let out a deep sigh and ran your fingers through your hair, worrying it as you rubbed your head to relax. Lip bitten, voice hardly above a whisper. "Work's been… slow. I'm a photographer. Studio job, not a lot of money. But my sister's struggling to live—she's in the hospital. And medical bills just keep adding up." Jeongyeon's eyes softened. She was surprised at how difficult your predicament really is than she can ever think of. "I'm sorry." You shrugged, attempting to conceal the pain. "It's life. I'm used to it. Now that I already accepted that it hasn't been doing me good for a long time now." She looked at you a moment longer. "You don't look like a man used to giving up." "Looks can be deceiving." You grinned painedly. "I can measure the limit now with my fingers at how much more left I was able to hold out with all of this. But I can't, not yet. Not without taking my sister out there in good health first."

"If that's the case, then say it." Jeongyeon pressed forward, daggers flashing in her eyes to push you towards the correct option. "Say that you require this. I'm here presently, would you leave me be?"

"I have a home. A company that I ran. All that, I can offer. You don't need to be alone."

"Why would you ever do that?"

She smiled, a soft, unfamiliar one that curved her black lipstick-covered lips. "Because sometimes, the strongest people need someone to hold their hand."

Emotional conflicts, the conflict of your choices, and the desperation of survival. Your tears erupted, head bobbing in agreement. "I do. I want to try it."

Jeongyeon was delighted at his thorough admission. Her fingers running over your skin sending shudders running through your nerves. You turned your eyes back to her, greeting the now changed side of her which you were on the verge of seeing for yourself.  “You seem struggling all this time. Now that we have arranged ourselves, would you like me to demonstrate already how much we could work ourselves out?”

"Where are you leading me?

"Somewhere ideal for us to enjoy the solidarity we've always dreamed of."

She took your hand and led you up. Shoving you into her bedroom. Dark, mysterious, and radio silent, she closed her door as she attacks you to the bed. Sitting over you with her whole body, she cradled both sides of your head as she looks at you greedily. "This will be our haven for the lost, such as ourselves. Remain here with me for as long as you desire, and I am willing for you to discover where you can belong once more." "Won't you prefer that, one like me, who will take you in with open arms?" She mumbled to herself, fingers tracing at your chest.

"Y-yes…"

"And I… could let you explore what everyone always fail to learn about me. Whenever you want to. Take me with you, YN. For now, by pleasure."

She kissed your ferociously, her hands fisting your hair as she roughly makes out with you, grinding onto your crotch. A quick glance at her fiercer and hotter kavorka, her sharp predator eyes and messy strand of her short bobbed-cut hair sprawled around her face, she breathed heavily as she guided your hands through her sides.

"Escape this cruel world with me, YN. Find delight in me and show how much you need it."

Your hands extended to her breasts, which remained covered by her t-shirt. Barely made her whine. She did not want any interruption, so she left your body as she stood next to the bed, taking off her clothes to expose something marvelous she;s been concealing all along in these loose clothes.

Standing before you in her purple and black blended lingerie, she seductively approached you and crawled over your reclined body. Removing your clothes as well, it crossed your limit to tolerate this sexy view of hers. Sitting up, you yanked Jeongyeon towards you to kiss her frenziedly again.

She sat on your lap, crotch to crotch she grinds anew, your left land holding the nape of her head and the other at her lace-covered breast, squeezing.

You tossed her onto the bed. She heaved a heavy sigh as she observes you removing your lower part of clothes too. "Yes, give it to me, YN. Do it."

Your cock poked out of your briefs, Jeongyeon was amazed by its size and girth, she guessed it's an estimated 7 inches. She felt your hand pulling her waist down, her legs spread open over you. Putting aside the skimpy clothing that covers her bare pussy, you slowly rub your length against her slit before entering.

"Ugh fuck, y-you're so huge." Jeongyeon gritted her teeth as she could feel your size intruding into her innards, pushing her walls to their limits she thought. "Mean it when you fuck me. You can have me any time, YN. It's one of my means of paying you back, so don't waste it. Bring all you got."

"As you wish." You began to move as you observed Jeongyeon's face lift with strong thrusts you're imparting to her. You increased your face, starting to screw her in the same manner that she want it to be done, her limp limbs dangling around her like wings as you seal her gasping mouth with your lips again.

Trapped in your body, Jeongyeon could only push you further into her by enclosing both her arms and legs around you. Her voice breaking into all the moans she emits with the ferocity of your skin smacking against each other.

Exiting her mouth, you slammed her body by touching her lips. "Uh uh f-fuck yes, go slow and then deep. That feels so fucking good, mmh." She praises the way you stroke your cock on her wet pussy.

Take me in whatever ways you can come up with, don't hesitate before me." Jeongyeon touches your arms to indicate stopping at pleasuring her in a normal missionary position. "You can dominate me, I'm all yours YN."

"Promise me you'll b-be o-okay, Jeongyeon?

She smiled, adamant at her reaction.

"Don't mind me. I've been yearning for this so badly, the sensation of being ruined and dominated. And I want you to exert all your energy, YN."

She turns around, placing her arms and knees on the mattress, bending in front of you. "What do you think about us beginning from you taking me from behind. What do you think?" She said as she rocked her massive meaty butt shaped beautifully in her panties, luring you.

No more words required, you sniffed her butt through her underwear before pulling them down, revealing her fat skin. You buried your face in between her flesh, Jeongyeon begins to moan at your mouth gnawing through her magnificent hole. Adding to it with your hands rubbing her clit, it challenged Jeongyeon's patience to stay still at her level with all the teasing she's had so far.

"E-enough of that, fuck me hard now YN!"

Your regained rod passes smoothly through the crevice of her buttcheeks. "Where do you want me to put it in?" "You're already there, YN. Bury it up to my ass this time. Break me."

You pushed slowly in, watching her tight ring stretch to create an entrance for your enormous cock into her tight bum. Her muscles accommodate your girth well but slightly painful at its stiffness. You can very well sense that Jeongyeon is still a virgin in her precious areas. Your cock managed to be inserted, and Jeongyeon lay motionless on her position.

Give me a moment to get used to, please. I-it's my first time." She confessed. You were flabbergasted, this is the level of faith she's been placing in you and really does live up to it.

"S-sure, go ahead."

Jeongyeon whined as she can sense your heat, your size, and the subtle pulsating of your shaft within her. "O-okay, go on. Then like before, take me fast. You nodded, slowly pulling at first before pushing again to build a momentum as you begin getting into the rhythm again. With Jeongyeon getting used now to this new position, you went all out now on her ass, pounding it with strength as her skin rippling into contact with your crotch.

Her body shook with the bed. Her moans and screams louder, her hot back figure making this sex with her feels so great to watch. You still didn't show her mercy because she insisted on her, while she enhances more pleasure by fingering her cunt as you do yours.

"S-shit, I'm cumming Jeongyeon!"

"I-I'm also getting close. Do it inside, I want to feel you."

"Agh fuck… I'm gonna release it!"

Mouthing a lewd "ugh," Jeongyeon's eyes widened as you plunged your cock into her to the hilt, filling her ass with your hot cum as she squirted her juices through the sheets and some onto your thighs and knees. Throwing yourself on the bed, you assisted her in riding out your orgasms by delivering scant thrusts on her ass before departing.

You took yourselves some break first, with you holding her ass, liking how her skin slides off through the crack of her fingers. Jeongyeon purred at the sensation of her backside being touched, until she recalled something. "I haven't touched you yet. Do you like my ass that much?"

"Yes. It's so huge, sorry." You blushed and laughed. "It's my first time getting a hold of this."

"Don't be afraid, you can have it while you stay here." She smiled slyly. "But also, I can show you always that not my ass would be the only thing you'll drool for."

She pulled your shoulder down to place your body again. "How about this, why don't we do what we both want at once? I can then have your cock while you continue eating my ass and pussy. Sounds good?"

"Definitely."

Jeongyeon rotated so she can be stacked above your body in an opposite manner. Her face is now in front of your limp cock while her pussy and ass hovering at your face. “I’ll take the turn first this time.”

She takes your cock as she succulently eyed it, licking her lips and nipping at it lewdly. She releases a big gasp as her butt get pulled back so you can finally gorge on her plump pussy. "Mmh ahh~ Y-yes, lick my pussy like that, YN. I love how skilled your mouth is."

The goth woman joined you by rubbing your cock to full size once again. She could barely even wrap her hands about it. "Welcome back, you beast." She ran her tongue over your head, her smooth saliva coating your slit had your legs rigid.

Your humming made Jeongyeon shiver too, your breathing sending shocks to her pussy. A battle of delight, Jeongyeon takes her time exploring each part of your penis with her mouth while you waltz your tongue and kissed each spot on her pussy. Your hands forcefully massaging her ass once more, it may be your addiction where Jeongyeon must meet in the coming days.

Jeongyeon eventually sucks your cock into her mouth, her cheeks sucked in to apply more pressure in sucking. Both hands holding your testicles to assist your balls to create more load for her to target earlier. It did not take long as she doubled the effort by giving your shaft another effort of pumping as she provides you with a great blowjob.

Your gigantic penis wedged into the hot crevice of a short-haired goth bad girl as you devoured her out like its your final meal on planet Earth. She's there, hovering over your body, naked together, into her bedroom. It was like before you were merely having a sharing of emotions yet now, how things change so quickly with both of you now doing intimacy in an overdue sex to de-stress yourselves in this cruel world.

"Mmh fuck, you're making this so difficult for me to concentrate on your cock when you're going wild behind, sweetheart." Jeongyeon moans while wanking your cock in a rush and rubbing her ass against your face. "My pussy continues to leak due to your fingers." "Please try your best, i am feeling myself cumming again in no time."

She couldn't had to be instructed twice. Jeongyeon brings your cock back to her mouth, reciprocating your energy by bobbing her head rapidly down until her nose probes the base. You too hastened the flicking of your fingers in her cunt, slurping all the pre-cum that runs out.

Jeongyeon first, thighs clamping your head as she had you consume all of her juices to satisfy you from her seducing you since a while back. You nearly suffocated at how much honey nectar she offered for you, but it would not be a nuisance for you if you'll get knocked out with her pussy placed right on your face.

You mouthed swears and contented responses when Jeongyeon made you cum next. Limbs curled, tailbone lifted just so you can pummel your length and deepthroat this horny rich woman as you dump your another set of load down to her belly. She slowly withdrew her lips from your cock and licked all the drops remaining that your tip could not help but to drain.

"God, that was a lot." Jeongyeon wiped her mouth. "Having that much of amount everyday will surely keep me filled to the brim."

"Same can be said to you." You agreed. It made Jeongyeon blush.

"I-i've been holding it longer than you can ever think, okay? It just so happens that I get to meet you." Jeongyeon said, resting her head over your crotch while observing your hard cock slowly subside.

"But seriously, uhm… thank you for this, Jeongyeon. It was amazing, for a first time." You grinned, stroking your palm over her ass.

“I’m glad it was a great introductory for our newfound relationship, YN. Expect more for the next following days, but for now, rest and give yourself some time to sink it all in.”

Jeongyeon grabs her panties and her clothes as she dresses herself. “Because starting today, I’m going to change your life. J-just… make yourself comfortable staying by my side, and I’ll it all happen in an instant.”

She went out of her room, leaving you to ponder on all that went by and prepare yourself on the potential things that are still in the same but done differently which will ensue afterwards with this experience encountering a woman like Yoo Jeongyeon.

=== END OF PART 1 ===

[sunrisecaminus]

Ask from a friend:

Imagine a one-shot where K.O. accidentally gets a crush on a woman who's a hella nerd for automobiles like they met up at a car show while K.O. was in disguise, and she complements his car, and they start hanging out! It would be so cool if she specializes in paint jobs and does those styles that grew popular in LA in the cholo/ low rider scene.

But K.O. definitely has to come clean, disguise or not, she would be in danger of hanging out with this love struck fool for too long.

Message - This is so cute! I love this request so much!

Knockout x Human Reader

Summary - Knockout showing his true self to his human friend that is a car nerd.

Warning - Violence (Smacking a bully)

Being at this show takes a lot of time and effort. Waiting for all the cars to be parked properly and to be able to show it off to everyone. Good thing about this place is that Knockout is usually the best car, in his opinion, in the show. Yes sometimes you have the nice sleek light up cars, but people just need to realize it isn't about the bright colors and distractions. He wants to show off his 20 hour buffs and beautiful custom tires. Bad part about this stupid event is that he was told to be parked right next to a Ford 150 Platinum Plus. Nothing wrong with it honestly, the nice truck looked brand new with no scratches, but it totally caught more attention and stole his spot light. There was a small light rave in the truck's interior so a bunch of people were surrounding the guy and not looking at Knockout. He was shaking in anger, how could anyone possibly look at him now when he is being one upped?

After about an hour and a half of just a few people looking past his car and walking to the next, he sees another person walking up. They seem to be like everyone else and was just skimming the vehicles, until they set their eyes on him. They seem to gasp and rush over, looking down as the front and observing his bumpers and his headlights. Walking around to the back, the person kept mumbling to themself about how updated some of his parts art. Knockout was finally being complimented the way he wanted and he finally gets to relax and feel like a beautiful trophy.

The guy who owns the ford truck walks over and smirks at the person, leaning on his truck door. "Hey babe why don't you come over and dance? That lame paint job is nothing compared to my new truck bed!" Dammit, why do these humans have to be so cocky? If it wasn't for Knockout needing to stay in disguise, than he would kill him right now. The person looks up from looking at the backlights and glare. "I ain't dumb. Only thing you did was attach some LED lights and brought in your CD player inside to blast music. Screw Off buddy." The person goes back to Knockout and checks out the tire number. Knockout wanted to laugh so hard from hearing that, the guy did only put some cool lights on the truck to look cool. Honestly he thought that was it and the rude human would just walk off after that, but he sees the dude walking closure. He seemed hella pissed off and seemed to not take the insult well. "Hey what the fuck you just say?!" They push the nice stranger to the ground and steps back a bit to wait for them to get up. Knockout hears the pained yelp from the young person being pushed into his lower door. Oh frag no this stupid idiot was not going to ruin his paint job! Knockout swings his door wing HARD into the truck guys face and smacked him to the ground. He closes the door quickly as to not show there was nobody in the car and revved his engine a bit to scare the trucker…but then he saw that he hit the man too hard and knocked him out. Shit, he forgot how fragile these little creatures were.

"Yeah that is what you get you asshole!" The nice stranger gets up and yells at the fainted man. They turn to Knockout and smiles. "Thanks man!" Knockout didn't know how to talk and thinks about it. He rolls the window down just barely to make it seem like he was talking from inside the car. "No problem, he has been annoying since I got here. What is your name my lovely friend?" The person seems to giggle from Knockout accent and way he calls them. "Name is y/n! Nice to meet you sir. Here why don't I give you my phone number?" Knockout feels them sliding in a card and takes a little bow to the head as a goodbye. The human walks off and he scans the card on his diver seat. It was a mechanic business card…omg they do cosmetic shit. He might have just met his new favorite human! Actually his only favorite human.

…

A few months after the Car Show, you have been texting Knockout everyday. He was such a nice, charming guy that made you feel sad whenever he had to go. His complaining about his coworkers were always so funny, hearing about how them annoying him and not letting him work. It was insane to know that he was a medical doctor, and the way he complimented you about being a cosmetic mechanic. Not a lot of people see the hard work of being able to make car wraps and amazing tires. Taking pictures and sending him a bunch of your complete works of art had him praising every detail you put in it.

He had to suck it up and understand that you needed to see him…for who he truly is. You know so much about him that Soundwave is probably going to target you and maybe even eliminate you. Knockout fears the inevitable of you either dying or running away from him from fear. He texted you to meet him at the abandoned car shop outside of the town. He wanted to show you a secret about his "car". You drive yourself to the giant shed and park your car outside of it. Getting out of the car you see that the shed was lit with nice bright lights. Your friend was scared that this was a stereotypical murder scenario, so they forced you to have an emergency button in your pocket. Opening the door, you step inside to not see the red car anywhere. Looking around, you see a few boxes here and there. "Hey." You hear Knockout greet you and turn to see that he was hiding behind some of the boxes. "Oh hi! What are you doing?" You didn't hear a response for a while and it was getting kind of creepy. Backing up a bit, you look to make sure the door was open to escape if you ever needed to. "Im-ugh. This is embarrassing. Look, I know you haven't seen what I looked like before and…I trust you enough to show you." He was waiting for you to say something before he shows himself and hears giggling. "What? I don't care if you look ugly or anything. Don't worry I won't judge." Knockout couldn't help but smile, but he knows you were going to judge him, scream or cry out of fear.

You watch as two bright pricks of light slowly leave from behind the boxes, a face starts to show itself to you. Knockout slowly walks out from the hiding place and shows himself to you fully. His frame shined in the light and his optics stare at you with a face of shame. This was the first time Knockout ever felt…not pretty. He grew attached to this amazing, beautiful, and smart human…and with how massive his figure was to you, he felt like he was nothing but a monster. Knockout tries his best to feel more confident in himself, knowing that if you didn't like how he looked he shouldn't care about you and just forget about someone who would judge him so easily. Unfortunately, he feels as though your opinions were important to him, wanting to know how you feel…even if he might regret it in a few minutes. Ready for screaming, he closed his optics, but heard absolutely nothing. He peaks down at you to see your shocked face, like you were frozen.

What he doesn't know, was that you were realizing not only was he the freaking car, but that he looked honestly really hot. Was he some sort of robot from the government?! "W-wow, you…your a car?!" Knockout sighs and nods. "Yes, I am a species called Cybertronian. We are from a different planet and I disguise myself as your beautiful looking vehicles. Our planet is gone and now we have to find ways to bring it back to life." He explains more and more on what he is and how he came to be on Earth. The more he talks the more curious he is about your opinion about all of this. Honestly if he was in your situation, he would be grossed out and leave. "Well, this is really cool to know that there is car aliens! I think you look very handsome." You smile up at him to make him feel better, knowing he seemed a bit stressed out right now. His optics widened from your relaxed reaction and got a bit hot. A person from another world calling him hot was honestly making him a bit flustered, which hasn't happened in forever. You look up and down as him and give him a cute thumbs up. "Yep, looking good!"

After some time, you agree to go see his base and stay for the night. Being in the drivers seat of his car, you were geeking out about the type of radio he has while also checking out the air conditioning. "So is your friends really that annoying as you say?" You hear his laughter of sweet joy and it kind of felt like he was secretly smirking. "Oh yeah, you'll see."

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Stevie’s Garage

steddie, omegaverse, 1960s, omegas entering the workforce, single parents, cw: vague references to suicide

Steve liked working with his hands. As a child that meant playing with lincoln logs and tinker toys, after he presented it meant baking a sewing. Then his no-good, two-timing alpha left him for his secretary, with two pups, Danny (6) and Jenny (7 1/2). Steve won full custody in the divorce, and at least his ex pays his alimony on time.

But it isn’t enough to live on, not with the mortgage and the kids. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to worry about the house falling apart; he’s been doing home repairs the entire time, learned to change his own oil in his car, can fix a flat tire with ease.

More and more omegas are driving now, and Steve figures they would appreciate service from someone who won’t talk down to them. He gets a loan from his aunt, a maiden omega who invested well, and opens his own automobile service station: Stevie’s Garage.

Robin helps him get set up: painting the sign, ordering supplies, answering phone calls, while Steve gets under the hoods and gets his hands dirty.

He does well enough that after the first month he puts an ad in the paper to hire a second mechanic. He figures it will take a while to find an alpha (or even a beta) who can stand working for an omega.

Much to his surprise, a man with dark curls and a shy smile comes by later that week asking if the job is still available. Steve has Eddie check the car on the lift, and he finds the loose fan belt in a couple minutes, changes it out.

Steve hires him on the spot.

It turns out Eddie’s got a pup, too. Carrie’s in Danny’s class at school, and all Eddie will say is that her mother isn’t around anymore. Steve doesn’t pry. It means the three pups ride the bus to the garage after school and play together there until the workday is done. Jenny’s bossy, a bit feral, and loyal to a fault. The first day Carrie gets off the bus with them, she asks why she isn’t going home to her mom, all childish bluntness.

“Mama died in the bathtub when I was really little, then I went to live with Daddy,” Carrie answers, just a statement of fact.

Steve’s glad he didn’t pry.

After that, Jenny is as protective of Carrie as she is of her brother.

Three months after he hired Eddie, Steve admits to himself that he likes the alpha. More than likes him. Eddie smells nice, and he’s gentle with the pups, never raises his voice in anger—only in excitement or fear—he tells jokes and stories to pass the time, sings along with the radio. But mostly, he looks at Steve like a starving man looks at bread when he thinks the omega isn’t looking.

Steve wants to feed him.

They both have engine grease under their fingernails, are covered in heavy-duty cotton, Steve’s hair is under a kerchief; there is nothing particular sexy about the moment. But Steve can’t wait any longer, and he presses up against Eddie, pins him in place and kisses his mouth.

“I’m dead, yeah? The lift fell and I was crushed by Mrs. Wheeler’s Bel Air, and I’m dead,” Eddie babbles when their lips part.

“Not dead,” Steve replies with a grin. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve leans in for another kiss, one that Eddie deepens, his tongue slipping easily between parted lips. “I’ll need to get Robin to babysit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Munson. You’re taking me out dancing.”

✨✨✨

Steve answers the door with his housecoat still on, crouching down to say hello to Carrie first, the pup throwing her arms around his neck. “Head into the living room, honey, the kids are doing a puzzle with Robbie,” he says, watching her scamper past him into the house. He turns to Eddie with a soft smile, “Just give me a couple minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie agrees, smile just as soft.

Steve disappears to his bedroom, and Eddie waits awkwardly in the doorway. He hears laughter from deeper in the house, followed by Robin saying, “Hey there, Care-Bear, come sit by me.”

He’s ruminating on how nice it is to have people who adore his kid as much as he does around, to give her that big family feeling, at least a little bit. Then Steve comes down the hallway wearing a proper dress, and Eddie quite literally stops breathing.

Dressed to the nines, Steve is a revelation, but he simply takes Eddie’s hand and says, “So, where are you taking me?”

“Enzo’s,” Eddie answers, no longer worried that it’s too much. Steve deserves the nicest restaurant in town for their first date. Steve deserves the best of everything.

Not that either of them has fancy tastes, not knowing what half the things on the menu are. Eddie gets spaghetti and meatballs, and Steve gets a chicken dish with some kind of red sauce. They talk and trade bites of food, both careful as they eat—Steve due to a lifetime of practice, Eddie because he realized as soon as the waiter took their order that he’d made a mistake and that leaving without marinara on his shirt would be a miracle.

After, he tells Steve to order dessert, and they split a tiramisu. Eddie pays the bill without really looking at it, having kept a tally in his head of the prices by habit, leaves a nice tip, and helps Steve up from his seat. “Ready for that dance?”

Steve smiles and nods, following Eddie to the dance floor. Enzo’s has a live band on the weekends; “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole starts just as Steve steps onto the parquet dance floor, his arms settling easily around Eddie’s neck. “I love this song,” he murmurs as they start to sway.

“Makes sense,” Eddie murmurs, “You’re certainly unforgettable, Steve.” They’re silent after that, moving to the music, bodies pressed close. A new song starts, and they keep swaying, dancing merely an excuse to hold each other in public, to trade small kisses.

“Robin’s planning to spend the night at my place,” Steve says once they are safely back in Eddie’s car.

“Oh?”

“We still have plenty of time…”

“Steve?”

“Take me back to your place, Eddie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, driving on autopilot, as Steve rubs his hand up and down Eddie’s thigh.

Steve pounces on him as soon as they get through Eddie’s front door, kissing him hard and reaching for his belt. They shed clothes down the hallway, until they reach Eddie’s bedroom, leaving the lights off, everything illuminated well enough by the nearly full moon.

Eddie stops breathing again. Steve is a vision in only his slip, white satin and lace showing off so much more of his skin than Eddie’s ever seen. Carefully, he reaches out, suddenly nervous—a crass, unworthy man standing before the loveliest omega on earth—and pinches a bit of fabric at Steve’s waist, afraid to touch more.

“Hey,” Steve whispers, placing a hand over Eddie’s, “It’s okay. I’m still just me. Not gonna break, Ed.”

Everything after that is slow and sweet. Perfect.

Eddie cries tears of pleasure as he sinks into Steve’s wet heat. Steve mewls at being properly knotted for the first time in years. They fall asleep tangled together, the most relaxed either of them have felt, possibly ever.

Steve wakes early, before the sun is up. Eddie stirs beside him as soon as he moves, and Steve is happy to take a couple minutes to kiss.

There’s plenty of time to get home before the pups wake.

✨✨✨

Big thanks to @itcanbepalped for sharing the inspo with me and then riffing for a bit! Love you, Mads!!!

[smallestapplin]

You know which Autobots deserve more love? Blurr and Red Alert.

You’re right and you should say it!

-

-

Blurr is such a cutie too, his ramblings get so much worse when he’s around you, you make his spark race so he always just ends up on a nervous tangent until you silence him with a peck to his face plate. You try (and fail) to hold back a laugh as he stumbles on his woes, stuttering badly, before he stops talking and lets out a pitiful whine.

Covering his face plate with his servos to avoid your gaze.

Blurr is a bot you’d accidentally have a lot of power over, for such a small cute human, he does everything you ask and then some. Wanted a snack? Well surprise he’s taken a whole self from the super market, so take your pick.

If he hasn’t seen you in a while, a while being one day or a handful of hours, he get sstupid excited to see you again! You don’t see him coming, all you can hear are his engines and suddenly you’re up in the air in his servos, getting so many kisses cause he missed you so much!

Banter, banter, banter, he loves it so much that you two can playfully sass each other it ends up with finishing lines like “which one of us can do math? That’s what i thought.” “I hear your sass, I fail to see your point.” Or the one that made him laugh stupid hard for no reason “call that an Automobile whoopsidaisy.”

He’s very needy too, Blurr like his human and likes having you around, he doesn’t like he has to share your time and attention elsewhere and with other people and bots.

He will sulk.

But that just means he gets more kisses.

-

-

Red Alert is a worry wot, anytime you’re not in his line of sight he’s already panicking about what happened to his little light oh my primus you’re dead somewhere and he won’t- oh hi sweetspark, how was your trip to the bathroom?

You are his voice of reason sometimes, you sit pretty on his shoulder and tell him it’s alright. War has made him a little paranoid but it’s not enough to be bothersome. Very protective over you, he doesn’t want any harm to come to you, so he makes sure to human proof his work station and habsuite.

You try to tell him he doesn’t need to, but it’s nice he cares about you so much. Red alert treats you like royalty and spoils you rotten with his affection, always keeping you close and honestly I could see him being one of the first autobots to try and sparkbond with you.

He carries you in his spark chamber a lot as is, so being bonded to you? Oh just the thought makes him swoon.

You can easily get your way with him if you just coo out his name so sweetly, almost like a song, and he caves so quickly, he goes from saying “no, absolutely not.” Or “oh…well, okay just be safe, okay?” All hearts in his optics just looking at you.

A few of his friends joke he’s so down bad for just a little human, but he agrees with them he is, how could he not be? The stars in the galaxy don’t shine as bright as you, not in his optics.

[thezombieprostitute]

Second Chances Dating App

Soulmates, though not fully understood, are a real thing. Soulmate meetings are celebrated throughout the world and cherished.

But what happens when one soulmate dies before the other? It's a painfully common occurrence. Soulmates passing away due to disease, accidents, natural disasters, crime.

You lost your own soulmate to heart attack. He got hit in the chest in just the wrong spot at just the wrong time and his heart stopped.

It's taken years of therapy but you think you're finally ready to try again. To welcome romantic and physical love back in your life. Your therapist recommends a dating app called Second Chances, designed specifically for people who have lost their soulmates.

So who are you swiping right on? (Poll at the bottom)

Curtis lost his soulmate to a car accident. They were hit by a drunk driver and, while Curtis survived, his soulmate didn't. He's had to deal with survivor guilt on top of everything else. But he's willing to give love another chance.

He works in HVAC systems, mainly repairs. It's nothing fancy, but considering his work helps people survive the crippling heat waves, he's happy to do it.

Jefferson, a single father, lost his soulmate to a mugging gone wrong. He's had to stay strong for his daughter, Grace, but he'll be the first to admit something broke in him. He's lost a considerable amount of faith in humanity but he wants to try.

He's a fashion designer. Not one of the most well known, but he's financially sound with a good number of high profile clients. He appreciates a medium that lets him be so expressive while also letting others express themselves.

Steve met his soulmate during his time in the army. Their time together was short and Steve still has PTSD from the battle that broke his soul. But he's tired of being alone. He's never one to stay down so he's going to try to find someone he can connect with. Someone he can feel safe and comfortable with.

He left the army soon after his soulmate's death and ended up going into automobile repair. He specializes in motorcycles but is good with anything that has an engine. He likes to work with his hands and keep himself busy.

Hal's soulmate was taken from him by cancer. They wasted away in front of his very eyes. He's incredibly grateful for the time they had together. But he knows they'd want him to find someone new. To not be tied to them forever.

Taking care of his soulmate, Hal picked up a lot of nursing tricks and trades. After they passed, he ended up taking courses and getting his nursing degree. He enjoys helping to take care of people.

A rather unique case, Bucky lost the arm with his soulmate tattoo in a construction accident. Because he no longer has it, the magic to find and meet his soulmate is gone. He's not entirely sure he belongs on this app, but he needs to try.

Bucky's replacement arm is enough that he's able to stay in the construction industry. Though he's more on the safety inspection side of things these days. He doesn't want anyone to go through what he has.

[gguk-n]

Pivotal choice (Carlos Sainz x Race Engineer!Vowels!Reader)

Summary- Just as the summer break 2024 started Carlos Sainz Jr announced that he would be joining Williams Racing from 2025 onwards. Everyone thought it was because James Vowels was persistent little did they know, Carlos's decision rested in Vowel's daughter's hand who was currently working as a race engineer at Williams.

There had been a shift in Williams from the start of 2024 season, it wasn't visible to the world but anyone in Formula One could see it. James Vowels, it seems was making the right decisions, but in actuality it was his daughter, Y/N who had just joined as a race engineer who was calling the shots during race strategies and giving her opinion to her dad which helped him make decisions. She was the reason Logan got his first point last year and the reason Alex was able to compete for points. That's how her and Logan had grown closer together since they were closer in age and had the same sense of humour.

Vowels spent a lot of his time courting Carlos Sainz Junior, especially after he had lost his seat to Lewis Hamilton in the start of the season much to his daughter's dismay. She couldn't believe her father was being so irrational and persistent which translated into her growing annoyance and hatred for the Ferrari driver. Y/N had caught Carlos's eyes the first time her dad had dragged her along to dinner with Carlos after the race. She had made sure to let her father and the potential Williams driver know of her annoyance at being dragged here and the fact that they were possibly making Logan seatless for next year.

She remembers it like yesterday when her dad after much deliberation and push had resigned Logan. She had even offered to be his race engineer to help him; her dad didn't think she could do much but agreed. She was currently not only Logan's race engineer but his therapist. So, you can imagine how much she was hating being here. Vowels got up to use the restroom leaving the two together; Y/N ate her food quietly not even looking up. "I heard you're Logan's race engineer" Carlos began. She nodded. "I know it must be difficult to sit and have dinner with the guy who might take your drivers seat. I'm sorry but the world of motorsports is cut throat and" she cut Carlos off with "I know, I'm just salty dad's being like this since Logan has potential if given the right chances, not looking for a replacement." she said looking into his eyes. Carlos's breath hitched in his throat, those were beautiful eyes he thought. "Again I'm sorry but I need to weigh all my options" he continued. "I know" she hung her head down while continuing to cut into her food. Her father was back soon, trying to cozy up and butter Carlos up. There was a perpetual grimace on her face apart from her usual frown.

The dinner couldn't end any sooner because Y/N bolted out with a quick good bye. Carlos was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this girl who looked at him with more disdain than Logan himself. Carlos found himself looking at her whenever she was around or searching for her during race weekends. He had found out from Alex that she was James Vowel's only daughter; extremely smart since she graduated from mechanical engineering and masters in automobile. She had used her connections to land good internships so that her being hired by Williams wouldn't be weird. She was a nepo baby who knew what she wanted and how to get it. To add insult to injury, she was friends with Logan which explained the disdain. Carlos found her interesting; she was funny from what he had gathered and found himself laughing at her jokes when he would over hear her conversations, she was pretty which he had decided the first time he saw her walk in with her dad, she was close with not only Logan Sargeant but Oscar Piastri who she didn't glare at like she would glare at him from time to time. It was starting to hurt Carlos's feelings.

The next time they met, Y/N looked even more annoyed with his presence then she could've been the last time they met, he thought. She was being dragged along by her dad again even though she threatened to run away. "Dad, I'm not having dinner with him. For goodness sake, let me mourn in peace." she snapped. "I don't get what you're mourning. Having Carlos on Williams is what we need. Also, I would like you to be his race engineer. Both of you are smart and will make a great team, I can already see it" Vowels reasoned trying to get his daughter to see the bigger picture. "Well I don't. I'll be Alex's engineer if Logan's no longer on the team" she stated. "You do not get a say in today's dinner, we'll discuss your plans for next year later. Now get dressed before I fire you" he commanded. "Ugh, that's why I didn't want to work for you. Even Sauber would've been fine at this point" she whined. "Well, we have points and they don't" he snapped. "Would've had more, had you not fucked Logan over" she snapped back and went to get dressed. "Language missy" James shouted back at her.

Carlos was bearing the brunt of much of Y/N's annoyance who got jabbed in her rib by her dad about 4 times since they sat down and the food wasn't even out yet. "I really want you and Y/N to get along since I feel like if you join Williams, Y/N would be a good fit as your race engineer even though she's a rookie. I'm not just saying this because she's my daughter." Vowels told Carlos. "Well, I'm not a good fit for him" she muttered. "If you'll excuse us Carlos" Vowels said sternly dragging her out, "I swear, if you do not behave I will drop Logan right now, God knows how much I want to" he seethed. "dad" she whispered with tears in her eyes. "Now, you'll walk in and be on your best behaviour." he commanded. She nodded and quickly wiped away her tears and walked in with her dad. Carlos noticed the sudden shift, her demeanour sadder and hurt, not the usual snappy and sarcastic self. Dinner ended without anymore hiccups, Y/N only nodded her head along to whatever her dad had to say.

Carlos wasn't sure what Vowels told his daughter which made her look like a puppy that had been kicked. But he did ask the restaurant they were eating at to pack him an assortment of their best dessert; he had heard from the others that she loved desserts, maybe this would cheer her up, he thought. He grabbed the bag before exiting the restaurant and handed it to her, her dad was waiting for the valet to bring his car who was now watching the pair interact. "What's this?" she asked. "Something to cheer you up" Carlos said. "I don't want it and you don't need to cheer me up" she said trying to hand him the bag back. "I know but I want to" he clarified. "You're already in my dad's good books, you don't have to try this hard" she said. "I don't want to, I want to be in your good books" Carlos smiled. Y/N's heart skipped a beat watching him smile, this was weird. "I don't think you can be" she corrected. "Well then, just enjoy the food. Don't think about it too much" he leaned into whisper in her ear, winking at her before climbing into his car which was ready for him. Y/N was staring at the bag in her hand and the driver that just handed it to her before leaving. She felt guilty now for treating him like shit when he was just trying to stay in the sport like anyone would.

She was in her home, slowly unboxing the package from Carlos which had a collection of macaroons, donuts, cheesecakes, red velvet cakes. This was so much food for anyone, she could have this for a couple days. The next time she meets Carlos, she should thank him, she thought as she took a bite of the coffee flavoured macaroon which tasted too good to even be real.

She got to meet Carlos in the next race, instead of running away or frowning like she had been doing the past couple months, she smiled at him and walked up to him; Carlos thought he was dreaming. The Y/N Vowels was walking up to him, it felt unreal, he almost pinched himself. "Thanks for the sweet treats, I loved them." she said. "That's a relief, I wasn't sure what you liked so I got you a few of everything" he replied. "Well, next time you wanna get me something, there is this patisserie in Paris." she began. "Tell me the address and I'll bring that to you next time" he interrupted. "I was just kidding. I enjoyed them. Thanks but that doesn't mean I'm okay with whatever is happening" she corrected. "If it means you'll stop looking at me like I killed a man than that's a win in my books" he laughed. She waved him off and walked away to the Williams garage.

"Were you talking to Y/N?" Lando asked. "yeah" Carlos said. "Why? Fancy her?" Lando laughed. "Maybe" Carlos thought out loud. "Mate, I think she likes Logan or something" Lando said immediately. "Really?" Carlos asked, a little hurt. "Yeah, I think that's what Oscar was talking about to Lily or something, I just over heard them anyways" Lando shrugged.

Carlos didn't think he liked Y/N, not until Lando asked him. That's when he realised that he did. There was a reason he tried so hard to make her like him and wished she would talk to him in all those dinners. He felt like he understood why she was being so annoyed with him since he would possibly replace the guy she liked. Carlos was a little hurt, he wished that was a piece of information Lando hadn't passed onto him.

Y/N on the other hand, found herself thinking about Carlos a lot, since he tried to cheer her up. She realised that she was being too harsh on Carlos when it was not his fault and if there was anyone she should be angry at was her dad and not Carlos. She found herself looking through his race stats and his strategies. She couldn't help but admire him for his craft. Maybe, she was being a little too unwelcoming. Obviously, she would fight tooth and nail for Logan; her dad wasn't having his way this easily.

The next dinner, Y/N felt like Carlos wasn't talking to her like the previous dinners. He would try to get her input on anything and listen intently even if she was bad mouthing him but right now, he was talking only business with her dad. She had decided to be civil today and didn't even make a snide remarks. A part of her was hurt, maybe she deserved it after the shitty way she had been treating Carlos. Dinner took forever to end, for other reasons than the previous ones. She tried to strike up a conversation with Carlos but nothing came of it.

A few weeks later, her father had stopped pestering her to tag along to dinners with Carlos. She was happy this way, until at family dinner. "I think I'm close to signing Carlos" James told his wife. "That sounds wonderful, darling" she remarked. "What do you mean?" Y/N almost shouted. "Not having you around seemed very fruitful to me, considering you're always frowning at the poor guy" your father corrected. "You can't kick Logan out without giving him a fair chance." she pointed out. "I gave him a chance and he blew it, it's not my fault" your father reprimanded. "No you did not. I can't believe you're behaving like this" she pushed the food away. "If you are going to be this rude, leave. I'll see what you can do without my name" your father replied. She had tears pricking her eyes. "dad" she began. "Just because you're my only daughter, doesn't mean I will let you behave like a rude brat and get away with it. Go on, I want to see what you can do with out me or my help" he said. He wasn't like this, she thought. Her mother tried to calm her father down but Y/N left.

Their fight wasn't over. It had seeped into their work where they would only talk when necessary. Everyone in Williams could fell the tense environment. Logan and Alex tried to diffuse the environment but Y/N just brushed it off, until she couldn't anymore. There were rumours floating around that Logan would be replaced next year or worse mid season because of the shit her dad was blabbering about in interviews. She was sick and tired of that man, that's why she was now storming into his office. The secretary left quickly, sensing the atmosphere.

"Dad, what is wrong with you? You need media training, not your drivers" she snapped. "What is this behaviour? Is this how you talk to your father?" he raised his voice. "Mr Vowels, please behave like an adult. Please don't talk crap about your drivers while they are driving for you at least" she reprimanded. " Miss Vowels, I'll talk however I like" he snapped back. The Miss Vowels hurt, "dad" she huffed. "I'm not your dad in this office. I'm the team principal of a team that is failing and I want to bring to the top" he replied sternly. "You can do all that without disposing people off like collateral damage" she pointed. "I'll do what I think is right" he said. "If you want Carlos to sign, stop talking about him in every interview like a love sick teenager. Tell him our stats and make promises you can keep and then if he signs give your driver who had been with you since his junior career a respectful send off" she said turning around. "You don't mind Carlos joining" he asked hopeful. "It's your team. I'm just an employee" she replied dejected.

Y/N had tears streaming down her face when Logan met her. "I'm sorry, I'm such a shitty friend. I told you I'll do anything for you but I can't" she cried. "It's okay. I know you are trying your best" Logan said wrapping her in his arms. "It's hard fighting your dad" she sobbed. "I know" he patted her back. "I don't blame you for it" he smiled bitterly rubbing her back. "Maybe I shouldn't have joined Williams" she sobbed. "Hey! You helped me score points and are giving valuable input, don't say that. I'm so proud of you and how far you've come" he said looking at her and wiping her tears. His hands were cupping her cheeks, "You did what you could, now it's my turn" he smiled at her. "I'll do whatever it takes. I'll continue racing even if it's not in formula one, I won't stop racing" he declared. He wiped away her tears, "Now smile, I hate it when my best friend cries" he teased.

Maybe talking to Carlos was like fraternising with the enemy, maybe that's why she felt awkward approaching him. She should have no reason to approach him anyways. There are already weird rumours floating around because of her father, she didn't want to add fuel to the fire.

Y/N ran into Carlos when she was rushing to her garage at the Spanish GP, where there were rumours floating around that he would announce the team he was joining. "Sorry" she apologised looking at the man she had run into. "It's okay" Carlos replied. "Did you sign a contract yet?" she asked abruptly. "No" Carlos replied scratching his neck. "Weigh in all you options. Whatever choice you make, let it be the best it is for you" she advised. "I thought you didn't want me at Williams" he commented. "I was being too emotional about losing my best friend. I've matured now" she smiled at him. "Logan's your best friend?" he asked, Carlos really needs to focus on more important things instead of the fact that his crush isn't crushing on another man, but he was a man of simple needs. "yeah. I mean you'll probably understand since....if something like this happened to Lando" she said shuffling her feet. "yeah" Carlos nodded. "Good luck with the decision" Y/N wished him. "You know, maybe we could go out for food" Carlos suggested. "Isn't it unethical since I'm William's team principal's daughter?" she smirked. "I haven't signed yet, so no" Carlos smiled. "Don't you want to spend time with your family" she asked. "Maybe you could join me" he winked. "What?" she asked, blushing. "I was kidding, but if you want to, I don't mind" now he was smirking. "Ah, no. Let's go out after the triple header's done" she told him. "No take backs" Carlos insisted, his tone firm as he scanned her eyes. "Ferrari's hottest driver just asked me out, I'd be a fool to say no" she teased. Carlos was now blushing, "I'll see you in Silverstone" he said, "for our date" he added tentatively. "yeah" she said biting her lower lip trying not to smile.

Y/N was counting down the days to Silverstone. The weeks didn't seem to pass. She didn't want anyone knowing either, not now anyways, what if she jinxed it?

The British GP was a big deal since it was Williams home race. Y/N was very busy with preparing everything related to work on the car. She had been working with Logan closely to get him the upgrades, which was taking longer than she hoped. Logan finishing just below points and Alex in points was great news. Everyone was ecstatic in the team and Vowels called for a team dinner which Y/N was thinking of ways to avoid. Her relation with her father was repairing it self slowly with the helpful intervention from her mother; "I will not be caught in a cross fire. This is a house not a war zone. Get along or I'm throwing you out James" her mum told her dad. That's why they had started being civil which in turn led to the atmosphere at Williams improving as well.

Y/N had lied saying that she was catching up with old friends and escaped the dinner after a lot of whining and cribbing on Alex and Logan's part for leaving them.

She got back, showered and got dressed. A white midi body con dress was calling her name. Carlos picked her up from her home, like a gentleman and held the door. "You look gorgeous" Carlos smiled checking her out. "Thank you Carlos, you look quite breath taking yourself" she breathed out.

They drove to the restaurant, talking about the most random things but racing was off the table. "If I knew how pretty you looked laughing I would've stolen you away ages ago" Carlos commented making Y/N blush. "I'm not that easy to entertain" she chided. "I know, I've been on the receiving end of some very angry stares" he laughed. "In my defence, my dad was being an ass" she spoke. "It's okay. I forgive you" he smiled.

The dinner ended rather quickly, much to the pair's dismay. "Do you want to do this again sometime?" Carlos asked hesitantly. "I would love to. Next week is off" she suggested. "Would you like to come to Monaco?" Carlos asked. "Yeah, see you then" she said kissing his cheek. "What will it take for you to kiss my lips?" he teased. "hmm..I'm a simple woman, a couple more dates maybe" she teased back. "I don't mind seeing you as often as I can but are you really going to keep me waiting?" he leaned in. "Maybe. But I could change my mind if you behave" Y/N bopped his nose and opened the door to her house biding him good night.

She was in Monaco next week, Carlos had come to pick her up from the airport and drove her around. She hadn't been in Monaco in a while. The place was warmer and the sun was shining down on them as they drove around. At night, they had dinner at a really nice Italian place. When they were walking around on the beach, "Spend the summer break with me?" Carlos asked. "I don't spend my holidays with random men" she teased. "Am I a random man?" Carlos cocked his eyebrow. "You aren't my boyfriend either" she retorted. "Well, maybe I'll ask you to be my girlfriend over the break, you'll have to find out thought" he joked. "Hmm..you drive a hard bargain Mr Sainz" she acted like she was thinking. She turned to him, "If this kiss is worth it, I might just spend the break with you" she provoked. "You're spending that break with me" he stated before he crashed his lips against her. Y/N's lips were warm and cushiony as Carlos's soft ones moved against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and his hands found home on her waist. His nose bumping her cheek as they deepened the kiss. She pulled away, out of breath, "I guess I'm spending my break with you" she smiled at him. Carlos began to pepper his face with kisses.

The two of them had to wait for 2 more races. They were itching to be together; she couldn't go up to him and kiss his perfect face whenever she wanted. Carlos couldn't spend all his free time in the paddock with her; it was torture for the two of them.

Carlos had made up his mind, he would be signing with Williams. He saw a future and a very alluring exit clause just the way he wanted. He did mention something to Y/N about it but they didn't talk about racing during their dates.

It was the first day of the summer break, Carlos was laying in bed with Y/N in his arms; "I have an announcement to make" Carlos whispered. "At 9 in the morning" Y/N grumbled. "I'll be announcing which team I'm joining today" he spoke. "Really?" she asked, now wide awake. "yeah. I signed with Williams" he spoke slowly. It took a moment to register for Y/N and then tears prickled her eyes. She wasn't sure they were tears of joy or sorrow. "Congratulations" she croaked, kissing his lips. "I'm sorry about Logan" Carlos apologised squeezing her hips. "It's okay" she smiled weakly. "I'll make a few calls and be right back" he said getting out of bed. The video had been recorded and would be uploaded soon. Y/N was pacing around the house sending a few texts to Logan to check up on him and looking up what the fans had to say. As soon as the news went live, Y/N got a message from her dad; 'Carlos Sainz Jr is your new driver from next year' it read. She had a bitter sweet feeling reading the message.

Carlos came back, done with the initial announcement. "I'll be your engineer next year" Y/N said cupping his cheeks. "Yeah, that was one of my clauses for signing" he said cupping her cheeks too. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked looking into her eyes. "I don't know about mixing business and pleasure" she hesitated. "Just say yes" Carlos begged. "Promise me you won't get hurt" she asked. "I'll try my best" he replied. "Than, Yes" she said leaning in to kiss him, pushing up on her toes to close the distance. "I can't wait to kiss you in public" Carlos stated breaking the kiss. "Let's wait. After the way my dad has been courting you" she laughed. "Well I was trying to court his daughter" he retorted. "And you succeeded" she kissed him again. "Let's enjoy these 3 weeks of peace before we have to return" he said sweeping her off her feet and carrying her bridal style back to the room as she pressed open mouth kisses on his neck.

I've been working on this since the announcement. I had fun writing it. Hope you enjoy too.

[seat-safety-switch]

One of the most noble sacrifices you can make is to declare a car, at long last, a "parts car." The concept of the parts car is exactly what it sounds like: an automobile so haggard, so absolutely worn out, that the only thing it can be is a donor of vital organs to another, nicer car.

It's difficult to let a car go. Especially if you've been limping it along for years, dealing with its little shitty flaws one step at a time. Eventually, entropy overwhelms you and there's something that is just not worth fixing. Often, this arrives about five minutes after you complete a repair or modification that costs a huge amount of money and time. Goodbye, old friend, you say as you remove the license plate for the last time and pull a mirror off it for your new, equally heavily-dented daily driver.

Of course, everything that is emotionally damaging to an enthusiast is profit to a business. Junkyards are full of "parts cars." That's all they have. Yet, chances are, someone had to make the difficult decision to let go of their beloved family shitbox, knowing full well that it would be sawzalled apart by idiots like myself looking for an intact seat rail. Thank you for your service, people who got mad and gave up on a car.

And, finally, if it wasn't for the concept of the parts car, I wouldn't be bragging so much when I turn one back into a real car. That dude down by the beach was an idiot for selling this thing to me so cheap instead of fixing it himself. Sure, there's holes in the floor, and the brakes don't work, but all it really needed was an old Soviet diesel tractor engine thrown on it and I'm ready to get to work, as long as I leave an hour or two early. The parts have become whole.

[catenary-chad]

Why Greaseball is a Really Great train villain: a looong post (4.8k words) on all the historical train context behind replica Greaseball 

For all my issues with the other main engines, I think (replica) Greaseball is FANTASTIC. He just works on so many fundamental levels and gets so much better/worse with historical context.  If we make him an EMD E9 locomotive (a common headcanon) things get even more interesting, and there’s even a convenient irl engine to base him on! 

Note: if you’re into real US trains this info probably won’t be as new to you as my Nez Cassé post, since E and F units are so well preserved and documented in English.      A lot of the topics I go on are pretty widely discussed in US railfan circles and not terribly obscure.  Also this is just about replica, Elvis-style Greaseball vs Wembleyball… her being more modern and European changes a lot and I would take a very different approach.

Also CW for non-graphic discussion of abuse in the very last section. I have a separate warning before it comes up so you can leave before then.  

DIESEL TRACTION IN THE US

First of all, to clear up a common misconception: 99% of all diesel locomotives are diesel-electric.  The diesel engine is used to generate electricity to power electric motors to turn the wheels.  This is why dual-mode engines that can switch between drawing third rail/overhead wire electricity and making their own with a diesel engine are so common.  Besides the power source, they work similarly, so it’s not hard to incorporate.  This is NOT how hybrid cars work, though diesel-electric setups have been used on very heavy trucks for purposes like mining.  Diesel-mechanical is more in line with how automobiles work but is basically unheard of outside of very small switchers in the US (mostly in museums now) and 50s-era shunters and that one weird Fell diesel in the UK. The technical reasons of why isn’t really important here, but has to do with the difficult of making an appropriate gearbox for road locomotives and appealing qualities of electric motors for train use (high starting torque). 

Internal combustion-based locomotives are actually much more recent than pure electric ones.  Electric engines achieved practical use around the 1890s and were well-established in urban and mountainous areas by the 20s-30s…. which is when diesel boxcab switchers first started production in substantial numbers and lightweight diesel trainsets like the Zephyrs, M10000, and Flying Hamburger started to pop up.  The earliest diesels were either slow (switchers) or fast but very weak (lightweight trainsets and railbusses). There were major tech limits to maximum horsepower in diesel locomotives until the second half of the 20th century, which is why several of them were often needed to replace one steam or electric engine, and why you had some weird turbine designs in the 50s-70s as an alternative. 

Early diesel locomotives in the US actually had a lot in common with their early implementation in the UK.  They’re often perceived differently because Thomas the Tank Engine had so many characters based on unsuccessful early British diesel models, while most of the failed earlier US diesels are obscure compared to the successful and widespread ones (that often have the strongest museum presence). There were some notably good early switcher models (some still being used today) that were among the first to replace steam engines because it was one of the tasks that they had the biggest advantage over them in, and limited size wasn’t an issue.  Road diesel implementation was messy and due to the early state of the technology, some railroads like the Pennsylvania Railroad had a strategy more akin to early British Rail in that they planned to just slowly phase out steam as they electrified.  Higher wages and stronger unions were also a factor in both countries dieselizing, due to the vastly lower labor needed for diesel locomotives vs steam and generally safer, more pleasant working conditions on them.  There was also a need to shed a reputation for being outdated to draw in customers again with both.  There was also a desperate early demand for diesel power that led to a lot of questionable builders and designs being picked up early on and later dumped for being nonstandard.  

The main difference is that dieselization’s serious pursuit in the US started around the Great Depression and really picked up in the late 30s, almost two decades before the Modernization Plan of 1955.  So it was a far more mature and well-established technology by the 50s and Greaseball is very much based on this dominant position vs the messy early experiments of the Thomas diesels.  

Greaseball’s helmet heavily resembles the fronts of the E and F unit carbody locomotives made by EMD from the 30s-50s.  I’ll go into those specific models later, but the manufacturer alone is really interesting and has a lot of great symbolism that works with Greaseball. 

Earlier diesel manufacturers included steam builders like Alco and Baldwin, outside companies getting into the diesel locomotive market like Fairbanks-Morse, and EMD, which started as an independent company but quickly became part of General Motors.  One of the major advantages EMD would acquire is mass-production in assembly lines, the way cars were made, as opposed to building one engine at a time like steam shops did.  So Greaseball has some quiet ties to the auto industry (and boy did GM hurt trains in other avenues).  They also used common parts between models, making them relatively easy to repair and rebuild.  You had all kind of mods and changes done to their engines over the decades, which is a fun tie-in to the bodybuilder AND greaser aspect of Greaseball.  I’ll go into how I think he’d specifically be modified/rebuilt later though.  

Another major factor of EMD is… they often weren’t the best in a lot of ways and very much an example of “survival of the good enough”.  Until very recently they all used relatively dirty and inefficient two-stroke engines and other manufacturers often had stronger or technically superior competing models… but it was the ease of working on them and relative reliability vs their competitors that contributed to their success and helped make EMD the dominant manufacturer.  

Bonus fun fact: EMD (and later General Electric) had a lot of success in the export model market due to their early reliability, especially vs British diesel engines.  One of the funnier instances being several colonial African railways holding onto steam into the 70s because they were forced to buy crappy British diesel engines otherwise, and promptly dieselizing as soon as they could buy American ones.  EMD made huge inroads into the British freight market with the Class 59 and 66 (the latter also used in continental Europe).  These came too late to have had any affect on the development of the show early on, but it’s an interesting instance of American encroachment that could be thematically relevant.  The sheer ubiquity of EMD diesels worldwide makes Greaseball weirdly relevant in a lot of countries if you basis swap him a little.  I haven’t figured out quite how I’d approach Girlball but I’d definitely make her one of these export models since it fits.  

Anyways, back to the general history timeline because it’s important for the other reason EMD was so successful.  By the late 30s, diesel switchers were widespread and road models were starting to come out in limited numbers.  Widespread dieselization would have happened nearly a decade earlier if not for World War II.  When the US entered the war, copper, oil, and diesel engines became critical to the war effort.  Coal was not and steam engines don’t use much copper, so the existing steam manufacturers were forced into building them.  EMD’s FT series had proven itself prewar and the company was among the few to be able to develop their locomotive lines during the war.  This gave the company a huge advantage post-war and their E and F units dominated the road locomotive market afterwards (switchers remained more competitive since they had more development before and during the war). 

 If you’re European and know little about American trains, you may wonder when things started getting electrified after that.  They didn’t.  Outside of one stretch of the Northeast Corridor, a recent project by Caltrain, and some isolated freight lines… the US didn’t electrify anything after WWII, and if anything de-electrified much that had existed.  The oil crises of the 70s almost led to something, but the subsequent drop in prices in the 80s made that dry up too.  Leading to the modern day status of having only 1% electrified rail mileage.  The rest is all diesel domain.  They were never a stopgap here.  Due to railroads remaining private businesses post-WWII and facing almost unwinnable economic and political conditions vs roads and air travel, the cost of electrification was out of the question and the much smaller up front cost of diesel engines made them take permanent hold over most of the country post-steam.  To this day, railroads avoid paying up front for things vs just paying more in yearly maintenance for diesel locomotives, and the price of fuel has never gotten high enough to incentivize electrification.  There’s also a whole carrot vs stick situation with state governments raising emissions standards without providing assistance to electrify that leads to a crappy state of limbo that just gives automobiles even more of an unfair advantage, but that’s another tangent that’s not relevant enough to go into.  

This is all a long way to say that Greaseball as the conservative, oppressive establishment is spot-on to the status of diesel traction in the US.  It really can’t be overstated how dominant and inescapable it is.  It’s kind of hilarious hearing people from the UK or Europe talk about how gross and stinky and backwards they are and how much more disliked they are there.  This is why the Greaseball vs Electra feud is so appealing to me- the US is one of the few places where they would be considered remotely competitive and where that matchup is politically relevant.  There’s this compelling thread of Greaseball being a “pragmatic compromise” that’s held on so long it’s become status quo, but would be viewed as a regressive relic elsewhere in the world, akin to how the US’s economic politics are seen in much of the rest of the world.  Greaseball is the majority who very much has capitalism and inertia on his side, Electra is the more qualified but long-sidelined minority who wishes things were even a little more like Europe economically and politically.  They’re so rural vs urban, right vs left wing coded it hurts. Diesel power mainly thrives where frequencies are low and distances are long and rail is a private business that often can’t afford to electrify.  Urban trains are almost exclusively electric due to their inherent frequency and pollution requirements, and are almost synonymous with being state-owned. 

Him being particularly nasty to steam engines also checks out, he’s the era of diesel locomotive that often directly replaced them and I’ve seen claims EMD did deceptive things if not outright cheated on tests vs steam engines.  At the very least they had fairly aggressive marketing.  There’s a reason why I object to the idea that Electra would cheat against a steam engine (even in the early days electric ones trounced them so thoroughly it routinely exceeded railroads’ expectations), but think Greaseball doing it makes sense.  Him playing dirty against Electra also makes sense because they’d have similar top speeds (and that’s being very conservative with Electra’s abilities and keeping them a relatively old model) but Electra benefits far more from a clean setting and would be relatively vulnerable to attack. There’s been decades of cultural downplaying of the advantages of electric vs diesel trains due to the latter’s sheer dominance in the US too. Further tying into the political aspect, electric trains are one of those things whose status only goes up the more you actually learn about them… and it really knocks combustion engines down several pegs, paralleling how right wing politicians in the US tend to be actively anti-education because they quietly rely on voters being low-information and uneducated about how negative the effects of their policies often are.  

Greaseball as a macho jock is also reflective of the perceived strength of diesel vs electric engines.  Because the US is infamous for its large heavy freight trains that are almost entirely diesel-hauled (besides a single power plant out west), electric freight is an almost alien concept and people associate electric traction with high speed trains, subways, maybe lighter, faster European freight trains at most.  People often act like they’re weak because of this.  This is patently untrue, just look at IORE or the Virginian Railway.  Also see my earlier discussion of how weak diesel engines were early on.  Electric locomotives still have vastly higher horsepower per single unit and the only reason there aren’t ones as strong as diesel engines in the US is lack of demand.  It wouldn’t be that hard to build one for that niche.  But diesel has strong associations with being the “strong and manly” blue-collar option because of its use by every large freight railroad and almost every shortline for all the tough, gritty jobs, unlike those darn city slicker commuter trains. Let’s just conveniently forget that the Milwaukee Road existed and that mines are full of weird little battery-powered “lokies”.  People will even crow about the Big Boy all day and rarely acknowledge the multiple electric engine models of that era with comparable abilities.  

EMD E and F UNITS

Finally, we can discuss Greaseball’s more specific basis.  Greaseball’s helmet doesn’t have a single explicit one like Electra’s, but its styling is very typical of 30s-50s era carbody diesel locomotives, specifically the “bulldog nose” E and F-Units.  These models were and still remain some of the most popular toy and model diesel engines, and are some of the most recognizable American trains in general.  Which they totally deserve, they came in a lot of fun colors and were VERY widely used from the 30s to early 80s irl and were still used in limited numbers for decades after that and are extremely common in museums today.  It’s probably harder to find a railroad museum in the US that doesn’t have one.  They are probably THE symbol of diesel trains in the US, especially circa the 50s.  Even highway signs for train stations resemble them.  

Carbody locomotives like these made the streamlined body a structural element of the engine to save weight and required indoor walkways for maintenance access vs being able to open external panels.  Alco and Baldwin also made far less successful carbody locomotives as competitors but they looked very different. Funny enough, a number of electric locomotives of the era also were built this way, but with cabs at both ends, some of them looking a LOT like Greaseball’s helmet.  

The E-units were EMD’s first line of road diesel locomotives, mainly designed for passenger service.  Since the 30s there were several different models of the line, the first few being built in smaller numbers, and the later ones being much more widely produced post-WWII.   They were relatively long and large for a diesel engine of the time, with atypical A1A -A1A (powered/unpowered/powered x2) wheel arrangements and two seperate prime movers (the actual diesel engine) to produce more horsepower due to the limited abilities of individual engines.  While successful compared to their competitors (which were… generally a mess) there’s a sense that they were designed for a time that would never come.  

They were very much optimized for being smooth at speed for passenger use and while not useless for freight service, weren’t ideal for it due to their limited strength and not having all powered wheels for traction.  Which was a terrible market to be in with the massive decline in passenger rail post-WWII.  The E-units still generally had long and successful lives, but were never as successful as their younger, smaller sibling, the F-unit.

F-units visually resemble shorter E-units, but with single prime movers and Bo-Bo wheel arrangements (four powered axles).  By modern standards they’re small and not terribly powerful, but for their time they were solid and VERY successful in freight service, and often took the place of E-units in passenger service since they worked for that too, and were more versatile overall.  There are a bunch of F-units running in museums because they look good and are easy to find parts for due to the sheer quantity produced (also some, but far fewer E-units). You could totally make Greaseball an F-unit and it would fit with how there’s been some infamously short Greaseball actors.  

There’s a lot of fun commonalities between both models that are relevant to Greaseball.  Both were explicitly designed to be used in multi-engine sets due to their limited individual strength, which perfectly fits Greaseball having his Gang follow him around.  Working in packs that large is a VERY midcentury diesel thing.  Both had the massive drawback of having no rear visibility and basically no ability to go backwards for switching.  That was one of the main traits that led to this style of engine falling out of favor, roadswitchers that actually had rear visibility were more versatile than having separate road and switch engines.  In a race going backwards, Rusty would clean his clock even if he was SUPER crappy and could only go walking pace, because Greaseball would be flying totally blind and crash.  It’s also a hassle to perform maintenance and get inside that body style and the noses were reportedly harder to manufacture.  

As a cursed side note, ATSF solved these problems with their old F-units by roadswitcherfying them into CF-7s.  Hey, they were old and past their prime but still useful and worked GREAT as ugly utilitarian roadswitchers and ran for decades afterwards.  There’s several of these things running in museums.  I’ve actually worked on one and I approve of roadswitcherfication because they really are way less of a pain to maintain this way.  

Speaking of rebuilds, the highest horsepower Greaseball would have as an E-unit would as-built is only 2,400 if he was an E9, but because early EMDs got modified so much and routinely re-engined, we can play around with this.  It fits the character and the Railways Series routinely did this kind of thing.  We’ll suppose Greaseball was re-engined or otherwise modified to get up to 2,700 horsepower… but then there’s the reported issue that the unpowered axles might make him too slippery to actually apply full force, so we’ll get a bit more out there and say he got more substantially rebuilt into a Co-Co (six powered axle) arrangement.  Now you have something that would be vaguely comparable with one of Amtrak’s dysfunctional SDP40F diesels of the late 70s-early 80s, if still a bit weaker but probably more physically stable.  It’s hard to avoid that Greaseball is kind of statistically wimpy no matter how you slice it.  They’d need to tweak the numbers in the song a little, but again, swapping out engines in early EMDs was super common and suits him so it’s not too much of a stretch to bump him to 3700 or something.  You still have issue that he’s not large by UP standards specifically (they are INFAMOUS for large single-unit engines) but he’d still be fairly large vs more typical passenger diesels of the time.  

Anyways, another VERY fun fact about E and F units is that they were regularly used on corporate trains after most of them were withdrawn from regular mainline service in the 70s-80s.  People often complain that Greaseball is barely relevant circa the 80s, which isn’t really true since a lot of E and F units were used on commuter lines for years afterward (if often in cab car form, which are terrifying in any talking train verse).  But there’s another huge loophole that gives a perfect excuse for his existence well into the modern day.  Union Pacific itself used a set of three E9s on their corporate specials until 2019!  They only got pulled due to wheel issues… got no lovers if you got no wheels I guess.  But now you have a perfect excuse for why Greaseball is a 50s-era engine with UP colors pulling passenger trains well after the railroad axed those services in the early 70s.  He’s a corporate pawn!  He’s one of the faces of their company, chauffeuring executives around. Which leads into another fascinating topic with him.

UNION PACIFIC, FREIGHT RAILROADS, AND PASSENGER RAIL

All of the modern big Class I railroads in the US suck in similar ways, but Union Pacific has a stronger identity and seems to have the largest cultural presence abroad, making it the most visible and appealing of them to the public.  It tends to be THE American railroad to many, which goes well with Greaseball’s basis being THE American diesel engine.  Yes, they do have some cool heritage fleet stuff and really cool heritage unit paint jobs, but you’ll never see me depict them in a terribly positive way (if at all) because they’re a PR campaign like the Budweiser Clydesdales for an infamously awful company.  Make no mistake, this is a company that’s been voted “worst place to work” on multiple occasions (and its cohorts aren’t much better).  That’s the ironic thing about Electra being made a crappy boss, Amtrak is notably much better to its workers (and steam engines are the most competitive where labor is cheapest and least organized).  The main thing is unreasonable on-call hours, lack of sick leave, vacation, and break days in general, and working conditions.  Look into the blocked 2022 railroad strike for more on this.  Greaseball could be SO nasty to the freight to reflect this if you made him a symbol of railroad leadership.  You’d have any railroaders in the audience booing him if they did this in the US, it’s a very relevant political issue.  Ironically, things weren’t nearly as bad labor-wise in the 80s, ALW just really bet on the right horse in terms of railroads to align a train villain with.  But there’s a more prominant and existing aspect of canon that also fits the crappy things UP and other class Is do.

Passenger rail has never been as profitable as freight in the US. To give a modern ballpark estimate, I’ve heard $30,000 revenue on a fully loaded longer passenger train vs $500,000 revenue on a train of oil tankers.  And that’s not even including the higher maintenance standards that passenger rail requires, which adds millions to its cost and makes it almost impossible for it to turn a profit.  There is a reason why almost all countries with widespread passenger rail today have nationalized rail systems and even US passenger service is all government-run outside Brightline and museums.  

This situation was particularly bad in the 50s-60s before Amtrak took over passenger service.  Passenger trains absolutely bled money overall, and many of them were required to keep running even at massive losses per government regulation because they were an essential service.  This contributed to the financial ruin of many railroads, and most of them dropped passenger service or sold it to the government as soon as it was offered.  UP in particular was more financially stable, but also happily got rid of their passenger trains when offered.

Since then, the giant merged Class I railroads have become almost exclusively freight-oriented and hostile towards Amtrak-run passenger services.  They’re almost all terrible, but UP is one of the more visible offenders, holding up commuter services in Chicago, and contributing to the massive delays in long-distance western trains.  “Coach sexism” in the form of widespread hostility towards passenger rail by the likes of UP is one of the few canon social metaphors that WORKS.  The other engines would not be that way considering the systems they’re aligned with, but Greaseball could be made so, so much worse.    

There is a weird element of “I hate my wife” boomer humor when people describe passenger trains.  There’s “keeping freight trains in line” schedule-wise due to their time sensitivity.  There’s being seen as needlessly spendy for PR reasons (often true in the older days) paralleling “my wife wastes money on stupid things”.  There’s being seen as more delicate and refined due to needing better track conditions and gentler handling because you know, humans have standards that grain hoppers and sand don’t.  There’s the way that passenger rail isn’t as profitable as freight and basically requires government subsidies… not unakin to caring jobs and “women’s work” in general vs blue collar industrial jobs (Caveat: passenger rail employees were almost all male until Amtrak).  In short, yeah the freight railroads’ treatment of passenger trains in the US does have parallels to sexism, if slightly different from how canon does it. Abruptly dumping them in the 70s also fits Greaseball ditching Dinah mid-show. 

Even if you go the comparatively mild route of mirroring modern railroads, you still have him treating the coaches as second class vs freight (despite them being legally prioritized).  This is a major issue and why Amtrak has so many delays on long distance trains.  To summarize a complicated issue: due to the relatively unique economics of railroads, they are incentivized to run fewer, longer, irregular freight trains that have become so large they don’t fit in sidings and can’t physically let prioritized passenger trains through.  They then get delayed for hours, especially if the freight train breaks down (bonus: freight trains have a staff of two, engineer and conductor.  The conductor may have to walk up to THREE MILES to check out a possible defect on a car, delaying even more).  The Class Is have a broadly hostile relationship with Amtrak in general for various reasons related to insurance and minimal investment in track maintenance, and it even affects non-Amtrak passenger services like steam excursions.  UP has its personal steam fleet for publicity reasons,  but all of the Class Is are various shades of hostile to running steam excursions with passengers now due to those same reasons.  Even UP barely sells public tickets for theirs.  

Bonus: the reason Mexico has basically no passenger rail now is due to the nationalized railroads being taken over by companies heavily aligned with US freight railroads and with many similar attitudes towards passenger service.  They ditched virtually all of it en masse when they took over. Turbo works perfectly as just Greaseball but in Mexico because the same thing happened there… only a few years before the Mexican Stex production happened.  Electra might be an even more pathetic and unthreatening character there though, because the single, long-delayed electrified mainline built by NdeM was ripped out after only a few years of service by the  private freight railroads.  

WARNING: Leave now if you do not want to read about how abusive Greaseball could be made based to US railroads’ treatment of passenger trains pre-70s.  It’s not graphic, but it is blunt and dark.  I put this at the end for a reason, there is nothing beyond this last section.  

Basically, canon even at its worst arguably undersells how awful Greaseball could be to Dinah and the coaches if you make them symbols of UP and other major railroads vs passenger service pre-Amtrak.  They could be even MORE toxic.  You have a situation now where he outright hates her and wants her gone for above reasons, but is forced to stay in the relationship due to outside requirements and is fundamentally built for that kind of setup as an E-unit.  Railroads forced to keep passenger services usually didn’t have mandated quality standards for them.  They just had to have something.  This led to pathetically short trains (one or two cars), understaffing, and poor maintenance because they just had to have SOME passenger train on that line.  Track conditions reached terrible standards in the 70s on railroads that were near bankruptcy and delaying maintenance.  I absolute do not blame canon for not going this dark in a kids show, but basically there is no limit to how miserable Greaseball could make her life, short of actually killing her. I can’t understate how much she symbolizes something he’d want to rid himself of at any cost but can’t and will take that out on.  It’s BLEAK.  I don’t think I’d even write them this dark myself.

Well… now you see why I do not redeem and revise Greaseball the way I do Electra.  While the latter is wrongly demonized in an impressive number of ways, Greaseball is awful for all the right ones, to extents deeper than the creators probably ever imagined.  He is so versatile and nearly timeless in his awfulness.  If Greaseball were portrayed as remotely good I’d be ripping him to greater shreds than I do Rusty, but he’s great as a hateable bad guy who’s entertaining and globally recognizable even by much of the general public.  Despite all this, I’m fine with him just being a cartoon bully because it’s more palatable and not wrong.  But you could also make him so much nastier than even the workshop if you wanted to go darker.  

[nonclassyparty]

sweet and right and merciful (c.s)

summary:

(A STARRING ROLE SPIN-OFF) Choi San deals with the mortifying ordeal of falling in love.

playlist (tba) // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

notes; i bet you thought you'd seen the last of both me and sr!san well you're wrong! tell me if you want to be added to the taglist

snippet;

As he didn't have a disgustingly large amount of generational wealth to back him up nor parents who dabbled in political meddling and occasional blackmail like some of his peers, San always knew that he would have to fight tooth and nail for his spot in the world.

This would seem fairly overdramatic if all he was seeking out of life was a stable job and paid bills, of course: he was, after all, the son of a middle school teacher and a man that had several jobs which he never did right because hey, they never had much so San should've been satisfied with anything. 

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one would look at it), Choi San was too ambitious for his own good. Having been born and raised in the small town of Namhae which was nothing more than an old supermarket some (nobody under the age of fifty) considered a shopping mall and a small beach - the moment he left for college, he swore that he'd never be back there again for nothing more but the holidays. And simply leaving Namhae wasn't enough, no, you see San's goal was money, more money than he would ever need. Bitterness could be considered a man's biggest motivator to get something done and spending his childhood and early adolescence watching his mother work day and night to make sure the bills are paid just for no money to be left spare sure did make San bitter. Call him shallow and materialistic but to San, money most definitely could buy some happiness.

And so, with that thought in mind (placed by no-one else but himself) since the tender age of twelve when he first visited Seoul for a football game and saw what exactly he's been missing out on living in Namhae, San poured everything he had into his studies until he landed a scholarship for Seoul National University in the field of Electrical Engineering. He had been strategic in his choice of career. Electrical engineering required just enough work and brains for it to be considered a lucrative degree and used just enough engineering principles to keep him interested in the job.

And San was excellent at his job. He was quick and efficient, precise and absolutely never wrong. Getting hired to work at one of South Korea's most renowned automobile manufacturing companies not long after he got his degree didn't come as a surprise to no-one. He was competent. The problem with competence and climbing the business ladder though was that it was rewarded with increasingly complex projects almost every month.

And so, our opening scene: A Thursday morning, sometime in January. Amidst the white cubicles on the third floor of Zenith Motor Company, Mr. Kim was doling out new projects to his top engineers with a vengeance.

"Jung, this ones for you," He smacks Jaehyun over the head with the folder before dropping it unceremoniously on his desk, "And try not to get doughnut smudges all over this one."

"Byun, you're continuing the testing from last month." Jaebum nods his head, eyes barely moving from the computer screen in front of him. Mr. Kim continues with an eye roll, "Lim, new model that needs surveillance."

He continues down the room throwing down casefiles as he goes until he stops by San's desk with a smile, "Choi, since you did so well on the Genesis project I'll let you choose." 

"What are my options?" San asks, leaning back in his chair as two files are thrown onto his desk.

Mr. Kim looks down onto his clipboard. "Mr. Jinyoung needs help with the 3D design for-"

Mr. Jinyoung is one of San's bosses.

"-the new model that we're ready to turn in for production. You could send him an e-mail but I wouldn't, he's a bit...difficult to be around these days."

Mr. Jinyoung is also the husband of one Son Danbi, the thirty-four year old woman that San got...very familiar with for a groundbreaking six times at his apartment before he learned that Danbi is a bit too clingy and his job actually might be at stake if she keeps calling the office asking for San instead of her husband. Three times in a row.

She didn't handle San deciding it's best to stop seeing each other very well.

Getting fired for sleeping with his boss' wife and probably getting his nose broken (for the second time over a woman) when his boss' wife inevitably has a meltdown and exposes how San fucked her into his mattress six times once San refuses to meet up with her out of newfound respect for the man she's married to (read: he's scared that he'll get sacked) or literally anything else. The choice was quite obvious.

"I'll take the second option." San quips with ease as he flips over the folder.

"Research and development for a new model! I was hoping you'd pick that one and am not disappointed, you never back down from a challenge." Mr. Kim comments with a grin that San returns because he's been kissing his ass too long to stop now. "You're working with another engineer from the second floor."

San nods and, as Mr. Kim keeps going down to the next cubicle, his eyes sweep over the file and stop at the bottom of the page where one out of two people tasked has already signed their name. In neat handwriting;

Y/L Y/N

He bites back a groan, eyes falling shut and he can hear the Head of the office keep rattling off assignments somewhere in the background.

Nothing registers because suddenly, San remembers honey skin, judging eyes and a sharp tongue and wonders if getting his nose broken a second time right before getting fired by Mr. Jinyoung and losing his entire career would've been the wiser option.

[charles-leclerizz]

EPISODE 01 : Start your engine

🏁 EPISODE AGE RATING : U/A 16+ [contaings swearing]

🏁 GENRE : Drama, Action, Sports, Romance

🏁 WORD COUNT : 10 K [ 10 , 366 WORDS ]

🏁 MUSIC SUMMARY : THE GREATEST BY SIA, PUMPT IT - BLACK EYED PEAS

🏁 CREDIT [S] : "BEHIND THE SCENES" BANNER, NETFLIX PLAY BAR BY ME [@charles-leclerizz], TEXT DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune

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DIRECTORS CUT : first episode children, better get soome snacks and a drink, and i highly reccomend looking at the masterlist, aisha's profile and the porsche f1 team links, since they will explain everything. It is also recommendeed you first read the trailer, which is once again found on the masterlist below.

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

The opening credits of the series begin to play, revealing bold block letters reading,

“Bahrain 2025”

And in the background, the black fades to reveal an aerial view of the landmark circuit, a staple of the history that defines Formula One. As the shot zooms in, we see the morning mist rolling over the grey, freshly re-laid tarmac of the track leading up to the garages of each of the 10 teams, most of them shutdown and blocked away from prying eyes. Though, as the camera moves forward, the view widens and we can see at the very end of the line, the Porsche garage emitting a yellow glow.

The acrylic entrance leaks hues of gold whilst we finally approach the opening where we see Aisha jumping in place, a set of Bose x Porsche headphones sat on her ears, the white body and metallic automobile logo on the muffs bouncing with her movements.

She looks up from her focussed point beneath her, facing the camera that zooms in and captures the determined flare within the pools of her eyes.

 The music, already beginning its powerful bass bursts, dims and briefly we can hear her laboured breathing as she stretches her hands above her and unzips the tight athleisure jacket that she had worn previously for warmth. The adidas logo crumples as she throws it away, revealing a cropped sports bra, white with grey stripes at the sides containing an embroidered Porsche logo on her left breast.

Soon enough, the music comes blaring back and the camera merely turns to follow her body as she begins to run away from the safety of her team enclosure. The scene ends with her exiting the shot, running down the initial straight of the first ever track she will race as a formula one driver.

“Aisha, what drives you in the world of Formula One?” A deep, cryptic voice off camera asks the driver sitting in shot. She smiles menacingly and leans back against her seat, her hands planted on her elegantly crossed legs as she adjusts the low cut, ‘V’ collar of her waistcoat, the colour matching the iconic Porsche guards’ red, of the rest of her risqué pantsuit.

“What drives me?” She chuckles, a low, raspy amusement that reverberates against the stormy backdrop behind her, “The competition, the domination, it runs in my blood;” She leans forward, as if the camera crew were privy to her obvious need to achieve. Aisha’s thin, golden bangles on each of her wrist’s jingle as she goes to adjust her volumous hair, “it’s not about the winning, it’s about obliterating the finish line.” She shrugs nonchalantly, despite the aggressive competitiveness that crackles in the air.

The voice chuckles at her threatening demeanour, yet continues, “Some media outlets commented on your driving style, since F2 and F3. They say it’s violent. What’s your response?”

Aisha bites her lip, thinking on the best way to diplomatically answer the question, despite her need to curse the people who doubted her.

Instead, she sighs with faux disappointment and her wide, mascara rimmed eyes move down to her rouge and gold nails whilst one of her fingers comes to slip beneath the platinum stud that sits comfortably on the left of her nose.

“Violent?” She asks, her voice barely above a murmur, “They could’ve been more descriptive.” She rolls her eyes once before inhaling, “Try...relentless. When I’m on track, behind the wheel, it’s war. And I aim to be the last one standing, if you can’t get with the program, move out the way. Cause I’m here to win.”

Her promise of no mercy is palpable as she shifts minutely in her seat, tapping her nails against one another whilst waiting for next question.

“What about the rest of the grid?” The interviewer prompts, treading carefully with his words, “Any words for them?”

Aisha scoffs under her breath, uncrossing her legs and flipping over the golden dainty necklace that rests within her exposed cleavage, the glinting logo of her team catches the light whilst she adjusts herself.

“Why words? They’ll know what I’m here for when I pass them. They’ll feel it, the fear, the resignation. I’m a whirlwind, all they can do is get swept up in it, this season, I am not racing against them, their teams or even their car; I’m racing against their hatred of losing to me.”

She smiles at the camera, eyes crinkling at the sides as her nose scrunches, a pure juxtaposition to the threat that peeled out of her mouth like scalding, hot water.

“Before we end. For your fans, what do you want them to know?”

“Hold on for your life, they’re about to witness history on the track. Cause I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to fuck shit up.” Aisha grins wickedly and laughing loudly at the flurry of reactions off camera from the crew that stood behind the myriad of wires.

Three different scenes are overlayed one another, the first being of Lewis Hamilton, giggling at someone off screen before focussing his large doe eyes onto the interviewer who also sat behind the large camera.

The second being 3X world champion Max Verstappen, who sits heavily onto the provided stool and sips at the can of the sugary energy drink in his hand, Max stared at the camera, a bored sheen coating his crystalline blue irises as the third, and final driver’s scene overtakes his.

This time Charles Leclerc enters the identical set, the Ferrari golden boy had narrowly escaped his fans-who’s screams of joy could be heard in the background as he waved a final time and pocketed a bright red, branded Ferrari pen whilst sighing, glancing around haphazardly.

“Lewis”

Hamilton perks up at his name, smiling serenely, prompting the interviewer to continue.

“The world of Formula one is ablaze about new entry, Aisha Patel. Do you think, as a seasoned professional, she has what it takes to compete?”

Lewis whistles lowly, leaning back against his seat and wraps his arms around himself, “Damn- starting strong huh?” He snorts once before re-adjusting his posture, “Y’know, we’ve heard of her up here. And she’s talented, but obliterating F3 and F2 does not directly auto-translate to domination on our track.”

“Is that scepticism that I hear?” The interviewer chases after the hesitation in the driver’s voice, like a dog after a juicy bone.

“Call it...” Lewis arches an eyebrow as he mulls over his words, “Healthy cautiousness. I’m waiting to see how she handles the pressure after the lights go out.”

“Max”

Max hums lazily, as though he had one too many bubbling seltzers that sat, pristine on the refreshments table, “Yeah?”

“Aisha Patel.”

Max clenches his jaw at the sound of her name.

“She’s said to rival your aggressiveness on track, what are your thoughts on her joining your world?”

Max scoffs at the seemingly preposterous statement, “What about her? She’s aggressive, so what? It’s skill that matters here in the big leagues. Give a baby a steering wheel to a supercharged car, that’ll be aggressive. I’m not holding my breath for her. “

“That sounds like someone who’s threatened?” He probes the already on edge driver.

“A threat?” Max chortles as if someone had offered him a mere penny for his thoughts, “I haven’t been threatened since kindergarten. I’ll let her have her try at the status quo, take one for the team and all.”

“Charles”

The alarmingly red adorned man tilts his head inquisitively at the interviewer, his gentle smile popping his dimples.

“Miss. Patel has been said to be relentless on track, throwing caution to the wind. Your thoughts on her violent debut?”

Charles hums as he nods his head, “It’s nice to see fresh blood on track, bonne, she’s certainly caught people’s attention. Let’s see if she’s all bark and no bite.” He mummers the French praise before shrugging at the end of his sentence.

“You’re excited to compete against her?”

“Of course- who wouldn’t be? New team, new driver. The more varied the sport, the more interesting.” He answers neutrality laced into his words, despite the excited glint in his eye.

“Thank you for your insights.” The interviewer thanks the men in their tapes, each of them reciprocating with equal politeness.

“Of course,” Lewis grins and claps his hands, turning to start chatting once again as he dismounts from the chair, already walking away.

“No problem,” Max nods his head once, stepping down from his seat whilst receiving a fresh can of Red Bull.

“Cheers mate,” The camera captures Charles leaning forward to shake the interviewer’s hand whilst patting his shoulder, before detaching to go and talk to the gaggle of Ferrari personnel who had gathered within the filming shed.

The 2025 drivers had gathered onto the Bahrain track, the relentless mid-day sun beating down on them as a few of them had the pleasure of black umbrellas being held above them, whilst other’s held small hand-fans in the large palms, basking in the cool breeze that the battery powered trinket provided.

Aisha walked out, her racing shoes tapping against the tarmac as she made her way towards the others. A few Porsche employees trailed behind her, one of them stayed closer behind her, offering her a metallic, grey hand-held fan along with a chilled bottle of water.

“Thanks,” She murmured, brushing the hair that managed to escape her ponytail, “It’s fucking boiling.” Aisha complained, tugging at her fireproofs whilst another employee came up to her, patting her face with a setting powder as an attempt to dry her skin.

“Can’t really help it, love.” The media admin, Sarah, pointed out removing her focus from one of the jittery interns to the driver, “Now- you’re going to walk out, fans are going to see you. Are you sure you don’t want to hide your face right now?”

Aisha cracked open the bottle in her hand, having pressed the condensation coated plastic against her forehead long enough. She faced away from 2-3 people surrounding her to peak past the acrylic barrier, onto the track, where the rest of the drivers stood haphazardly scattered around the starting position boxes that had been freshly painted onto the concrete polymer.

“It’s fine, I think I’ve already heard all their opinions on me.” Aisha groaned, fanning her face again as she kicked a non-existent pebble beneath her toe, “What could go wrong?”

She peaked out again, like a tense meerkat, only to be surprised with her teammate, Pierre chatting with his former partner, Esteban Ocon. His racing suit was already zipped up fully as he basked in the fan’s unintelligible shouts and squeals, the thick, grey fabric stretched over his body nicely as the different sponsor logos morphed to the wrinkles and dents of the cloth.

“He’s already out there.” She hissed, “Making me look like shit.” Aisha banged the back of her crown against the wall that provided her with the much-needed shelter, from both the sweltering rays and the assessing gazes of the crowd above.

“Nonsense lovey.” Sarah assured her, picking at the hem of her fireproofs and pressing a few of the sweaty, stray strands of hair back into position, “Pedro’s just catching up with some friends.”

“Pierre.” Aisha corrected, pulling up her identical suit from hanging lowly from her waist to her shoulders, thankfully she still had time to leave it unzipped.

“Whatever.” She flapped her hand dismissively, “Baguette man isn’t doing anything you won’t have to.”

“Okay,” Aisha breathed out, keeping her lips taught and still as her rouge lipstick was touched up by another Porsche jersey adorned worker, “My helmet?” She looked around, patting herself, as though it would appear out of thin air.

Sarah looked around her surrounding, panicked, before snorting and pointing to the ledge behind the group, “There ya go babe.” She leaned past Aisha to knock on the head gear.

“I’m a mess,” Aisha whined, picking up her helmet whilst rubbing the glossy exterior with an open palm, she runs her fingers over her last name that’s printed on the back.

“A hot mess.” Sarah corrected her, hooking their elbows together whilst ushering forward the teenage interns next to them- their hands shaking with apprehension as they gripped the phones in their hands, the gadget recording each moment.

Aisha stilled slightly as her foot contacted the tarmac, the crowd already hushing with undivided interest on her mere shadow. She could feel anxious sweat begin to build up on the nape of her neck, flushing her face and glistening against her skin.

Finally, after a few minutes of inner turmoil, she allowed Sarah to guide her out within the crowd of other team’s media escorts and her fellow drivers. The grandstands erupted with chaos, the rushing of footsteps- scrambling to take the first photos of her in her debut, the unravelling of flags, the patriotic colours burning against the pristine plexi-glass barriers and multiple little girls shouting happily at her image.

Aisha forced a smile onto her face, the unexpected praise soothed her blushing ears as she waved up at the viewing boxes.

“Well, well. Nobody’s ever screamed like that for me.” A voice creeped up behind her, causing Aisha to whip around with a cautionary hand on her chest.

A cheeky grin greeted her, “Lando” Aisha breathed out, leaning to the side of his stature to acknowledge the rabid paparazzi behind of them with a tight-lipped nod.

“Hey,” He greeted her, bouncing on the balls of his feet and tapping the top of his helmet that sat squeezed between his arm and waist, “You nervous?” Lando tipped his head boyishly, his curls falling over his forehead, hazel eyes softening as he watched her.

“Not really,” Aisha lied, “do you need to pee?” She looked at him anxiously, watching as he stopped bouncing like a full bladdered toddler, and stood still. Lando chuckled under his breath and opened his mouth to answer, until he lurched forward under the weight of a heavy arm that hung from his shoulders.

“Little Lando Norris.” Daniel chuckled, rubbing his knuckles over the younger’s head, and snorted when Lando pushed his hand away stumbling out from his hold, “Already chatting up the newbie?” Daniel looks at Aisha with a smirk, “I think his pubes finally grew in.” He faux whispered, his voice gritty as he winked.

“I’m not chatting up anyone,” Lando smacked Daniel between the eyes before walking backwards, next to Aisha, “Just catching up.” He shrugged, side-eyeing her, gauging a reaction from her steely expression. Luckily, he got one, Aisha’s eyes widened slightly, her eyelashes fluttering to match her hearts faster pace as she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes.

“Catching up?” Daniel inquired, suddenly interested, “You guys know each other from before?”

“Yeah, we karted together.” Aisha crossed her arms over one another, before accepting a cold can of thumbs up from a staff member, “Still remember how he shit his pants.” She mumbled.

“I did not!”

“What the fuck.”

Both men exclaimed at the same time, Lando blushing a furious red and Daniel cackling loudly- leading to not only the attention from the other drivers that stood in a 200m vicinity but also Aisha snorting out her drink from her nose.

“I did not shit my pants.” Lando gritted out the last part, to stop prying ears of the other men approaching to become privy to his humiliation.

“You did though?” Aisha arched a brow at him, “I passed by you on the last lap, therefore winning-“ She poked her outstretched pinkie from her can into his puffed up chest, “And that made you so mad, that you shit your pants.”

“Oh god,” Daniel wheezed, taking support on his shorter teammate who had trotted up to join the conversation. Yuki scrunched up his face, tilting away from the force of the elder before looking at Aisha sympathetically,

“You excited?” He grinned slightly, showing off the gap between his front teeth.

“Definitely. How could I not be?” Aisha looked down at Yuki, shifting her weight slightly as an attempt to lower herself, “The crippling pressure? The thousands of viewers? The weight of both of my country’s on my shoulders?” Aisha blew a nonchalant breath from between her lips whilst waving her hand in front of her face, “No biggie.”

The three men stared at her, blank expressions on their face, one of them pressed their lips together, smacking them and creating an equally awkward “popping” noise for the group to bask in.

“I meant more like, the race and stuff..” Yuki mumbled, scratching the back of his head before yelping when Daniel smacked the nape of his neck, “But yeah, what you said works too, fo sho, no doubt, no doubt.” He corrected himself hastily.

“Fo sho?” A fourth voice chimed in, this time with a French lilt to his words, “Who’s got yuki talking like that?”

Aisha looked away amusedly from the smaller driver to the voice, her eyes widened at the blaring red that adorned the man in front of her.

“My period wasn’t due until after the race.” She commented, meeting the man’s intense gaze, “Are you here to ask if I’d like to continue watching?” She tilted her head innocently.

“Ah, I see.” He scrunches his nose at her, “You’ve got our baby Yuki talking like that.”

“Hey, fuck you man.” Yuki protested, throwing his arms up with a huff.

“I know you want to,” The seemingly french-man retorted back with a shameful wink,

“You wink like you’re trying not to cry.” Lando pointed out.

Aisha clapped her hands at her revelation, “That’s what it looked like!”

Lando shrugged, as though it was obvious.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’m not here to start the next French revolution or whatever-“ She mumbled, holding out a polite hand as a civil greeting.

Though, she was not met with his acceptance immediately, instead the three men surrounding her grimaced and hissed through their teeth- Daniel shook his hand out like he had just burned himself. Aisha looked around, oblivious to the reason for their reactions and jolted her hand out to the man.

“I’m from Monaco,” He snarked, accepting her hand begrudgingly, “Not France.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She shrugged in reply.

“Charles” he gritted out, squeezing Aisha’s hand tightly- a poor attempt to veil his distaste, “Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver.”

“Really?” Aisha squeezed harder, taking a step back to roll her eyes over his bright red suit, “Couldn’t tell.” She snorted.

“Right, well” Lando coughed, reaching forward to peel away both of their hands simultaneously, “This was fun. Meeting new people.” He took Aisha’s hand in his but dropped it quickly when she looked down at their conjoined fingers. Lando coughed, the tips of his ears blushing a furious scarlet, before he shifted to glance at his oh-so-interesting boots.

Luckily, the situation was saved by one of the administration workers clapping their hands and speaking robotically into a megaphone, “drivers, please make your way to your positions.”

The seasoned drivers around her began to exit their conversations and walk towards the bleachers style setup at the start line of the circuit. At least 12 black, metallic chairs sat in a row behind a small plaque, displaying bold white font that detailed the circuit name and the iconic formula one logo sprawled along the edges of the display board.

“Didn’t need this fucking helmet.” Aisha hissed to herself, jogging to one of the Porsche employees that stood at the edge of the camera shot, handing off the piece of equipment, before making her way back to the crowd.

She zipped up her suit and removed the piece of elastic from her hair, letting the noir waves fall down her shoulders as she scanned the already in place men in front of her, thankfully Pierre waved at her and ushered for her to take place next to him, standing behind the pair of Mercedes drivers who were snickering at some joke the other had just told.

Aisha huffed, clasping her hands behind her waist whilst jerking her head side to side due to odd strands of hair tickling her eyes and nose, before she could exasperatedly wipe her face with her hand, a pair of fingers had come and brushed against her nose. Aisha minutely followed the soft pads across her cheek before trailing her gaze up to the origin, Lando met her eyes, his own irises blown out as his hand lingered by her cheek- his thumb twitching across her skin before he coughed and re-took his position.

“Thank you,” She murmured beneath her breath, neutralising her face against the onslaught of obnoxious camera shutters and piercing sun rays.

“No problem,” Lando nodded slightly, his eyes flicking back to her face, tracing her features with his shy stare, “You did great in qualifying, yesterday.” He hastily complimented.

Aisha tried to fight against the blush that made its way up her neck, “thank you,” she snipped, pressing her lips together as a futile attempt at hiding her girlish smile.

Lando huffed out a laugh, turning his neck to grin at her, “anytime.”

Finally, the pictures had come to a stop, and the long-barrelled cameras were packed away and the grid were herded to a large, open roof truck. Another admin worker trailed behind the last driver into the pen-like vehicle, stepping up the stairs to hang back from the railing after locking the gate, “everyone’s here?’ she asked, giving a once over the flocked in men, and woman.

“Aisha, you’ll be first to talk to Lawrence,” She met eyes with Aisha, who was already waving to the rowdy fans who had collected at the banisters of the grandstands, “And then it’ll be whoever’s closest.”

The lady nodded once when the drivers thanked her, then she caught Aisha’s gaze again and she smiled reassuringly, “See you guys around.” She waved and dismounted from the railing with a jump.

The large platform began to move as the truck silently hummed to life, Aisha moved from her comfortable position at the back of the area-leaning against the matte, black railing towards Lawrence who smiled excitedly at her approaching figure. As she knitted through the small groups of 3 drivers littered in her path, she continued to wave at the fans who shouted and screamed at each subtle view they managed to glimpse of her.

“Aisha! Hi!” Lawrence greeted her, offering his hand for her to shake and swivelled around to collect a microphone.

“Hello, hello.” Aisha grinned back, accepting the long piece of tech from him, comically rotating it in her hands observing the porous black material that had been painted with a flaring red to create the F1 logo.

“So, you’re finally here! The big leagues, and yesterday’s qualifying must’ve been very exciting.  We’ve all been so blown away with Porsche’s car, and your performance. P5 ! Amazing. Walk us through what you’re feeling right now?”

“I mean, it’s a confidence booster of course, qualifying top 5- but I think that along with that it’s proving to myself and other little girls like me that it isn’t about who you are, but what you can do, regardless of gender or background.” Aisha nods once, leaning her elbow against the railing to crane her neck around and take in the track that lay ahead of the speedily moving vehicle.

“It’s great that you can showcase your talent and inspire young minds, but with that said- there’s obviously a pressure that comes with entering such a male-dominated sport.”

Aisha stilled slightly, her eyes wide and unblinking for a beat, “I mean, there’s always going to be extra expectation on you when you’re breaking barriers. The way I see it, this is an opportunity to pave the way for future generation, so really, its fuels my success and goes to show that gender or race, doesn’t correlate to your ability on track.”

“Well said, and while we’re on the topic of your determination, whilst being in the spotlight almost 24/7 and the battles on track, how do you maintain focus? It must be overwhelming.”

Aisha chuckled, turning to look at the other drivers, a few of them had tuned into her interview not-so-subtle whilst others were still deep in conversation, “I mean, when you’re battling against jumbo sized toddlers, and then being put under the loving spotlight of the media, I agree, it can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. But then I remind myself, why am I here? What am I here to do? And at the end of the day, it’s just me, the car, and the track, so I really don’t mind it too much.”

She shrugged at the end of her sentence, flipping her hair over her shoulder before unzipping the thick race suit. Revealing her tight, fireproofs beneath, the Indian flag sat proudly on her shoulder whilst her team logo lay sprawled across her chest along with the sponsor logos littered across the rest of her front.

“You make it seem so easy Aisha,” Lawrence laughed, oblivious to the tension that had gathered in the young woman’s shoulders and the tightness of her eyes that had increased tenfold throughout their conversation, “Last question before I let you go, to all of  your young fans gathered here today-“ he pointed up to the bleachers that came into view on the straight that the truck was approaching, where multiple younger children stood, jumping in their spots as their Porsche hats bobbled on their heads, “-what would you tell them? Especially those who are most likely facing challenges in their racing journey?”

Aisha smiled serenely, imagining herself in the seats that sat so far away from her, what her younger self would long to hear to make her racing career just a little bit easier, “To all the younger dreamers, never let anyone else tell you your limits. They may say to stop, but you need to believe that you can keep going. Chase your passions relentlessly because if you do, then the only barriers will be the ones we allow ourselves to see. Keep fighting, because one day, you’ll see that you’re right where you need to be.”

“Wow” He sighed, hand on his heart, “That inspired me.” Lawrence laughed heartily, “Finally, maybe just a few words in your native language, now from what I know you spent at least 3 years living in India? For your education?” He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her response.

Aisha nodded happily, “Yes, I did! so you want a message in Hindi? There are so many languages in my country, but sadly I’m only fluent in Hindi, despite being Gujarati myself.”

“That would be great, please do.”

“Sabse pehle, main apne sabhi fans ko bahut saara pyaar dena chahti hoon. Aap log mere liye inspiration ho, aur main hamesha aapke saath hoon. Aap sabka support mere liye bahut important hai, aur thank you kehna chahti hoon.”

[First of all, I want to give a lot of love to all my fans. You are an inspiration for me, and I am always with you. All your support is very important for me, and I would like to say thank you.]

“Amazing, thank you so much Aisha,” Lawrence gently took the microphone away from her and offered a grateful smile before looking towards Fernando who had made his way towards the pair.

“No problem,” Aisha stepped away, patting the eldest driver’s back once before turning away and making her way towards Lando, who had already been looking towards her, waiting for her to approach him, along with Oscar and Logan who were engrossed in conversation.

The scene fades away from the three seasoned drivers and in the blackness another title appears, “RACE DAY” and following this the Porsche garage is finally revealed for the first time, much like the other teams the hard acrylic surfaces were decorated with the team colours and many engineers, technicians and workers were rushing around whilst other’s begaan to detach the hydraulic tubes from the cars in preparation for the first race of the season.

Before the first car revved up with anticipation, the halo was shown displaying the driver number and surname, “GASLY 10” and with that, the tubes were removed and the driver’s engineer pulled away, removing the iPad from Pierre’s gloved hands, allowing him to speed off towards his starting position.

The camera pans over to the second car that is yet to exit the garage, the driver within seemed to be hurriedly re-reading the car statistics, consuming that data over and over again, the scene rotates from the back of the car towards the front, where from beyond the middle column of the halo we get a glimpse of the large helmet following her heads sporadic movements, the Indian and British flag printed onto the front side of her head gear, peeped in and out of view as she handed away the tablet and she pulled on her gloves that lay waiting on the chassis in front of her.

With a confident thumbs up, she followed one of the Porsche employee’s guiding movements towards the other racers who sat in their cars, waiting for the start. Maintaining an even pace, she passed by the other cars, the exposed carbon fibre of Esteban’s Alpine in P10 and bright orange of Oscar’s McLaren in P7. She found her box waiting for her car as she pulled in and slowly removed her foot from the acceleration as she joined the grid in waiting for the formation lap.

The music faded away, to allow Aisha’s monologue to play over the still of the onboard camera, “This is it, I thought to myself, all the years of hard work and sacrifices have led up to this moment. This isn’t like F3 or F2-“ the live replay of the sleek interior of her F1 car is replaced by exhilarating moments of on track battles from her previous racing leagues, “- this is F1, where dreams are trampled on and shattered if you can’t keep up.” Her voice trembles slightly as we hear her take a deep breath in and the cars are overtaken with a new scene.

We see Aisha, in the same deep red sultry pantsuit, her side profile contrasted in the shadows as her chest rises and falls, “I remember the moment exactly, I told myself ‘Aisha, soak it in, the cheers and the feeling of other’s dreams, their expectations, cause it can make or break you.” She laughs incredulously at herself, “dramatic I know.”

“But it was electrifying, the whole thing, the thrum of the engines, the anticipation. I have never felt anything like it. But it’s everything I’ve trained for and everything I’ve wanted since I was little and racing go-karts.” Snippets of the raging, overwhelming sound of spluttering go-karts overtake the screen as one after another, we see young Aisha, drowning in an oversized sponsored uniform cut through the chequered ribbon.

“To the other drivers on the grid, it’s just the first race of the season, but for me, it’s my debut, it’s the first and only chance to prove that I’m meant to be here.” Aisha claps her hands, and the bursting flashes of her karting days cease, and we’re brought back to her, sitting in the tall stool, legs crossed over elegantly as she waves her heel back and forth, “The countdown began, and it’s lights out and away we go.”

The red lights above the Bahrain track fade away one by one, Crofty’s voice is matched with hers, and just as the sound of the engines crescendo, the scene ends.

“Right Lando- “

The young British man makes his way into the stool, wobbling slightly as he flails his hands before rocking back to stability. He lets out a relieved breath and crosses his arms over his chest, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with the golden, volt bracelet on his wrist the Luis Vuitton logo glinting in the light from his absent-minded movements.

“Hi, yes, I’m here.” Lando looked up at the interviewer, his eyes bouncing between the 3-4 different camera’s capturing him from odd angles, “Which-“he pointed at one of them, “-which one am I looking at?”

The interviewer laughed before leaning forward and tapping the lens of the middle-most camera, “This one.”

Lando breathed out, “great” before adjusting the pillowing fabric of his hoodie and stared straight into the glass barrel in front of him, “I’m Lando Norris, and I race for McLaren Formula one team.”

“We ehm we didn’t need that. It- it’s different from Drive to Survive,”

Lando cringed and rubbed the back of his head, causing the bracelet to ride up beneath the sleeve of his hoodie, “My bad- “

“Don’t worry about it, Now-“The sound of cue cards being shuffled could be heard, “Onto the first question, we’ve heard rumours about you and Aisha, especially during your karting days, care to elaborate?”

Lando sucks air through his teeth as he smirks, “Me and Aisha…” He looks down to his hands, fingers finding purchase on the angled charm of his bracelet, “We go way back, I mean, it was either me or her who were winning the races, she was,” He sighs heavily, his eyes starry as he looks back up to the camera, “She was, no, she is everything.”

“Can’t help but notice the bracelet that you have on, anything significant?”

“It’s symbolic, I guess?but nothing too big.” He shrugs it off, hiding away the jewellery from prying eyes.

The interviewer presses their lips together, humming whilst shuffling the cards once again, “Right, of course, but some fans have already started to notice that you and she are…close.”

“Close? We’ve always been close, it’s like electric with her, it’s hard not to be attached to her talent.” Lando smirks playfully, winking at the camera, “Karting with her was so intense, we pushed each other to the limit, and I will always hold her and those memories close to my heart.”

“Seems like obsession,” They laugh.

“Oh, it most definitely is, I mean, have you seen her?” Lando flourishes dramatically with his hands, as though the woman was sitting right next to him.

We are brought back to the first driver’s briefing of the season, mere days before the Bahrain Grand Prix, Aisha had just sat down next to Pierre and began to chat amicably with her new teammate, bouts of laughter erupting from the pair momentarily.

The camera pans from the bonding partners to Lando, still hiding his head between his palms in embarrassment, though from between his ringed fingers we see his emerald irises peeking through the gaps, staring thoughtfully at the enrapturing driver who was currently fiddling with the van clef, indigo bracelets that shimmered around her wrist.

Oscar, who was also curiously watching the woman jogged Lando, snapping the man out of his trance, “Mate- you’re drooling,” He poked his teammate’s cheek.

Lando slapped away the finger that prodded his face, “I am not.”

“Whatever you say,” Oscar hummed, turning his attention back to the administrator who was flipping through a few data filled papers, bringing their mouth closer to the bendable microphone. Oscar leaned into Lando, bumping their shoulders together, “Just be careful.”

Aisha breathed out a sigh, capping the black, matte Bulgari pen, slipping it into the awkwardly small purse that hung from her shoulder. She slammed the driver’s door of her car, having just finished a load of signing and smiling with fans, her main objective was to get through the security scanners peacefully.

“Hey stranger,” A voice came up behind her, tapping her arm.

“Lando,” Aisha tried to contain the quiver in her voice, “I thought you already got in.” She adjusted the neckline of her top, the tight sleeves hugged her shoulders and left her skin exposed to the warm sun.

“I did, I just needed something from my car and then I saw you,” He grinned at her, tapping his key card against the scanner, walking seamlessly through the rotating barrier, “You look like you’re about to walk a runway.”

Aisha laughed, tucking a straightened lock of hair behind her ear, “Thanks, you look…” Aisha assessed his outfit, a pair of light blue baggy, Levi’s and one of his own merch hoodies, “normal.” She cringed at her unnecessary honesty.

Yet, Lando just laughed and nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah- compared to you.”

Aisha continued to walk through the paddock, the British driver at her side whilst she waved to those personnel that passed by. She looked down at her own clothes, a neat, navy, off-the shoulder top that hugged her chest in all the right places was tucked into a grey mini-skirt, compliments of one of the many brand ambassadors of her team, the item was paired with a thin brown, gold buckled belt along with knee-high go-go boots.

“You could say that” She conceded, adjusting the golden Porsche chain that clung to her neck, “I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” Lando pocketed his hands.

“I you wanted to get dinner. For old times’ sake?” Aisha leaned forward on one foot, tilting her head hopefully before coming to a stop and waiting for his response.

Lando beamed widely, his eyes sparkling, “Definitely, I would be an absolute idiot to turn you down.”

Aisha blushed and looked down at the bracelets on her wrist, multiple layered golden chains which reflected light against her face in the most euphoric way, “Great, I’ll ju-“

“AISHA, oh my god it’s really her, AISHA!”

A shrill, young voice erupted from behind the pair, and a group of 3-4 young girls came running up to the pair. Aisha laughed to herself, plucking out the pen once more.

“Hello,” Aisha greeted the pre-teens who surrounded her, two of them dressed in a signature papaya orange whilst the other two sported metallic, silver Porsche merch, “You guys look so good!”

She accepted the hats and odd poster that the girls shyly handed her, “We’re so excited to see you race! You’re the only one who looks like us.” One of them spoke, her copper toned, youthful cheeks bobbed up with her smile as her long, black ponytail weaved with her excited movements.

“That’s so sweet, I think I might just win the race for you.” Aisha opened her arm for the girl to step into as they took a photo.

“Ehm, Lando, could we get an autograph as well,” Another one asked, already unfurling a second poster along with presenting the enraptured male with a sharpie.

“Absolutely! How could I resist?” Lando accepted the pen and began to sign the poster along with some newly presented items that the other two girls had produced.

“Thank you, guys, so much!” Aisha waved off the girls and turned back to Lando, already handing over her phone for him to enter in his number.

The young fans were squealing on their way back to their parents, who were just as excited for their young daughter’s interaction, “Did you guys see the bracelet?”

“What bracelet?” Another one asked, carefully rolling up her poster and handing it to her father, who tucked it under his arm and offered his hand for her to take.

“Lando’s, the one he wore for the whole of last season…” She adjusted her cap, looking confusedly at her three friends.

“Oh…I didn’t.”

“Neither did I.”

The screen faded away from Lando, sitting with his teammate whilst gawking at Aisha and we’re brought back to the present, the on-board camera of the Porsche is aimed at the lights that have just gone dark and all at once, a symphony of rubber against concrete fills the scene.

Aisha navigated turn one with ease, emerging from the throng of cars still in P5, her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she focussed every ounce within her body on the track ahead. The bright spotlights above her cast a blinding hue over the grandstands, illuminating the eager fans from around the world, their flags waved in their air as they watched with anticipation when she approached Lewis from behind, pressuring the world champion ahead as they weaved into the next turn.

Aisha aimed for the apex, seeing the slightest gap for her to slip past, as she pointed the head of her car towards the opening, she held her breath and pressed on the throttle. Aisha lurched backwards as she could feel the crackles of her under-board hit the track with each increase in speed she made, yet she managed to dodge the Mercedes car and fly down the straight, maintaining her tyres as best as she could.

The radio thrummed to life in her ear as her race engineer, James, began to speak, “Great work with Lewis, already around 1.15 behind you. Take care of your tyres for now and defend.”

Aisha breathed heavily as she continued to meet the corners and walls with barely an inch to save herself as a highly effective attempt to prevent more overtakes, “Got it.”

She continued her pace throughout the laps, the continuous build up over 20 rounds had inched her closer and closer to Carlos who was struggling in P3, his braking getting worse and worse with each sharp turn.

“James- how much closer do I need to overtake?” Aisha gritted out, flitting her eyes to the large, white metallic DRS sign that entered her limited field of vision.

“Only a bit more Aisha, it’s time to push.”

Aisha stepped harshly onto the gas, her engine thrumming all around her as she charged closer to the bright red Ferrari ahead. She could see the rubber of the tyres in front burn and smoke with every swerve. The roar of her engine filled her ears, drowning out the noise of her own heartbeat as she braced herself for the challenge, “Here we go,” she murmured, voice firm and steely with determination.

She surged her car forward, pushing her machine to the limit as she matched Carlos’ pace with precision and determination, the desert heat bore down in mirage-like waves as the two drivers danced on the razor’s edge of competition. One by one measly lap, the distance shortened until they were wheel to wheel, and all Aisha could do was grit her teeth until she could taste the tangy calcium as she continued the precipice of a wipe-out, the promise of a podium too good to lose.

Aisha’s heart pounded with exhilaration as they hurtled down the straight once again, soon enough the pair were met with the sharpest corner yet, Aisha pushed further and Carlos relented, edging away meekly to allow her to slip by. The crowd’s cheers washed over her, a wave of euphoria crashing over her senses as her heart swelled with triumph.

“WOO! P3!”

“Amazing work Aisha, halfway there. Get some distance between you two.”

“I can take on Checo,” Aisha promised, her aggressive spirit burning deeply within her core as her eyes narrowed into the back of one of the red bulls.

“Go for it, but be careful, your tyres aren’t that good.” James warned her, his voice crisp with caution.

“I got this.”

Aisha revved up once her power had flashed a promising green on the screen in front of her, “It’s time to pounce.” She promised herself whilst flicking the DRS button with her thumb, letting the flap behind her quiver open, the force launched her forward like never before as the lap count leached into the 40’s, Checo hadn’t yet pitted, neither had she, and suddenly, it was a battle of the wills.

She tried all that she could, nudging her nose into the smallest of gaps and backing out when he had angled himself predatorially, grazing her front wing enough for her heart to jump into her throat, “What the fuck is he doing? Fucking cocksucker, he wants to kill me or what?” Aisha had to remind herself to lower her voice.

“It’s within regulation, keep pushing you’re approaching DRS again.” James assured her.

The car trembled beneath her, like a jaguar waiting to pounce again after one failure, she pressed again. This time she nipped Checo’s wheel, causing for him to quickly move out of the way, narrowly missing a spin-off and allowing Aisha to speed into P2.

“FUCK YES! HOLY SHI-“

Aisha’s celebration was cut short when a dangerous thrum approached her rapidly, she attempted with all her might to duck and weave into and out of his path, but Checo was relentless, continuously rubbing against her wheels and forcing her to utilise her power.

“Fuck, fuck what the actual shit?” Aisha screeched as she continued to sloppily defend, her anger bubbling up like hot water.

The red bull growled and pounced in front of her, clipping enough of her front wheel to send her spinning. Aisha shouted with malice, throwing up her hands as her wheels began to rotate rapidly, “BASTARD!”

Her vision blurred as the world around her continued to haphazardly shift, the fans above stilled with trepidation as they watched her strangle her wheel with both hands and wrangle the car back into position.

“Okay, so that’s P5- P5, Piastri, Sainz, Perez and Verstappen in front of you,”

“Copy.” Aisha grumbled darkly, manoeuvring the vehicle so that she could continue to viciously speed down the final lap, murderously defending her position as her stomach finally settled and head stopped pounding with adrenaline.

The race ended with Crofty heartily congratulating her over the commentary,

“And Verstappen has won the Bahrain grand prix! with Checo in P2 and Sainz in the Ferrari in P3. Now the fans have spoken, and new-comer Aisha Patel has been voted driver of the day, rightfully so, securing a solid P5 finish after a challenging battle on the track. it's fantastic to see her scoring valuable points in her debut race. And let's not forget the incredible debut of the Porsche F1 Team! It's clear that they're a force to be reckoned with in the championship.”

A view of Max passing through the finish line is shown, sparks flew behind his car as he speeds through and turned into the parc ferme. Aisha is also shown, her eyes steely from within her helmet and as she stops her car she clambers out of the cockpit and rips of her headgear, a scowl evident on her usually cool face.

She pushes open the gate to the media pen, narrowly avoiding Max, who spared her a dark glance from over his shoulder before turning back to the interviewer.

“Yeah, people make stupid decisions sometimes,” She heard him answer the unintelligible question. Aisha could already feel the anger burn her throat as she whipped her head around and met Max’s eyes, he stared back, an inferno raging within his blue iris’. She opened her mouth to speak but was stopped by her Media manager, pulling her away gently, Aisha followed tearing her eyes away from the Dutchman. Yet, she could still feel his heated gaze on her.

Aisha scoffed passing by Carlos and Checo, who were conversing in fast Spanish, and headed towards the common media area, where eager and ravenous reporters began to clamber on top of one another as they caught sight of her sweaty face and stringy hair.

“Aisha! Aisha!”  They called, loud voices breaking through the microphone and blowing through the audio.

Aisha huffed and went towards the tell-tale white microphone, the sky sports logo sprawled all over the foam cover,

“Hi Aisha, congratulations on the P5 today,” Mark started, holding the microphone out for the visibly annoyed driver.

“Thank you,” She snipped, but blinked a few times before forcing herself to continue, “Y’know could’ve been a P2 finish for Porsche today, but I’m happy with both Pierre and I’s finish, at least we scored some valuable points.” Aisha robotically recounted her PR training.

“Definitely a tough break for you out there,” He nodded solemnly, “Care to walk us through what happened with Checo on lap 43?”

Aisha sucked in a breath, looking behind her where her PR person stood, arms crossed over her Porsche shirt as she shrugged, “Yeah, of course, it’s disappointing end to my race, P2 would probably be a dream, but Checo made a-“ Aisha bit her tongue momentarily, looking into the few dozen camera’s pointed at her, until she noticed Checo’s reflection walking behind her, heading to the cool-down room, “-a dickhead move absolutely dangerous, there was contact because he couldn’t use his eyes, and that caused me to spin out. It’s racing, I know, but you don’t see race winners or legends making moves like that.” Aisha hissed.

Mark stared at her, mouth agape before he recollected himself and forced a flabbergasted laugh, “Well, that’s one way to put it.” The other surrounding reporters were close to drooling at the mouth, their own mics pushed further through the gaps as they imagined the debaucherous headlines they could create from her outburst.

“How were you feeling during that moment?”

“Truthfully?” She tilted her head, “Pissed, but you probably didn’t you marky-moo, my radio probably told you that. But after I managed to regain my original position, I was more determined to just finish the race with a solid end.”

He laughed at that but stilled when Checo emerged once again from the cool-off room, “Checo!” Mark called, oblivious to the thunderous haze that overtook Aisha. She checked behind her shoulder, and her upper lip curled with malice,

“I’ll let Checo say his bit- “She murmured, “Excuse me.” And left the pen, heading towards the Porsche garage whilst avoiding eye-contact with Lucy, her fuming PR manager.

“Hey! Checo!” Aisha called out, throwing down her headphones, leaving her race engineer in concerned confusion as she approached the red bull driver, amid his team, oblivious to the storm about to hit him.

“Oh, hey Aisha-“

“Do not, hey, me.” She snarled, “What the fuck was that on track? Were you trying to kill me back there? You could’ve overtaken me in so many other ways.” Aisha approached him, prompting Checo to take a simultaneous step back, hands raised.

“It’s racing Aisha, I had to make a split-second decision.”

“We all make decisions, Perez,” She snarled, hands balling up into fists, “You don’t see Charles or Carlos or anyone with half a brain doing what you did? You messed up my race!” Aisha’s voice begins to raise, drawing attention of the red bull personnel, since the pair had manged to slowly move up to the entrance of the garage, and prompting a few camera men, who were following around Lando and Oscar to pan over to her.

Aisha groans, smacking her palm against her head a few times as a display of aggression before turning back to a very sweaty, nervous driver, “Never mind my race- you had fucking so many other options, why? Why did you decide to clip my wheel? Is it because being overtaken by a woman was so embarrassing, for red bull’s number two, you couldn’t handle it?” Aisha mocks him, before starting to approach his frozen form, a violent fire burning in her eyes and spreading to her limbs, igniting them with her fury.

Just as there was merely a centimetre between the two, a pair of strong arms hooked themselves around her elbows, holding her hand away from Checo, who had started shouting about his “personal safety”.

“Are you fucking stupid?” A gruff voice whispers into her ear.

Aisha kicks out, a futile attempt to free herself, “Let me go,” She whips her head around, her hair flying,

“Can you stop? I will literally knock you out.” The voice continues, grunting when her foot narrowly misses his groin.

“Fine-“ She huffs, going limp as she shoots daggers into Checo’s retreating back being escorted by a flurry of blue clad workers, “Fine, let me go,” She mumbles.

The man drops her onto the floor instantly, allowing her to stumble over her feet. Aisha finds her footing once more and spins around to meet his eyes, “Max?”

Max stares down at her, his eyes squinted with annoyance, “Who else? You’re in front of the red bull garage.” He rolls his eyes and steps a large stride away from her.

Aisha blinks once. Twice. Before scoffing and crossing her arms, “Yeah. Thanks.” She snarks before walking away from him, leaving the dutchman standing, fuming in his spot. She manages to skip over the McLaren crowd but had attracted almost half a dozen cameras on her, the large intimidating lens’ were pushed into her face haphazardly, narrowly missing her face a few times.

Aisha had to hold herself back from stealing the cameras from their holders and smashing them onto the ground. She could feel a self-depreciating throb begin to build in her head, the memory of all the idyllic children watching her, and those who had felt represented by her made tears prick at her eyes. In that moment, with too many lens’ focussing on her quivering lip, she hoped that they wouldn’t catch the salty sadness that threatened to stream down her face

The post-race interview scene fades away, and a familiar red bull jersey is announced into the scene, the dark blue merging pleasantly with the dark grey background. We’re introduced to Checo’s frame, a placid smile on his face.

“Hi checo,” The interviewer greets the driver, who nods in acknowledgement, “Well, Bahrain was an intense time for you, especially the on track accident with Aisha, would you care to talk us through the whole thing?”

Checo clears his throat briefly, “Yeah, uhm, it was a tight battle with her, and she was holding her ground y’know, but I saw an opportunity to make a move and I took it.” He shrugged once, reverting his gaze away from the camera, “And, as an unfortunate by product, she ended up spinning out, but it’s racing, these things happen.”

“I think everyone knows that she seemed quite upset about the incident, did you have a chance to speak with her afterwards?”

“uhm, people say things when they’re angry, and Aisha was frustrated but I’m here to win races, that’s what I’ve been hired to do. Once again, it was a choice that I had to make, and it’s hard to consider everyone’s emotions while I do it.”

“Max, we recently interviewed Checo, and he had some…words to say about the situation in Bahrain, specifically with Aisha after the race. Now, we saw that you had intervened just in time, what was going on during that moment?”

Max shifted in his chair, slipping down slightly, and crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah, I could see that the situation was escalating, with Aisha getting increasingly angry, it would’ve ended pretty badly.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“Trust me, I know anger when I see it, and I know that races can get heated especially when avoidable occurrences aren’t avoided, but I also think that emotional regulation is crucial to compete.” He distractedly runs a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Does this change your initial views on Aisha entering the sport? Since you were pretty, pessimistic.” The interviewer cringes just as the words escape their mouth.

“I wouldn’t say I was pessimistic,” He quickly rejects, “But I think she had something to prove, just like any of us, she isn’t exempt from it. And she, raced like any of us would’ve in the moment, so do I suddenly think of her as a saint? No, but do I think that she’s building up to something? Maybe.”

“Aisha!” A voice calls from behind her, Aisha smiles at the fans who had offered her a notebook to sign, she watched them walk away before responding,

“Yeah?” She tucks away her pen into the silver, Porsche gym bag that hung from her shoulder.

Lando jogs up to her, tapping his card against the scanner before pushing through the gate and reaching her side, “Great race, you handled it...well…” He trailed off, unsure of how to spin off his compliment.

Aisha laughs at that, throwing her head back, ”It’s okay Lando, you don’t have to say anything” She tugs at the sleaves of her tight black jacket, the hugo boss label stretched over her chest as she pulled at the fabric, “I- I can get pretty mad,” Aisha shrugs, kicking an imaginary pebble with her shoe, rustling her oversized tracksuit bottoms, the three parallel lines on both her legs fluttered with the airy clothing.

“Yeah, that probably didn’t go down to well on camera,” He itches the back of his head, “I actually came to ask if you’re staying at the same hotel as the rest of us, Oscar took my car and I’m stranded.”

“Lando…” She sighs, adjusting the strap of her bag, “If you wanted to ride in my Porsche, you could’ve just said so.” Aisha gestured to her silvery 918 Spyder, the high-end sports car shimmered beneath the spotlights of the private car park.

Lando hissed through his teeth and grinned, “You caught me.” He held his hands up, “It’s the only way I can be photographed in the car without causing an uproar.”

Aisha tilted her head at him, “Oh, so nothing else is convincing you?”

“Hmmm, that, and maybe the very beautiful and scary woman who drives it?” Lando offered, holding out his hand for her to take.

She looked down at his open palm before searching the area around them, the rest of the grid had departed long before, leaving just her car and another in the parking. Aisha squinted her eyes at the remaining automobile, a Honda NSX, the only owner being none other than a certain grumpy blonde, who was more focussed on his back seat than on the couple who still stood in the middle of the concrete.

Accepting his hand, she revelled in the feeling of her fingers intertwined with his, soft skin against coarse knuckles, a warm aura enveloped her being as she guided them towards her car, pulling out the flat fob to click open the expensive machine.

Yet, as she watched Lando retreat into the passenger’s seat with an amazed, “oh damn.” and went to unlock the trunk to slip her duffel bag into, she felt an icy gaze glued to her back.

Aisha turned once behind her to where Max was sitting in his driver’s seat, eyes glued at first on Lando, an unrecognisable expression painted on his face before he slowly slid it up to her face, and his once oddly neutral gaze turned into an annoyed squint.

With that, the dutchman tore his eyes away from a now, slightly agitated Aisha, towards the open road and pulled out of the car park, speeding away to what she assumed would be the hotel.

“Hey,” Lando leaned over the dash, reaching for her hand that rested on the headrest of her seat, the other braced on her car door as she watched the retreating Honda, “You okay?”

Aisha jumped out of her disturbed haze, and back to where Lando was now rubbing his fingers over hers that had tensed enough to turn her milky brown skin into a pale white, “Yeah- I’m fine, just checking for reporters.”

“I’m that embarrassing?” He teased, watching her intently as she fastened her seatbelt and smiled at the sound of the purring super engine.

Aisha snorts, “No- not at all, just making sure that McLaren’s golden boy isn’t photographed inside a Porsche- with the grid’s certified crazy woman.” She pressed on the gas.

“Yeah, but…what if I want that?”

“What?” Aisha’s eyebrows knitted together; eyes still glued to the unfamiliar roads ahead as the GPS stopped squawking at her for a brief moment.

“I don’t care if you’re the crazy woman…You’re just, you. I don’t care about the rest.” Lando smiled lazily, his eyes studying her quickly flustered face.

“You’re a horrible flirt Norris.” She grumbled.

[route22ny]

Pines Winterfront...what? Pines was the brand name, and a winterfront was a thermostatically controlled vented housing to fit over the radiator grille of an automobile. The idea was to restrict cold air and bring the engine up to operating temperature before spring came. (We're talking Chicago winters here.)

The factory opened in 1916 and the product was popular--but the development of the engine thermostat eliminated the need for a winterfront during the 1930s. The company tried to diversify but had failed by 1940. A 1930s ad from an ebay listing is shown above.

Photos of a secondary entrance are shown here (I somehow missed the main entrance.) I don't know if the building is even occupied. Photos were taken in 2024.

Everything there is to know about the Pines Winterfront is here: https://www.madeinchicagomuseum.com/single-post/pines-winterfront/ which is also the source of the last photo.

You can shop for your own Pines Winterfront on ebay these days but they are pretty pricey...certainly not $5 anymore.

[nthspecialll]

Rdr1 newspaper "Blackwater #60 transcriped

Masterlist link.

Bank robbery foiled by government agents, your tax dollars hard at work.

Dutch Van Der Linde’s reign of terror and violence in West Elizabeth shows no signs of subsiding, following a bank robbery attempt that claimed the lives of several innocent victims. Van Der Linde and his associates entered the first National Bank of Blackwater, coerced employees at gunpoint to empty the money from the vaults and were about to make their escape when lawmen and government agents surrounded the area. After a bloody siege, lawmen stormed the building, but Van Der Linde fled the scene with a hostage in an automobile. Van Der Linde was chased to an old lugging camp at Broken Tree, where another bloody altercation ensued. Even though Van Der Linde’s body was not identified amongst the dead, many gang members included some Natives were killed. A spokesperson for federal agents assigned to Blackwater hailed this as an important victory over “the primitive and unprincipled forces that seek to undermine the freedoms and safety of the great American people”. Despite repeated and relentless  attempts to civilize the Native population in West Elizabeth, it is feared the charismatic Van Der Linde will not struggle to recruit further disaffected youths.

Sanchez’s government falls

Suddenly, Mexico has a new President. General Ignacio Sanchez’s government was swept from power yesterday as supporters of Abraham Reyes ransacked the president’s place and Mr. Reyes assumed control of the country. After weeks of fighting in and around the capital, food riots across the country and bloody battles being fought in many provinces, events turned quickly, when the Fifth Mexican Cavalry Division, which maintains a large parrison near the capital switched its allegiance from General Sanchez to Mr. Reyes, following Mr. Reyes’ promise to increase army pay and double leave. General Sanchez is believed to have fled the capital and gone into hiding, although conflicting reports suggest he may have been killed in bloody fighting. Mr. Reyes noted that this was a great day for Mexico. “FInally my people, the people of this proud and valiant land are free. A new golden age for our country is just beginning. First, we need a period of stability, and then elections and a place on the world stage. “Mr. Reyes then announced a three day Fiesta, declaring a national holiday. Rioting continued across much of the country, while initial reports suggest up to 100.000 may have died in the conflict.

Unrest in the East. Great Britain vs. Germany

The British nation's power upon the sea has been unapproached; however, a great rival is rising. Long has Germany desired expansion. Reports indicate the country is laying heavier and heavier levies upon her people in order to fund the formation of a mighty navy. Britain and Germany devore much of their industrial base to the production of weapons of war at the crushing cost of money. These engines of destruction are now seen as flying ships that rain death from above. With Europe heading seemingly closer and closer to war, people across the world are concerned as to how this will pan out.

The miracle of the telephone

Since the first experimental phone circuit was installed, the growth of the telephone business is a story of romance and science. The telephone company in certain cities reports nearly 60.000 calls per day requesting to know the time. Critics complain the telephone has made our citizens lazy and unable to read a watch.

Half of Americans living in cities

The prairies have gone quiet; the farms left for seed as more Americans escape to the glitz and glamor of the city. Old Dr. U. S. Census made his diagnosis of the condition of Uncle Sam and calculated that for the first time in the history of this great country more citizens reside in cities than in rural areas. Census questionnaires call for typical information as well as literacy, school attendance, and whether or not a family member is a survivor of the Union or Confederate Army. Census officials report attempts for especially difficult in former Confederate states where often the government officials are fired upon or hanged, such is the local custom.

Birth Control Techniques Refuted

Members of the clergy strongly denounced the North American Birth Control League for spreading health misinformation and lies. Leaders responded that such misdeeds and misinformation is similar to that of pagan Rome where babies were put to death for idle pleasure. “We marry and lay with one another only to produce children,” Re. Adair Agatha told this publication. “The blasphemous statements by the League turn the marriage chamber into a pleasure seeking brothel,” Agatha contends.

Massacre At The Wreck Of The Serendipity.

Dozens of dead bodies were discovered at the wreck of the Serendipity in southeast Great Plains. Most of the corpses were identified as wanted criminals, and kicked into the river. The Serendipity, once a glorious steamboat, but now little more than a wrecked hull, has become a known meeting spot for thieves, smugglers and general lowlife in recent years. Government agents in Blackwater have refused to comment and local police say that they have no interest in investigating the incident, attributing it to either divine retribution or, for the more godless amongst us, Darwinian natural selection.

Federal Government Increases Taxes, Extends Reach Further

Law makers in Washington agreed to increase federal income tax again last week, to pay for the massive expansion in the Federal government. Most of the expansion will be in the form of added bureaucracy, with plans to triple the number of civil servants within twelve months in order to better track the work done by the government departments and allocate spending more accurately. The government also vowed to increase health care provisions for the federal buildings across the country. A significant increase in military expenditure has also been mooted but not yet agreed to.

Safety Coffin Saves Young Bride

Florence Snyder, 13, was set to be married when she was stricken with a terrible case of cholera and  seemingly died. Her betrothed, Cecil Perkins, weeping by her gravesite, pledged to never marry as his heart was so rent asunder. Laying awake at night, he began to hear a faint bell. Leaving in only his bedclothes, he followed the sound to the graveyard where he found the bell above her grave ringing. Mr. Perkins had requested a P. J. Winder-stein’s safety coffin for his love. Furiously digging with his hand and spade, he retrieved her from her tomb, weakened but mercifully alive, having been in a state of cholera shock with low blood pressures mimicking death.

Professor Advocates Prairie Preservation

Professor Hector L. Burgess has been touring areas of West Elizabeth in recent weeks in an attempt to rally support for a movement to preserve and protect wildlife habitat. Professor Burgess, who has spent the last fifteen years in the academic study of fauna and flora in the West, but who also until recently had never left New York City, is convinced that, if hunting is not brought under some form of legal control, certain species of animal may be wiped out entirely. He claims that before white settlers arrived in the West, around fifty million buffalo roamed the plains, but that this number may now be in the hundreds, or even less. Burgess also believes that areas of both New Austin and West Elizabeth are prime locations for the establishment of a national park to rival Yellowstone in Wyoming. We say to Professor Burgess that the majority of the rural population remains extremely resistant to any form of prairie conversation, which we view as an attempt on the part of the urban elite to expatriate land, property and natural resources for their own nefarious gain.

Aeroplane Flies From Coast To Coast In Under 30 Days

WHile most prefer the relaxed slights upon the dirigible, those who desire to understand the aeroplane need only to speak with Horace L. CUrtiss who piloted from coast to coast in under 30 days. This most groundbreaking of sciences, air-bound locomotion, promises to allow travelers the freedom to take to the skies and visit the coasts with ease and comfort, with flight times from New York to New Austin in as little as 21 days and San Francisco to New Austin in as little as 16 days.

Miscellany

Blackwater bank manager, Mr. Harmon Weinstein, has been found dead near Broken Tree. We are told he will be missed by some.

Unwed and childless ladies, why not learn a career? Telegraph Operating classes twice weekly at the Blackwater Post Office.

Certificate of horse deeds for purchase. Dutch Warmbloods, Highland Chestnuts and Welsh Mountains of the finest lineage. S. M. Keely Ship Chanler & Grocer, Blackwater.

The Volcanic Pistol is a sidearm that will never go out of fashion. Modernity is not a substitute for craftsmanship. Large stock that must clear quickly. Jeb Murphy: Gun- smith, Armadillo New Austin.

Muriel Scranton, loving wife of Joseph Scanton, was killed by a gunshot to the head in the First National Bank of Blackwater.

Children between 10 and 14 years of age are sought for mining work. Good wages and conditions. Must be slender and comfortable within confined spaces.

For all your dynamite needs, both professional and recreational, visit the Manzanita Trading Company, Tall Trees.

Don’t you look fine and dandy

[spooky-fubuki]

Naomi's Auto Clinic #1: The importance of inspecting your automobile. And spark plug and wire replacement.

Hello my friends this is going to be the first in a series of posts about DIY auto repair and maintenance. Today we have two topics! Why you should regularly inspect your vehicle and replacing spark plugs and wires.

So.... Why should you inspect your vehicle regularly?

well, so you dont end up like this:

Last weekend I was driving home from my parents house when my Miata stopped idling and died at a traffic signal, I started her again and she immediately wanted to die unless I had my foot on the throttle, I went and quickly pulled off onto a side road and opened my hood. I looked around the engine bay until I found the culprit.

The bundle of wires for the Mass Airflow Meter (MAF) had abraded through and caused a short, I spliced and wrapped it in electrical tape and she runs fine once again.

But while I was looking for the problem I found a different unrelated one, which we will get too later!

Alright so what should you inspect?

First you should pop open you hood, the hood release is usually on the underside of the dashboard on the drivers side in most cars.

Now that you have it open I would just do cursory glace over everything. Does anything seem super out of place?

Open the radiator cap and check the fluid level and color, in my case I can see the fluid and it looks nice and green as it supposed too. Word of caution only check this with the vehicle is cold and hasn't been ran for ~30 min or so.

Check your engine oil. Most cars have a pretty obvious dipstick. In my case it has a yellow handle with a loop on it. With a paper towel pull out the dipstick and wipe off the oil, then put it back in all the way and pull it out again. it should be somewhere between full and empty. Take note of the color, if it is very dark you should change your oil!

Check your brake fluid reservoir. As you brake fluid gets older and used it absorbs more water from the humidity in the air. The fluid gets darker as it gets more water content in it. This reservoir is usually in a translucent container near the firewall at the drivers side of the car. As you can see mine is bit dark, so I should replace it soon. I have a future part in this series planned for this already so we will go over it then.

Outside the engine bay take a quick look at your tires. How deep is the tread depth? is there any cracks.

Look for this DOT code, this tells you the month and year that the tire was manufactured, I personally would not drive on any tire older than 10 years old. So if they are I would replace them. The first two digits are the month, and the second two are the year. So my tires were manufactured in the 28th week of 2023.

Back to the engine bay! Take a quick look at your belts to see if you see any cracks or fraying.

Take a look at the wires and rubber hoses. Do you see any cracks if so they need to be replaced, and UH OH. look at what we have here. The spark plug wires are falling apart! lets replace them.

So, I've decide to replace the spark plugs at the same time, simply because I do not know how old they are. And here are the new parts! Along with the tools needed to install them!

First off remove the wires from the plugs, I leave the rear hooked up to the coils so I know where they go.

using the wrench and socket is loosen all the of the spark plugs all the way, then retrieve them using my magnet.

Here are the new plugs! These are pre-gapped so I don't have to set it myself.

I put some anti-seize on the threads to the plugs so they wont corrode into the engine. That would be a pain to extract if they were.

Then I lower the new plugs into the hole with the magnet making sure not to drop them hard.

I always like to start them in the threads by hand so I can make sure the threads are not cross threaded before snugging them the rest of the way down with the wrench.

Alright lets move onto the wires! I like to replace these one at a time to make sure I put the right wire in the coil, its easy to find out what plug each wire is for as they all have different lengths

And they are all in!

Finally take it for a test drive to make sure everything is working properly!

I came back and she ran great! :)

I hope I was able to relay some good information for y'all! I plan on making more of these as I come across more things to do on this Miata. Up next is the brakes or replacing the AC compressor as it is bad.

Stay safe my friends!