#if paul doesnt have a good race tomorrow.......

[httpiastri]

is it too early to ask for a fic abt imola's sprint race and how upset and angry paul was after the race ...

idk if this is what u wanted but i just felt like writing this. hope u like it <3 (still very much not over what happened)

four podiums in four rounds.

a consistent result like that should make any f2 driver satisfied.

should.

consistency is key, as you've seen so often in formula racing, but how can you tell that to someone who was just closer than ever to getting his maiden win in formula two?

to say that paul was a wreck after the race is an understatement. he refused to talk to you or any of his staff members – he even refused to talk to ralf, which was more worrisome than everything else. though, it didn't take you long to realize that he just needed to cool off on his own, just get some time to breathe in peace. so when he went back to your shared hotel room, you decided to stay at the track a little to watch the f1 qualifying, just so paul could have his much-needed alone time.

when you finally step into your hotel room hours later, after having gotten stuck in several tailbacks on your way back from the track, paul isn't resting on the bed like you thought he would be. he doesn't answer when you call out his name either, which really gets your heartbeat going.

you find him in the bathroom when you peek into it, his body submerged in the bathtub filled to the brim with foam and seemingly steaming water. you're not sure if he's even heard you come in because he doesn't move a single muscle nor open his eyes. he slowly looks up at you when you say his name again, though, eyes holding so much pain that the knot in your stomach grows even tighter. you have to do something, anything, to break him out of this cycle.

"can i join?"

it takes a second for him to react, but then he nods, and you step into the room. you slip out of the cute summery dress you've worn all day, removing all of your last clothing items aswell as your jewelry before moving towards him. the bathtub is tiny, nowhere near than ones you've shared before in luxury hotel rooms around the world. there's barely any space left for you to slip in, but you make it work.

the second your back meets his chest, his strong arms wrap around you and a content sigh leaves his mouth. neither of you care about the water flowing past the edge as you shuffle into his embrace; a wet floor is a problem for later. the bath soap he's used smells lovely, a mix of vanilla and rose meeting your nose and making you forget about how the water is burning your skin already. paul doesn't say anything, although he rests the side of his head against yours, warm breaths tickling the skin of your neck.

you take the opportunity to speak when you're met with it. you can't just let it go on like this all night. "do you... want to talk about it?" you ask, voice low as if not to scare him. as if the mere thought of the race is enough to scare him.

he lets out a hum. "no."

you pause for a few moments, considering the idea of just letting go of the topic. you decide that you can't. "can i talk about it, then?"

"i can't stop you, can i?"

you lift one of his hands from your waist, letting your pointer finger trace along his own fingers. they're pruney and soft, revealing how long he must've been in the bath already, while the calluses along the upper part of his palm from endless hours of racing and weightlifting stay hardened. you slot your fingers in between his, wrapping your other hand around the back of his hand too.

"no matter if you like to hear it or not," you begin. "you did well. that was an amazing race."

"but-"

a dismissive sound bubbles from your throat to cut him off. "no buts. it could've just as well gone your way today." you shift in his hold and turn your head so that you can look into his pretty blue eyes, and he already looks much calmer than before. "it's okay to fall apart, but we're building you up stronger for tomorrow. okay?"

his breath rises with his deep breath, and he soon nods. you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, and then you can't help but to give him another one. and another. and one to the tip of his nose, one to his forehead, one to that spot right by his temple that he loves so much.

finally he smiles, and he looks almost relieved to do it; like it's been ages since he had something to be happy about. he even lets out a small laugh when you keep up with your pecks, and he has to place a hand on your cheek to halt your actions.

he guides you forward, slotting your lips against his, before letting his hand glide to the back of your neck to keep you close.

hopefully you've actually gotten through to him. in the world of f2, every setback feels like tall mountain you have to climb; losing a race lead is like reaching the summit only to slip right back down again. it sounds like an impossible task, and if it were up to you, you would tell him to save himself the heartbreak and get an easier job. but racing is what he loves.

and together, you make it work.

no matter if it's about fitting into a small bath or coming back better the next day.

[until-the-joy-drops-again]

Phone call (chapter 1)

I had that itch. That itch that drives you completely insane because it's not physical, so you cant scratch it. It's the one that starts in the back of your brain and travels down to your stomach. That itch of the past you just cant relieve.

I thought about her a lot. How could I not? She was imprinted on my soul. The one that "got away," because I'm a stupid fool and instead of trying to cross the distance of time to get her back, I just let more time get I the way. Making it worse and worse...

Just then, my phone rang. I glanced down and almost choked on my beer. Delaware?!?! There was no way... I just stared at the phone, not knowing if I could actually answer it or not. Luckily, my heart took over, grabbed the phone and hit the talk button.

"Hello?"

"Adam! It's trevor walker."

I let out a sigh of relief and disappointment all at once, "oh hey man, what's up?"

"Adrien said you're in LA?"

"Uh, yeah.... yeah, bands on break for a little while, I'm home-" he cut me off.

"Good! We got you a flight out tomorrow morning, we'll pick you up in philly tomorrow evening! We have band practice Wednesday at 3pm."

I waited a beat for him to go on, but we both know he didnt need to.

"Trev i--," but he cut me off again.

"Delta, flight 752, leaves at 10:05, concourse d, better get there by 6...and she doesnt know we did this... see you tomorrow!" And the line cut out.

I pulled my phone away from my ear and stared at it for a minute. Obviously I wasnt going to go, i had heard she had gotten married about 18 months ago (why did i know that's how long it had been?) So... could i go back to being "just" friends? I mean, we had ALWAYS been "just" friends but...

The pain in my chest made me physically grab at it as I doubled over, dropping my phone. I felt tears stinging my eyes and had to gasp for air. The pain was incredible as I realized part of my brain had grasped onto the hope of seeing her again. I tried to take a slow deep breath but it shuttered in my lungs. I found myself rocking as I tried to calm myself down

There was nothing left I could do about her. The time and distance had grown too big. There was no hope left.

My phone pinged with a text message. I looked at it, it was trevor... I opened it and it was a link to s webpage. Confused, I pushed it and it took me to the local delaware page, to the divorce announcements. I frowned as I glanced over the page till my eyes fell on her name. I gasped. She got divorced! I looked at the top of the page, it was 4 months old.

I just sat there, my mind racing... trevor and those guys were a lot of things, but they never fucked around. If they were calling, getting a plane ticket and texting... I knew it was my best chance to fix this.

I absentmindedly stood up and started pacing around the room. I tossed my phone back on the couch and ran my hands over my head and neck, trying to help my brain put my thoughts in some sort of order.

Why didnt she know- but I knew the answer. Cause I'm a fucking moron and they weren't going to put her through anything else if I didnt show. And although that realization stabbed at my heart, it gave me a sliver of hope, that she might care if I didnt show...

My brain fucked with me then and somehow made me smell her then, for half a second. The smell of lavendar mixed with a little menthol cigarette smoke and sandalwood. The pang of longing I felt made me clutch at my stomach. And I turned towards my bedroom and started throwing shit in my carry on bag.

A vision of her face floated in front of my eyes. I still remembered every detail of her face, and then I focused on her eyes. I shut my eyes to bring the memory into clearer focus. Those beautiful hazel eyes. Before I knew what I was doing I was rushing back out to the livingroom and grabbing my phone. With shaking hands it took me a few tries to get into my music writing app and copy the right file. I pulled up trevor's text message, attached the file and hit send before I could second guess myself. I tossed the phone back on the couch but immediately picked it back up. I pushed some more buttons and then her face was ACTUALLY in front of me.

It was my absolutely most favorite picture I had ever owned. To the point of it being creepy, I laughed at myself. I had to saved probably 100 times in different places so I would always have it. We were younger in the photo, taken in New York during one of my tours about 4 years ago. We were walking back to the hotel, it must have been like four o'clock in the morning. Adrien had had his camera on him and wanted to get a photo of us in a crosswalk. We all thought he was an idiot... I smiled at the memory.

We had all been drinking, but we weren't hammered. We definitely shouldn't have driven a car, but we weren't staggering around and slurring... adrien was hoping around us trying to convince us to stand in the crosswalk. "Dude, do you WANT us to die?" She had asked him, laughing.

"Itll be quick! Look, there is barely any traffic or people... itll be perfect!"

"So we are all just going to..what? Like abbey road it?" I had asked, the vision of it made me laugh.

"No, just you two," he pointed at her and I, he had said it so matter of fact it caught me off guard. I turned to him, but he had already turned his attention to her, grabbing at her sleeve, hoping up and down again.

She burst out laughing, it was so easy and so pure and happy it made me smile.

"Okay...okay!!!!" She yelled at him, smiling, before she turned to me.

My stomach clenched as I remembered her turning to me then. She was just so God dammed beautiful, it was like she was just floating there on the street, the way she turned her whole body towards me so she was walking backwards down the street. Her mane of blonde hair bouncing as she moved, the sparkle of light and mischief in her eyes...she just took my breathe away. All I could do was nod at her.

"Yes!!!" Adrien jumped into the air and pumped his fist. "Ok, will the rest of you block any people from walking through? I'll set my camera up now so it can be quick. He started fussing with it as we walked. He took a few practise shots of the traffic, adjusting before taking another one. Finally he looked up, "perfect! Let's go!"

Adrien looked around him as we walked, he looked up at the street signs and pointed to our right, "this way!" He stopped at the crosswalk.

"So, this one?" She asked him as we all waited for the light to change.

"No, I want a little more traffic, we will go up a few streets..." so we did. Finally Adrien said, "this one!" And startedbouncing on the balls of his feet.

"So,how should we pose?" I looked down at her standing next to me.

"Let's see where the moment takes us," she smiled with her whole body, taking my arm.

There was still some traffic on this street as our light changed. Cars lined up behind the crosswalk and Sam, Dan and Paul ran out into the street to block any pedestrians crossing towards us. Adrien darted out into the empty right side of the street and crouched down as she pulled me into the crosswalk.

God she was really gorgeous. I laughed at her and grabbed her arm and spun her like a ballerina as I heard her laugh. I caught her with my right arm around her waist and my left hand between her shoulder blades. And I dipped us.

I felt her left leg come up to my hip as I leaned us both down. Her face just inches from mine, her hair falling back and downwards, covering my left hand. She was still laughing but when our eyes met her laugh softened, her eyes sparkled even more. I smiled at her, an easy smile I had no control over. I moved my face just a little closer and I saw the desire in her eyes as she quickly glanced at my lips. Our noses were just about to touch when...

"Yes!!!! Oh my God yes!!! That was AMAZING!"

Scared the hell out of me and I almost dropped her as I turned to look at him completely surprised.i had totally forgotten what we were actually doing. I looked back at her as I helped her up, I heard a car horn and saw our light was changing. I gave her a small push and we ran the rest of the way across the street.

As I looked at the photo in my livingroom, it really was "AMAZING." The headlights of the cars behind us made us glow almost, everything else was dark. He had taken it right st the moment when I was going to kiss her. Our faces close together, our smiles were loose and full. Her leg cocked up, her knee on my hip, her hair tumbling down behind her. I didnt look to bad either, holding her up and bending over her.

I kicked myself, if I had just fucking kissed her...if not right then, then later that night...or any time in the next 3 months, before my agent came at me with the marriage proposal... but I never did... and now, here I am, in this empty condo, trying to put my life back together after my idiotic ideas i had to get famous.

How the fuck was I supposed to sleep tonight?

[guidetoenjoy-blog]

Flint Lives Matter: residents say Hillary Clinton coming for the entertainment

New Post has been published on https://entertainmentguideto.com/must-see/flint-lives-matter-residents-say-hillary-clinton-coming-for-the-entertainment/

Flint Lives Matter: residents say Hillary Clinton coming for the entertainment

While some praise the candidates visit for bringing attention to the city as its water crisis continues, others see a candidate plying a cause just to get votes

Hillary Clinton has made every effort to make Flint her own. The water crisis afflicting this predominantly black Michigan city ignored by Washington politicians for years has become another battlefield in a progressive war between Clinton and Bernie Sanders. Race, class and the environment matter again in an issues-based, neck-and-neck race for the Democratic presidential nomination.

Looking past Tuesdays primary in New Hampshire, where Sanders is tipped to win, and toward the March primary states where she will be counting on African American support, Clinton made a symbolic campaign stop here on Sunday.

I feel blessed to be here but I wish it were for a different reason, she said, as she took to the stage at the House of Prayer Missionary Baptist Church, flanked by purple-robed members of a choir and surrounded by a sea of nodding heads.

But I am here because for nearly two years mothers and fathers were voicing concerns about the waters color and its smell, about the rashes that it gave to those that were bathing in it. And for nearly two years Flint was told the water was safe.

Her words drew applause and shouts of amen. But though Clinton supporters turned up for Sundays service, simply identifying the problem was not enough for some.

Hillary Clinton poses for a photograph at the House of Prayer Missionary Baptist Church. Photograph: Paul Sancya/AP

Not everyone in a city where the words FLINT LIVES MATTER appear next to bullet holes in windows wants the lead in their childrens drinking water made into a photo-op, a kind of Hurricane Katrina for a more liberal nations eco-justice age.

Interviews with residents before, during and after Clintons visit revealed fear of a candidate helicoptering in on the campaign trail, attempts to salvage a modern economic and environmental crisis that is Flints own, and few answers for a city being abandoned by its residents.

Dont jump on a cause just to get votes, said Flint Lives Matter organiser Calandra Patrick, as Clintons jet arrived in town. It doesnt matter to me if she makes an appearance or not it doesnt matter to me one bit.

Arnette Rison III, a 47-year-old independent contractor, put Clintons visit in starker terms: If shes bringing 35,000 hydroelectric filters, Ill love her for it. But thats not what shes about to do.

At the church, though the topic was serious, the mood was jovial and warm. Clinton stood before a packed audience and spoke emphatically about the moral imperatives of the situation, saying: The children in Flint are just as precious as the children in any other part of America.

The introduction she received was light, the pastor joking that the baptismal water was from the Flint river but he had experienced no rashes, only a little ash. The audience response ranged from lovingly enthusiastic to fierce.

A little after the changeover I noticed the smell

Calandra Patrick (closest to water), with Maurice Ratcliff and Tameka Thompson. Photograph: Lucia Graves for the Guardian

It was the spring of 2014 and something wasnt right with the water. Officials had switched from Detroits water system to the Flint river to save money, and though Patricks tap water was still running clear, she knew something was amiss.

A little after the changeover I noticed the smell, Patrick said. Every time she turned on the shower, there it was again. So she did what anyone worried about being alone in her feelings would do: she posted about it on Facebook.

Its funny: when you just put stuff out there and start asking questions, other people are like, Yeah, I noticed it too!

Almost two years later, the 41-year-old Flint native turned to Facebook once again to help set up the Flint Lives Matter Tailgate, a bottled water giveaway at city hall on Saturdays for the needy, aimed at supplementing the work of fire stations and local churches.

We dont have a limit, said Kevin Palmer, another organizer. We ask people what they need and we give it to them.

But there remains an element of political protest of rebellion to the new cause clbre of progressive Democrats.

A man piling water into his car erupted into chants decrying Rick Snyder, the Republican Michigan governor on whom Sanders has called to resign: Hey hey! Ho ho! Governor Snyder has got to go! A woman sold Flint Lives Matter T-shirts. The events online invitation page drew a straight parallel to Hurricane Katrina: Both abandoned by the government and left to die from dirty water.

An unconscionable and infuriating situation

A typical water resource station. Photograph: Lucia Graves for the Guardian

Clinton may have come late to Flint, but she came strong.

After lead levels were determined to far exceed environmental regulations, people beyond Michigans borders knew the water could cause permanent brain damage in children.

On 11 January, Clinton called the Flint water crisis unconscionable; a few days later, she appeared on Rachel Maddows MSNBC show to call the situation infuriating. She was the first candidate to bring the subject up in presidential debates and she even suggested one of the four additional Democratic debates should be held in Flint, in order to shine a spotlight on whats happening there and in places like Flint around the country.

That will now happen, in March.

On Sunday, Clinton seemed at pains to emphasize her lasting commitment to the issue, saying: I will fight for you no matter how long it takes, and, This has to be a national priority, not just for today and for tomorrow.

It was perhaps a pre-buttal to the attacks she expects to receive for supposedly appearing to care so much about Flint when the optics for doing so are so good.

This is no time for politics as usual, she said. Flint should start making the repairs you need to restore safe water as soon as possible.

For 32-year-old Lorenzo Lee Avery Jr, though, it was a disingenuous visit: Honestly, she not coming to help, he said. Feels like she coming for the entertainment.

His mother, Patricia Torrey, was standing over his shoulder. She strongly disagreed: Its a beautiful thing! said Torrey, 54, adding that she was a Clinton supporter, all the more so heading into Michigans 8 March primary. Its nice to see shes committed enough to come here.

Casey Lester, 31, who lives in Flint but runs the restaurant Max & Ermas in Detroit, was unimpressed by Clintons commitment. His wife, Marcella Lester, a 28-year-old applications analyst at Henry Ford Health Systems, took the campaign bait.

Though like her husband, she typically votes Republican, and may well do so in this election, Marcella Lester said she was pleased by Clintons hastily scheduled trip.

I think its good to get the attention, she said, because we need as much as we can get.

Nothing lasts, not even marriage

Carolyn Harper: This aint going to last, she says of bottles at a water treatment site. Photograph: Lucia Graves for the Guardian

Most people you talk to around Flint just want to know how politicians like Clinton and Sanders intend to help them. Because they do need help.

Kevin Palmer, a Flint Lives Matter organizer and father of five, pulled up a sleeve to reveal a surprisingly pale and scaly inner elbow. He avoids the water as much as he can, but the rashes persist. Worse than the physical harm, he said, was the financial. Having bought his house for $190,000 in 2012, Palmer said it was now worth nothing.

His brother Eddie Palmer, who runs a car audio and stereo repair shop, has fallen on tough financial times, too, to say nothing of the rashes and boils. Audio Unlimited had lost 40% to 50% of its clientele in the two years since the water was switched, he said, and he doesnt have it nearly as bad as the restaurants, at which he wont even eat.

Every month, he said, people tell him theyre leaving moving to Ohio or Arizona or even California. While he had no intention of shipping out himself, Palmer said he couldnt blame them.

Carolyn Harper, 77, is planning to move to South Carolina to be closer to her son. In the meantime, she is stuck in Flint, depending on bottled water that is too heavy for her to carry home.

That aint going to last, she said, gesturing at bottles at a water treatment site near her house. Nothing lasts, not even marriage.

She has outlasted three husbands now, and just about all of her friends have skipped town. Her house, on West Pulaski, has a bullet hole below the front window, a reminder of when there was a dope house across the street. But now the biggest problem is the water that flows from her taps.

She poured a glass, to hold up to the light. It was a pale shade of yellow, and slightly frothy. Asked if she thought it smelled faintly of minerals, she laughed Harper cant smell a thing.

Calandra Patrick, the Flint Lives Matter organizer, sees the combination of crises in starker terms.

Its genocide and gentrification. The inner city of flint is predominantly black. I dont know where they get these 57% figures, but the inner city of Flint is 90% to 95% black. It is.

Rison, who has two daughters and a grandchild, just wants to leave. But he finds moving financially impossible. He hasnt even had his house appraised, because he knows it wont be worth anything.

Nobody wants to come to Flint, he said.

Except, apparently, Clinton.

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us