#very very strange to see esp from a big/famous international race like this

[andromedasummer]

been rewatching old endurance races just listening to them in the background while i draw/plan dnd stuff/play games. watching spa 24 hrs from 2021 and completely forgot about the accident about 30 mins in. got to be some of the strangest broadcast behaviour ive seen in a race, and i say that as someone who has done papers on live broadcast and its rules.

obviously normal protocol for a big crash is you wait for the drivers to get out and confirm theyre okay/on their way to the medical center. then the crash is shown once or twice to give viewers and comms clarification of the incident along with info about the drivers wellbeing/insight into what may have happened to cause it.

but what happened here caused way more anxiety. mid normal commentary race director comes on radio calling a full course yellow. comms have no idea whats caused it and assume a car has broken down on track and needs to be moved.

in reality, an incredibly severe crash occured at what i believe is the most dangerous corner in motorsport, most dangerous on track for sure. 4 car collision, all drivers sent to the medical center, 2 discharged and 2 sent to hospital 40 mins later (i remember aitken suffered spinal/chest injuries and a broken arm but he made a full recovery)

but none of the commentators are ever told what happened. people working the cameras are careful not to show anything because you don't show a crash/wreck until you know the drivers are okay, basic respect. but no one is telling the broadcast team anything. so for the next 40 minutes, the fcy continues and the comms and the viewers are left to speculate about what's happened and they aren't positive speculations, especially when people who saw the crash in front of their stands start tweeting and sharing photos/vids/what they saw online. this kind of thing (official sources being quiet around a crash and tip-toeing) does happen, but its normally when an accident has been fatal.

of course everything turned out okay. after the 40 mins passed, the race director came on over the radio and informed the drivers and viewers that 2 of the drivers were discharged from the med centre and two were going to hospital with non-life threatening injuries. im very surprised to have seen this kind of breakdown of communication happen. certainly its better safe than sorry and i'd rather have a nonfatal crash never shown during a race runtime than a fatal crash be replayed to death. but there comes a point where what is not being shown begins to imply a very distressing scenario. its not an easy position to put a commentator in, asking them to talk in the gaps with this uneasy fear hanging over them for an odd hour. and its distressing for fans who may be friends and family watching abroad to have the main feed not address what happened, or even who was involved.

[rogertaylors-lipgloss]

Untitled Ben Hardy x Reader Chapter 2

itI really need to come up with a title for this one, esp considering it’s been my favorite so far. Any suggestions??

Word Count: 2575

Warnings: None.Yet. 

Ben had found you a place at the side of the stage, where other crew members had gathered to watch. Although there were cameras rolling, the boys were only being checked for lighting and movement. Polly and Rami stood front and center, showing him footage from the real Live Aid so he could memorize the movements. Joe practiced holding his bass and was bouncing around almost as much as the real John Deacon. Gwilym was talking to someone, going over something on his guitar. You instantly recognized Brian May, and then Roger Taylor, who was giving Ben a quick drum lesson. In awe that you were in the presence of two rock legends, you didn’t notice that Ben kept glancing at you. Make no mistake, he was absorbing Roger’s every last word, but he couldn’t help but steal a look at you in between. You were wearing a pair of dark wash boot-cut jeans and a dark orange cardigan that tied around the waist, with a pair of brown clogs. You looked so cozy, he thought, and instantly wished he was sitting with you on a couch somewhere in front of a fireplace. He shook the though from his head as Roger gave him a “good luck” and went back stage.

The boys rehearsed for about two hours, before the director finally felt like the boys had it down pat. He gave the four of them a quick rundown of how shooting would go tomorrow before calling it a day for the the cast and crew. Ben half-ran over to where you were still standing. “So, what do you think?” He asked, his eyes widening with excitement.

“Incredible. And I can’t believe that you get to work with the Roger Taylor and Brian May!” You loved Queen, so you struggle to suppress your urge to fangirl. Picking up on your interest, Ben asked, “Would you like me to introduce you?”

The jaw-dropped look on your face indicated your answer, and he led you by the hand over to where Brian and Roger were chatting with a couple of producers. “Brian, Roger- this is Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine. She’s working with Julian on the costuming.” You were frozen where you stood, and Brian turned to greet you.  

“Ah, how lovely to meet you, Y/N.” He had the kindest face you’d ever seen on a man, and you struggled to get out a “hello.” Ben, sensing how nervous you were, put his hand on the small of your back and subtly pushed you closer to the two men. Roger smiled at you and reached out to shake your hand. “Roger Taylor, love.”

Brian looked down at your shoes and his face lit up. “My goodness, I love your clogs! I have about a hundred pairs m’self.” You had heard about his vast surplus of the wooden shoes from another intern, as you hadn’t been lucky enough to go with the group to pull costumes from Brian May’s own closet. “Are you a fan of Queen?”

You nodded. “Very big one. Uh, fan that is.” Roger and Brian laughed at your response. “I used to have posters of you on my wall.” You mentally smacked yourself for omitting the embarrassing detail, but Roger and Brian were endeared by it.

“Well, you’ll have you come see us play sometime. We’d love you to have you. Perhaps good ole’ Ben here can help you arrange that?” Roger clapped Ben on the shoulder and winked. “Isn’t that right?”

Before Ben could respond, Roger and Brian were pulled away to speak with the director. “We’ll have to chat another time. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” Brian waved as he and Roger disappeared.

“So,” Ben started. “What do you usually do when you get off work?”

“Well, I don’t usually meet to world-famous rock legends for starters.” He laughed. “I usually just pick up some fast-food on the way back to my hotel.”

“You’re staying in a hotel?” He asked, shooting you a concerned look.

You nodded. “I couldn’t stay in the dorms anymore after I took this job, and I haven’t gotten my first paycheck yet, so a hotel was the cheapest option, short of sleeping in my car.”

“Well, that simply won’t do. Why don’t I treat you to a real, home-cooked meal at my place?”

You didn’t usually agree to go home with strange men you’d just met, but after spending the better part of your day around him, you felt like he was no longer a stranger.

“Sounds like a date, Mr. Hardy,” you replied. His face lit up like a box of Christmas lights.

“A date?” He repeated.

Embarrassed, you attempted to backtrack. “It’s just a colloquialism. I mean, unless you want too…”

Ben’s heart raced at the prospect of a date with you. His lips turned up in a smile. “I would really, really like that.”

After collecting your things from the costume department, you exchanged goodbyes with Julian a few other interns as you walked out to where Ben was waiting for you. He was talking in low tones with Rami, and they both went silent as they noticed you approaching. It was curious, but you didn’t pry.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow?” The both of you nodded and Rami walked off with a wave.

“Ready?” Ben asked you.  

“Ready, Freddie,” you giggled, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

He laughed, catching your reference. You surprised him every time you opened your mouth, and he felt his heart flutter. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was smitten. Little did he know that you felt the same.

Ben had convinced you to ride with him and once you had buckled your seatbelt, he handed you his phone. “Want to play D.J.?”

You eagerly accepted and knew what song you wanted to play. ’39 by Queen flooded the speakers and you leaned back with your eyes shut, humming along. Ben struggled to focus on the road, taking in how peaceful you looked and how natural it felt to have you riding shotgun. He swerved a bit and muttered “bollocks” for accidentally stirring you.

It didn’t take long to get to Ben’s. He lived in a moderately-sized apartment, and you immediately noticed the sparse décor. “Just moved in,” he explained. Suddenly, a small beagle came bounding up to you and put her two front paws up on your leg. “Frankie no-“ he started to say, but you had already sat down on the floor in front of her.  

“Hi there sweet angel,” you murmured, making sure to scratch behind her ears. “What a perfect little pup you are. You said her name is Frankie?”

Ben’s heart melted at the sight of you and Frankie. “Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You like dogs?”

“Like dogs? I absolutely adore them. I had to leave mine behind with my mom in the states when I started school over here. His name was Seymour, a black lab. I miss him every day, he’s my best friend in the world.”

“I can’t imagine having to leave behind Frankie here, that must have been so hard.” You just nodded, trying not to tear up. Ben noticed and reached his hand down to pull you back up on your feet. You scooped up Frankie for one last hug before taking it.

You followed him (with Frankie right on your heels) into the kitchen and perched yourself on a barstool at the island, watching him flutter about. He held up a bottle of white wine. “You’ve had a long day, you deserve to relax,” he said, pouring you a glass.

“Your day was just as long!” You teased him.

“Your right,” he said before putting his lips to the bottle and throwing it back. He held the bottle back up. “To you, Y/N.”

“To me?”

Ben walked around the island, still holding the bottle, and put his hand on your cheek. “To you,” he repeated. His touch was almost electric on your skin. You picked up your own glass and clinked it against his bottle in a toast. He wanted nothing more than to lean and kiss you right then and there but was interrupted by the sound of your stomach growling.

Your face turned beet red.

“Hungry?” He asked, clearly amused.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have a chance to eat lunch today.” You look down at your drink, avoiding his eyes. Definitely not a model, you thought again.

He stepped closer and gently reached to guide your chin up. “Don’t apologize for being hungry, love.” There it was again, that electricity. Your heart fluttered. “Now, what would you say to some macaroni and cheese? I’m afraid that’s about the extent of my cooking abilities.”

“Wow, talk about false advertising,” you said with fake outrage.

“Oi, I said home-cooked meal, not a four-course dining experience.” He tugged on the hem of your sweater.

“Well, lucky for you macaroni and cheese is one of my favorites. But,” you said, sliding carefully off the stool, “I don’t know if I trust a Brit with a box of Kraft.” Before he could respond, you had walked over and begun filling up a pot he had already pulled out with water.

He watched you feel your way about his kitchen, attempting to find the necessary ingredients on your own and quickly silencing him with a loud shush before he could give away the location. You were stubborn, but in an self-reliable, independent woman type way. He could tell you were used to doing things on your own and correctly guessed that was how you liked it. When you had finished cooking the macaroni, Ben helped you scoop the servings into bowls before leading you over to the couch. It was a bit drafty, Ben thought, and set down his bowl while he lit the fireplace. He sat back down and looked over at you. You had long-since kicked off your clogs and had your feet folded underneath you as you ate, looking even better than when he had imagined it earlier that day. Ben took a bite of his food and was instantly stunned. “In all my years of eating macaroni out of box, it’s never tasted this good. What did you do?”

           You offered him a sly smile and winked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Ben’s heart raced at the challenge. “It’s a trade secret, I’m afraid. You’ll never get a peep out of me.” You knew exactly what you were doing and before you could take another bite, Ben had abandoned his bowl on the coffee table and pounced on you, tickling your ribs. You managed to set your bowl down before it could fall and half-heartedly tried to push him off of you. He continued until finally you couldn’t take it anymore and blurted out, “Sour cream! Sour Cream!” You gasped for air. “I put a small dollop of sour cream in the macaroni and cheese.”

           Ben hovered over you, reveling in your surrender. You looked up at him and hoped that he was feeling what you were. Chemistry. Pure, raw chemistry. You took the plunge, lacing your fingers into his gorgeous head of blonde locks and pulled his lips down to yours. He moaned and allowed himself to collapse lightly on top of you. His soft pink lips matched your pace, pushing and pulling against your mouth. He held himself up on his elbows, holding your face in one hand and allowing his other to rest on your waist. You gently tugged at his bottom lip with your teeth, inviting him in for more, and he hungrily forced his tongue into your mouth. “Ben,” you murmured, and he moved his lips to your neck.

           “Yes, love?” His accent made you melt. As much as it pained you, you sat up a little more, prompting him to look at you with those wide eyes of his.

“I don’t want to be just another notch in your bed post.”

“My bed doesn’t have posts,” he chuckled. You swatted his arm. He feigned an “ouch.”

“I’m serious. This job, it’s important to me. It’s more than a job. It’s my career, and I’m just starting out. I don’t want to be another girl who fell for an actor who only wanted a one night stand.”

Ben was paying attention now. His heart ached that you would think that of him, but he also knew how some actors treated women who worked on set. He ran his fingers through your hair before letting his hand rest on your cheek. “I don’t want a one night stand, Y/N. I like you and everything I’ve learned about you so far, and I want to learn even more.” Your heart skipped a beat at his revelation. How could a man like Ben Hardy possibly be interested in a girl like you? “If it helps, I pinky promise not to try and get in your pants for the rest of the night. No promises for our next date, though,” he said with a flirtatious wink.

You smiled and nodded, now feeling more at ease. Ben tossed you the TV remote before picking his bowl back up to finish the meal. You still hadn’t gotten used to British television shows, so you settled on an interesting documentary about the Wars of the Roses. Though it was not something he would have ever chosen, he loved the way your eyes lit up as you absorbed information you’d undoubtedly already heard at least a hundred times.

The warm glow of the fireplace radiated throughout the room, but you still managed to catch a chill. Ben noticed you shiver, and reached over the arm of the couch to pick up a blanket. He opened his arms out to you. “C’mere, love.”

You scooted across the length of the couch until you reached Ben, who maneuvered so that your back was flush against his chest before he wrapped the oversized blanket around the two of you. Even through his clothes, you could feel the warmth of his body. You laid your head back, and he snaked his arms around your waist before placing his head atop yours. The weight of the long day settled over your body and you could feel yourself nodding off.

Ben was overwhelmed by the feeling of you in his arms. It felt so natural, a perfect fit. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to ravish you right there on his couch, but he understood and respected your reservations and he desperately wanted to prove to you that this was more than some flirtation to him. He knew the instant he first laid eyes on you that he needed you. He tried to pay attention to the documentary, but he felt your head fall lax on his chest. Peering down, he was flattered to see that you had fallen asleep in his embrace. Carefully, he scooted down a bit so that his head rested on the throw pillow that had been stuffed behind his back. He was still slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t dare wake you up. Frankie, who’d been lounging by the warmth of the fireplace, wandered over and jumped up onto the back of the couch. The three of you slept there together all through the night.

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