sonce the sports are happening big rn where i live i made a handy chart of all the phrases i use to communicate with my loved ones during these trying times. i thought others might find it useful too
ive discovered you can have whole conversations with people using just these phrases and none will be any the wiser that you dont even know what sport it is theyre talking about
wanna hang out [remembers it's rude to put expectations on people] it's cool if not [remembers people like to know they're wanted] but I'd really like it if you did [remembers selfishness is bad] we can do whatever you want though [remembers that handing someone a blank canvas isn't as effective as providing a suggestion to bounce ideas off of] like sucking each others fingers for example
love this hadjar max dynamic where max is the one being more careful with his words about the team and hadjar is just 'the car sucks, the upgrades tried to kill max and the car is probably dnfing on lap 7 tomorrow'
red bull ring posting a mysterious video about a classic ferrari, red bull racing being the only team to comment on it...could we be getting max in a classic ferrari. please
actually i don't think we acknowledge max's crinkly smiles enough. no shade to anyone but i can't imagine many people going through what he did and coming out of it with visible laugh lines to boot
꒰ 10 ꒱ “i can’t sleep either. mind if i join you?”
꒰ S ꒱ exhaustion
꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ the kitchen of a derelict house
go wild! have fun! and remember, prompts are there to ignore if you wish ;P
i kind of changed the dialog and threw the "derelict house" part away, but hope you like it still!!
this is a little less than 900 words of max and gp, and the tws for it include: (not detailed) descriptions of injury, blood and death, and mentions of past domestic abuse
GP gives himself a moment to stay in bed. He couldn't fall asleep all night, tossing and turning under the sheets, and just as he finally felt himself drift off, a loud clutter from the other side of the door startled him back awake.
He takes a deep breath, keeping it from morphing into a heavy sigh, and leaves the bed.
It went suspiciously quiet in the kitchen after the bang, and GP just hopes Max didn't injure himself — they're both getting sick of the hospital already.
When GP was twenty five and applying to work at social services, he didn't anticipate that, fifteen years later, he'd find himself taking care of a seventeen year old boy.
GP spots the overturned glass on the counter as he walks in, the water still dripping from the side and down on the floor. Max's eyes are big and scared as he notices him, and he quickly wipes down the counter with a cloth before hiding it behind his back, hands shaking.
Noting that Max is unharmed, GP relaxes ever so slightly. "Hey," he says, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. "Can't sleep?"
Max, as expected, stays silent. The doctors haven't been able to figure out if it's a trauma response or Max just doesn't want to talk, but ever since they found him in that apartment — hands and shirt covered in blood, sitting next to his father's long-cold body — Max hasn't said a single word.
He's just starting to emote though, small shakes or nods of his head when GP asks him about what food he would like to eat. And GP is pretty sure he saw Max smile at the cat they saw on the street the other day.
Some people, mainly the police, thought it was a deliberate move — keeping silent to hide the fact that Max killed his father. But it doesn't take a lot of brains to figure out what actually happened. The old piece of shit got too drunk, slipped on something or lost his footing, and bashed his head in on the corner of the table.
GP should probably feel more guilt from thinking ill of the dead, but the truth is — he doesn't. Not after they had to check Max for potential injuries and found so many bruises and fractures from domestic abuse it was a miracle the kid was still alive.
The way Max flinches at every sudden movement, cowers away when someone raises their voice or always seems to make himself smaller — if his father wasn't dead already, GP would've made sure he spent the remainder of his miserable life in prison.
Max stands still in the middle of the kitchen, head bowed but watching GP intently for his every move. GP wishes he could hug him, wrap him up in a blanket and make sure no one ever hurts him again.
But that's impossible, not right now, at least, so he has to settle on the next best thing — keeping Max company until he hopefully falls alseep.
GP clears his throat, walking to turn one of the lamps on. "Well, I can't sleep either, so I was going to watch something on the telly. Want to join?"
Max blinks at him, eyes jumping between GP's face and the arm he has outstretched towards the TV. GP keeps his posture relaxed and open, waiting for Max to decide.
When he disappears into his room, GP tries to stop himself from feeling disappointed. Of course Max doesn't feel safe yet for that, it's barely been two weeks of them living together and—
Max comes back and curls up into the far corner of the sofa, clutching his blanket. When they came back to the apartment for his things last week, it was the only non-essential he took with him. An old, tattered and faded blanket that was too small, but Max still tried his best to curl up under it.
"Right- okay," GP says to himself, "Do you want to choose the channel?" He sits on the other end of the sofa and waves the remote towards Max.
When Max looks at him with the same nervous expression, GP adds, "I promise I don't care what we watch. You can put on whatever you want."
Max blinks again, then slowly takes the remote into his hands. They're shaking less, GP notices. His brows furrow in concentration as he clicks between channels, until it lands on a broadcast of cara racing.
GP makes sure to smile in encouragement when Max glances at him in uncertainty, then settles against the cushions.
***
He wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later, but it can't be that long, because it's still dark behind the curtains.
There's a golf game playing on the screen, vibrant greens and blues reflecting off Max's sleeping face. His legs are folded under the blanket and his neck is craned at an uncomfortable angle. GP thinks about waking him up, but ultimately, decides that letting Max sleep is more important.
Muting the TV, GP lies down and closes his eyes. He falls asleep easily, listening to Max snoring softly next to him.
If you are still doing it, I would love to see 13, D, 𓃓
꒰ 13 ꒱ “i say this with all the love in my heart, but you look like shit.”
꒰ D ꒱ disbelief
꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ at work, far later than you should be
did i hear you ask for n24?
completely forgot about "disbelief" until i had finished it. whoops. as per uzje, i've also shimmied with the dialogue and location just slightly.
mostly below the cut
---
"Did you know," Dani says, sidling up to Max, whose attention is locked on the screens in the garage, eyes searching every detail, flitting between the main feed and Luggi's onboard like it holds the answers to universe itself, "that you do not have to stay up for the whole twenty-four hours? Usually, people sleep when it is midnight and it is not their stint."
Max spares him a glance, just a quick flick of the eyes. "It is not midnight. And, anyway, you are here too."
Dani laughs. "Because it's my stint next."
"And then after it will be mine," Max argues. His eyebrows raise as Luggi passes some backmarkers; his lip twitches with appraisal. "We are still only in P2; I need to stay and make sure—"
"Make sure what? That we stay P2? That nothing happens to the car? And what would you be able to do if something does happen?"
Max frowns. Luggi hits a clear bit of road by Brünnchen, and Max fully turns away from the screen to look at Dani.
"Well, I, of course, do not know, because it would depend on the situation, but it is anyway my job to handle things—"
"And it's going to be your job to drive in a couple of hours. And, Max, I trust you, and I know you can still win when you've stayed up all night, but—and I say this with love—you look like shit. How much have you slept this entire weekend?"
Max's lips purse. His eyes flick back to the screens—catch for a moment on the main feed shots of a pass farther down the field, blinking headlights around the outside. His attention passes back over Luggi's onboard—he's just bumped his way through Schwalbenschwanz—before it's back on Dani.
"Enough," he answers. "I have slept enough. Luggi i2s in at the end of this lap." He looks at Dani expectantly, urging him to grab his seat and wait at the garage entrance.
"If I promise to keep P2, will you get some sleep?" Dani asks. He was exaggerating a little bit—far from looking like shit, Max is still unfairly fresh even with the long hours spent with eyes wide open, both in the car and out—but there are still dark smudges under his eyes and too much tension in his shoulders. Dani's just watched him blink twice since he last spoke.
Max squints suspiciously. "If anything happens, you will radio the team, and they will come to wake me up."
"If you agree to set only one alarm to wake up for your stint and not to check on the car," Dani haggles back. He knows that Max does trust him—Jules and Luggi too. Knows that he just takes his job seriously—that he's as desperate for this win as any of them, that hunger itching deep in his bones. That that itch keeps driving him to do moremoremore.
Dani's not offended that Max wants to keep an eye on things. And he's not nervous that Max will bin their chances of a win if he does get behind the wheel with tired eyes. But Max is blinking again, and it may be his job to look out for the team, but they're a team for a reason, and it's Dani's job to look out for him, too.
Max's eyes are still narrowed. But it's been nearly thirty seconds since he glanced at the screen. "I will go after you get into the car."
"Deal," Dani accepts. He claps Max on the back, grinning wide. "Aren't you excited for when your stint is over, and we get to have this conversation again?"
Max cracks a smile. "Go to the car." He turns back to the screens, where Luggi is pulling into the pits behind the taillights of Car 80.
Dani salutes to Max's back and does.
--
In the end, it doesn't matter what Max misses during his nap, or how well Dani keeps his promise to stay in P2 during the night. Dani is driving, far ahead in the lead, and Max is wide awake, eyes intense on the screens, but when the car starts to slowly break apart, there's nothing either of them can do.
As he climbs out of the car, mouth twisted, fists tight even though they're no longer gripping the wheel, Dani catches Max's eye. He isn't blinking, and the light bruises under his eyes from earlier have been erased, yet he looks more tired than ever.
i think we should introduce blogger rpf to the ecosystem just cos im curious to see how people would characterise me and my relationship with my mutuals. also i'd read enemies to lovers fics of me and my mutuals in law that have me blocked
turnnoffyourmind
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
stormborns
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
