Pinortrell / Piastrell / Nortrell (combining it so not every slot is just landoscar variations)
Oscturi & Jonlando (blame @oopslandiia I fell in love with all their oscturi writting) (plus there's something about trainer/driver that's just so good)
Galex (their lore is insane. Plus I love their vibes)
Oscmark (but ONLY if mark is a pathetic dog in it)
This made me realise how much I don't care about anyone but lando and oscar 🧍♂️
did you see this 👀 (you’ve become my go-to moot for dando)
i love being your go to moot for dando, my favourite topic in the world, my moon my stars my joy in the middle of the night when lando scurries his ass over to daniel posthaste.
do we think lando always planned on going? i genuinely don't think so. because the race could've been delayed (rain) and of course he could've won (🙂↕️) and needed to stick around for longer.
so lando literally there, taking stock of his feelings, considering his options, and deciding, as always, that the best option of all is running to daniel!!!!!!!!!!
fem lestappen or last men on earth 👀⁉️ i’m intrigued
(for the wip title game)
you get the beginning of last man on earth bc it's the one im probably more likely to return to at some point, even if it's pretty out there. ty for sending one!
For the past three years, the sounds of Monaco have been little more than chirping birds and crashing waves. There’s a morbid sense of comfort to it, really, for a city that was once so loud to be reduced to what it was before mankind had touched it. The quiet is what made it easy enough for Oscar to finally step out of his flat, and then step out of his building when he was running low on food and water.
There’s a gentle peace to the principality now, not that borders mean much after the end of the world. It’s just Oscar here, tending to the garden he’d set up in the park a few blocks from his flat in Fontvieille. He wonders if that makes him the Prince of Monaco now, with nobody else to claim it.
It’s a wonder, really, that it takes him so long to notice the rumbling of an engine among the natural quiet that’s reclaimed this place. Maybe there’s a part of his brain that still sees this city for what it used to be— the piece of motorsport history he’d moved here to embrace— that makes the sound of a car fade into the background. This is how Monaco is supposed to be, even if it hasn’t been that way for a long time.
And when he looks up from the strawberry bush that he’s tending to and sees an old-timey racecar, an old Bugatti that could only have been nicked from the Prince’s collection, his first thought is “Why didn’t I think of that?”
The real meaning of it hits him a moment later: somebody is driving the car, which means he’s not alone. He’s long since accepted that he was probably the last man alive, spared from the apocalypse by the overwhelming terror that had gripped him throughout his early 20s and kept him stuck within the confines of his flat. He never stopped to consider that there might be somebody else before, not in a long time. Oscar had always figured that if there were still people out there, they’d have come much sooner than three years after the end of the world.
But there’s someone here now, racing through the abandoned streets. He wonders if they think they’re just as alone is he did, or if there’s still an entire world out there that he was never brave enough to wander far enough to see.
Oscar plucks a few ripe strawberries from the bush and shoves them into the bag he’d brought out here, setting down his tools and retreating back toward his flat. It’s safer there, probably. Who knows who this person is, or what they’re doing here? For all he knows, this person might be sick, doing whatever they can to keep their eyes pried open as long as he can before they fall asleep, and the fever finally takes them, just as it had taken everyone else.
Logically, Oscar knows that probably isn’t the case. He never went to university, but he’s had plenty of time to read since the world ended, and he knows that a virus can’t survive without a proper reservoir of hosts. Based on it taking him three years to encounter one other person, it’s hard to believe that there are still enough people alive for the virus to persist. There’s almost something karmic in how the dominance of the virus led to its own rapid demise.
Not that karmic, though, because thousands of years of civilization went out like a blink of an eye. Oscar might have outlived the virus, but mankind certainly didn’t win. Even if there are other survivors out there, Oscar isn’t naïve enough to think that there’s a future for humanity after all this. His generation is bound to be the last, with how empty everything has become. If there were other survivors out here besides him and the guy driving the car, he reckons that most of them would have offed themselves when they realized just how bleak the future looked.
Oscar didn’t. In a strange way, he’s found more of a life for himself after the end of the world than he’d had before everything fell apart. Sometimes, it makes him guilty to think about. Other times, he likes to imagine that Australia was spared somehow, a big island off in the ocean away from all this, where the people he loves are still living proper lives in safe isolation.
That’s not what happened. He knows because his dad died two weeks before his phone stopped working and the last time he spoke to his mum, right at the end of everything, she’d been crying as she told him how grateful she was that he never leaves his flat. Maybe that conversation is the real reason he’s managed to embrace whatever left he has left, after it all.
Part of embracing that live should be meeting this person in the car, but the familiar anxiety works its way from deep in his gut and clutches his heart in its hands. He can’t see another person. It’s dangerous to see another person. He needs to get home, to hide out in his flat until they’ve finished having their fun with Monaco and found some other place to fuck about in.
His feet move before his mind does, and he’s tiptoeing through familiar streets. He dives into the alley behind the grocery store that he’s long since stripped of bottled water and canned goods and enters his building through the back way, climbing up the rickety stairs that his landlord had intended on redoing before everything fell to shit.
When he makes it inside his flat and twists the deadbolt, Oscar takes what feels like his first breath since he was back in his garden and lets his head fall against the door. He’s home. He’s safe.
He’s not alone, and he’s still too scared to do anything about it.
what are the top two 👀
(loving the nickname saga btw, made me think about the ones i enjoy! we have such different opinions lmao)
(also i hope lola uses this knowledge for evil)
the top two is darling and princess 😔😔 and she already is using tbe knowledge for evil she said "night princess" like.ahaknabaiaojqnznzbsjkal. and yeah! it's rlly neat how everyone has diff preferences lol.
silverstone was so so so so so so special to me. it rekindled my interest in f1 in earnest
7. Favourite radio message
charles in hungary. he just went offfffffff
9. Best special livery and/or racesuit of the year
mcl monaco racesuit is SUPERIOR just for that cursive font alone. and also racing bulls's vegas livery. i looooved the opalescent detail on the sidepod (🐦⬛)
I'm a big fan of sakuatsu as a ship so I guess probably atsumu but also maybe tsuki. But also everyone is soooo intresting. It's hard to pick a fav when they're all so compelling and well written.
your tags in this. you’re a genius i fear… (i mean, we all knew. but woah)
that photo is truly just too good! like max, the sharp black car, as the big bad wolf, looking up at the incredible mass of bright fluro yellow lambs, more than the eye can count. lambdo and his flocks, because at a certain point there is safety in numbers.
omg a fox and a rat in the woods! what a likely place for us to be :3 and then omg we can have a little woodland dinosaur party in the woods with the squirrels and bunnies and crows 🥰🥰 plus we can chase each other around I mean play hide and seek 👁️👁️
