#(I Only Have More Questions After 2020)

[annamariedarkholmes]

the way that adult men working both in the x-men office and “influencer” fan-adjacent spaces always behave so performatively extra about gambit will never stop being weird to me. it’s such a nasty underhanded way to gatekeep his (mostly female lbr) fans under the guise of (repeatedly asserting) mere personal preference

[malkaviian]

i have a headache but also i dont want to go to sleep just yet dkjnfjds i want me-time

(warning: as i was writing the tags of this post this turned into another kinda-heavy rant about the situation my group of friends and i are. so keep that in mind)

[eggmeralda]

spent an hour making a list related to That Fandom, followed by an hour listening to the haunting vibe playlist, followed by an hour reading the fanfic we wrote about my band and crying actual tears bc it's the peak of comedy, followed by an hour thinking about all the things I've ever created that will never be seen by anyone either bc I don't know how to show them to people or bc people just think they're bad but either way I'll never know the true answer, and now it's 10.30pm and I've basically experienced the full spectrum of emotions: autism, existential crisis, silly, and the feeling of being unseen

[ms-demeanor]

hi, hopefully this isnt a stupid question -- this is only my second election i'm voting in, and i'm a little confused about results. is it actually confirmed that trump has won, or is it just almost certain based on the counted votes? bc i know that provisional ballots (like mine) probably arent immediately counted, and there was that thing about votes needing to be verified because of signatures, plus to my knowledge the electoral college doesnt vote til december? i'm probably just grasping at an infinitesimal chance of things not being shit, but also i do actually want to understand and google is not helping :( if you can't explain no worries, you just seem to be knowledgable & willing to answer questions haha

This is absolutely not a stupid question.

So everything is currently pointing at what is most likely, not at what is 100% certain, but it's like 99% certain. There are still votes being counted, but in the states where the election has been called it has been called either because enough of the ballots have been counted that the remaining count wouldn't change the results, or that the area is historically so strongly in favor of one party that it's exceptionally unlikely that they'd flip the other way (for example, they're still counting california's ballots but you're more likely to get struck by lightning five times today than california is to flip red in this election). The places that have not yet been called do not have enough electoral votes for Harris to win the election.

The electoral college is exceedingly unlikely to flip their votes against the state/district vote; "Faithless electors" is the term for members of the electoral college who would vote against the vote they are committed to for their region. It was something discussed in both the 2016 election and the 2020 election and flipping the electoral college without winning the election was the motivation behind J6. As shitty and bullshit as I think the electoral college is, if you're going to have one and you're going to have the rule of law, you can't hope for faithless electors because what you're hoping for at that point is that the people representing you are acting directly against the choice of the voters.

I want you to listen to me. I have been voting in presidential elections since 2004. Presidential elections always suck. Who the president is does matter, and does impact your life, but you genuinely do not have a ton of influence over that so you can't let it throw you into despair and inaction, because we should be active and political and protesting the wrongs of the world even if your favored political party wins. Vote in local elections, work with your local community, and if your local community sucks too, work with online communities to both give and get support.

Whenever something like this happens, people pass around the Mr. Rogers quote about looking to the helpers. I like that quote. I think it's good, I think it's hopeful, I think it helps! But I also think that sometimes it's even more effective if you look for how to help. Who are you the most scared for after this election? Who are you worried about in your community or among your friends? What can you do that might make their life easier? What can you do to protect people like that in your community? What don't you know that might make you better prepared to help them in the future?

One thing that I think is a fantastic way to prepare to help is to either begin or continue learning a language that you don't know. I am working hard on my Spanish because I live in California and there are a ton of Spanish speakers here who I might be able to help. Is it directly aiding anyone right at this second that I'm practicing conjugation? No. But it might help someone who is being harassed by a cop, or who is unhoused and needs help, or who is being abused by an employer at some point in the future, and I can get myself ready to help. Learn how to use naloxone and pick up up an inhaler; you might not need it now, but it'll make you ready to help someone who does need it. Order free covid tests every chance you get, even if you don't need them, because then you can give them out to people who do need them. Plan B has a multi-year shelf life. Pick some up so that you've got some on hand if someone needs it.

Maybe there's nothing you can do right at this exact second (though if you are able to donate to gender affirmation fundraisers, border kindness, abortion funds, bail funds, etc., you can absolutely do that), but you can get ready to help someone who will need you someday.

[hellotailor]

armand’s costumes are such an interesting data point re: his nebulous sense of identity.

when analyzing any costume, there are always many factors to consider: the setting, the character’s personal taste and economic constraints, storytelling concerns like tone and genre, etc. with armand, we also need to remember that he’s 500 years old and violently disconnected from his human origins. everything he wears has an element of disguise, selected to blend into a new environment.

armand was enslaved as a child in 16th century delhi, and barely remembers his mortal life. unlike louis - who can return to new orleans after 80 years and reconnect with his past - armand has no home to return to. his whole backstory, even his name, is rife with traumatic subtext, leaving him with an obsessive need for structure and control. this adds an extra layer of meaning to costuming choices that initially seem like straightforward menswear. 

armand’s 1940s wardrobe is very put-together - primarily three-piece suits and coats that make him look wealthier and more formal than louis, who is purposefully dressing down. most of these outfits are tailored to bulk up armand's frame, leaning into the "maitre" persona. and like his business-casual dubai wardrobe, he always leaves his collar open. when i interviewed costume designer carol cutshall, she described this as a symbolic power move, signalling that he's an apex predator who doesn't need to protect his throat.

my personal interpretation is that while armand clearly likes to look good, he has a complicated relationship with attractiveness. he doesn't always want to draw attention. his color palette is shadowy (black, grey, brown, olive green), and he’s much less flashy than the other Théâtre vamps. however when he’s feeling confident and flirty, he becomes more of a power-dresser - for instance his hunting outfit with the big coat and sunglasses, or his habit of wearing kohl.

interestingly, most of armand's 1940s costumes set him apart from the coven. the Théâtre vampires dress like cabaret performers, embracing a lot of period-specific styles. by contrast armand is more timeless and neutral. in fact, due to the relatively minor changes in men's suits over the past 100 years, there's a lot of overlap between his wardrobe in the 1940s, '70s and 2020s:

the rest of the Théâtre squad share an unofficial uniform of boldly clashing monochrome patterns with pops of bright color. meanwhile armand has a very plain wardrobe, emphasizing the image of him as a businesslike authority figure surrounded by zany artistes. he only wears subtle stripes on a few occasions in the '40s, reflecting the recurring prison motif we see in lestat's trial suit and (most famously) the dubai penthouse bedroom:

if we ask the question, "what does this person like to wear?" there are easy answers for lestat, louis and claudia. we understand their tastes, and the motives behind them. but armand is more enigmatic. we can recognize through-lines in his wardrobe, but his "taste" is dominated by whatever role he's currently decided to embody, whether that's a parisian theater director or a real estate mogul in dubai.

the times when he appears to have the most fun with clothing are when he steals a pair of sunglasses from his human dinner (!) and when he's pretending to be rashid. in other words, when he's explicitly performing for an audience. "real armand" is still a mystery.

(i may write more about armand's dubai wardrobe later, but for now, you can find all of my iwtv costumes posts on this tag!)

[willowsnook]

When Love is Left Unspoken

max verstappen x reader

she isn't you i'd be insane not to love you

request from @formulaal

Pt. 2 here

"Alright, one more question from the chat," you said into your mic, scanning for a good one. One caught your eye, and you began reading it aloud before realizing it would reveal something from your past. “Would you choose a guy over your best friend?”

Laughing humorlessly, you looked into the camera with a tight smile. “Anyone who’s been here for a while knows how relevant that question is to my life. But my answer hasn’t changed: if you’re choosing a romantic partner over your best friend, you can get fucked. Thanks for tuning in, everyone. See you around.”

Logging off, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the kitchen to refill it. Checking your phone, you smiled at the stats from the stream—10k of your fans tuning in tonight was a big turnout. You’d gone viral on BookTok back in 2020, and now, your book podcast had a solid following. Normally, BookTok didn’t bring huge numbers, but thanks to your former best friend, your popularity had skyrocketed. As grateful as you were, his part in your success irritated you now.

Then a notification popped up on your screen, and you rolled your eyes.

MV: Nice stream.

You: Fuck off

MV: Glad I’m still living rent-free in your head.

You: Glad you got permission to text me.

You threw your phone down on the counter, boiling inside. Nobody got under your skin like he could, especially after 20 years of knowing exactly how to do it. Growing up, it hadn’t always been this way. At 10, you’d moved with your family to the Netherlands, right next door to the Verstappens. Max quickly became your best friend, your weekends spent watching him kart. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine things would end like this.

You met Kelly in 2018 at a race Max invited you to. Right away, you got weird vibes. She looked at Max like a toy she had to have. It was creepy, especially given the nine-year age gap. By 2019, they were dating, and she made it clear she didn’t like you, refusing to acknowledge your existence. That led to rocky times between you and Max; he always had excuses to avoid seeing you. When you were together, he seemed tense, as if being watched.

Everything fell apart in Australia 2021.

Flashback

Max invited you to the first race of the 2021 season, though you almost didn’t go. It felt obligatory, as if he invited you just because you’d never missed an opening race. You hadn’t seen him all winter, just exchanging quick holiday texts. Walking into the paddock, you felt a strange sense of finality, like this might be the last one.

Spotting Carmen outside Mercedes, you walked over and hugged her. As you stepped back, she looked worried.

“What’s up?”

She hesitated. “I thought you should know, Kelly’s been saying some nasty things about you around the paddock. No one believes her, but… I wanted you to know.”

“What is she saying?” you asked, heart sinking.

“She’s calling you pathetic, saying you’re still pining over your childhood crush and using Max to become an influencer,” she said softly, looking at you with sympathy.

“You’re joking,” you said, anger simmering. She shook her head.

“Can I be real with you?” She asked, and you nodded. “I love you and George loves you and honestly, everyone does. But I will accept not seeing you here anymore if you finally realize that Max is not being a good friend to you. And he hasn’t been for a long time.”

Eyes filling with tears, you let her words sink in. She was right, but admitting it was brutal. Maybe staying around him was just self-inflicted pain.

You found Max later, pulling him aside.

“I only have a few minutes, so make it quick,” he said, barely looking at you. Seeing him like this, you realized that the man in front of you wasn’t your best friend anymore.

“Your girlfriend’s telling people I’m a pathetic loser here to use you for fame,” you said, voice flat.

“I don’t believe that,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“Really?” you laughed bitterly. “You don’t believe that from your girlfriend—the one who’s disliked me since day one?”

“Seems like you have something to say, Y/N. Just say it,” he replied, finally looking at you.

“There was a time in my life where I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live without you. But now I’m living it. Have the past ten years been nothing to you? All it took was an older woman to bat her eyelashes at you and that was it?”

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off.

“I’m not going to stand here and tell you that we had a good run and that I wish you the best. Fuck you. Fuck you for choosing her over me and fuck you for even letting it have to be a choice. I hate you.”

End of Flashback

That was the last time you had spoken to him. There were no texts or calls after that; his life just went on like normal while you felt like you were dying inside. You had thrown yourself into your work after that and now had over a million followers and subscribers to your podcast. You’d stayed friends with Carmen but hadn’t returned to a race since that day. You had tried to block the memory of that day from your mind, but when you were low, one thing always resurfaced in your mind. Kelly was right about you pining after your childhood crush. You had been in love with Max back then. How could you not be?

Then Carmen invited you to the Austin GP, and after much persuasion, you finally agreed. Thanks to your online following, you flew down with her, officially a Mercedes guest. Wearing Mercedes colors felt like poetic justice.

When you entered the paddock, a wave of nostalgia and sadness hit you. But it disappeared as you saw familiar faces you’d missed over the years.

"Y/N!" Alex called, arms open. Hugging him, you sighed, realizing how much you’d missed everyone. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you admitted before greeting Lily, who gushed over your podcast and joked about being a guest. As you laughed with her, you noticed Alex subtly trying to block your view. Looking over, you saw Max walking by. He did a double take, but you turned back to Lily, ignoring his stare.

Later, as you waited for a coffee, you overheard Checo’s wife and Fernando’s girlfriend chatting.

“I heard Max and Kelly broke up,” Melissa said.

“Oh yeah, it’s been a few months,” Carola replied, shrugging. “Apparently, he was in love with someone else the whole time.”

You smirked. So Kelly finally experienced what it felt like to be second choice.

The race came and went, and you successfully avoided Max the entire weekend. You didn’t even think about the possibility of running into him when you accepted Carmen’s invitation to go out that night. George had actually wanted to go out, so you found yourself at a little country bar that night with what seemed to be the whole grid. You felt Max’s gaze the second you walked in, and you were doing a hell of a job ignoring him. Charles was trying to talk to him, looking confused between the two of you, but you didn’t care.

Ordering another gin and tonic you felt him come up next to you and you refused to look over.

“Put hers on mine,” Max said, handing over his card. You tried to leave, but he held out an arm to stop you.

“No ‘thank you’?” he teased, eyes intense.

You glared. “You can have it, then.”

“Stop being difficult,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You look good.”

“Can’t say the same about you,” you shot back, and his expression darkened.

He sighed. “Can we talk?”

“I said everything I needed to say three years ago. Have a good night.”

This time he let you go and you made your way back to Carmen who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You okay?” She asked, and you nodded.

A little while later, you were sitting at a table talking with Charles with Max hovering close by.

“Max, come sit down,” Charles slurred, and at this point, you were too tipsy to put up a fight about it. “Max is my best friend, ya know?”

“Ah yeah?” You asked head tilting. “Those words don’t mean much coming from him.”

Charles giggled, too drunk to understand what you meant and Max clenched his jaw looking at you.

“Insult me all you want schatje, as long as you’re talking to me I’ll take it,” he said and you didn’t say anything, just stared at him trying to figure out his angle.

“Is this the girl Kelly broke up with you over?” Charles asked and Max whipped his head towards him. “You always had a thing for her, so I told Alex that was my guess.”

Max’s face fell, and you froze. Shock turned into anger as you got up and stormed out. You felt Max following and soon he was in front of you, blocking your path.

“Come on,” he urged, leading you to a nearby park.

“Max, I don’t want to talk,” you said firmly, pulling away.

“I don’t care,” he replied, frustrated. “Tell me what I need to do to fix this.”

You laughed bitterly. “Crawling back because you got dumped? It’s too late.”

“It’s not like that.”

“You made your choice three years ago. Now live with it.”

“You want to know why we broke up?”

“I don’t really give a fuck,” you replied before turning to walk away.

“She isn’t you!” He yelled. Your legs stopped moving as your mind reeled.

Whirling on him you got into his face, “You don’t get to fucking say that to me. Not after all this time. Not after what you put me through. Not after you chose her over me. I was there the whole time Max. Me! I was there! It’s not my fault you didn’t realize that till I was gone.” 

“I realized it long before then,” he said softly, and you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Tears were starting to fall, and you looked everywhere but him. 

“Then why?” You whispered, voice cracking. 

“Because I wasn’t good enough for you,” he said laughing sadly to himself. “The pressure was starting to cave in back then and I didn’t want you to see that. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“You were my best friend Max,” you said exasperated. “I would have done anything for you.” 

“It’s easy to see that now,” he said. “But then you were so full of life and starting your little videos that I didn’t want to disappoint you. She understood what I was going through, but I never stopped loving you.” 

“Then why did you still push me away?” 

“I had to do that so that I could try and move on. She knew and she hated that there wasn’t anything she could do to change how I felt about you. I knew what she was saying about you in the paddock, and I knew why she was saying it.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and it felt like heartbreak all over again. “You knew and you let it happen. You are the worst person I’ve ever known Max Verstappen.”

He was crying now too and the two of you stood staring at one another not saying anything. 

“I would be insane not to love you,” he said softly and it made you cry harder. “So I will do whatever it takes for however long to make up for what I did.” 

He let you go again and you left him there, crying silently as you walked back to the hotel. So many emotions going through your mind paired with confusing feelings. 

Happiness for your 15-year-old self that has wanted to hear those words for so long. 

Sadness for your 21-year-old self reliving those memories. 

And anger at your 24-year-old self for considering letting him make it up to you. 

[adumbdemon]

okay so there's a fuck ton of things wrong in this election that it's hard to believe he actually fairly won:

1- the 32 weird fake bomb threats called into democratic leanings poll places. which made them have to close fir over an hour

2-destroying ballot boxes again in dem leaning places. losing alot of votes

3- alot of people coming out and saying that their ballots were not counted because of weird reasons eg. invalid signatures, information that the vote counter couldn't have had all that from people giving evidence and it all leads to their ballots not being counted

4- all this happened after months of hinting from the Republicans of foul play

5- this all happened in swing states that have been won by Biden in 2020 aka democratic leanings places which is weird why would the errors only be on places where there is no granted win for Trump

6- trump has never won the public vote and then suddenly boom he does out of no where he has them, his polls before 5/10 were comically low compared to the end results and now he's somehow gaining every swing state not to mention that all his swing state numbers are at 50 and 51% why is this the only numbers repeated

7- the support shown for kamala in the rallies and online was huge even more than Obama himself how could she have lost this badly the math isn't mathing it wouldn't be weird if the support wasn't alot for her but it was astronomical she raised millions in only 100 days you can't tell me it isn't sus that she loses almost all swing states

8- Latino and poc votes for Trump. bro the number of poc people voting for Trump is crazy especially after all the racist remarks and comments you're telling me that most poc voted for him?? there is no fucking way

9- Elon musk giving 1 million$ to a voters in Pennsylvania which is according to federal law is illegal and nothing has been done about it

in conclusion this entire this is weird af it's all contradicting each other nothing makes sense and alot of these couldn't be just coincidences. CBS is currently accusing trump of cheating. I think a recount should happen at the very least, and there are way too many irregularities and anomalies to not investigate. this could be what gets him out of the race. there is a link being used to order the president for a recount :

please use the link. it is your right to question things use it. don't go thinking 'oh they aren't going to do anything it's hopeless why even try' no every voice matters we need as much as we can even if it doesn't work at least we tried, for the people that will have their rights stripped away for the suicide rates that skyrocketed in the past 24 hours do your best and let your voice be heard.

[antivivziepopparade]

All of the proof that we have that Vivziepop is abusive. (So far....)

While you support this post please go ahead and support my channel to see more about Vivziepop's abusive behavior. Thanks!

1. She rushes her employees.

Season 1 was made in 2020. While Season 2 was made in 2021 while being released with MULTIPLE EPISODES only ONE year later.

That's-

INSANE!

-and im about to tell you why:

The average cartoon needs almost ONE WHOLE YEAR to produce one episode. And this is what we see in MAINSTREAM shows.

Meanwhile, Helluva Boss took only one year (and a half) to make MULTIPLE ENTIRE EPISODES that last over 20 minutes. The longest waiting time for an episode being 8 months. Not even a year, and we get multiple episodes off the drawing board.

You can even see here that it's taken only three years to make 16 episodes. When this is an indie studio, so this should have taken so much longer to make. Yet for some reason, it took only a few years for us to get full seasons. In 2021, we got over 4 episodes alone. Have you ever wondered why these episodes come out so fast while other shows take a lot longer to get new seasons? That's an easy question to ask... Spindlehorse...

Is being ABUSED.

And I have the proof to show.

2. The pay controversy.

Spindlehorse's payment has been under controversy for providing the lowest pay possible to those that work at the studio.

One piece of evidence was given by Adam himself (albeit unintentionally) by saying this:

This kind of pay is highly unstable! And before you say "But he didn't force them to be there-"

LOOK.

The employees themselves admitted that they had no choice. People had no choice and Vivienne Medrano took advantage of that for her own selfish desires. This is disgusting treatment of a studio as small as Spindlehorse. Or any studio for that matter.

Hell! chaifootsteps said once that once Zeurel released that he was paying his animators too low, he deleted one of the tweets showing the low pay and decided to do something to give his employees better wages. Meanwhile, Chimera Bunny pays even less than Viv does and just because paying your workers low is normal in the animation industry- plot twist: Doesn't make it ok!

People have suffered so much in this industry, it's why "New Deal for Animation" exists. The only reason you haven't seen many Vivziepop workers having protests and speaking out is because Vivziepop says things like this behind people's backs if they "dare" do anything she doesn't like:

So that explains as to why so many people remain as "anon" or say nothing at all because they got cold feet. Vivienne's terrible!

Especially since even her top employees have admitted to not being paid enough despite Adam's "I pay them to stay if they make us the most mon-ey!" claims from the article:

Also this:

This is how she speaks about her own employees:

"YOU DONT LIKE HOW I TREAT YOU?! FUCK OFF!"

Straight up abuse.

Also, wasn't Walt Disney known for abusing his employees?

To the point where people had an entire protest in 1914 about it?

Wow... such a healthy workplace treatment comparison. Doesn't make Vivziepop look more like a jerk.... at all! /s

3. She bullies kids/laughed at a sa victim that was sa'ed by her friends. As one kid was bullied into a panic attack (I know them personally) back in about 2020 and Viv decided to vague post about them behind their back even after they apologized.

For someone who's so focused on "forgiving despite cancel culture" she sure likes to blame and harass people for disliking even ONE thing about her show or herself. One thing- and you're harassed over making a meme about a cartoon with fictional characters (What Froot Did that set Vivziepop and Gumball off.)

Secondly, one of her friends sexually harassed a minor.

And instead of acknowledging the sa, Vivziepop wrote this:

She ended up calling it a "joke" and made fun of the victim involved.

This is outright abusive behavior that should not be tolerated.

Children don't deserve to be traumatized this way. Especially over something as simple as making memes about a cartoon (negative or not) or simply telling someone to stop fetishizing abuse.

More on this in this video made by Gummypop:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND-

That's all that I have for now!

Will likely be updating this post in the future. Goodbye!

EDIT:

More evidence of Vivziepop using abusive language and slander against her employees behind their back. Claims of them being a "stalker" (like she did to Kedi and also its clear that she told her employees to say that Kaz was a "stalker" otherwise how else would they be saying these things after she fired them.) along with using abusive language such as "CUNT!" to prefer to Kaz this way in a professional setting I cannot. 💀

More evidence of Vivziepop harassing a kid:

ANOTHER edit:

More evidence, she's burning them the HELL out!

Yet ANOTHER edit:

More evidence of Spindlehorse being abusive:

EDIT:

Even MORE evidence:

The fact that the story AND the storyboards AND the animating for season one's episodes were all done in one year is just so crazy to me like... WHAT?! Either way, this post will continue to extend the more that I find evidence. So remember to look forward to that one!

EDIT:

Sadly no, as animation abuse is so common that the police dont even see it as an issue. The last time I tried to call the police on her they needed a location. The problem? There is no location of Spindlehorse since it's a "private" studio. So because of that viv gets away with abuse despite the obvious implications of her behavior and how many people came out with allegations towards her.

[yuurei20]

Hi YuuRei! I was revisiting some of your past videos, and when I was watching your video on how Trey was changed in the English version, I was reminded of something that I saw a fan point out once upon time. In the Japanese version, during Riddle’s Overblot fight, Cater’s character model has red colored eyes rather than green. I was curious if you knew more about that? Thank you!

Hello hello! ^^ Thank you for this question!

Yes yes, it seems that this is very true!

While looking around for possible information I discovered a twstsoku thread on this very topic, full of people reminiscing about the little visual changes that the game experienced in its early days, and this was one of them! ^^

Someone points out that there are actually illustrations of Cater with red eyes in the Magical Archives Game Guide, and I can confirm that that is true as well!

There are two drawings--one of Cater in his labwear and one in his gym uniform--where his eyes are red instead of green. So it seems that his character design may have had originally red eyes, and the change to green was made fairly late in the development process!

(His eye color has since been corrected to green.)

For a personal theory, Yana has mentioned something about early-Cater before: he wasn't supposed to be human!

"Cater was a beastman, there was a character based on a white rabbit motif, and so on…" - Toboso Yana (Magical Archives Game Guide (2020))

She does not say that Cater was going to be the white rabbit character, just that a white rabbit character existed and Cater was also a beast-person, but I wonder: that unnamed white rabbit character, was it originally Cater? 👀 Is that why is eyes were red in early stages of development?

But then I discovered another theory:

Back in 2020, two weeks after the game was released, user kozue_pixiv writes:

"Are you all familiar with a gemstone called Alexandrite? It's a stone that changes color depending on light wavelengths, and it's known as 'the emerald by day' and 'the ruby by night.' Is there a connection? Are his eyes changing from green to red inspired by Alexandrite? Are his eyes gemstones? After thinking about it so much I realized, Cater-senpai is from the Land of Pyroxene. It's perfect… Come to think of it, he is from the Land of Pyroxene and his family name is Diamond--that’s really well thought out. Among the four suits in a deck of cards, only diamonds are gemstones, so maybe it was intentional… Hmm, I wonder… Since he’s the only one in Heartslabyul from a different country, I might be overthinking it, but isn’t it interesting that everyone from the Land of Pyroxene are in different dorms?"

And another point in favor of "the character named 'diamond' has eyes that change in the light' theory? In Cater's ceremonial robes groovy, he originally had gold-colored eyes!

Interesting!! 👀📝

[politicalprof]

On the election:

Thoughts? Sure. Lots of them:

--I have said from the beginning that this is a turnout election. Get me 2016 levels of turnout and Trump could well win. Get me 2020 levels of turnout and Harris would probably win. 2024's turnout is much closer to 2016 than 2020, so the electorate was whiter, more male, and older in 2024 than 2020. The people Harris needed to vote, didn't. Thus Trump won all or most of the swing states, and won the popular vote -- the first Republican to do so since 2004. (This is why I was a not a poll watcher: percentages in a poll do not translate directly into actual voting; in a turnout election actual voting is what matters.)

--I used to ask my classes, "will we have a Black president or a female president first? (Yes, I acknowledged the obvious "Black female" hole in that question.) The Black question was answered in 2008; we now have a further answer in that a candidate of the nature of Donald Trump has beaten two immensely qualified female candidates, one white and one woman of color -- both in low turnout elections. Apparently, America really, really, doesn't want a female president.

--Dobbs didn't matter, at least not as predicted. Women didn't "vote Harris" despite all claims they would do so, at least not at the predicted rates.

--Demography is not destiny. The Latino vote has moved toward Trump in three successive elections. I'd guess this is *because* of his anti-immigrant stances, not despite them: pulling up the ladder after you "make it" is an old part of American political life.

--[edit/added]: it's a global "throw the bums out" cycle. People are pissed for lots of reasons, and fairly or not, the "in power" people are feeling the pain. Such is the nature of political timing.

--The urban/rural split is a hell of a thing in American politics, and it's only going to get more intense over time as rural areas continue to empty but still get two Senators forever and ever and ever.

--There are a LOT of people who don't think of politics in either ideological or governance terms. They're not interested in whether a candidate means what he says or is capable of achieving the ends being promised. Rather, politics for these people is *entertainment.* What matters is the show. The "right" people need to be publicly valorized; the "wrong" people need to be attacked, humiliated, and hounded out of the public square. It's bread and circuses. As long as the entertainment continues they'll put up with the regime whatever it is doing to them in the background.

--Donald Trump remains the greatest politician in American history at dominating the news cycle, and thus feeding the entertainment machine. Every crazy, cruel, cantankerous thing he says gets re-amplified over and over again, driving everything else out of the political ecosystem. It's evil. But it's genius.

--I have long said that Donald Trump will never pay a meaningful price for his crimes, his corruption, and his cruelty. He will die in a golden bed surrounded by a harem of women and teams of acolytes singing his praises. It's not fair. But it's almost certainly true.

--A brief note on tariffs: when America relied on tariffs, the government was much smaller than it is now (meaning it needed less money to operate), and US economy activity was mostly concentrated in the US (meaning that it was hard for other countries to put retaliatory tariffs on US products). Neither of these things are true today. So, good luck with that.

I'm sure there's more. But that's a start.

[jamiesansible]

I’m sure everyone remembers the article from 2020 where researches found three-ply cordage made by Neanderthals.^

But did you know that in the supplemental material for the article, it mentions that pine needles can be made into textiles?^^ As someone who works with textiles myself, I had come across pine needles as a dye stuff, but not as a fibre.

The source is listed as "L’acquisition des matières textiles d’origine végétale en Préhistoire" by Fabinne Médard. It talks about how other fibres, including brambles and broom could have been used prehistorically for a similar purpose, as well as flax. However, it contains only one metion of pine needles.

“Les aiguilles du pin sylvestre (Pinus sylvestris L.) fournissaient, après rouissage, une matière textile appelée « laine des forêts » qui remplaçait la ouate et l’étoupe dont on faisait également des tissus (Mathieu [1858] 1897)" * The needles of the Scots pine (Pinus sylvestris L.) provided, after retting, a textile material called “forest wool” which replaced wadding and tow from which fabrics were also made.

So Scots pine needles were processed, spun and woven, or simply used directly after processing, potentially prehistorically.

If you follow the source for the quote above, it takes you to a book from 1860 called Flore forestière; description et histoire des végétaux ligneux qui croissent spontanément en France et des essences importantes de l'Algérie. It says:

“On fabrique depuis quelques années, avec les faisceaux fibreux, allongés, et tenaces des aiguilles, une espèce de drap grossier.” ** For several years, we have been making a kind of coarse cloth using the fibrous, elongated and stiff bundles of the needles.

So this processing of pine needles was also happening in the 1800s.

Another souce from the 1840s describes the texture of forest wool as resembling "...horsehair, and has been used for stuffing mattresses"** and that an industry sprung up in Humboldtsau, near Breslau for processing it. Manufacturies for forest wool then spread to Sweden, Holland and France, which may explain the mention in the 1860 Flore forestière.

Despite looking a bit more, but couldn't find much else on the subject expect a recent masters thesis in German (which I couldn't access) and an article on the designer Tamara Orjola.

Orjola's work investigates the modern use of pine needle fabric, showing there is still interest in it. She says:

"Forest Wool began with research on the forgotten value of plants. Valuable local materials and techniques are left behind due to the unwillingness of mass-production to adopt more sustainable practices. In the old days the pine tree was used as food, remedies, to build homes and furniture and for many other purposes. Nowadays, it is only valuable for its timber." ***

I find the line from prehistory to now facinating - that people have looked to something as mundane as a pine needle to spin, especially as researchers are discovering a lot of what they thought was linen fabric is actually ramie (from nettles).

As far as I can tell, only Pinus sylvestris L. and one other variety was used. I am not sure what makes that tree more suitable than other pine trees, or if it was simply a question of availability. In terms of processing, the answer as far as I can tell is retting, presumably followed by scutching and hackling - similar to how flax is processed. However I have not done that myself and cannot speak to the specifics.

It would be something intresting to try though.

________

^ https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-020-61839-w#MOESM1

^^ https://static-content.springer.com/esm/art%3A10.1038%2Fs41598-020-61839-w/MediaObjects/41598_2020_61839_MOESM1_ESM.pdf

* https://journals.openedition.org/nda/602

** https://www.proquest.com/openview/276605d708970d416923b94e8856d20b/1?pq-origsite=gscholar&cbl=41445

*** https://lampoonmagazine.com/article/2021/05/15/recycled-wood-pine-needles-byproduct/

[holllandtrash]

fragile line | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time But I never thought I'd live to see it break

what happens when the driver daniel falls in love with, ends up being the one who brings his career to a screeching halt? word count: 7.7k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: fluff-ish, plot with implied/very little smut, angst, mclaren danny, zak brown (gross), some incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps, really just a lot of angst, its a rollercoaster

“What do you know?”

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you, the emphasis making it clear as day that you both carried the same career-altering information. 

His signature grin and comforting optimism were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Daniel’s expression could be described in a variety of ways. Solemn, disappointed, hurt. 

“What was I supposed to do?” You asked, going straight to the defensive. You couldn’t be helpful in this scenario, you just needed to explain yourself. He wouldn’t understand it from your perspective, but you had to try. 

“Not take the seat,” he offered a solution, as if it was that simple. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you corrected. You had no say in this. McLaren had plenty of driver options for the 2023 season. There were rumours of Daniel’s contract coming to an end a year early anyway, everyone heard them, everyone ignored them. The only thing that remained uncertain for a while was who would replace him should the rumours be true.

You. 

“You don’t even like McLaren.” You told him, voice raising a little as if that helped get the point across. “You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Daniel noticed the way your bottom lip quivered. He caught the way your eyes dropped from his, even just for a split second. There was something unspoken between you, something that weighed on your mind and Daniel stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly it was. 

“Zak-” you started, reluctant to even say this. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

Here meaning Daniel’s flat in Monaco. The place you spent more nights at than your own. You played it off by saying his view was better but that was such a bullshit answer. Daniel’s flat always felt more like home than yours ever did. 

You had formally met the Australian driver a few years ago, but god did time fly. It was at a race in Monza. You could pretend you didn’t know the date but of course you did, you had it memorised. September 3rd, 2020. There was no way you could forget the day your life changed for the better. 

Or possibly, for the worse. It was up in the air at this point. 

You were new to the Formula 2 series. The only female driver on the grid as you raced with Prema alongside Mick Schumacher. F3 proved to be quite a successful stint for you and you had your eyes set on the coveted Formula 1 series. You wanted to be in the big leagues. 

Daniel saw that. He saw how determined you were to not only make waves in Motorsport, but to make something of yourself. You trained just as hard, if not harder than the other drivers in the junior series and Daniel had seen that for a while. He was often surprised to see you at the hotel gym, already working up a sweat when he walked in at a little after 6am. He would be even more surprised when he saw you there in the evening when other drivers went and called it a night or even went and celebrated. 

Your race weekends were the same as F1 weekends, but you just had limited ones. It was a shorter season, less intense, but whenever you were there. Daniel saw you. He saw you and he paid attention. He even rooted for you, very publicly as well whenever he could, despite the two of you never having exchanged a word. 

The first time you heard about Daniel cheering you on was after the Monaco race, quite early on into your first season. You qualified 7th, not ideal for a track like Monaco where the opportunities to overtake were far and few between, but somehow you did it. And then you did it again. And you could say it was luck but it was really smart strategy and an insane amount of driver skill that had you finishing fifth. In Monaco. 

Those were Daniel’s words. He was asked pre-race if he watched the F2 run and he said of course. He said he “wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” wanting to see what you could do this weekend. 

“It’s not luck, she’s incredibly talented,” Daniel had told the Sky Sports reporter. “She’s doing big things in the series, and I’m rooting for her. Truly. It’s rare a driver comes around with such raw natural talent, where you look at them and you know racing’s just in their blood, but it’s in hers. I would love to see her in Formula 1 one day.”

You watched that interview clip about twenty times. Daniel Ricciardo, the Daniel Ricciardo who had won Monaco a few years back, was complimenting you. He was rooting for you. 

It wasn’t until Monza, nearing the end of your season that he finally approached you. 

“I want to work with you,” Daniel said, straight to the point. You were in the middle of stretching in the hotel's fitness centre. It was only Thursday, the race weekend itself had barely started but Daniel knew he’d find you in there. 

You pulled your airpods out and looked up at him in the mirror, “You what?”

“I want to work with you,” Daniel repeated, this time sitting down on the floor next to you. He kept your stare in the reflection. “I’m not a trainer by any means, but I want to work with you. I want to see you in Formula 1.”

You were flattered, honoured really, but you didn’t know what that entailed. “Work with me how?”

“Well, regular fitness training for starters,” he said. “But managing, really. I want to help you with everything that it takes to move up. Media training, mental preparedness, finding sponsors, getting you in touch with the right people. Let me help you, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what brought this on. Part of you was convinced it was because he knew this would look good on his behalf. If you did make it to Formula 1 and Daniel’s name was attached to yours, he’d look like a genius. A hero. He would be known as the first person from F1 to publicly support you. 

But that wasn’t what it was at all. When you agreed and accepted his help, you soon came to learn that Daniel didn’t want to be in your spotlight at all. He found the opportunities that you needed and then stepped back. He didn’t mention to the media at all that he was helping you, he didn’t see a need to. He saw your potential and he truly wanted to help you make something off.

So there he was during the off season, meeting you in London where you resided. He trained with you, set you up with the right people, did weekly check-ins, he really was like a sort of manager. 

He was there during pre-season testing the following year, literally. He stood in the Prema garage like he was just another member of the team. No one really questioned it, not when you said he was acting as a mentor to you. Everyone loved Daniel’s presence there and he was told he was welcome whenever. 

He was there during race weekends whenever he could find time in his own busy schedule. He was never there during the actual race, needing that time to prepare for his own, but he always watched from his drivers room or had someone in his ear updating where you were and what was happening.

He was there in Silverstone, when you crashed during Saturday's Sprint Race.

It was one of the last sessions of the day, Daniel had already finished qualifying and he was standing in the back of your garage, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glued to the screen. 

He was the first voice you heard when you spun, losing the breaks in mere seconds and all you could do was brace yourself for the impact of the barriers. 

“Tell me you’re okay.” Daniel’s voice came through your radio. Not your engineer, not your team principal. Daniel. “Say something, sweets, tell me you're okay.”

Sweets, he called you. But only ever in private, or in front of close friends. What started as a joke when you complained about him not having any sweets in his flat the first time you visited in Monaco, stuck. 

But everyone had access to the team radios. It could be heard by other engineers, other teams, fans even and those watching at home should F1TV choose to broadcast it.

Of course they did. They aired the exchange for everyone to hear and it spread like wildfire. It was all anyone on social media could talk about. 

“Say something, sweets. Tell me you’re okay.” 

“I’m okay,” you sputtered out, hands shaking as you unclenched them. It was an instinct to pull them off the steering wheel and tuck your arms to your chest, physically bracing where you could. 

“Good,” Daniel breathed out a very obvious sigh of relief. “Good.” He paused, and then with a quiet chuckle added, “What the fuck was that then?” 

You laughed in response, needing the humour at such a traumatic time. You had crashed before, but this was a bad one. You didn’t even need to step out of the vehicle to know you were lucky to not feel any immediate injuries, but there was a ringing in your ear and the adrenaline was preventing you from really understanding the damage your body had sustained. 

It wouldn’t have helped, though, to have gotten an earful, not like it was your fault anyway. It also wouldn’t have helped if you were asked again and again if you were okay. The more people asked, the more stressed you would grow. Daniel knew you needed a bit of lightheartedness at this time. 

“No brakes, Danny,” you answered through a soft laugh.

“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” he muttered, the sarcasm evident even through the crackling radio.

“Are you going to continue to question my driving abilities or are you going to send medical out here to help me?”

That whole interaction went viral. From the radio message, to the clips of Daniel accompanying you to the medical centre, to the photos of the two of you smiling in the paddock despite the bruising on your body, the concussion you were diagnosed with and the instruction from the doctor that you were not stable enough to race on Sunday.  

Which sucked, to put it plainly. But you were with Daniel. He made the situation bearable. With his arm around your shoulder, he walked you to the car at the end of the day, having waited with you the whole time. 

People speculated, of course. Questions were asked. 

Why was Daniel Ricciardo paying such close attention to you? Why did he get over the radio when he crashed? Why did it sound so flirty? Had he been in your garages the whole time and no one noticed? Was he a mentor? A friend? More?

You had put out a statement when you got to the hotel, thanking everyone for the kind words and well wishes. You shared that you would not be driving on Sunday and you also shared that you were thankful for the support of Daniel Ricciardo, your mentor, who reminded you that even the best of the best crash out sometimes. 

Mentor, you publicly called him That’s what he was, right? Or trainer. Or Manager. Or friend, really. There were a lot of words to describe his relationship to you. 

People online didn’t believe it. They thought there was more because, who looks at each other like that if they’re not fucking? 

But you weren’t. Honest to god, that line with Daniel was never crossed. You never even considered it. Always content with his companionship and his advice, you didn’t want anything physical or romantic. 

At least, you thought you didn’t. 

Daniel dragged you into his room instead of letting you go up to yours because you were under strict instructions to not be left alone for the next twelve hours should the concussion worsen. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, handing you a glass of water. “I know I joked over the radio, but I was worried. It wasn’t a pretty crash.”

“Are any crashes pretty?”

He sat down next to you, closer than normal considering when he rested his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers were within the distance needed to play with the strands of your hair. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “I guess it depends on the driver. I make the crashes pretty.” 

The comedic gasp you let out as you clenched your chest had him laughing. 

“Daniel Ricciardo, are you calling me ugly?”

“Don’t twist my words!” He exclaimed, eyes squinting as his smile widened. “I said I was pretty.” 

You hummed, “You pretty much said I made the crush ugly.” 

“I didn’t say you were ugly,” Daniel playfully tugged on a strand of your hair. “You’re not- I mean, you-”

And then the humour faded. He met your eyes, his hand fell to your shoulder. He was still smiling but it was the sort of gentle smile one wears when they figure out the answer to a question that had been eating at them for a while. 

Something clicked for Daniel. At this very moment. 

He wasn’t going to let it escape him. 

“Pretty doesn’t do you justice,” Daniel told you, voice lowering. “You’re breaktaking, Y/N. On the racetrack, at home, at events, you put everyone around you to shame. And it’s not- it isn’t just your appearance, it’s you. Everything about you. Your heart, your charisma, the way your eyes light up when you smile but only if you’re talking to people you like,” he chuckled, having experienced it first hand and having seen the way you don’t look nearly as pleased when someone you dislike approaches you. 

You were speechless, though. Frozen where you sat as this admission came out of seemingly nowhere. 

And Daniel was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, he was everything anyone could ever want in a man. But you never allowed yourself to look at him the way other people would. He was your trainer, manager, mentor, friend. 

You had no words to explain the way he was staring at you now. Nor could you explain why it made you feel more alive than driving a racecar at inhumane speeds ever could. 

Daniel took another breath, eyes never leaving yours. “You are unlike anyone I have ever come across and I know, in my lifetime, I will never find someone who could ever compare to even a fraction of who you are.”

There was no way you could continue to be just friends after those words passed his lips. 

You kissed him. You had to. It wasn’t like there was anything you could say that would match what he had already said, nor could you even find the words. 

You kissed him and Daniel pulled you onto his laps, your legs moving to straddle either side of his hips. His hands roamed your body, sliding up the Prema shirt you still had on as your tongue roamed every possible inch of his mouth. 

His hand gripped your waist, rolling you over top of him so you could feel in a matter of seconds how this conversation had now taken a turn. His cock started to harden, constricted by his pants, but you still felt it underneath you each time he shifted, each time you grinded against him. 

When you reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, Daniel leaned back, both of you taking that second to catch your breath and question if you were really going to do this.

“Is this a mistake?” You whispered, your thumb gently tracing over his lips. Your working relationship was perfect. This could ruin everything. You had fears, doubts, worries. One night could lead to dozens of complications. 

But Daniel shook his head and all of those thoughts vanished.

“No,” he said, sounding so sure of himself with that one syllable. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life but you are not one of them.”

That was the only validation you needed. You kissed him again, more lust, more passion, than before as Daniel stood up, carrying you towards the bed at the back of the room. He dropped you down on the edge of it, smiling at the squeal that escaped your lips.

Daniel wanted to worship you every way he could. He was gentle with you, with your body, as he dipped his head between your thighs, making you feel a wave of euphoria that no one had ever brought you too before. 

It wasn’t until you were begging for more did Daniel realise he didn’t need to be gentle the entire night. He slid two fingers past your folds, lifting his head and hovering his body over yours, wanting to feel your desperate breaths hit his face as he rapidly thrusted his digits in and out of you, your walls clenching around him.

When he attached his lips to that spot on your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin, you saw stars. Daniel’s motions didn’t let up as you came around his fingers, loving the way your legs shook and how you dragged your hand through the hair on the back of his head.

He was cautious about doing anything else, knowing you were injured, he didn’t want to overstimulate you or cause any more pain. 

But you needed him. You reached for the zipper of his pants and tugged it down, telling Daniel you wanted this, as if the way you looked up at him didn’t already make that perfectly clear. 

He was careful when he entered you, patient. The tip of his cock slid past your folds slowly and he kissed your collarbone so gently you almost didn’t feel it as you adjusted to his size, quiet moans emitting from the back of your throat. 

He had praised you before, but only ever at the race track, so there was something so familiar yet so foreign about the way he whispered against your skin. It lit a fire within you.

“You take me so well, sweets,” he fought back a groan as your walls tightened around him when you clenched your legs. “So good for me.”

It was safe to say the dynamic between you two changed after that night. 

Daniel adored you already, admired you greatly for your achievements and growth in the sport. But now he fought with himself every weekend, knowing that he couldn’t touch you how he wanted. He couldn’t show you the attention he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t kiss you when you got that podium in Belgium, despite finding a way to sneak out of the pre-race duties for a second to run to the barrier to be there for you with the rest of the Prema team. 

Whatever was going on between you, it was unlabelled and it was private. The rest of the world didn’t need to know you were sleeping with the man you looked up to, the one who helped you become a great athlete in such a short period of time. 

People continued to speculate. You were private, sure, but you weren’t overly careful. 

You were seen landing in Monaco over the summer. You were spotted hanging out with Daniel on plenty of occasions. Even though you kept your hands off of each other and refused to act like anything more than friends out in public, you were different when you returned after the break. You both were. Everyone noticed. 

Daniel was, if it was even possible, happier. And you were less stressed it seemed. While you were still fighting a constant battle of being the only female in F2, it no longer seemed as heavy because the weight of it wasn’t just on your shoulders anymore. Daniel was there too. 

It wasn’t just physical, what you had. The emotional connection you shared was undeniable. Daniel was always there for you, and you, him. During the bad days, the good ones, and everyday in between. 

When you finished the season 5th in the drivers championship, the only person you wanted to celebrate with was Daniel. He was so proud of you. He watched you go from finishing 13th last year to 5th. He played a huge part in that, but when you tried to tell him that, he only brushed it off, saying that it was all you, he was just happy to be there for the ride. 

It was his idea for you to test drive for McLaren at the end of the year, too. ‘We’ll get you in a real F1 car’ he said. And you didn’t question it when the offer was brought forward to participate in a few practice sessions. It was exhilarating and terrifying and you cried tears of joy when you stepped out of his car because this was what you dreamed of. Driving a Formula 1 car. 

Now you just needed a permanent seat and Daniel wanted that for you too. He was your biggest supporter, and you only grew closer as the days went on.

You met his family over the holidays. He spent New Years Eve in London with you. 

When the season started again, he spent more time with you and Prema. When there were no scheduled F2 races during F1 weekends, you accompanied him in the McLaren garage. 

At this point, quite a few people knew you were together, or at least they assumed it.

You didn’t post about it, you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. Daniel didn’t need to show you off, nor did you feel obligated to let everyone know you were with him. What you had was private, it was sacred, it was only for the two of you. 

But of course whenever you had a good performance, whether it be from a practice session, qualifying or a race, he’d share your celebration picture to his Instagram story. 

“Would you ever do a shoey?” Daniel asked you one Tuesday night, zooming in on a photo of you, more specifically on the smile on your face as you clenched your second place trophy from Imola on Sunday. 

You rolled your eyes but the smile was impossible to hide as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. 

“Next time you win,” Daniel suggested with a laugh. “I expect a shoey.”

“I’m not Australian.”

“You’re dating one, sweets.”

You never actually discussed what you were. The term boyfriend-girlfriend seemed so childish. Dating was, in a sense, accurate, but again, there were no labels. He had your heart, you had his. That was the only thing that mattered. 

“The world doesn’t know that,” you pointed out. 

“They kind of do,” Daniel kissed your cheek, giving your side a squeeze as he stepped aside to help you prepare dinner. 

You weren’t even sure when you fell into such a domestic lifestyle but there you were, practically moved into Daniel’s place in Monaco at this point  and he was at your side, chopping carrots for the salad while you prepared the chicken breasts. 

“A shoey would confirm it,” you glanced up at him, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t completely against the idea. 

Daniel stepped behind you, fingers playfully pinching your waist, “Just think about it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just reckon it would be entertaining for everyone.”

He didn’t bring it up again, not even when you got third in Spain and didn’t do it. It was your first time getting a back to back podium since you started racing and of course it was something to celebrate, but the idea of a shoey made your stomach churn. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the world to know about your commitment to Daniel. 

You walked a thin line, being with him. And while you enjoyed every possible minute spent with him, you knew the world was cruel. The second you officially went public, you’d lose respect in the motorsport industry. 

The only female F2 driver dating an F1 driver? How scandalous.

Despite the rumours, the correct rumours, you were still in a bubble with him. You could pretend you were just friends, close friends. The tabloids had nothing to go off except your polite interactions and maybe a little too friendly smiles and so what if you were there in the McLaren garage cheering him on? 

You were his biggest supporter and he was yours.

But it didn’t help that while your performance was improving, his was rapidly declining. While you had less races than his, already your stats were better. You qualified in the top 5 for the first three races. You finished second in Imola, third in Spain, already better than how you started the season last year.

Monaco was next. Daniel loved Monaco, you both did. Everyone did, it was the pinnacle of Formula 1. 

It was unfortunate that your weekends ended up so drastically different. 

Daniel qualified 14th and then finished 13th. He wasn’t proud of it, but he did his best to hide his disappointment for you, especially since you were starting on the front row, P2, for the feature race. 

And somehow, you won. 

After trailing behind Drugovich for the majority of the race, you were starting to believe you would finish behind him too. And you probably would have, had there not been a safety car almost six laps after he boxed for fresh tyres, giving you the advantage of newer tyres and less wasted time. It was a strategy your team was banking on, waiting for a safety car. It was risky, but it paid off. Overtaking was nearly impossible with Formula 1 cars, but you had a better chance in your series and somehow, by the grace of god, you did it. You pulled ahead and swiped the lead from Felipe. 

You made history that weekend. The first female F2 driver to not only podium, but to win at Monaco. You gripped that first place trophy so tight your hand turned red. 

Usually, F2 didn’t draw nearly as big of a crowd, but this weekend was different. Everyone was a fan of the series after that performance, a fan of you. You saw people in the crowd wearing Red Bull gear, Ferrari merch, McLaren hats, and they were all applauding you. 

Of course, you were blown away by the support. Hearing your national anthem play was an incredible sound. There were tears in your eyes and your entire body was trembling, yet somehow you managed to find Daniel. Right in front, with your team. 

He was so proud of you. 

Despite his shitty qualifying, despite knowing he had such a low shot at earning points at his race that was in just under an hour, he was there for you. You couldn’t tell if he was cheering the loudest, or if you were just so prone to finding him in a crowd that you couldn’t process anything or anyone else. 

You weren’t sure what came over you, but once you grabbed the champagne bottle, you found yourself taking your shoe off as well. As Felipe and Théo started spraying their bottles in celebration, you poured the bubbly liquid into the sole of your racing shoe and lifted it up to your lips, pointing directly at Daniel who couldn’t believe what he was watching. 

It was rancid, as you figured it would. It was champagne out of a sweaty shoe, you knew it wouldn’t taste good, but it was a shoey and it was for Daniel. Felipe patted your back, laughing at your reaction and muttering something about how Daniel would get a kick out of that. 

He was right, but Daniel wasn’t the only one who found it entertaining. 

Your name was once again trending following the Monaco Grand Prix. Not Checo’s, even though he won the F1 race. Your name. 

Not that you really cared that night. How could you care about what the internet was saying when the man you were with told you that he loved you for the first time? Nothing online mattered, not when Daniel took your face in his hands and told you he was madly in love with you. He was proud, he was happy, he was in love. 

And you knew you loved him too. You had known this for a while. Monaco was just the perfect time to say it. 

After going about as public as you could without physically coming out and saying you were dating the Australian driver, Monaco was the perfect place to tell him you loved him. You were on cloud 9, you were making history, you were in love. 

You continued to deny, or at least ignore, the rumours that followed, still. You both did. You were in love with each other, not the whole world. Things would get complicated if you announced you were dating. You were vying for a Formula 1 seat and you wanted it without Daniels’ influence. 

But at the following race in Baku you were asked similar questions. 

“Your shoey last week, did that have anything to do with Daniel Ricciardo being there to cheer you on? You two have gotten pretty close in the last few months, he’s one of your mentors, isn’t he?” 

You shifted your weight to one leg, wondering what the fuck kind of post-qualifying question that was. You had just completed three back to back podiums, you were on a hot streak now, starting third at this next race and the reporter only cared about what happened at the podium celebration last weekend.

“Sorry, did you have a question about this week's race?” You asked, and when he stammered over his words, you just nodded and walked away, a tight smile on your face. 

Daniel’s conversation went a bit differently. 

“Y/N’s shoey last week, we all saw it. Was that your influence?”

“Yeah I never thought she’d actually do it, it was sweet,” Daniel laughed. “It was great though, I happily pass the tradition onto her.”

“She’s really come along in Formula 2 since she started back in 2020, do you think she has what it takes to be Formula 1’s first full-time female driver?”

“Absolutely,” there wasn’t a shred of doubt or hesitation. He was happy to talk about you, to explain to the rest of the world why you were up and coming and should be taken seriously as a real contender for a Formula 1 seat. He probably would have continued on if his PR rep hadn’t pulled him away, reminding him of other duties.

The next few races were similar to your first ones. A couple more podiums, some outstanding qualifying sessions, more history being made. Your phone was blowing up weekly, everybody wanted to talk to you now and you knew Daniel had something to do with it. Him constantly sharing the faith he had in you did wonders for your reputation. 

You might have been on top of the world, but you were well aware you were alone up there.

Daniels’ performances were anything but newsworthy. He had gotten a few points in Austria and France, but nothing to be extremely proud of, especially when he compared his 9th place finish at the Red Bull Ring to your first place podium, making it your second one this season. 

He never let his disappointment for himself and McLaren stand in the way of your achievements. In fact, you didn’t often speak about the races when you were together. You were aware Daniel was having issues with the team, with Zak, with the car, but he didn’t want to weigh you down with his own problems, even though you assured him time and time again you could handle it. 

Really, if Daniel had come to you with his struggles, you would have thought twice when Zak Brown approached you prior to the Hungarian Grand Prix. You probably would have slammed the door to your drivers room in his face if you knew how Daniel was being treated at McLaren. 

But Daniel held his cards close to his chest while Zak laid his all out on the table.

“If a spot opened up for you,” he said, after spending the last ten minutes talking about the rich history of the team and praising your accolades. “Would you consider it?”

It wasn’t an official contract, just the start of a conversation that could lead to one.

Of course you thought of Daniel. And Lando, having grown close with him simply through Daniel. 

“For 2024?” You asked, knowing both of them were set to continue driving through to at least the end of 2023. 

“No,” Zak shook his head. You didn’t like how harsh his tone had turned, having no remorse for what he was about to say. “Daniel’s contract would be ending early.”

You leaned back in your chair, fingers tapping the table as you tried to recall Daniel ever telling you that he was leaving McLaren. “Is he- he wants out?”

“It’s mutual,” Zak assured you. “He knows we can’t give him the car he wants and unfortunately, he’s not delivering what we need. We had high hopes with Daniel, but the working relationship isn’t what any of us thought it would be.”

It’s mutual. Those two words was all it took to convince you that Zak Brown and Daniel had already had a conversation about this, about terminating the contract a year early. 

It didn’t help that Zak brought up your test sessions in the McLaren from last year, pointing out that you had better times than Lando, even. He went on to praise what you were doing this year at Prema and said, multiple times, that you would be an asset to McLaren should you choose to go that route.

And who were you to turn that down?

A team principal of a Formula 1 team wanted to sign you. Was it unfortunate that it was Daniel’s seat? Yes, obviously this situation was less than ideal, but he wanted out. You were convinced he wanted out, that he was done with McLaren. A 45 minute conversation with Zak Brown convinced you of that.

You should have been wary when at the end of the conversation he said, “Don’t tell anyone about this, yet. You know how the public can be, let’s just keep this to ourselves for the meantime.”

“But I can talk to Dan, right?” You asked. 

Zak knew you were dating Daniel, it was a little harder to hide that from his team than it was the rest of the world. Maybe that’s why hesitated before answering, knowing that keeping a secret, something as big as this, from a partner had the potential to cause chaos.

But he shook his head, “Between us, yeah?”

And you listened to him. You wanted that Formula 1 seat so of course you followed orders. 

You desperately wanted to talk to Daniel about it, but you knew you couldn’t. And either he sensed that something was off, or he was dealing with his own problems again and wouldn’t share, you really couldn’t tell when the summer break started and things just seemed…different. 

You didn’t go to Monaco for starters, even though Daniel invited you to. But there were so many meetings with Zak and the board at McLaren that it made more sense for you to stay in London for the start of the break. 

Daniel didn’t call as often and you wanted to give him space, knowing that this break was probably needed for him. You expected he was out with friends, letting loose, getting the weight of a horrible season off his back even if just temporarily. 

The plan was to go to Monaco for the last week and a half and then travel to Belgium together. You had to delay that plan, however, when Zak called you and said it was official.

The 2023 seat was yours. 

You wanted to celebrate, with Daniel, but how could you celebrate with the person you were replacing?

It was strange that Daniel had said nothing to you about leaving the team during the summer break, especially since Zak had said time and time again they were on the same page, that Daniel was ready to leave. The only thing that crossed your mind was he was given strict instructions to not say anything to anyone either, at least until McLaren went public with the news. 

But with it being official, with you having just signed on the dotted line, you were tired of keeping it to yourself. You may not have been able to share the news with anyone else, but you had a right to have a conversation with Daniel about it.

You didn’t know how he would react. Surely he’d be happy for you, right? You were getting a seat in Formula 1, something that both of you desperately wanted to happen. And again, you were under the impression the departure from McLaren was mutual. He would be happy that someone he loved was taking his seat, right?

Right?

You had to tell yourself that the entire ride over to his place. You unlocked the front door to his building and took the elevator up to the fourth level. You didn’t think to knock, knowing he never locked it when he was home so you pushed open the door and stepped in, your suitcase trailing behind you.

You were happy to see him. He was always a breath of fresh air, despite the odd distance between you, you still loved him. You always would. He muted whatever was playing on the screen and stood up from the couch when he heard you walk in.

Usually, Daniel would greet you with a kiss.

Usually, he’d be smiling so hard his jaw would be hurting.

Usually, he was happy to see you.

You left the suitcase by the door and met him halfway, only he stopped walking when there was about a foot of space between your bodies. To you, it felt like you were still miles apart.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest. 

Your heart sank. 

You had convinced yourself, Zak had convinced you, the whole back of house team had convinced you, that Daniel was aware of this upcoming change. That the termination was mutual. You taking his seat might have been a surprise, but it was never supposed to be a blindside.

“What do you know?” you asked. 

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you.

You were both fully aware of the exact same information. Daniel was leaving. You were taking his seat. Only, you had been informed this much earlier than he had.

“What was I supposed to do?” 

“Not take the seat,” he scoffed. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you said and then added, “You don’t even like McLaren. You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

“Zak-” you started, finding it difficult to hold his stare. This wasn’t the Daniel you knew. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, taking a few steps away from you. It hurt, watching as he tried to physically distance himself from you. Like being in too close of proximity would set him off.

“I struggled with the team, yes, but I’m not ready to give up racing. You have now left me without a seat.”

It was easy for Daniel to blame you, you were standing right in front of him. You were quite literally the driver set to replace him.

But the real villain was Zak, for not having opened up this line of communication earlier. For making you believe everyone was on the same page. It was Zak’s fault for rushing to end the contract with Daniel instead of putting in the effort to work with him. He saw the shiny new toy that was you, that Daniel helped create, and he wasn’t going to let someone else take it first.

Daniel wanted to blame himself too, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that until much later. He was the one who did everything he could to help you grow in this sport. He was the one who introduced you to Zak and the rest of the McLaren team. He was the one who got you in the car for the practice sessions, his car. Foreshadowing at its finest.

“You are unbelievable,” Daniel spoke quietly, heated with anger but his words were like ice as they sunk deep into you. “After everything I’ve done to help you for you to betray me like this, I just- I don’t think-”

You knew where this was going and you wanted to put a pin in it before he could finish any of his thoughts.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Daniel,” you whispered. “Please. Please, we can figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” his mind was made up. “You took my seat.”

“Wouldn’t you rather it me than someone you don’t know? Someone you don’t trust?” You tried to turn this around, have him look at the positives, if there were any. “Daniel, everyone on the grid loves you, you’ll find a new team. One that helps you grow and get to where you want. McLaren isn’t that, we both know it.”

“I think you should go,” was his only response. 

“If I hadn’t signed that contact, someone else would have,” you pointed out, grasping at straws here, painfully honest straws, but straws nonetheless. “Piastri, O’Ward…McLaren had options, Dan. Aren’t you at least happy for me that I out-qualified all of those guys?”

Daniel actually laughed, “You want me to be happy for you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Dan-”

“Leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You need to,” he was stern. He was angry. He was done. With you, with the team, with everything he used to love and cherish. He was done. 

You thought you knew Daniel. You thought you knew how this conversation would play out. You figured it would still be rocky, but god you now realised how naive you were to believe you could still make things work. 

“I love you,” you told him, because what else could you say except remind him that you were so hopelessly in love with him, that he was all you would ever want in life. 

Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it?

You wanted a seat in Formula 1 too. You just never thought you’d have to sacrifice one dream for the other. 

Daniel’s stare was cold. He only looked away for a second to nod his head towards the door behind you, “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

You stepped forward, desperate at this point because how could he do this? How could he throw away what you had, over a seat?

Or was it you, who had ultimately thrown away what you had when you sat down with Zak Brown all those weeks ago?

It pained you to think about the strong possibility of that being the case.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because you were. You were sorry about how this turned out, how he was betrayed, how this was coming to an end. You grabbed hold of your suitcase and nodded, backing up towards the door, “I really am sorry, Dan.”

He didn’t believe you. Why would he? In his eyes, Formula 1 was more important to you than he was. A career decision that benefited you, but ruined him, mattered more than your relationship. It was a bold move, a cold move, one that you didn’t think would lead to this.

Neither of you could have predicted this. On September 3rd, 2020, when Daniel first said he wanted to work with you, neither of you thought it would end like this.

Just as you grabbed the handle of the door, Daniel opened his mouth, wanting to get the final word in. And you really wished he hadn’t because those final words destroyed you. 

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I never thought you would turn out to be one of them.”

You said nothing. You walked out of that Monaco flat with your head low and your heart even lower. You couldn’t even be excited about the next season, or the remainder of this one where you had the potential to finish in the top three. 

You weren't happy, you were empty, you were defeated. And painfully so, you were also still in love.

Despite what was said, you knew it would take a while to get over Daniel. He was your rock for so long, he was always there for you and even though he could disappear without so much as a second thought, your feelings couldn’t, the memories couldn’t. It would take a long time until you felt whole again.

You didn’t know it yet, but the decision to take that McLaren seat would haunt you as you moved forward in your career. 

This was not going to be the last time you ever saw Daniel. 

part 2 haunted

[marxism-transgenderism]

As the key witness for the prosecution, the Houston rapper, real name Megan Pete, described her account of night of July 12, 2020, saying on record that the assault was the result of an argument she had with Lanez, real name Daystar Peterson, and Kelsey Harris, her former best friend and assistant, while driving home from a Hollywood Hills pool party in the early morning hours.

Wearing a purple suit, red-bottom, black stilettos and a black bob hairstyle, Pete, 27, testified that the shooting and its aftermath have impacted her health, both physically and mentally. "I can't even be happy," she said, her voice breaking during her afternoon testimony. "I can't hold conversations with people for a long time. I don't feel like I want to be on this earth. I wish he would have just shot and killed me, if I knew I would have to go through this torture."

The Grammy winner recounted that she and Peterson had an intimate but not exclusive relationship in 2020, one that Harris did not know about at the time. Pete knew Harris had a "crush on" Tory, so she hid the relationship. (When asked specifically why she had not previously revealed the nature of her relationship with Peterson, Pete said she was embarrassed, "because it's disgusting at this point. How could I share my body with someone who could do this to me?")

The fight in the vehicle started when Peterson hinted at the relationship to Harris and then tried to pit the two women against each other, calling them "bitches and hoes" in the car.

Pete testified that, after exiting the vehicle for a second time on the drive home, Peterson shouted at her, "Dance, bitch," then fired five shots at her from the passenger side, striking her in the feet. "I felt shocked. I felt hurt. I wasn't sure if this was really happening. I looked at my feet, I saw the blood and I fell to the ground," the "WAP" star testified.

When expressly asked about changing her story to police the night of the shooting — from stepping in glass to allegedly being shot by Peterson — Pete gave context for her choice in the moment, starting with her distrust of the police.

"I don't feel safe in the car. I don't feel safe with the police," Pete said between tears as she described the aftermath of the incident, when responding officers had her, Peterson, Harris and Jaquan Smith, Peterson's bodyguard, step out of the vehicle they were stopped in.

Pete, who shared that she's grown up deeply suspicious of cops, said that wariness was further stoked by the 2020 climate, George Floyd's murder and subsequent Black Lives Matter protests: "In the Black community — in my community — it's not really acceptable to be cooperating with police officers."

Pete then spoke briefly about how "women aren't believed when they speak out." George Mgdesyan, Peterson's attorney, objected on the grounds that the comment was tangential to the case.

Beyond fear of the police and questions surrounding survivor credibility, Pete also shared the concern that implicating Peterson could negatively impact her career in hip-hop.

"This situation has only been worse for me and it has only made him more famous," Pete said during morning testimony. "Because I was shot, I've been turned into some kind of villain, and he's the victim. This has messed up my whole life ... This whole situation in the industry is like a big boy's club ... I'm telling on one of y'all friends, now you're all about to hate me."

(link)

[maxwellatoms]

Hello Mr. Atoms, I'm an animation student in college and fan of your work. I got this assignment in which I need to ask questions to a professional in the area. Could you pretty please answer them? It'd mean a lot to me.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

Okey dokey.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

Not really, in that there seems to be no career left.

The animation industry swelled its numbers greatly before 2020. Almost immediately after that, corporate greed synergized with a pandemic to reduce animated programs and the number of people working on them to almost zero. It takes almost a year from beginning to end to make a single episode of an animated show (by the modern standard). There was nothing being made in 2020 and four years later, we''re not in a much better spot. It's going to be a long drought for (especially) Kid's TV Animation.

Recently, many of my former co-workers have hit the financial wall and can't continue, moving away after (sometimes) 20 years in the industry. I begin to wonder if I'm very far behind.

A "bounce back" a year from now would need to start today. There are still some animated shows being made now, but those are almost universally "library" properties. That means it's an existing I.P. (Intellectual Properties like Garfield/Mario/Batman/Star Wars) so as an artist you're immediately in that box. Depending on the property and the studio, it can be an unpleasantly tight box. I grew used to holding and maintaining the vision for a show, but it's less fun when it's not my vision. It's even less fun when you can't inspire someone to follow your vision because they've been so ruthlessly abused.

I'm pretty sick of how big media corporations treat their employees. If I inherit one more burnt out crew due to mismanagement, I'm gonna lose it.

Over a decade ago I fought hard to get board artists story credit for the episodes they were actually writing, and felt like I'd won a big victory for everyone. The second my back was turned, it all reverted.

Mostly... what is the point now? My career is/was developing ideas, crafting those ideas into a workable show, then managing teams of thirty to seventy people to produce a couple of dozen episodes per year. Studios actively do not want new ideas right now, and are actively searching for ways to eliminate what artists from the process. I'm not sure what my job would be under this new system, but it feels like they decided to hang onto the anxiety-inducing deadlines while removing anything remotely pleasurable from the experience.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

It's the only way to get anything done, currently.

The current state of the industry is not sustainable. I (along with a lot of other animators I know) are trying to decide what's next, and pretty much everyone agrees that "you just have to make something".

It is (in that very specific way) a great time to be a young animator. The system was never going to treat you well anyway. If you can get something like a Hazbin Hotel happening without studio help, you can currently write your own ticket. I'm super proud of Vivsie, because that's a LOT of stuff to handle. I never had to handle my own marketing or drum up money to make Billy & Mandy happen.

There are opportunities there, but it's definitely "Hard Mode". The best idea is probably to team up with a few other people you like and like to work with.

Hopes? I hope that the young animators take over and make something new on top of the bones of the old industry, rather than just allowing that industry to patch its rotting hide with their collected works.

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

I suspect true AI might just peace-out like ScarJo in "Her", but we're not there yet. What we have now isn't Artificial Intelligence at all (though I do believe it may be the underpinnings of the Artificial Suconscious of what may one day become an actual Artificial Intelligence.)

The LLMs and "Generative AI" are (so far) a big dumb waste. They consume tons of energy and aren't great for doing anything creative. If you've sat down with Chat GPT for a creative writing session, you've probably run into the "out of the box" limitations which prevent it from talking about sex or violence-- which happen to be a major component of most stories.

Still, the technology has come incredibly far in an incredibly short amount of time. I imagine we're going to hit the point where we're being hazed by artificially generated political ads way before Generative AI can produce a consistent and usable character turnaround, so that'll be the test. Whatever the legal fallout is from this stuff over the next few years will set the tone.

Still, studios have a vested interest in pleasing their shareholders. Generative AI potentially has the capability of not only replacing swaths of money-eating artists, but handing that control directly to the billionaire studio heads. Mark my words: We're headed straight for billionaire-generated content.

I don't think the public at large will want to watch Elon Musk's fever dreams, so there's that. So law and general distaste might stave it off for a while, but I think there's just too much impetus for studios to continue to try to please their investors. "AI Art" is here to stay.

Eventually that will lead to millions and millions of bots generating millions and millions of songs and paintings and movies all day every day. Most of it will be utter trash. Right now (so I'm told) viewers are already burnt out, and will generally only click on what they already know. On Netflix, where there are twenty things you've never heard of and one you have, you're more likely to pick the thing that gives you comfort and gives you a guarantee you're not wasting your time. With exponentially more A.I. trash, how would you even begin to filter it out?

You'd need absolute control of an already existing distribution system. We currently have a few of those, and all of the media companies are desperately trying to merge with them to insure their own survival.

To me, the post-Gen-AI landscape looks a lot like old-school Cable, but with endless I.P. and fewer masters.

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

The real question is, maybe, "What am I even doing?" These days I try to do a lot of gardening. I'm trying to learn new art skills, because suddenly twenty five years of experience managing, drawing, and writing isn't worth much. I recently worked on Jellystone until Zaslav lost 2.5 billion in the wash and had to find justification for his new yacht. The show before that? Also culled midway through to save money. The days of multi-year gigs seem to be over, and if I'm going to scrape by doing freelance, maybe I can do that somewhere else.

I'll always make art. I can't seem to help it. Ideas aren't my problem-- it's executing those ideas without the help of a structured pre-existing system. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to pull that off. My strengths are great, but were always supported by friends I worked with.

Can I start an indie cartoon with all of these cool friends? Sure, maybe. Most of those people have gone on to have other careers of their own and got used to being paid. Now nobody is getting paid and no one can pay anyone else. My immediate circle are all now middle-aged people with families and no jobs. Convincing them to give up a large chunk of their day for an idea that's not guaranteed to pay off is going to take some real effort.

I technically have fifteen years until I can claim my "retirement", assuming that still exists by then. That's a pretty big hole to fill with... I don't know what.

The difficult "What comes next" discussions at home are really just starting.

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

There are a lot of cool animation people out there. I already mentioned I was proud of Vivsie. I was also reminded recently just how great C.H. Greenblatt and Mr. Warburton are. I know they're my friends. They're both just really upstanding, creative people who take good care of their crews.

The treatment of animation industry professionals by the studio system has been one of the most demoralizing and heartbreaking parts of this demoralizing and heartbreaking time.

---

So there ya go. If you want to look for someone whose attitude is a little more upbeat, I won't blame you a bit.

Wherever you are, I wish you the best of luck. For me, just climb up there and crush it. I would very much like to add you to #5 someday.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 31 - Rookie of the Year

Last regular chapter! We have the Drive to Survive episode and then the prologue left! I'm not going to say many words because my farewell to this story will come after DTS drops which will be tomorrow night around 8:30 pm CT

The end of To Do is To Dare is scheduled for this Saturday, 11:30 am CT.

I love you all!

“Kid, are those shorts?” 

You looked up the phone in your hand up to Max, who was sitting in front of you in the limo. Your eyes flitted back down to your lap, where your dress had ridden up to reveal the basketball shorts that were supposed to be hidden. 

You shot him a sheepish grin. 

“Quite possibly.” 

Max rolled his eyes. “And why are you wearing shorts underneath a 7 thousand dollar dress?” 

“If Zendaya can do it, so can I. And besides, I’m taking them off when we get close. I just didn’t want to cross my legs in the car.” 

A snort came from Arthur, who sat to your right. To his opposite sat Charles. The four of you were all decked out in clothing that could definitely pay for a high end sports car. The Armani suits were tailored to the two Monegasques. Max’s suit and your dress were from the newest Dior line, thanks to your own ambassadorship with the luxury brand. The heels on your feet costs thousands as well. You didn’t even want to think about how much the jewelry that adorned your wrists, neck, and ears cost. 

Arthur leaned over, hand on your thigh. “Well you might want to take them off because we’re about 5 minutes away.” 

A pout grew on your lips, but you appropriately slid the basketball shorts off your smooth legs. You definitely didn’t miss the ogling eyes of your boyfriend. You gave him an innocent smile, which made him glare at you. 

“You think I’ll get rookie of the year?” 

The question made the men groan. 

You gawked at them. “What? I don’t know if they’ll do it since I was the only rookie. That’s like giving a first place trophy to the only alone person in a competition. Useless.” 

Charles gave you a smile. “What previous awards have you won or records you have broken?” 

Your eyes flickered to the ceiling in thought. 

“Ok, so I was the youngest European Karting Division Champion in 2010, the youngest Italian Karting Division Champion in 2012, youngest F4 race winner and champion in 2018, youngest F3 race winner and champion in 2019, youngest F2 race winner in 2020. That year I was also Rookie of the Year and got the Jules Bianchi award. And then I was the youngest F2 champion in 2023. This year I was the youngest pole sitter in F1, I had the most points for a rookie year with 333 points, and then the most podiums for a rookie with 15 podium finishes. I equaled Lewis’s record of four wins in a rookie season. And I think that’s it…Why are you three staring at me like that?” 

A blush formed on your face as the three men just stared. Max shook his head in disbelief. 

“You’re more decorated than I am.” 

A roll of your eyes had him arguing. With the jerk of the car, the two of you silenced. Through the heavily tinted windows, you could see the flashes of cameras. You inhaled sharply which caught Arthur’s attention. 

“I’ll hold your hand the entire time ok?” 

A nod of your head let him know that you’d be fine with that. The moment the door opened, the noise was deafening. People were screaming your name, along with Max, Charles, and Arthur. You flashed the best smile you could as you walked to the building. But a certain car caught your eyes. The familiar navy was beaconing you to go over. You let your hand slip from Arthur as you got closer to your season car. 

“Hey buddy,” you whispered as you ran your hand along the carbon fiber body. You could still hear the flashes of the cameras but it didn’t matter to you anymore. You were back with your car that carried you so well during the races.

You leaned closer as if to tell a secret. “I’m still going to buy you so you can come rest with my other cars back home. I’m going to miss you Forum.” 

The name was a simple call back to the Formula cars. But, in your mind, you couldn’t just call him Formula, because that would be weird. Max only smiled when you told him the name earlier in the season. 

Apparently, the Red Bull cars were men. 

You smiled over your shoulder at Arthur who had waited for you. Internally, you were trying to waste time so you didn’t have to sit through long boring speeches. But, the look of mild panic of being late in Arthur’s eyes got you to start moving. 

Once inside, you welcomed the air conditioning. Arthur’s fingers found the open slot of your dress on your side. The comfort of the skin to skin contact was very appreciated. 

Thankfully, they had decided to put the top three at the same table. Since you and Max were on the same team, and Charles got along with the two of you quite well, they didn’t see a problem with you all sitting together. It definitely made the night less boring. 

When Max got up to say his acceptance speech, some tears rolled down your face. It was especially when he got to talking about you. 

The Dutchman smiled down at the table, or well, at you. 

“I don’t normally do this, but I also have to thank my teammate, Y/n. 

“When I heard that she was going to replace Sergio at the beginning of 2024, I was a bit hesitant. I am used to being in a comfortable spot in life, but the world decided to throw a 20-year-old at me and said ‘here you go, have fun’.” 

The crowd chuckled at his words, but you tried to laugh through the tears. Max continued.

“The first few races were great. I had to go find her after she borrowed a car, we played football on the Miami beach, and I got to really connect with drivers that I didn’t know I could be close to.” 

You saw a bigger smile grow on Charles’s face. You personally knew that the Ferrari driver was more than thankful for Max’s close friendship. It made the season go so much better than in 2022. 

“It was in Suzuka that I noticed that my teammate had become part of my family when I was so…scared to lose her. I know I wasn’t the only one that said I wouldn’t have continued to race if she had…” 

Max didn’t finish the sentence as he wiped his eyes. Arthur’s hand gripped yours a bit tightly at the reference to your DNF at Suzuka. 

The Champion inhaled before he spoke again. 

“But what matters is that she was able to finish the season with me in third place. We were able to take home the constructor’s championship with her fastest lap. 

“Y/n has meant so much more to me than a regular teammate. And I am thankful that we get to have more years of competitiveness together. I am 100 percent confident when I say that she will be a World Champion.

“Thank you.” 

Max walked off stage as the crowds roared at the completion of his speech. You were up next, so you stood from the table and walked over to meet him. He brought you into a big hug and didn’t let go for a bit. You felt him kiss the top of your head before he let you go. 

You shakily inhaled as you stood on the edge of the stage. 

“And now, please welcome the Rookie of the Year and third place winner of the Driver’s Championship, Y/n L/n!” 

Once you heard the clapping, you made your way to the middle of the stage. The man handed you two trophies that were a lot heavier than you thought. You awkwardly grinned as you stood still for pictures. 

One the man gave you the signal to start, you bent down slightly to put the trophies down. When you rose back up, you took a deep breath. You gave the crowd a smile before you started to speak. 

“First off, I’d like to thank everyone here today. It would be weird to be speaking to an empty room, so the audience is appreciated.” 

Laughter came from the crowd, which let you know that you were doing great. 

“Next, I’d like to thank my personal team. I wouldn’t be here without my physio, even if I continued to beg her to eat ice cream all the time. To my trainer, I don’t think I’d be able to even turn my steering wheel without him. And then to Vito, my manager. When I say that he is truly the only person who has stayed by myself through the years, it’s him. He didn’t have to stay, but he did. I’d be lost without him and probably driving an uber around cities to make money.” 

Your voice gave a little crack at the end, but a chuckle covered it up. You saw Vito smile at you and hold his thumb up. 

“Then there’s my found family. I’d like to thank the Leclercs for truly putting time and effort into my career. I can’t count the amount of times on my hand that Pascale sent me some extra food whenever she visited Arthur. I know she’s not here tonight, but she deserves all of my thanks. She truly treated me like her own, even if I wasn’t. She’s been the mother that I never got to have growing up.” 

“To Charlie, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to race and compete against my childhood hero. But here we are, with you looking at my backside throughout the season.” 

You heard a “hey!” from Charles that made the crowd laugh even louder. 

“But, we both know you came out on top despite some difficulties. Thank you for being so kind to me. And thank you for signing all three pairs of my Lightning McQueen Crocs.” 

Charles blew you a kiss which you pretended to catch. 

“Last and not least of my Leclerc entourage, Arthur. I cannot begin anywhere to ever tell you how thankful I was to be your teammate in Formula 2. You saw a frightened and anxiety-ridden girl, who thought that the 2023 season would be the end of her driving career. But, you took me to dinner after our first meeting, and in the process might have taken my heart as well. I’m glad that it only took me crashing my car in Japan for you to finally confess.” 

Once again, you choked a bit. But, you’re pretty sure that everyone in the room did as well. You sniffed as you wiped your eyes. 

“But I wouldn’t have it anyway.” 

At the table, there wasn’t a dry eye at all. Arthur was wiping at his eyes harshly in frustration. The tears would not stop falling. Even Max was crying and you hadn’t even said anything in his direction. The Dutchman knew that he would be a gonner the moment you said his name. 

“To the Red Bull team. Like I’ve said all night, there aren’t any words that could sum up my gratitude. I remember hearing the news that Max was signed at 17 and I only thought, gosh they had balls.” 

More laughter from the crowd. 

“Charles might be driving for Ferrari, but I have always wanted to drive for the energy drink team. Their famous saying, Red Bull gives you wings, has been entirely true for this season. You took a chance on me and gave me my wings to fly and soar. Thank you Christian for treating me like the dad I never had. I’m excited to be driving for you for many years.” 

You changed your card and looked down at the wobbly words due to tears. You looked up, and at that moment, you realized that your eye makeup must have been running. Oh well, who cares. 

“And finally, but maybe the most important person of all in this room, other than me of course.” 

Soft laughs could be heard despite the sobering moment to come. Everyone had been waiting to see what you would say about Max. 

“If there was an award for best teammate, I would give Max the trophy over and over again. I was so nervous to meet him. I didn’t want to be disrespectful, because you don’t just become a three-time world champion’s teammate without doing something right in life. But that happened to me. Almost immediately, I could tell that Max would be a good one.

“The night we met, he took me out to get ice cream and showed me pictures of his cats for hours. At Christmas, he knew that I didn’t have any family to spend it with and all but dragged me back to his home in Monaco. He made sure I knew that I was welcomed and loved. 

“Because that is what I admire about Max. Not his career, not his driving, and definitely not his cooking skills. I admire him for his ability to be kind and to love easy. I never had the best childhood, and Max knew nothing about it, but he treated me with such preciosity. He made me feel wanted for maybe the second time in my life. 

“My childhood was filled with moments of unwantedness. I was a female going against the best boys and men in the motorsport leagues. I was treated unfairly sometimes, but I was never treated like that with Max. 

“So, Maximillian, I can’t thank you enough for making a little girl’s dream come true. I might have won all of these awards tonight, but I only feel like a winner because I am walking away with a group that no family could beat. 

“So thank you from the bottom of my heart.” 

The amount of applause could not be contained in the room. Even the security guards outside the door could hear the cheers and claps coming from the different personnel in the room. It wasn’t long before everyone was standing for you as you walked down. 

However, Max seemed to stand the straightest in pride for you. If it wasn’t for the tear stains on his cheeks, you wouldn’t even know that he had been crying. There was a genuine smile on his face. His arms opened for a hug when you got to the table. You put yourself there as he wrapped his arms around you. Your head rested gently on his shoulder. You felt his lips touch your forehead.

Once the hug was over, you felt another person wrap their hands around. You knew who is was once his lips touched your own. You melted a bit before Arthur leaned back.

“I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you mon bebe.” 

A groan left his lips. 

“You know what it does when you speak my language.” 

A smirk grew on your lips. “Oh I know.” 

Arthur only rolled his eyes. 

“My rookie of the year.” 

Max’s hands landed on your shoulder and Arthur’s. To be honest, you forgot that the rest of the word even existed. Oops. 

“Not rookie anymore. Time for the sophomore year!” Max’s voice sounded above the crowd. 

You looked up at the Dutchman. 

“I’m going to win the championship this year.” 

“No you aren’t.” 

“You are both wrong. I will be the world champion.” 

“Sure Charles, sure.” 

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 wow, I didn't expect to be walking home with three trophies tonight 😚 all jokes aside, thank you to the FIA for naming me Rookie of the Year (even if I was the only one) and then for granting me the first ever Woman of the Year in Motorsports. I'm hoping that in the next few years, others will be able to be bestowed this award like I have been. Thank you everyone! See you in a few months for testing 💙 - rookie out

liked by arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1, y/n.nation, and 6,204,957 others

y/n.nation if you look in the back of the fourth picture, you can see me drowning on my tears

arthur_leclerc I am totally fine being the trophy husband

y/n.89 awwww I'm glad that I can have you as the trophy husband

y/nxarthur HUSBAND?

maxverstappen1 HUSBAND??

charles_leclerc HUSBAND?????

y/n.89 I said what I said - haters gonna hate 🤭

box_box_express I cannot WAIT for preseason testing, why do I miss this already?

y/n&co I'm just waiting for the DTS episode, it's going to be so good

y/n4ever her speech tonight, I'm kind of worried for the episode...

lestappenlove oh gosh, Charles and Max looked like such proud older brothers (I don't think I've ever seen either of them cry before)

maxverstappen1 couldn't have done anything without you kid! even if you continue to call me Maximilian in front of thousands and thousands of people

y/n.89 I don't care - you'll always be my maximillian 😆

sophomore_y/n the trophies are so pretty 🥹

formula1_edits I can see all the videos and edits on tik tok forming now - maybe something Harry Styles 🤔

author everything is going to be all right - just like it always is

y/n.89 thank you for making this happen!

author anything for you kid...anything

charles_leclerc CAN I BE WORLD CHAMPION PLEASE?????

formulala_delulu WHY IS IT ENDING??? 😭

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[ms-demeanor]

It's really hard to take my classes seriously when it is so staggeringly obvious that a lot of the professors don't take them seriously.

It's possible to get at least 95% in my C# class without ever opening the book or doing any of the actual programming exercises. The whole thing is based on quiz scores and you can take the quizzes an unlimited number of times and it shows you the correct answers after every attempt and then asks you the exact same questions - it doesn't even scramble up the multiple choice options between attempts. My professor isn't even using their own material. All the lectures were recorded by a different professor, who also wrote the quizzes.

The last assignment my art teacher graded was turned in over 2 months ago. It was still summer when I did that assignment. We only have 13 students in the class and it's not like the professor is reading essays or writing long comments on the work. They have only graded *checks notes* two of the eight assignments we've turned in. All of the lectures were filmed in 2020, as has been the case with lectures in nearly all of my online classes (programming lectures were filmed in 2018, and I don't know if that's better or worse).

These professors are more checked out than the students and it's tremendously demotivating.

A huge number of my classes have had quizzes and exams where all the questions were pulled verbatim from the textbook with no references to lectures. The answers can all be found on "study" sites because the professors didn't even bother to reword them. One of my classes was a political science class in winter of 2022 that asked "how many US presidents have been impeached?" And the "correct" answer was 2.

I hope my school just sucks. I really hope it isn't like this everywhere. Not even all of my classes are like this, but probably 60% of them are like this and it is making me nuts.