#1: i hate you

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[springcatalyst]

yeah ill jump through these hoops. no its ok do you want me to do a fucking flip while im at it

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

The Sweet Defender

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: A quiet and shy Y/n, Max Verstappen's sweet-natured girlfriend, surprises everyone by fiercely defending him against his father's harsh criticism, revealing her hidden strength and deep love for Max.

________________________________________________________

You were sweet in a way that made people soften around you. There was a kindness in the way you carried yourself, from the way you greeted everyone in the garage with a small, warm smile to how you always remembered little details about their lives. You made people feel seen, even if you rarely said much.

The mechanics would tease Max about how lucky he was to have such a sweet girlfriend. “Max, how did someone like you end up with her?” they’d joke. And Max would grin, ruffling your hair playfully before pulling you into a side hug. He always said you were his calm amidst the storm, the one person who could make him feel grounded, no matter what was happening around him.

You blushed easily—whether from Max’s teasing, a compliment from someone in the paddock, or even just catching him looking at you from across the garage. You didn’t like drawing attention to yourself, preferring to be the quiet presence in Max’s life, always supporting him from the shadows.

In the world of Formula 1, where everything was fast-paced, high-stakes, and often brutally competitive, you were a breath of fresh air. You didn’t come to the races to be seen or to be part of the glamorous world of motorsport. You were there because Max was there, and you cared deeply about him.

Your shyness was something everyone respected, never pushing you to speak up or step out of your comfort zone. It wasn’t that you didn’t have opinions or thoughts—you just preferred to keep them to yourself unless you felt it was necessary to say something. You always felt more comfortable observing, being the one who listened rather than the one who spoke.

But despite your quiet nature, everyone knew there was something strong about you. It was in the way you cared for people, the way you never hesitated to step in if someone needed help, and the way you looked at Max with such unconditional love. You had a soft heart, and that made you special.

Max would often call you his "sweet soul," a term of endearment he used whenever he saw you doing something that reminded him of your kind nature—whether it was making sure the team had enough water during a hot race weekend or asking how someone’s family was doing after a long absence. He admired your gentle spirit, always saying that you made his world feel less chaotic.

Everyone in the paddock adored you, seeing you as this quiet, sweet girl who somehow balanced Max's fiery personality with her calm and soothing presence. You had this unassuming beauty that radiated from the inside out, your kindness making people feel at ease around you. You were cute in the way you nervously tucked your hair behind your ear when someone addressed you directly, or how your cheeks flushed when Max wrapped an arm around you during post-race interviews, never comfortable being in the spotlight.

But today, something had changed.

The paddock was loud and chaotic, as it always was on race weekends, but today the tension was unbearable. Max was storming through the Red Bull garage, his face flushed with anger, frustration pouring out of him with every word.

“They didn’t set the car up right. It’s not even close to drivable!” Max’s voice cut through the air, sharp with disappointment. “How am I supposed to compete like this?”

You stood a little distance away, your hands clasped nervously in front of you, watching him pace back and forth. You hated seeing him like this—his frustration rolling off him in waves, but you knew better than to interrupt him when he was this wound up. Besides, you were never the type to speak up in these situations, even if your heart ached for him.

Then, Jos arrived.

As soon as Jos stepped into the garage, you could feel the atmosphere shift. Max’s body tensed, and you knew this wouldn’t end well. Jos walked straight up to him, not bothering with pleasantries, his voice already raised.

“You’re not good enough today, Max,” Jos said coldly. “You call that driving? You let everyone down out there. Again.”

Your heart clenched at Jos’s words. Max, already on edge from the race, stood frozen, his eyes cast down, taking the verbal onslaught in silence. He didn’t argue back, didn’t defend himself��just stood there, his father’s criticisms raining down on him.

“You used to be better than this,” Jos continued, his voice hard. “Maybe you’re getting too comfortable. Maybe you don’t have what it takes anymore. You think people care about your excuses? No, they care about results.”

It was too much.

Your hands started shaking, the pressure building inside you as you watched Max’s face. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this by his own father, the man who was supposed to support him, not tear him down. And as you stood there, something snapped inside you.

“No!” you shouted, your voice loud enough to startle even yourself. You felt the eyes of the entire garage turn to you, stunned by the sudden outburst from someone who was always so quiet. But you didn’t care anymore.

“Stop it!” you yelled at Jos, your voice trembling but firm. “You don’t get to talk to him like that! You’re not a good father. You never were.”

Jos turned toward you, his expression one of shock and disbelief. No one ever spoke to Jos Verstappen like that. Especially not you.

“You push him and push him, but have you ever once thought about how much you’re hurting him?!” you continued, the words pouring out before you could stop yourself. “Do you even care about him, or is it just about the wins to you? About your ego? Max is incredible—he’s kind and patient, and he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at because things didn’t go perfectly today!”

The entire garage fell silent. Even the mechanics stopped what they were doing, their eyes darting between you, Max, and Jos.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but you couldn’t stop now. “You’ve spent years breaking him down, telling him he’s not good enough, and I don’t know how, but despite everything, Max is still a good person. A better person than you ever were to him.”

Jos’s face twisted with anger, but before he could say anything, Max stepped forward, placing himself between you and his father. His hand reached for yours, squeezing it gently, grounding you.

“She’s right,” Max said quietly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “You’ve pushed me my entire life, and I’ve never said anything, but… it’s enough now, Dad. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not going to let you tear me down like this.”

You could see the emotion in Max’s eyes, the weight of everything he had been holding in for so long finally bubbling to the surface. He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t angry—he was calm, but there was an undeniable finality in his voice.

Jos looked taken aback for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He opened his mouth as if to argue but then closed it again, seemingly realizing there was nothing he could say.

For the first time since you’d known him, Jos Verstappen was speechless.

Max turned toward you, his eyes softening as he met your gaze. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the buzz of the paddock.

You nodded, your chest tight with emotion. You could feel the weight of everyone’s stares on you, but at that moment, all that mattered was Max. The anger that had driven you to speak had faded, replaced by a deep sadness for all that Max had endured. You reached up to touch his cheek gently, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“I couldn’t just stand by and watch him hurt you like that,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with the remnants of your outburst. “You don’t deserve any of it.”

Max pulled you into a soft embrace, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing away. For a moment, everything else faded—the race, the disappointment, the frustration. It was just the two of you, holding each other in the middle of the chaos.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured, your cheek resting against his chest. “Always.”

Max’s hand tightened on your back, his breathing finally evening out as he held you close. And despite everything, despite the chaos and the tension, in that moment, you knew that nothing else mattered as long as you were together.

[httpiastri]

1. oscar feeling the need to explain that he didn't stare at or analyze shirtless ted, he just looked briefly

2. lando going "he shaves" with 0 hesitation

3. oscar going "…yeah"

(4. ?? i cant tell what he says after that?? pls someone enlighten me)

[taffywabbit]

I finally watched breaking bad (all within the past week or so while I worked, finished it and watched el camino last night) and I'm confident this isn't a new thought I'm expressing or anything but genuinely how DID an entire generation of dudes convince themselves Walter White was cool and admirable and intended to be sympathetic. I know ppl just lack media literacy sometimes but I'm still so confused

I don't think I've EVER watched a piece of media that so blatantly depicts a guy making the worst possible decisions at every turn and having his life ruined for it and not being redeemed or made sympathetic in any significant or lasting way. the kinds of justifications villains USUALLY give that make people consider them "morally grey" or "tragic" or whatever (everything I did was for my loved ones, I did what I had to to survive, once I was in this I couldn't get out, I just needed you to trust me so I could keep you safe, etc etc) is ALWAYS framed as complete self-serving bullshit when Walt says it, and one of the only shreds of personal growth he ever exhibits in the whole series is when he finally fucking admits that. every time he does something even remotely cool or drops a quotable one-liner, something terrible immediately happens that makes everything worse and makes him look like an unreasonable idiot asshole again. by the end of the series the ONLY characters they can still contrast as being morally "worse" than him are literally a bunch of bloodthirsty neonazis who kept a guy in a cage for several months. this show is practically SCREAMING at you the entire time not to admire Walt. why did every dude I knew in highschool have his face on tshirts and Facebook pfps.

I just don't get it. at least with The Dark Knight's Joker it was like, a feature-length movie and that's it. you spend a lot less time with the Joker and it has a lot less time to delve into his motivations, so there's way more room for flanderization and misinterpretation as people extrapolate the few cool/interesting/sad things they saw into a whole nuanced misunderstood guy in their heads and online. Walter White has 5 seasons' worth of 45min episodes to convince you beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a miserable fucking loser who ruins everything he touches because of greed and selfishness. if you weren't watching it for that, what WERE you getting out of this. what DID you think this show was about. am I just missing some key piece of context from 2012 or whatever that would help me understand this

[lnfours]

august | l.n

summary: you were never mine ; aka the one where the summer fling comes crashing down, but after an unexpected face in the media pen, lando is left questioning why he ever left.

warnings: pretend lando got a later start in formula one, summer flings, slight brothers best friend!lando, reader ends up working in the industry, kinda second chance romance vibes, fluff, hints of angst if you squint, and mentions of sexual content. i had to cut this short because it was getting super long, so if you want a part two to this make sure to let me know :) anyways, happy august, my loves 🤍 may your air be salty and the rust be on your doors.

listen | masterlist

summer: your favorite time of the year. where you’d spend your days outside, salt heavy in the air and the cool ocean breeze whisking away all your problems. your few months of peace where nothing else in the world mattered more than sitting on the beach by the ocean during the day and sitting by the cozy bonfire after the sun had finally set.

peaceful, until you had met him.

getting swept off your feet by the boy your brother had befriended was the last thing on your mind. but nonetheless, you had. his charming smile with cute dimples had you head over heels. moles charting his skin like constellations making him so much prettier. you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t breathtaking, laying on the lounge chair with his curls sitting almost perfectly against his forehead. so unaware at how your eyes danced over his figure behind your sunglasses.

a perfect example of beautiful chaos.

him and his siblings had gotten close to you and your brother, thankful for there to be people their age in the small costal town to befriend. you mostly kept to yourself and his sisters in efforts to push the crush you had quickly developed down. not wanting to start something that could never be finished. not wanting to put your heart on the line just for something to yank him from your grasps.

but after a week or so, you had caved in. getting to know him better every day. he had told you about his life back home, how he was a racer. wanting to make it to formula one, race amongst legends. you had told him about your studies in university, wanting to pursue journalism and things of that nature.

he listened with interest. being the only person who sounded interested in you talking about it, not like the others who had given quick responses when you had told them before. a change that brought a smile to your face and warmed your heart because he actually cared.

he had you opening up to him like a book, wanting nothing more than to understand the beautiful soul that stood in front of him. shared laughs and talks in the kitchen of your family’s vacation home echoing off the walls. sharing your deepest secrets, sharing stories about your youth that normally, you’d cringe about, but he found adorable.

and the two of you got closer, a bond forming between you. lingering glances and touches sending sparks through your bodies. and talks in the kitchen turned into conversations by the fire pit on nights where it’d just be the two of you. weeks of learning about each other. the weeks passed by quickly, and after the first month out of three he had known you like the back of his hand. and you had known everything there was to know about lando norris.

after a couple more weeks of subtle flirting and lingering glances, he had finally grown the courage to ask you what had been prodding at him since the moment he met you.

“can i take you out sometime?”

and like that, all your previous statements about not getting too attached, not wanting something for the sake of it being yanked away, was out the window. you met his green eyes, sparkling in the glow of the bonfire in front of you, a smile on your face as you spoke.

“sure.”

he pulled out all the stops. making reservations for the fancy restaurant downtown and bringing you flowers that had caught his eye in the shop window on the way back from his morning jog. a gesture that made you smile ear to ear and your heart beat quicken. a gesture that made you feel truly loved.

the first date turned into many more. wether it was getting dinner or ice cream in town, or heading towards the beach at sundown to watch the waves crash against the shore. the weeks carried on and you had dinner with his family, all of them ecstatic that he had found someone like you who loved their son the way they did.

you still remembered the day he had written against your skin. your stomach flat against the towel on the sand, back facing the sun that was slowly being swallowed by the ocean as the moon threatened to shine. he was propped up on his elbow, tracing shapes into your skin.

he drew with his fingers and you laughed softly, humming, “hmm, a star?”

he nodded, voice soft as he spoke again, “okay, i have one more. they’re words this time. ready?”

you hummed in approval, his index finger drawing a straight line against your spine.

i.

“i,” you said.

he nodded, writing out the next word.

love.

you furrowed your eyebrows as he drew the ‘e’, “love?”

“yeah,” he said, “last word, put them together.”

your heart squeezed against your chest as he wrote out the final word.

you.

you sat up, meeting his eyes, “you?”

he nodded again, smiling as he tucked the lose strand of hair away from your face.

“i love you.” it sounded heavenly coming from his lips.

you blinked at him, a smile finding its way to your lips, “i love you, too.”

you had pulled him closer by his neck, pressing your lips to his. his hand cupping your cheek, the two of you breaking away when the smiles had taken over your face, too wide to continue the kiss.

“c’mon,” you smiled, getting up from the towel. he followed your lead with a questioning look as you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder as the other hand grabbed your sandals. taking off towards the private entrance to the beach the lovely vacation home had come with.

“where’re you going?” he laughed, following you anyway. chasing after you with the towel in his hand.

“come find out!”

and he did, following you back up to the house. once he caught up, you were inside and up the stairs. you shut the door behind him, pulling him closer to you as your back pressed against the white wooden door.

“what’re you up to?” he smirked, letting your hands snake around his neck as his found their home on your hips.

“well, no one’s gonna be back for another couple hours,” you trailed on. he smiled, shaking his head.

“absolute minx.”

you smiled, reaching up and pressing your lips against his. he had immediately taken control, his hands moving to the back of your thighs before you understood that he wanted you to jump. he caught you with ease, never letting his lips leave yours as your legs wrapped around his torso, walking back towards your bed before he laid you down carefully.

you smiled as he climbed over you, leaving kisses against the exposed skin of your tummy in his path before his face met yours again, nose brushing against yours, “i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

your hands roamed the skin of his back as his squeezed your hips before he pulled away, breathless.

“you’re sure?” he asked softly, “i don’t want this to be something you regret.”

you nodded, reaching behind you and pulling at the ties of your bikini top, tossing it to the side. he watched you with love filled eyes, mouth agape as your head hit the pillows again. a hand coming to rest against his cheek.

“i’m sure,” you smiled, “i love you, lando.”

and after that, you’d often find yourself twisted in your bedsheets with him. your head against his bare chest as your nails drew shapes into his skin. his lips leaving soft kisses to your hairline.

after one specific night, you had fallen asleep against him when he got the call. softly moving you to your side of the bed before walking towards the connected bathroom. the call he had been desperately waiting for.

it was finally his moment. he was making it big.

“can you be here monday?”

he glanced down at the date on his phone. it was two days from now. he’d never make it unless he left now.

he glanced back into the bedroom where your sleeping figure laid, head resting against the pillow as you slept peacefully. he swallowed, immediately feeling guilty. he should wake you up.

“lando?”

“hmm?” he quickly snapped back to the phone call, “sorry, uhm, you said monday?”

“yeah, just to sign some things. do some press, show you around, that sort of thing.”

he took a deep breath, “okay, yeah. sure, sounds good. i’ll see you monday.”

“see you monday,” zak brown’s voice was warm on the other end, “safe travels.”

lando pressed the red button with shaky hands, shoving his phone into the pockets of his sweatpants as he walked back into the bedroom. he grabbed his hoodie off the end of the bed, immediately feeling regret as he looked over your peaceful state. how you were unaware that he was about to leave and never come back.

and with a gentle kiss to your forehead and a mumbled, “i love you,” to your hair, he walked out of the room. walked right out of your life just as quick as he had entered it.

when you woke up the next morning confused that he was no longer with you in your bed. you tried to call, but no answer. you were met with silence. even in your texts you were met with the ‘delivered’ at the bottom of each one. tears flowing down your cheeks as you were left wondering what you had done for him to disappear. to pretend like you were never a thing.

it wasn’t until the fall that you had seen his face again. this time on an instagram post from mclaren. announcing him as a full time driver. he wore a smile, the same floppy curls you had loved, were still messy. hitting against his forehead. he had finally got what he wanted.

and the years went on, you continued to see him pop up every so often. celebrating podium placements and achievements, finally living the life he wanted. the life he had suddenly chose that no longer included you.

he had checked in on you every so often, too. smiling softly when your face popped up on his screen as he’d scroll through your account. you had the life you wanted too, graduating from university and smiling at the camera as you held your diploma. the hard work you had put in finally paying off and meaning something.

he lost track at the amount of messages he had typed out and deleted in your dms. lost track of all the times he had wished he had told you, lost track of the different outcomes he had came up where the ending had you in it. even after convincing himself you were better off out of this lifestyle, he couldn’t help but wish you were.

the knocking on his drivers room had pulled him out of his thoughts, swiping out of your instagram account as the woman smiled sweetly in the doorway.

“they want you for media.”

he nodded, tossing his phone to the couch, tying the papaya race suit around his waist and slipping the mclaren cap back onto his curls, sporting it backwards as he followed the woman down the hallway.

“where’s oscar?”

“he’s already there,” she said sweetly, “hasn’t been there long, though. only a few minutes.”

he nodded, smiling politely at the woman before entering the media pen. she guided him to the opening, smiling before stepping to the side. he took a sip from his water bottle, smiling at the camera man who tapped your shoulder to get your attention. an apologetic smile on your face as you spoke, turning towards the fence, “sorry-“

the same green eyes met yours and the both of you stood in shock for a moment. sure, you had known you were going to bump into him eventually, but on your first day? was the media pen really lacking that many reporters?

“y/n?” he asked, voice soft as your heart hit the floor.

you swallowed, gripping your notepad a little harder as you sent him a tight lipped smile, “hi,”

“since when do you,” he stammered, tripping over his own words before taking a breath, “since when do you work for sky?”

“todays my first day, actually,” you said, a nervous smile on your face, and if he noticed, he thankfully didn’t mention it, “i see mclaren’s been treating you well.”

“y/n, can we-“

“let’s get started, yeah?” you dodged his question, glancing down at your notebook. he nodded softly in response and you motioned for your camera man to begin recording.

as you stood there asking him questions about his race, all he could think about was if you had wondered the same things he did. if you, too, laid awake at night and thought about all the different scenarios and lifetimes where the two of you ended up together. he wondered if you hated him for how he left you, without a proper goodbye.

he didn’t know it, but you could never hate him. even after all these years you couldn’t hate him with a single bone in your body. not when your heart still beats for him.

he opened his mouth to speak after you ended the interview, but it shut quickly as the woman in papaya cut off his thoughts, whisking him away to do more interviews. you watched as he left, a sad and regretful look on his face as he made his way to the next reporter.

“you alright?” your camera man asked, noticing how you chewed on your bottom lip. a nervous tick of yours that everyone seemed to have caught onto.

you nodded, straightening your posture and taking a deep breath, pushing every thought you had to the side berore smiling at the man next to you, “yep, who do we have next?”

[pit-2-podium]

I think everyone who is so upset about F1 Academy needs to take a breath and remember this is not the only series they are racing in.

The end goal is not to take some 16 yr old girl and just shove her into an f1 car and call it a success. The goal is to get these women up the formula 1 ladder and do it in a realistic manner. Most of these girls are competing in their various f4 seasons at the same time. Or others like lia block do rally cross, doriane pin was supposed to race in le mans, chloe chambers is killing it in America! The goal of f1 academy is to fucking normalize women being successful in motorsport and giving them opportunities to be successful!

Like when talking about f1 academy we talk about how the cars are 'to slow' but the important part is they are in the cars and getting that practice and those points and the cost isn't coming out of their pockets. F1 academy is getting these girls into f1 teams development programs. Which is huge because if you look at it you'll realize both Bianca Bustamante and Maya weug are the first women in their teams respective programs!

They are getting access to equipment, facilities, trainers, and some of the best teams in the world for motorsport and all of this is in part to f1 Academy. And this series is allowing them to get a majorly important thing, say it with me now, SPONSORS! Because let's be real if they didn't have the publicity of f1 academy they likely wouldn't have some of their life changing sponsorships.

Anyways this makes no sense but everyone should shut up and go support these ladies because there's a chance the future female f1 driver is out there watching right now and she deserves to feel inspired, represented, and supported from the very beginning

[aaron04jpg]

“Very different environment than I’m used to”

[scrollonso]

"Fernando's too old he needs to retire" you just dont get him like i do.

Fernando Alonso who was the youngest ever race winner in 2003. after that win he said "im 22 years old and i have my first victory in (my) pocket so i hope (for) a long career here in formula 1 with more victories"

Fernando Alonso who won his FIRST world championship in 2005 he broke MICHAEL SCHUMACHERS 5 year long winning streak after being in formula one for 4 years. His whole F1 career at that point had been solely dominated by Schumi.

Fernando Alonso who's a 2 time world champion and has been racing longer than Oscar has been alive and has been in more scandals than races

Fernando Alonso who said he knew Michael Schumacher would step on the brakes because he had a wife and kids at home and FERNANDO DIDN'T.

Fernando Alonso who is one of 15 Spanish F1 drivers ever.

Fernando Alonso who is the only Spanish F1 driver to win a WDC (and not just one, TWO.)

Fernando Alonso who's been in 385 gp's (3x as many as Pedo De La Rosa)

Fernando Alonso who's scored 2,298 points in his career (67% of the total F1 points scored by all Spanish drivers)

Fernando Alonso who's not only raced in F1, but also Indy, 24 hours of Le Mans, and the World Endurance Championship.

Fernando Alonso who drove his first go-kart at 3 YEARS OLD.

Fernando Alonso who's family didn't have enough money to buy wet tyres so he had to TEACH HIMSELF to drive on a wet track on slick tyres.

Fernando Alonso who's mother made his racing clothes herself because they didn't have enough money.

Fernando Alonso who won his first karting race at SEVEN. (Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, Yuki Tsunoda, and more drivers on the grid weren't even in karts at seven.)

Fernando Alonso who's managed to stay as passionate (if not more) about F1 in his 23 year career no matter his performance.

[voltaical-art]

im in agony. a little self indulgent but I think wyll deserves to be told he's loved and have a small breakdown about it

[lazycranberrydoodles]

everybody go home. this is my magnum opus

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.

the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.

like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.

but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.

so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.

i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?

but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?

sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?

and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.

nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.

the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!

and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.

[icaruspendragon]

he did. my husband tried. he tried to warn them. he did. he said to them, “i’m not as into this as my wife is. i just like looking at cars, but she’s got all the facts and specs and everything. she’s practically a walking encyclopedia.”

and they didn’t believe him. they laughed. they shrugged it off. they shrugged me off. they were warned. and yet they still decided to try and put me to the test. they were warned. they were warned of what would happen to them. and yet they didn’t listen.

their ambition made them icarian. their folly turned my warmth from brilliant to sweltering.

their hubris led to their humiliation.

they were warned. but ambition makes men bold.

this is all just a very dramatic way of saying that grown men decided to play a game of, “oh you’re a fan? prove it” only to have their asses handed to them by their opponent.

this was the opponent btw:

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Racing for Love

word count: 1.6k

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Wife!reader, ft. thier child

Summery: Max and Y/n navigate the challenges of raising their young son Noah, encouraging his love for racing while standing firm against Jos Verstappen's intense training methods to ensure Noah's happiness comes first.

_____________________________________________________________

The afternoon sun poured over the track, its warm glow casting long shadows as you watched your son, little Noah, zoom around in his mini-kart. He was just four years old, the spitting image of Max—same piercing blue eyes, same determined scowl as he concentrated on mastering every turn.

From the sidelines, you could feel Max’s pride radiating as he watched Noah. It had been his dream to share his love for racing with his son, and now that Noah was old enough to drive a kart, it felt like the beginning of something special. But to you, Noah was still your baby, and seeing him behind the wheel so young filled you with both excitement and a sense of protectiveness.

“He’s a natural,” Max murmured beside you, a smile pulling at his lips. He was quiet today, simply enjoying the moment without any of the pressure that used to weigh so heavily on him.

But that peace shattered the moment you saw Jos pull up to the track. You stiffened, your grip on the fence tightening instinctively. Max noticed your reaction, his own expression darkening slightly. He loved his father, respected what Jos had done for him, but the scars from his own childhood were still there, buried under years of discipline and hard-earned success.

Jos strode over with that same commanding presence, eyes flicking from Max to Noah on the track. “He’s got the Verstappen blood in him, that’s for sure,” Jos said with a grin, but there was something in his tone that sent a chill down your spine.

“I know what you’re thinking, Jos,” Max said calmly, though his jaw clenched. “He’s not me.”

Jos scoffed, folding his arms. “If you want him to be the best, Max, you can’t go easy on him. You know what it takes. You can’t coddle him.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what Jos was thinking—long nights on cold tracks, harsh words, endless drills until exhaustion took over. It had shaped Max into the world champion he was today, but at what cost? You weren’t about to let the same thing happen to Noah.

“No,” you said firmly, stepping forward. “We’re not doing that. Noah is not going to be pushed like that.”

Jos turned his gaze on you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “You think I went too hard on Max?” His voice had that edge to it, the one that made it clear he didn’t care for dissent.

“I know you did,” you shot back, feeling your protective instincts rise. “Max went through hell growing up, Jos. I won’t let you put Noah through the same thing. He’s still a child. He’s not going to be pushed until he breaks.”

Max stood silently beside you, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. His hand slipped into yours, his grip tight, supportive.

“He’s got talent,” Jos insisted, his voice rising. “He’s got to be toughened up if he’s going to make it.”

Your eyes blazed as you stepped forward, standing your ground. “Noah is four. He needs to love this sport first. I won’t let you take that away from him the way you almost did with Max.”

The memory of Max’s childhood—a mixture of triumphs and painful sacrifices—hung heavily in the air. You knew how deeply it had affected him, and you weren’t going to let history repeat itself.

Max’s voice was low but firm when he finally spoke, his eyes locked on his father. “She’s right. I don’t want Noah to go through what I did. If he’s going to race, it’ll be because he loves it, not because he’s afraid of failing.”

Jos’ expression faltered for a moment, a flash of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes. “I made you a champion,” he said, but the words lacked the conviction they usually carried.

“And I thank you for that,” Max replied, his tone softer now. “But I want to be a different kind of father. I want to enjoy watching Noah grow, not push him until he resents me—or the sport.”

For a moment, the three of you stood in tense silence, the sounds of the track fading into the background. Noah, blissfully unaware of the conflict brewing, came speeding around the corner, his face lit up with joy as he handled the kart like a pro.

Jos sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “Fine,” he muttered, glancing at Noah. “But don’t come crying to me when he’s not tough enough.”

You exhaled, feeling some of the tension leave your body as Jos turned to walk back to his car. The relief was palpable, but you could still feel the remnants of anger lingering in the air.

Max wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You did good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until you said it.”

You leaned into him, your heart still pounding from the confrontation. “I just want him to be happy, Max. I don’t care if he’s the best driver in the world.”

Max smiled, watching as Noah jumped out of the kart and ran towards the two of you, his laughter infectious. “He will be,” Max said softly, “because he’s got the best parents in the world.”

As Noah raced toward you and Max, his tiny legs barely keeping up with his excitement, his helmet still bobbing on his head, you knelt down to meet him at eye level. His wide smile, the mirror image of Max’s, made your heart swell.

“Mom! Dad! Did you see? Did you see me go around the corner?!” Noah’s voice was filled with that pure, unfiltered excitement only children could have.

Max crouched down next to you, reaching over to ruffle Noah’s messy hair. “We saw, buddy. You were incredible out there,” Max said, grinning proudly.

“You were so fast,” you added, placing your hands on Noah’s small shoulders. “But were you having fun?”

Noah nodded vigorously, his blue eyes shining. “Yeah! It’s just like Dad! I wanna go even faster next time!”

You smiled, though there was a flicker of concern in your heart. “I know you do, sweetheart. But remember, it’s not about being the fastest. It’s about enjoying yourself.”

Max leaned in, adding softly, “Your mom’s right, Noah. The most important thing is that you love what you’re doing.”

Noah frowned a little, looking between the two of you. “But, Grandpa said I need to be the best. Just like you, Dad. I wanna be like you!”

You felt your stomach tighten at the mention of Jos. Max glanced at you before looking back at Noah, his voice gentle but firm. “You will be, Noah, but you don’t have to be the best right away. I wasn’t the best when I started either. It takes time.”

“But Grandpa said I have to work harder,” Noah pressed, his little brow furrowing in confusion. “I want to be like you, Dad. I don’t want to let you down.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, at how much he wanted to impress Max. You reached for Noah’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You could never let us down, Noah. We’re proud of you no matter what.”

Max shifted, his expression growing more serious but still tender. “Look, Noah,” he said, placing a hand on your son’s small shoulder. “I know Grandpa says a lot about working hard and being the best, but that’s not everything. You’re still so young. Right now, it’s more important that you have fun and learn to love racing. You don’t need to be perfect.”

Noah looked up at Max, his eyes wide. “But… what if I don’t get as good as you?”

Max smiled softly, his eyes full of warmth as he gently cupped Noah’s cheek. “I don’t care if you’re the best driver in the world, Noah. I just want you to love it. If you love racing and want to get better, we’ll help you. But if you decide you don’t like it anymore, that’s okay too.”

“But I do love it!” Noah insisted, his small fists clenching with determination. “I love it so much, Dad. I wanna race forever!”

Max chuckled, glancing at you before looking back at Noah. “Then you will, buddy. And I’ll be there every step of the way, but we’re going to do this our way, okay? Not Grandpa’s way. You’re going to race because you want to, not because you have to.”

Noah seemed to process Max’s words, his tiny face deep in thought before he nodded slowly. “Okay, Dad. I like that.”

You smiled, pulling Noah into a hug. “We’re going to have so much fun together, Noah. And when you’re ready, we’ll help you go even faster.”

Noah giggled into your chest before he turned to Max, his eyes wide with excitement again. “Can we go again tomorrow, Dad? Please?”

Max looked at you, his smile softening. “We’ll see, champ. But let’s take it one day at a time, okay?”

Noah nodded eagerly, clearly satisfied with the answer. “Okay! I’m gonna be so fast!”

Max stood, lifting Noah up in his arms as your son beamed with pride. “You already are, Noah.”

As the three of you started walking back toward the car, Noah resting his head against Max’s shoulder, you caught Max’s eye. He gave you a soft smile, his free hand slipping into yours.

“You know,” Max said quietly, “I always thought I wanted Noah to be a driver just like me, but seeing him today… I just want him to be happy.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart full. “He will be, Max. He’s got you—and us—showing him what really matters.”

[lilpomelito]

i need a fic or something where steve tells eddie "hey you were a dick in high school too. jumping on tables and screaming at people who just want to eat their lunch about their conformism to the man or whatever was annoying as fuck. also why did lucas have to choose between a sport and your nerd game that's normal. people are multidimensional. I'm not alone in this, who wasn't a total dick at 16. where is your redemption arc mister."

[eterniravioli]

anyway i would maybe respect sainz if he could at least admit he has no intention of helping his teammate out a la sebastian in malaysia 2013 or max in brazil 2022 but the fact that he pulls the dumbest shit during the race only to go to the media pen after saying “it’s the best we can do as a team” is despicable