#If it is good enough for a sponsor event its good enough for a race weekend

[cecoeur]

Daniel at the Piquadro event in Milan | 8.28.24

[kathlare]

silent reverie

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: During a routine media appearance, Lando finds himself confronted with questions about Amelie’s new album and the speculation surrounding its lyrics.

Wordcount: 0.8 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

July 24th, 2022 - Le Castellet, France

Lando adjusted the sleeves of his McLaren polo as he stepped into the Paddock Club, the cool air conditioning providing a brief respite from the sweltering summer heat outside. The place was packed—sponsors, media personnel, and a few VIP guests scattered around, some already nursing their drinks despite it being barely midday.

He sighed, running a hand through his curls. He wasn’t in the mood for this. Race days were already intense enough without the added responsibility of media appearances, but F1 managment had requested him as the special guest for the event, and saying no wasn’t exactly an option.

—You good?— his PR manager, Mia, asked as they walked towards the stage.

—Yeah, just wanna get this over with,— Lando muttered, forcing a smile as they reached the elevated platform where the Q&A session would take place.

A moderator greeted him with an enthusiastic handshake, and within minutes, the event was in full swing. The usual questions came first—thoughts on qualifying, strategy for the race, how he was feeling about McLaren’s performance this season. Lando answered smoothly, his media training kicking in as he navigated through each inquiry with ease.

A woman he didn’t recognize, a journalist sitting near the front. She had a sharp look about her, like she wasn’t there for the fluff questions.

—Lando, what are your thoughts on the speculation that most of the songs on Amelie Dayman’s new album emails i can’t send are about you?—

Lando felt his entire body tense.

Fuck.

He had known this question was coming eventually. He wasn’t stupid. The internet had been buzzing about it since the album dropped. And yeah, he had listened to a couple of the songs—at first out of curiosity, then out of something else he wasn’t ready to name. The lyrics were cutting, raw, emotional. Too specific to be about just anyone.

But he wasn’t about to give the media anything to run with.

—Uh… I don’t really know what you’re talking about,— he said, attempting to play it off with a casual shrug.

The reporter’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. She wasn’t buying it.

—Come on, Lando,— she pressed. —The lyrics in songs like "how many things" and "bet u wanna" are very pointed. Fans have speculated that they reference a past relationship... one that, according to rumors, was never publicly confirmed. Given how close you and Amelie were, people can’t help but wonder.—

Lando forced a laugh, but it came out more strained than he intended. He could feel Mia shift slightly beside him, her presence a silent warning to tread carefully.

—Look, I don’t really listen to that kind of music, so I wouldn’t know,— he lied. —But Amelie’s a great artist. I’m sure her album is amazing, whoever it’s about.—

Mia’s fingers twitched at her side, a clear sign she was ready to jump in if needed.

The reporter, undeterred, leaned forward.

—So you haven’t listened to it at all? Not even out of curiosity?—

Lando’s jaw clenched.

—Maybe a song or two, but, like I said, I don’t think it’s about me.—

That wasn’t entirely true. He had heard enough. The way she sang about someone who made her feel like she was losing her mind, about a relationship that burned bright but ended in complete disaster—it was impossible not to recognize himself in those words.

He had been the one who left first. The one who didn’t fight hard enough. The one who thought she would always be there, until she wasn’t.

And now, her voice, her lyrics, were everywhere.

—You don’t think it’s about you, or you don’t want it to be?— the reporter asked, tilting her head.

Lando’s stomach twisted. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, his pulse thrumming in his ears. He needed to get the fuck out of this conversation.

—What I mean is… people interpret music however they want. It’s not really up to me to decide what her songs are about.— His words felt clumsy, slipping through his fingers before he could catch them.

The reporter arched a brow. —But if the lyrics are about you, do you have anything you’d want to say to her?—

Mia cleared her throat sharply beside him, stepping in before he could make things worse.

—Alright, I think that’s enough of that. We’re here to discuss Lando’s racing career, not personal matters.— Her voice was firm, professional, but Lando caught the warning glance she shot him.

The moderator jumped in, eager to redirect. —Yes, let’s keep the questions focused on racing. Any thoughts on strategy for today’s race, Lando?—

Lando exhaled through his nose, gripping the microphone a little tighter than necessary. He forced himself to nod, to engage, to move past the fucking minefield he’d just walked into.

But his mind was somewhere else.

Because the thing was—he did have something he wanted to say to Amelie.

He just didn’t think she wanted to hear it.

[justaninchident-f1xreader]

max verstappen x reader part6

(incase you missed part5- https://www.tumblr.com/justaninchident-f1xreader/740324463671902208/max-verstappen-x-reader-part5?source=share )

themes-

ferrari female driver jealousy enemies to lovers possible spice (i will put the warning accordingly)

warnings- spicy thoughts? not really tho, so don't worry lovelies

chapter 6 - well shit, i want him.

The week after Monaco was a masterclass in unspoken tension. Y/N and Max existed in separate orbits, their usual bantering replaced by a glacial silence. Lunch at the paddock was as cold as the champagne in their unused flutes. Practice sessions held an undercurrent of suppressed energy, each maneuver seeming a veiled challenge.

Lando, oblivious to the storm brewing around his friends, uploaded a picture from his wild post-race celebration. Y/N, perched piggyback on his shoulders, grinned into the camera, her fiery hair cascading down his back. The caption, "ride or die" was innocent enough, yet to Max, it felt like a public declaration of ownership. (post below- purely playful, purely platonic)

He stared at his phone, the screen burning his fingertips. Jealousy, a venomous serpent, coiled in his gut, but he pushed it down, refusing to acknowledge its existence. Yet, his scowl deepened as the day wore on, the image of Y/N perched on Lando's back like a forbidden trophy etching itself into his mind.

Later that evening, at a swanky sponsor event, Max found himself surrounded by a gaggle of glamorous models. One, a statuesque blonde with eyes the color of polished sapphires, draped herself across him, her hand slithering onto his bicep. Max barely registered her touch, his gaze still haunted by the ghost of Y/N's laughter.

But across the room, Y/N saw. The spark in her eyes ignited, green flames licking at the edges. Her smile, once playful, twisted into a sardonic smirk. For the first time that week, Max saw a crack in her facade, a glimpse of the fiery spirit burning beneath her carefully constructed composure.

And suddenly, his own suppressed jealousy roared to life. He couldn't stand the thought of another man laying claim to her, even in the most superficial way. His gaze met hers, a silent challenge across the crowded room. This wasn't about Lando or the blonde model; it was about control, about the unspoken possession that simmered beneath the surface of their rivalry.

The game had shifted. No longer content with playing it cool, Max felt the need to make his stake, to ignite the fire in Y/N's eyes, even if it meant burning himself in the process. The air crackled with their unspoken emotions, a prelude to a battle far more explosive than any they'd fought on the track.

author's note - omg lovelies they are both jealous now yipee, and now things get spicy and good so stay tuned <3

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

The 1965 Lotus-Ford that Jimmy Clark drove to the 1965 Indianapolis 500 Championship.

Jim Clark was a 2 time F1 World Champion and Indy 500 Champion

Jim Clark died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. On 7 April 1968, Clark should have been at Brands Hatch giving the DFV-engined Ford F3L its debut in the BOAC 500 sports car race. But he had been double-booked that weekend, and instead spent it at Hockenheim in Germany for a big European F3 meeting where Lotus was fielding its works team, to oblige sponsors Firestone.

Clark was a sheep farmer from the Scottish Borders who had started competing in sprints in his Sunbeam Mk3 saloon in 1956. He won his first event. He raced friend Ian Scott Watson’s DKW Sonderklasse and Porsche 356 1600 Super before graduating to a Jaguar D-type run by the Border Reivers team.

In 1958 Scott Watson bought one of the first Lotus Type 14 Elites, and at the Boxing Day Brands Hatch race meeting Clark had Lotus founder Colin Chapman in his own Elite all but beaten, until a backmarker spun in front of him.

Clark’s smoothness and mechanical sympathy meant he could often get a Lotus to last a race distance where other drivers could not

By 1960 Clark was a Lotus F1 driver, and he won his first championship race at Spa in 1962. It was one of three wins that year, leaving him in contention for the world championship at the final race of the season in South Africa – but his Lotus failed him, and BRM driver Graham Hill was crowned champion.

There was no mistake the following year. Clark won seven of the 10 races in 1963 – the most any driver had won in one season – and took his first world championship win in dominant style.

Chapman was renowned for building cars that were as light as possible, but often their reliability was suspect. Clark’s smoothness and mechanical sympathy meant he could often get a Lotus to last a race distance where other drivers could not, but it didn’t always work out: in 1964 a strong of retirements robbed him of the chance to defend his F1 title. He was back in 1965 with the new Lotus 33, and six race wins guaranteed him his second world championship.

Graham Hill joined Lotus for 1967 – typically, Clark insisted they were both paid the same salary – and carried out much of the development work on the new Cosworth DFV engine. It was obvious that the DFV-powered Lotus 49 was the class of the field at its debut race at Zandvoort, so Hill and Clark tossed to decide who would win. Hill won the toss, but his car expired, leaving Clark to win – in a car he had never seen before that weekend.

Clark had immense natural ability: he often struggled to understand why other drivers couldn’t keep up

Arguably his greatest race came in the 49 at Monza later that year when he suffered a puncture while leading. The pit stop to change the tyre left him a lap down but he fought past the leading group to unlap himself, belying some commentators’ opinions that Clark wasn’t a racer, and was only any good when controlling a race from the front. He lapped faster and faster, caught up an entire lap, and passed the front-runners again to re-take the lead. But the epic win was not to be: the Lotus ran out of fuel with a couple of laps to go, and John Surtees won in the ‘Hondola’ RA300.

Clark had immense natural ability: he often struggled to understand why other drivers couldn’t keep up. When he had a big enough lead he would keep himself amused by setting the car up in a big slide for the benefit of trackside photographers. His feel for the car was legendary: driving the Lotus 49 for the first time at Zandvoort in 1967 he was convinced something wasn’t right with the car, though there was nothing obvious amiss. But when Team Lotus tore down the car overnight they found one of the wheel bearings was just starting to fail.

Clark won the first F1 championship race of the 1968 season in South Africa, where he beat Juan Manuel Fangio’s all-time record of 24 world championship Grand Prix victories. He was well-placed to win more F1 races and maybe become champion again in 1968, but then came Hockenheim…

His Lotus 48 F2 car was up against a strong international field and Clark was running eighth after the first four laps. On the fifth lap the Lotus headed uphill out of the stadium section of the course and into the woods, was seen to twitch, and flew off the road into the trees. Though the cause of the accident was never established beyond all doubt, it’s likely that a rear tyre failed, possibly due to debris from a previous incident. The Lotus hit a tree, and Clark died from a broken neck and fractured skull. He was just 32.

The whole motor racing community was numb. At Brands Hatch the news was announced to a stunned crowd. Colin Chapman was so destraught he considered giving up motor racing for good. Chris Amon, one of the greatest drivers of his era, summed up the general mood among the drivers by saying if this could happen to Clark, “What chance have the rest of us got?”

The shockwaves from his death were felt not just in Europe, where Clark was a superstar in F1 and touring car racing, but also in the US. Clark had been denied victory in the Indy 500 in dubious circumstances in 1963 but returned, and dominated the race, in 1965 – becoming the first F1 World Champion to win at the Brickyard.

But for a few quirks of fate, Clark could have been F1 champion 1962-1963-1964-1965-1968 and might even have gone on to race and win in the slicks-and-wings era of the early 1970s, which brought two world titles for the Lotus 72. He was, without doubt, one of the greatest drivers ever to race in F1.

Family and community meant a lot to him: his gravestone in Chirnside lists his occupation as ‘farmer’ before ‘World Champion motor racing driver’.

Jim Clark's grave in Chirnside, Scotland. 

Jim Clark – winner 1968 Australian Grand Prix at Sandown, Melbourne.

In 1967, Lotus and Cosworth were reshaping the sport of Formula 1 with the assistance of Jim Clark and Graham Hill.

Jim Clark - Lotus 25 - French GP (1965)

French GP, Clermont Ferrand, 27 June 1965 .Winner Jim Clark, Lotus 33 in practice(he raced Lotus 25)

1964 Goodwood TT, Jim Clark, Lotus 30 Ford

The Flying Scotsman Jim Clark

[georgegraphys]

Warning : Heavily opinionated as I speak from my experience (which may be lacking) as someone who worked and studied in PR/Marketing sector so please take it lightly as this is just for a fun agree-to-disagree discussion

Okay let's talk about it

To some grussell sprouts, the development of George's "meme" persona to the general fans might be an annoying phenomenon because we often see George being reduced to nothing but memes and people just talk about his funny moments, like him for his looks or underrate him.

But what if I said it wasn't all that negative? Career wise.

F1 is a sport where you have to establish a personality or strong branding to shine there. It's not only about skills and talents sadly (let's face reality). We all know that not all F1 figures decide to go down this road but at the very least, they all do and they must do especially the current ones. After his Sakhir 2020 performance and pre-Mercedes era, I'd rank George's marketability somewhere around 6-10 on the grid. People know he is talented but often times, they do not know him enough to know about his personality. Very different from the likes of Norris or Ricciardo (in a good way). I won't blame anyone and their moms for this because George is in a Williams back then, which may lack some spotlight to it compared to the Williams nowadays.

Then he came to Mercedes. And he acts like usual. Like what he did in Williams. He has always been George the way he is since forever. But people are shocked when they know more and start to come to their own conclusion and stereotype him as "bitchy", "tory", etc. Why does this happen? Because they know he is there on the grid, he is famous but they don't know him enough to know his personality. And so he got stereotyped and people got the wrong idea of him.

But George's personality starts to show more to the general fans eyes as the "george russell is the type of guy..." memes appear and the intro pose soon follows. People are getting to know him through liking his "new" funny personality. It isn't anything new actually. George is being George but they just got to know him aside from his radio, race personality, and face. They just got to know more of George through his personality that is "goofy" for them even though it is honestly nothing new.

Then the hair part rolls in. Believe me, hair theory exists and works. It is a part of marketing and PR sometimes. George's hair made him look friendlier than before to the general public as it was a style they are more familiar with. Me and you, as George's fans, honestly do not care whether he wants to use 100 gels or go bald (We'd still like him) but to the general public that doesn't really know him? It matters. So you need to understand that even though those don't matter to you. They matter to the general fans and help them to like him more.

There's also the part where the sponsors actually start to know the direction they'll take with George. This is shown clearly by the way Tommy, Ritz, Marriott, Puma, etc produce/direct his recent ads/photoshoots/etc. If you are able to notice, they seem to have a clearer perspective of the direction where they are taking things with George and trust me, it is a very positive sign. A brand who knows what to do with its client is a sign of longevity and new strength in their partnership. They have these visions because they are starting to see the market and buzz building up, alongside with more chances that he gets to show his personality off-track through interviews, events, etc that he is invited to. This is actually a very good form of personal branding. And honestly, the trend is going upwards and this is actually helping him career wise because with the way he is and the more people get to know the real him and his personality, he will attract a lot of sponsors that fits him too. Not only team sponsors but also individual sponsors in the future as well 👀

I understand that some grussell sprouts might not view this favorably because there are some people who will only like him for their looks, are toxic, etc but there are some positives to take from this "seemingly new but nothing new" boom that he got from the past 6-10 months. For the real grussell sprouts out there, let's root for him the way we always do! 🩵💓🩵💓

[yesterdayiwrote]

So is it the hair or the whole Ritz video? :D

Tbh honest I find Carmen irritating many times but it is at least a properly marked ad and not much of a danger to most of her followers’ purse as I assume far less people can afford a holiday at the Cayman’s than that awful book

Yes, it is cringe (but much better than the “paparazzi” photos they took a couple of years ago) but I try take the positives that George now seemingly has a strong enough brand that even his girlfriend - who’s only claim for fame is that she is an f1 wag - can get campaigns like this with the sponsors

And it seems that he is comfortable with staying in the background for these marketing stuff so I guess good for them, free holidays and probably some extra €€€

So, I contemplated not answering this, because I'm well aware I end up going off on these rants that noone really cares about and just making myself look like a dick, and so I'm going to disclaimer this with a) I know none of this is important in the grand scheme of the world (and sometimes you've got to deflect your real world frustrations on to dumb parasocial shit as an outlet) and b) before anyone asks "why do you care" the answer is that I don't outside of the Internet... before anyone starts getting it twisted that I spend every day of my life deeply invested in this.

The journalist Lily Herman wrote a very indepth and very interesting newsletter on the topic of WAG ad culture recently, specifically focused on Carmen's recent exploits, and I feel like this latest thing just further cements some of her criticisms.

Respectfully, I disagree with your assessment that this really says anything about George's brand being strong. If anything, I personally think it suggests the opposite, because the part I find kind of strange is that nearly all of the brands Carmen partners with are George's work sponsors. They're not deals she's getting on the strength of her own identity, they're all seemingly twofers with brands who already work with George anyway through Mercedes.

I don't know every brand that every WAG works with but with the exception of the Ferrari WAGS promoting the Ferrari clothing line, I'm struggling to think of many other cases where that happens, at least not on such a broad basis. Compare it to Alex(andra) who scored a whole Rhode campaign off the back of the explosion in interest in her. I don't want to downplay her own contribution to that because she's done some impressive social media management to aid matters, but she's undoubtedly benefitted from the strength of Charles' brand.

There was a post before Xmas by one of the f1 podcasts saying that George and Carmen are trying too hard to market themselves as some kind of power couple. I got an ask about. I kind of semi agreed with it, semi defended them against it but honestly, as it happens more and more, it is kind of getting a bit cringe and hard to rely deny that that is what's happening. It sits slightly separately to the wider "Is George too PR" debate (and I stand by my answer of he's bad at it not ruled by it but... its being tested)

I don't know that he's staying in the background. I think the main reason they're there is because he was booked to do a corporate gig at the cookout event they've got her advertising. (Add in the fact he made a very... unfortunate comment at it that I'm still massively side eyeing him for and so he's in my bad books anyway)

Ultimately I'm just having a hater moment on main, it's really not that deep. I get the George ick every winter. I can't explain it, I don't deny its parasocial, but I have a "dude you're annoying" moment everytime there's too much downtime to think about it. Idk, I don't think it's a bad thing. Normally by the time there's racing again I get the whole "OH THATS WHY I LOVE YOU" rush of endorphins back. I think it's healthy to reckon with your faves and acknowledge what you don't like about them from time to time?

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 25: Cairhien

A new chapter, a new city, a new chance for me to warn you all about spoilers. There are so many spoilers in this post. Spoilers for The Eye of the World, The Great Hunt, The Dragon Reborn and so on ad infinitum. Toss my invitation to read these spoilers right into the fire if you're not ready. Just be ready for the consequences.

A new chapter icon! The rising sun icon refers to events in Cairhien, usually just the city proper. It's not too complex in its meaning.

Fat ships and broad barges filled the river, and tall granaries sprawled along the far bank, but Cairhien seemed to be laid out in a precise grid behind its high, gray walls. Those walls themselves made a perfect square, with one side hard along the river. In just as exact a pattern, towers rose within the walls, soaring as much as twenty times the height of the wall, yet even from the hills Rand could see that each one ended in a jagged top.

Planned, grid cities are pretty new; they're relatively common in America because most of our cities were built up after the idea took off. Cairhien's grid is likely the result of their recent devastation. The towers all still being in such a state of disrepair is another sign of this, and another sign of the societal decay afflicting the subcontinent.

Many of the farmers were afraid to go back to their lands near the Spine of the World, and they all came here, near enough. That’s why Galldrian has the river full of grain barges up from Andor and Tear. There’s no crops coming from farms in the east because there aren’t any farms anymore.

Frankly, details like this make it seem as though, if events had continued on their current course, Cairhien would have been the next western nation to disappear. Food insecurity on such a massive scale would bankrupt any economy sooner or later, especially in the event of supernatural, unending winters keeping everyone starving.

“I fear Galldrian keeps his people quiet by entertaining them. He gives gleemen and musicians the King’s Gift, a bounty in silver, to perform here in the Foregate, and he sponsors horse races down by the river every day. There are fireworks many nights, too.” He sounded disgusted. “Elder Haman says Galldrian is a disgrace.”

Panem et circenses. Frankly, it's a miracle the whole affair has lasted Rand's lifetime; the treasury must be nearly emptied at this point.

And damn if Loial isn't pissed.

He had never seen fireworks elaborate enough to require even one Illuminator. He had heard they only left Tanchico to put on displays for rulers. It was a strange place he was coming to.

I'm going to guess that Rand's knowledge here is just outdated instead of being fully wrong. The chapter house is likely a necessity of keeping up with Galldrian's expectations.

“Well, they were tall enough to warrant the name, once. When the Aiel took Cairhien, about the time you were born, the towers burned, and cracked, and fell. I don’t see any Ogier among the stonemasons. No Ogier could like working here—the Cairhienin want what they want, without embellishment—but there were Ogier when I was here before.”

As subtle as a brick, this foreshadowing. But also:

The divide growing between the people's interests and the Ogier seems like something that will probably grow rather than be fully healed by the end of the age. Perhaps it's the seed of whatever leads to the Ogier taking off eventually.

He wanted to tell them he was not playing their Great Game, but instead he said, “We will take rooms in the city. We can go now?”

Poor Rand doesn't understand that just by being here he's playing it, same as everybody else. He also doesn't get that the best way to avoid attention is to be unremarkable and meet expectations. There's a reason he takes to disguising himself as a beggar later on.

He felt as if people were looking at him. He could not wait to get a good, plain coat again, and stop pretending to be what he was not.

Of course, Rand would attract attention in Cairhien even in a beggar's robes because he looks just like an Aielman for some reason.

checks notes

The reason is genetics.

The innkeeper was a plump, unctuous man with a single stripe of green across his dark gray coat.

You can tell he's a good guy both because he's fat and because he catches Rand up on the whole Aiel thing. That said he is a bit racist what with his inn sign being an Aiel being killed by a Cairhienien.

“We have to show these Cairhienin we know what’s right as well as they do, Lord Rand”

It's unfortunate for Rand that Hurin gets too caught up in the gravity of Rand's alleged lordship to be a better teacher about these things, because he's right but he's saying it in the way Rand will care about the least.

He often forgot that Loial had run away from home, in effect, to see the world. “What about you, Hurin? There’s music in the Foregate, and people laughing. I’ll wager no one is playing Daes Dae’mar there.”

Rand forgets that Loial is a baby runaway so often because as he aptly demonstrates, he's somehow even more naive. Of course people are playing the Game in the space immediately outside the city walls, where movements and actions are a little harder to track.

“Everyone by now, Lord Rand,” Hurin said quietly. He seemed to feel eyes watching, too. “The guards at the gate would not keep their mouths closed about an outland lord coming to Cairhien. The hostler, the innkeeper . . . everybody tells what they know where they think it will do them the most good, my Lord.”

I'm actually a little with Rand on this one. The gossip spreading this quickly is shocking as hell. He hasn't been here an hour yet!

You must answer any more invitations you receive, my Lord. Decline if you will—though they’ll read things into whose invitations you do decline. And into whose you accept. Of course, if you decline them all, or accept them all—

It really is a great joke on the Wheel's part to have Rand come to Cairhien without Moiraine when this would be the time she'd be a much better teacher to him. But perhaps she'd force Rand to play politics when in fact his solution proves to be the best: delay the issue until the breaking point and then accept the invitation that seems to matter.

A man standing in front of the guardhouse took note of him—his bright coat marked him out, as well as his height among the Cairhienin—and hurried inside, but Rand did not notice.

It's pretty unusual for the narration to point out stuff the POV doesn't know. Not sure what to make of it.

Memories of Thom were always sad. Thom had been a friend. A friend who had died for him. While I ran away and let him die.

This is foreshadowing both short and long term. The short should be obvious (guess who's back?) but the long is of course Rand's increasingly unhealthy obsession with blaming himself for the suffering of others. Back in Whitebridge there was nothing Rand could have done to stop Thom's "death" and Thom chose to die when he could have ditched the boys and left them to their fates unscathed.

He walked on in a daze, staring at the man bowing on the dais to the clapping of his listeners, cradling his harp in one arm and with the other spreading his patch-covered cloak as if to trap all the sound they made. He was a tall man, lanky and not young, with long mustaches as white as the hair on his head. And when he straightened and saw Rand, the eyes that widened were sharp and blue.

It's a good thing he didn't notice Rand mid-performance or he might have given something away.

Rand shook his head. To his surprise, Thom seemed disappointed.

Jordan is beating us over the head with the inevitable Moiraine/Thom pairing that surprised so many. I figured it out in junior high folks, it's not subtle!

Even if I could have reached the boat before it sailed, Domon and his whole crew would be spreading the tale all over Illian about how I was being chased by Trollocs.

Thom would love to know how dramatically ironic this claim is.

It's good to have you back, Thom!

Next time: Rand joins everyone's favorite chat program!

[australiahub]

Adelaide 500 fears allayed after police raid

South Australian Premier Peter Malinauskas has indicated that there is no immediate threat to the Adelaide 500 despite its sponsor VAILO making headlines.

Adelaide paper The Advertiser reported yesterday that the offices of VAILO founder Aaron Hickmann had been raided in both by South Australia and Queensland by Australian Federal Police and the Australian Tax Office.

Little in the way of detail regarding the raids has come to light, with Hickmann’s lawyer Greg Griffin issuing a statement to The Advertiser that read: “There is a matter with the ATO, with an objection. It is not related to VAILO. Aaron Hickmann has been compliant”.

According to the latest local reports, Hickmann has not been charged with any offences.

Still, with the VAILO-backed Adelaide 500 just a week away, the matter drew a response from Malinauskas today.

He told ABC Radio that Hickmann has “met his obligations” in regards to the event sponsorship, which allays any fears that the raids could disrupt the Supercars season finale in any way.

“It’s a pretty significant sponsorship in terms of its value, it’s a significant sum of money, and he has paid an awful lot of money to… the Adelaide Motorsport Board through that sponsorship arrangement,’’ Malinauskas said.

“If that changes into the future, then of course there’d be a reassessment. But as yet, there’s not any reason to do so.’’

Malinauskas added: “So these are recent developments. We’ll monitor them.”

The Advertiser also quoted SA’s opposition leader Vincent Tarzia, who labelled the matter a “scandal”.

“This is a key naming rights sponsor, it is not good enough for the government to walk away from this, quite frankly this is a scandal,” said Tarzia.

VAILO has backed the Adelaide 500 since it returned to the Supercars calendar in 2022.

Hickmann, meanwhile, has been linked to Supercars team ownership several times this year.

He is thought to have been in negotiations to buy Erebus at one point, and is currently rumoured to be in advanced talks with Brad Jones Racing over an ownership stake.

[subjectively-objective]

Arcana 99 - Ch. 8

Live from the Past

What is this? Next

“Of course I had heard of the Grenfell-Maxwell Marathon, it was the most interesting event of the twentieth century. Well, discounting the first World Wars and the invention of computers and the airplane, and the creation of the Internet, and the first automobiles, and the Cold War, and. . .”

The man outside the sound booth waved his hands. 

Right, “Be concise. Be positive.”

“But, those had been covered to death in countless contemporary works. But, even when compared to those monumental historical developments, the Grenfell-Maxwell Marathon holds a certain special place within my heart due to the sheer number of mysteries surrounding it. These mysteries were no doubt aided by the small amount of coverage of the race as few at the time bothered paying attention to it for a multitude of reasons. 

“Its starting day came with claims of a new land-speed record for a horse and an open-air motorcycle. The moment these records were made conveniently occurred while the cameras were all turned off for fear of the kicked-up dust damaging equipment. And, no one could take the announcer’s word for it, Motorcycles wouldn’t be able to reach that speed while remaining open for several decades, and horses. . . well, horses have never been able to run that fast.

“That gaffe not only led to the death of the announcer’s career, but it also resulted in a loss in credibility regarding everything about the event. Investors and advertisers stopped promoting it, and only local newscasters bothered to appear at stage finishes. Despite the trivial amount of official records being made for the race, anecdotal reports of violence and disappearances accompanied the marathon throughout its course.

“These reports were never officially investigated, but the loss of life among the competitors was evident. Of the quarter-million teams initially in the race, less than one thousand arrived at the final stage’s finish line. Many of the missing competitors were retrieved by expedition teams hired by Mr. Grenfell, and scattered autopsies claim lacerations, gunshot wounds, and other, stranger causes of death. 

“The two major sponsors of the race, Mr. Grenfell and Mr. Maxwell are probably the most well-known people connected to it. To this day, their names are synonymous with impossible yet believed promises, people with unknown sources of wealth, and well-meaning mistakes. Despite their historical staying power, little is known about them, their first recorded appearance was in India where they promoted the marathon, the total amount and source of their wealth was never disclosed, and they never appeared publicly after the race’s finish.

“Despite the loss in credibility worldwide, the skepticism surrounding Grenfell’s and Maxwell’s wealth, and the ever-present danger throughout the race, the nearly one million competitors saw the race as their road to riches and glory. The sensational promise of a wish to the victor had no small influence on the people’s fervor, and the competitors were more than willing to risk everything to gain that fabled prize.

“And that. That passion from an almost magical source that overtook these people and the mystery of how it all happened is what brought me and my crew back almost three-hundred years.” I took a deep breath. Speaking for such long periods was not a skill I possessed, “There. Was that take good enough for you Samuel?”

The man clicked a button and his clearly annoyed voice came through a speaker within the room, “That was fine, but I’m Madden.” The man pointed to a person sitting beside him, fiddling with a camera, “He’s Samuel.”

I nodded and left the sound booth, “Have you gotten the footage yet?”

God, why was this the only job I could get?

The man looked at me, though he wasn’t the one I addressed, “Yup, I got the generic B-roll for the intro, and our outdoor cameras are trained on the other competitors of interest.”

A waste of my talents, and on what? A fucking documentary.

I approached the man and surveyed the numerous electronic screens. I recognized the plane as belonging to Jacqueline Santos-Dumont, and the nearby horse and motorcycle that were supposed to break records, but none of the other people were familiar.

Not only a documentary, a documentary on this stupid race. Nobody remembers it, and those that do, know it was nothing but a sham to see how desperate people could become. Unlike me, of course; I’m not desperate. I just. . . can’t be picky with my jobs at the moment.

When the race began, we kept our eyes on the alleged victor, Sheri Parfit; the lost pilot, Jacqueline Santos-Dumont; and Etteilla Laveau, the owner of history’s “fastest” horse. The plan was that I would provide on-site commentary, and we would later create a more fleshed-out script for the footage when we returned to the present.

We were surprised when our cameras recorded Etteilla’s teammate shooting Dumont’s plane. Even more so when our Sound Isolator detected Dumont mentioning the loss in fuel.

Huh, cheating so early, and by Grenfell’s favorite team no less.

“Strange,” one of the crewmen said, “If Dumont knew of the leak, why would she take off?”

His question was answered when the team behind her, a hitherto unknown group hijacked her plane and launched it themselves.

What. 

I’ve done a little preliminary research for this thing. . .

I’m out of luck, not talent.

. . . but, not once in my research did it mention that Dumont was hijacked by a group of wannabe cowboys.

We barely had time to be surprised at that moment as the cameraman pointed out something far more astonishing, Sheri was gone. Her truck had vanished from outside. He hastily cycled through the cameras until he landed on the micro-camera we had placed on their hood. With its view on screen, we could plainly see the city of Flores.

What.

The implication that practical teleportation existed centuries before we had believed would be revolutionary.  

Perhaps it could even revitalize my career.

As our astonishment began to fade into acceptance, our recorder set to the race announcements radio station picked up that Etteilla had broken ahead. We mocked the statement; it was well known that it was impossible for a horse to travel that quickly, and the sound bite was an infamous example of bad journalism. 

An example I had hammered into me countless times.

But given what else had happened. . .

Samuel switched to the camera he had placed at the edge of the salt flats. On it, we could clearly see that two people had breached the dust cloud surrounding the racers. Samuel zoomed it in. One of the people was on an open-air motorcycle, the other. . . a horse.

What.

Nothing else. Just what.

The four people we had planned to follow all well beyond our vehicle's reach, at least beyond it without drawing attention to ourselves.  One of the two men took direct control of the micro-camera in Flores and launched it to get a few aerial shots of Sheri’s victory. Meanwhile, the other retired to the cabin and began to weave us through the crowd and towards the other competitor of interest, Urho Häyhä. There weren’t any reported incidents involving him today, but we know that something happened before he reached Flores, and given what else had already happened. . .

I urged him to drive faster and began to smile. This was the first natural smile I had done in. . . I don’t even know how long.

I am Revatti Alcubierre, and this race is how I rediscovered my calling.

Next

[the-firebird69]

We did not get the caddy squeezed in there might come out tomorrow it's not electric so it goes with VistaFraiche. It's a hybrid. It's a lot of vehicle requests already have a lot of made just keep asking you soon we'll put the full line up there. And the electric motorcycle companies selling so many bikes it's not funny there's way too many sold. Once you try and light cycle guys about bikes reporting tomorrow morning with your bikes painted with your sponsors names and a number on there cuz those roads up there perfect he says. No Aaron Mike's knew about it and I didn't say anything but he got up there and he said wow this is the tits it's going to be a race and I sent it saying that and when you paint up those light cycles they look even more cool it looks like the bat pond whole bunch of ant pods coming down the road at like 700 miles an hour is the most impressive thing you'll ever see in your life and they want to do it and a son says the Vista cup it's not really right but it might stick a lot of people like it because the area has a big Vista and they might call it that and the manufacturing area manufacturing area Vista manufacturing area and it's kind of cool cuz he says we can call the Canadian companies of ours in the family VistaFraiche for the car Vista motorcycle and it's going to go ahead that way. She likes it a lot and it's a huge manufacturing area. So tomorrow is going to be the Vista cup and he says it is for the fastest hypercars and the fastest light cycles and both of them are race cars so you're going to see his race car like souped up and everything the fin stuff and everything is going to be tried and we're going to do a version we're going to see who does a good one and copy it and we're going to be there too it's going to be intense and it might be like 700 miles long one way and back around there 1400 miles and we might make it about 1,000 because the car will have enough fuel yes no you have to get fuel and you can't miss the fuel stop you have to know when but the bike can make it down and back and people see it and not believe it they have to wash their energy levels but for the most part they can go really fast cuz you can't go as fat you can't go fast enough to wear it down enough we'll probably run it tonight to see. The Savior like 500 Miles without refueling and that's the super car and we need to know that they say it goes about a thousand if you're going about 600 miles an hour because of its aerodynamic capabilities and if you have it adjusted correct. And that was Mac Daddy with the statement about fuel. And to get back to the stuff

Tons and tons of people are going after clones and the morlock it is a huge huge event they went up there in an account with them and their fights big ones they lit it up the car is coming down they're getting in fights with clones and they now see what they're for a lot of fights with them and tons of people buying more cars and trucks and bikes it's getting very heavy he said 1/8 of 1% of the population and it is creeping towards a quarter of a percent of the population those are huge huge numbers everybody huge it's it's millions of octavians and the morlock are heading towards disaster right now they are putting 10 million at all the deep Roots and there's four of them left now the other roots they're going to put another 10 million octillion and really that's like two or three percent of their population so that would be down to eight or nine percent already. And they're loading up and they're going to send a huge fleet over and they need to get Intel not engage us they said they say you can if you want them vehicles right now is the clones are huge pain and I see that. They're angry but it's going on huge numbers of people are going to the eight points.

More shortly this is huge news all it is

Thor Freya

That's a ridiculous amount of sales it really is that's stupid that's what it is

Hera

Well

Zues

I'm going to provide him with some funds and there's multiple sources that we could use one of them that a lot of people agree with is social security and everybody's fighting over it and the morlocks say that control itu and they are in the way and they'll get them beat up

Mac

Are you sure they said it's going to get the government beat up then again they have a lot of government positions a lot of them like 70% of the senate in Congress each and 15 no 50% of the cabinet no it's like 80% of the cabinet I do agree with this

Daniel

Have to do something this sucks

Mike tew

Happened to agree with it these people suck so bad

Tommy f

[seasidepierre]

sunkissed face (bonus part) | charles leclerc

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS MASTERLIST

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

summary: You've known the start of their story for a while, but have you tried watching it happening through Charles' eyes? Have you tried walking in his designer shoes, when he first met the girl of his dreams?

warnings: Honestly, at this point, I'm just happy to be writing about them again, so enjoy this bonus part!

words count: 4.1k

There was no denying that Charles loved his team. He was a Ferrari fan, ride or die, and to be able to drive for the iconic scarlet scuderia was every bit of the dream he had hoped and wished it was. It was everything he ever wanted, everything he worked for, what he promised his dad would happen and what Jules would have got and that he felt he needed to get, to honour him the best he could. Driving a Ferrari Formula 1 car in the streets of Monaco, his hometown, his streets, his home, was even better. It felt like walking on a cloud, except he knew the storm could come at any point.

In all the sunshine and warmth of the Monégasque Grand Prix, Charles could feel the cold sweat starting to gather, right in the small path of his spine in his back. He knew his home Grand Prix to be unforgiving and all the luck he could find in this world didn’t mean shit here. Talent wasn’t enough in Monaco and he wondered, for the uptenth time since he woke up, if he would finally manage to actually finish the race. Any place would be nice. Obviously a win would be even better, but he knew his car and he knew its pace. If he managed to grab P6, he’d be happy, especially here. 

“Are you okay, cabron?” Carlos gently asked. 

The older guy had been welcomed in the team a few months ago but he had already found his rightful place next to Charles. It felt right to have him on his side, with a kind word, a funny joke and a way to breathe a little when the competition was getting a bit too intense. Charles liked Carlos. Carlos liked Charles. All good in the world. 

“I’m okay,” Charles nodded.

“You look like you’re about to vomit,” Carlos grimaced.

“That would not be cool for our guests,” Charles countered. 

Ferrari had organised that event with their main sponsors. They wanted to make sure those people knew what their money was for and that it was appreciated. Rub some backs. Shake some hands. Laugh at some questionable jokes and pretend a whole bunch that they cared about their opinions, of course. Charles already knew it was going to be exhausting. At least the weather was nice and the sun was out, bathing the area in a golden glow that felt a tiny bit recomforting, if you take into consideration the fact that he was currently about to either explode in a giant mess of tiny confettis or, like Carlos said, to throw up. He was starting to feel like tiny ants were gnawing at his fingertips, which usually wasn’t a good sign. 

For two hours, Charles had to bump elbows with 50 year-olds who cared about what he had to say, only to be able to quote him on the LinkedIn posts they would make with the selfie they took with him. He couldn’t care less about their opinions on why he was about to win, just because he knew the streets by heart. The ones who actually were interesting were the ones who knew the sport and who took the time to chat about the last races, instead of the constant pretending that they offered, like they knew what they were talking about, like they were here for the race and not just the bling of the Monaco GP. 

Charles loved that he was racing at home, he loved what his GP meant for the championship but he also knew that it attracted a lot of people who only came to be seen, only to be able to tell their colleagues or so-called friends that they were there, only to be apart of the so-called society that he wasn’t born in but got thrown into, even though he didn’t like it very much.

Charles loved racing with everything he had. It was his reason to live, it was what made him get out of his bed in the morning, what drove him to work out so much, what both his heart and mind told him to do, at every hour of every day. Those people were there because it was “cool” to be in Monaco. They didn’t care about who would win on Sunday afternoon. They couldn’t explain what the difference was between a blue and a black flag. It was exhausting. And the line that piled up in front of the little table that they had put him and Carlos behind, in an effort to maintain the social distance, was frankly disheartening. It’s not like they were equally interested in Carlos. No, they wanted a picture with the “little prince of Monaco”, as if they didn’t know that there was a prince already and his name was Albert. 

Fools. 

The line of baldening skulls in front of him was starting to be really frustrating. Charles was getting tired of signing cards, posing for pictures that would end up on Facebook with a caption about how “hard work always pays off and you’ll be in Monaco too!” or just having to smile at all of them. If at least the younger ones he was seeing were kids, he’d be okay, but instead, he had to deal with teenagers who couldn’t give a fuck about him but were forced to pose with him because their dads had said so. 

He was about to sign his hundredth card when he caught a glimpse of a white dress with red flowers entering the private area that had been reserved for this event. And it’s not like he cared about the fact that it was a woman nor that he really wanted to put his flirting skills to the test, because he knew he was a blubbering mess, but he welcomed the change with open arms. And if she was just there for a picture, at least it’d be a picture with a woman and not another CEO. 

Charles waited, impatiently, to see that dress pop up in front of him. He hadn’t even seen the woman who had slipped into that flimsy little dress this morning, but he knew that he had liked the pattern of it and that was pretty much it. At least she was on theme with the Ferrari event. It would be a nice difference compared to the people he had to ask the PR team to be careful about because they had come clad in Red Bull teamwear. It was so dumb. At least pretend you’re into Ferrari. 

But as the hour passed by, the white and red floral dress didn’t appear in front of him, though it did appear in the corner of his field of vision, like some kind of magic that calmed him down greatly whenever he would be able to actually see it. The first thing he noticed was the legs peeking out of the hem of the dress. They seemed really smooth and for a second, he wondered if they truly were or if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Then he discovered that the hair resting on top of the fabric shone in the sunshine and it felt like being blinded by a spotlight. 

Eventually, he managed to make it through the never-ending line of people who wanted to shake his hand, even though they’d been told they couldn’t, for safety and health reasons. His wrist was sore from signing all the autographs and he had stopped smiling behind his facemask about fifty selfies earlier. Charles had mastered the art of squinting his eyes just enough to pretend he was equally interested in them as they were in him. Which, in hindsight, might have been equal, knowing they only cared about him in the picture and he couldn’t be bothered to learn their names. The only people he made a conscious effort for were the little kids who looked thrilled and starstruck. He was weak for a small kid. He couldn’t be cold to a small child. 

“We’re done, I think,” Carlos sighed, stretching his arms behind his seat. 

“How long do we have to be there for, still?”

“About thirty minutes, time for everyone to get out of the area, I guess.”

“Nobody even cared to learn about the team,” Charles groaned. “I can’t believe the marketing staff put all of this together, only to be ignored. They all came to take pictures of my car, none of them took a second to read the panels.”

“Except for that girl,” Carlos nodded, pointing at someone with his index. “She didn’t even come to us. Spent the whole time reading and taking pictures of the panels.”

Charles’ heart somewhat tumbled down his chest. The red and white floral dress appeared clear and straight in front of his eyes, worn by the young woman he had only caught glimpses of so far. She was beautiful. Not model-type beautiful, but Charles never really cared for people who always looked straight out of magazines. From where he was, he could see the little scar on her elbow and the fact that she was close to heat exhaustion, if he believed the fact that her skin was far from matte and that her hair was kind of sticking to her neck. 

Still, she was beautiful. 

What a foolish idea, he thought, to want to be introduced to the only person there who hadn’t cared one bit about coming to him. After all these fake ass people coming his way, he had to be interested in the one person who wasn’t. Typical CL16 luck, if he was honest. 

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink. Want something?” Carlos asked.

“I’m good. I’ll walk a little, got some ants in my legs.”

“Got what?” Carlos scoffed.

“French expression,” Charles shrugged. “My legs feel kinda numb.”

Carlos tssked and hit him behind the shoulder, making him laugh a little. For a couple of seconds, Charles thought about what he was supposed to do. Should he go introduce himself to that girl? Or was she truly not interested in him, the slightest? He wasn’t the shiest guy around but he knew not to bother a lady when he clearly didn’t want to be bothered. And that girl looked so engrossed by what she was reading, it almost felt criminal to go and rip her away from the words she was pouring herself into.

Curiosity always killed the cat. 

Charles got up and walked to that girl, as gently as possible so as not to appear as a complete douchebag. She was looking at his car like it was the most incredible thing she had ever laid eyes on. Charles could relate to that pretty well. It always amazed him to sit in a F1 car. It was even more amazing to know that this particular one belonged to him. Sure he couldn’t drive her in the streets and of course, his apartment building didn’t have the adequate parking space for her. He knew that his loan to the Prince’s collection was the option for her to be taken care of and to be appreciated as she deserved. Sometimes, though, he wished he could be the only one to enjoy her. 

And then, sometimes, he remembered that she was truly a beauty to be shared with the world. Especially with pretty girls who had a floral dress with the team’s colours on it and an empty glass of champagne, bending so close their noses were about to touch the paint. 

Charles cleared his throat, a reflex he couldn’t control, which made her jump a little and straighten back up. He hated that he disturbed her and made her feel like she wasn’t supposed to admire his car. But the lovely shade of embarrassment that he could see creeping up her neck matched his and he knew he would be okay.

“That one’s nice, isn’t it?” He laughed.

“It’s gorgeous”, He could hear her smile, before she turned back to him.

The look of pure surprise on her face was enough to make him smile gently. That’s a look he was used to and that he found familiar. That’s a look he only saw on the little kids’ faces today. The look of a true fan, of someone who knew what they talked about. The look of someone who admired the drivers, because they were a part of the sport they loved so much. The look he had when he first met Michael Schumacher. Not that he had that big of an ego, but it felt nice to be truly seen, after all the time spent with all these hypocrites. 

Charles got to notice that she was considerably smaller than him. Not tiny, but a good twelve centimetres separated him from the top of her head. She looked adorable and Charles knew it was problematic, when her eyes finally met his and his heart kind of gasped in his chest. 

He was going to be a fool for this girl and he instantly knew it.

“Nice to meet you”, He truly smiled, for the first time in an hour.. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were out there not mixing with the crowd, do we scare you or something?” He scoffed.

“Not at all”, She blushed. “You guys were a little bit out of reach, I thought I’d enjoy the exhibition while you were busy and try again later.”

“The event is almost finished, the major part of the guests is gone”, Charles explained.

“I guess I lost track of time”, She gasped. “It was so interesting to learn more about the team and the history of it.”

“I know, right? I’m Charles, by the way.”

“I know”, She smiled, ending the internal debate between his head and his heart, begging him to take a step back and be chill about her. “Y/N”, She introduced herself, stopping in the middle of reaching his hand out to shake his. “Hmm. Can’t do that anymore. Sorry.”

His head stopped screaming to stop being stupid. As she retracted her hand and settled it on top of her upper arm, his brain finally went amute and gave up the fight. His mind had lost the battle to his heart. He laughed, shrugging, wishing he could shake her hand and feel if her skin was as smooth as it looked. He too had raised a hand to shake but had to take it back to his pants’ pocket. 

“So you’re a Ferrari fan?” He started, hoping to diffuse the awkwardness that was settling in.

“That I am. Always been. I have to thank my father for that.”

“He raised you well, then”, He joked. “Are you gonna be at the race this weekend?”

“Yes, I’m here with a couple of friends, we might be able to visit the paddock a bit.”

“Nice”, Charles commented. “I hope you’ll pass by the Ferrari garage!”

He hoped he could see her again. Just a couple of seconds. Or minutes. Or maybe hours, even days, if she agreed. Hell, at this point, he would have taken a lifetime. Her voice felt like dripping honey to his ears, the sparkles in her eyes looked like little stars he could wait to learn the constellations in. He had barely met her and he already wanted to know more about her. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Charles rocked a little on his feet, unsure what to say next. He knew it was really bad. That he couldn’t dive head first like that with someone. That it wasn’t rational, nor cool, to be attracted to someone over banalities like you were exchanging.

“This one’s my favourite”, He commented.

“Isn’t it the one you won Monza with?” She asked and his heart missed a beat again.

“It is”, He smiled, so happy and impressed that she recognised it. “It’s also the one I won Spa with, a few days before.”

“It was such a difficult weekend”, She grimaced.

“It was”, He shrugged, suddenly thrown back to the difficult events of the weekend, to the tears, to the heartbreak and the sudden ache in his chest that would always accompany the memories of his first F1 win. “But I’m glad I could bring that for our close ones.”

“You did good on that race. I can’t imagine what you must have been feeling like..”

“It wasn’t easy. But I made it through and that’s all he would have wanted, so I’m happy for that. Some of our friends needed some good news that weekend.”

“I guess.”

In the conversation, he didn’t notice her taking a small step backward, closer to the car. Her hand had slipped from her upper arm to rest behind her, but it was now barely a couple of centimetres away from his car. The small cord around it apparently didn’t meet her path, because she was as far from it as she could physically be. For one second, Charles wished he could do what he wanted with the car.

And then he remembered that he owned the car and that he, therefore, could do absolutely anything with it.

“Hey, you know that being with me gives you the right to cross that little cord, right?” He teased.

If her big round eyes weren’t enough, the small gasp she let out when he threw a glance all around him to make sure the majority of the guests were either out or still uninterested in him, sealed his complete infatuation with her with a pretty big bow. Once he was sure there weren't many people left, he unclasped one side of a rope and presented his hand to her, inviting her to come on the other side, which she did, her hand almost taking his before she retracted it. Charles had never cursed Covid more than at that moment.

“God, she’s a beauty”, She sighed.

“I like that you called her a “she”. She’s a “she” to me too”, He laughed.

“It would have sounded weird if I said “he”, I think. She just looks so fierce, it had to be a “she”, don’t you think?”

“I totally agree”, Charles nodded. “Do you want to do something a bit crazy?”

“If you’re suggesting taking it out of this little tent, I’ll have to deny. I’m not sure I can drive her”, She grinned.

“I didn’t talk about driving her. But you’re welcome to sit in, if you want”, He invited.

Another gasp. Another somersault of his heart in his chest. That delightful sound would be the end of him, for sure.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret”, He whispered. “She’s mine. I can do whatever I want with her.”

Her hands flew to her cheeks, in a futile attempt to not look like a complete fangirl. Charles couldn’t care less that she was one. Actually, no, he cared a lot. It was so endearing, after all he went through that afternoon, that it made his chest warm and fuzzy with a feeling he hadn’t had felt in a very very long time. 

“You’re gonna need to take your heels off, it’s a delicate paint.”

“Of course,” She almost excused herself, bending down to unclasp the little fastenings of her shoes, setting them down and letting her heels touch the floor. 

She lost another eight centimetres and Charles wondered if she could fit in the pocket of his Ferrari dress suit. Then he shook his head slightly and got to work.

“You’re gonna want to put your foot here,” He pointed. “Don’t put too much weight on that part, but support yourself on the halo and you should be good to go.”

Of course, the poor girl struggled in her dress and in an attempt to save her the embarrassment of showing the few people left what colour her underwear was, he delicately put his hands on her sides and slowly lifted her higher so she could climb over the halo. Once her feet were on the seat, she was quick to slide down and sit, which impressed him more than it should have. 

Her eyes couldn’t settle on one part of the car. He could see the internal battles over whether or not she was allowed to touch the wheel. He loved that she was careful and respectful, but still overtly giddy about the experience. 

Charles had never put a girlfriend inside one of his cars, except for his road cars, of course. But the view of that tiny woman, sitting in his F1 speedster, made him adamant that he had been right not to, because if there was a first to be had, he was so extremely glad that she was the one he’d remember forever.

“Liking it?”

“This is a dream”, She confirmed. “You really can’t see much when you’re down there!” “That’s because you’re a bit smaller than I am”, He laughed, because surely there wasn’t much else he could do without sounding like a proper nutcase who was already head over heels. “My vision usually goes up to the beginning of the halo”, He explained, by showing with his hands where his field of vision would end. “How’s the seat?”

“A bit hard. Does your suit have padding or something?”

“It’s a bit padded, indeed”, He conceded, so relieved that she had curiosity behind the look. “Not much, but it helps.”

“The wheel has so many buttons, how do you remember every one of them?”

“I just learn them, to be honest. And sometimes I ask for help with the radio. Want a picture in it?”

“Yes please, I can’t wait to show my dad!” She giggled.

For one second, he almost fished his own phone in his pocket, but then he remembered that he would look like an absolute dumbass if he did so. He waited a second for you to pass your phone by and immediately went to work.

Charles took the time to photograph her in his car, through different angles and different sides. He even got someone to take a few pictures of them both, even if he wouldn’t have it as a souvenir anymore. Selfishly, he hoped that one day she’d see that picture again and remember that he had been nice, and not completely ridiculously attracted to you. Maybe she’d think about him with a fond heart, like he would her. 

It took twenty minutes for her to run out of questions about the car. She asked about the feelings he got from the cockpit, about the focus he had, she asked what was the most expensive part and which one he couldn’t understand why it was there, which made him laugh way more than it should have. She wondered how he could feel at ease so close to the ground, how he could scratch a bothering itch on his back if it happened and how truly hot it got, inside the car. All these questions that made him smile or made him think, that got him to appreciate her curiosity and train of thoughts, that got him to appreciate the fact that she was invested in what he had to say. 

It was so refreshing to be able to discuss mechanics, in the most basic form of it, with someone who already had a tiny bit of knowledge about the sport.

Charles showed some buttons, encouraged her to push them, even though it wouldn’t do anything. He pointed to different parts, earning “oh”s and “ah”s that made his heart soar a little, then he helped her out of the car when they both felt like they had extended their time a bit too much.

He didn’t say anything as she fastened her shoes back on, feeling like he was about to say goodbye to a person he would remember forever, wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t let her slip away. 

“Thank you so much for the opportunity, Charles”, She smiled again. “Never would I have ever imagined something like that happen!”

“I’m glad I could help in realising a dream, then”, He grinned too. “Hey, have you been able to visit Monaco?”

“Not really, not yet”, She grimaced. “But so far, everything I’ve seen looks so beautiful, you really have a nice place.”

He didn’t really have to think much about it. He didn’t want to regret, one day, not having extended that meeting for as long as he could. He didn’t want to sit in his apartment, in a week, in a month, in a year, in a decade, wondering what would have happened with that girl if he had just got his shit together.

“I’m done for today, let me show you around.”

The smile she gave him was enough to reassure him. 

Maybe he wouldn’t have to wonder, later.

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[slow-button-off]

I feel like Charles gets to participate in a lot of private sponsors things or be with really privileged people owning beautiful car and that like him enough to let him drive them. I don’t know if we see everything especially earlier on when he was not as exposed (fda or sauber days). I did not know he owned his sauber f1 car until his vlog for example

I think it’s a mix of popularity and sponsors/rich people wanting to have him - schedule - ferrari obligations - opportunities as i don’t think it’s that easy to get those car runing on those circuits. But i don’t think it is only a favor from ferrari.

I don’t think it’s a reward or a favour. Maybe sometimes but i feel like if a driver wants to do it and gets a security Green light from ferrari they are also happy. It’s good promo for the brand.

Charles does a looottt of Sponsor work in general.

But yeah. I don't think he owns the Sauber I think that is the princes one but I am not too sure. I know he owns the SF90 and that was part of his new contract. I think they are just next to each other.

Like this weekend were ferrari days in Abu Dhabi and its an event where private owners get to have a little race and take their cars for a spin and stuff. Ferrari do that a lot.

But it's part of a bigger event thing and Charles just gets to driver that one car because the owner is his sponsor.

I will never know why Seb didn't do it a lot, could be various reasons.

Like Carlos for example said he wasn't sure if he'd do it. And it can be somewhat dangerous see Charles in Monaco when the brake pad disintegrated.

But yeah it's a promo thing for everyone. And Charles is happy to do promo and network and all of that stuff.

[alexandriaisburning]

013: R: Racing Evolution

CANON FIRE is made possible by the generous contributions of readers like you. Support more writing like this on Patreon. Thank you!

Footnotes are available here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65591943

Spinning off the Ridge Racer series, R: Racing Evolution was one of the many racers of the generation responding to the popularity of Gran Turismo, and the console racing sim scene. The series signature presentation is here--complete with slick menus and bumping electronic beats--but it’s paired with simulation style handling and real, licensed cars and tracks. All of this is delivered through a full story mode bearing the marks of Namco’s Ace Combat series, complete with pre-rendered cutscenes between events, and in-game radio delivering story beats. 

The story presentation alone makes R a novelty within the sim space. It starts with your character, Rena Hayami, being recruited as a professional racer after she responds to an accident at the Motegi circuit, and impresses a manager with her ambulance driving. It then spirals off into a rivalry with Spanish racer Gina Cavalli--the only other woman racing in the male dominated league (1)--and eventually escalates to behind the scenes politics with the shadowy racing organization sponsoring Rena’s team.

The voice acting, staging and expressions will all be familiar to anyone who’s played the Ace Combat team, and naturally leads to the same kind of melodrama. It’s all bolstered by a wild system that essentially gives other drivers a health bar. Each car has a name and meter above it, representing the driver and their mental fortitude (2). Swerving, tailgating and closing in on them will cause it to fill, and when full they’ll begin to audibly panic, and start losing control. They might slow down or swerve, or even spin out completely at the next turn. Lose them, however, and the bar will reset entirely, encouraging you to keep the pressure on even if you can’t pass. 

Your manager will even call over the radio, telling you to “make him feel the heat” or “send him into side wall”(3) as you approach other racers, and you’ll hear the fear in other drivers as they become astonished by the speed of “that damn number 76” as if some demon was gaining on them. (4)

Plenty of arcade racers encourage you to lay on the carnage, but R is probably the only sim racer I’ve seen do the same. It’s so deeply at odds with the principles of sim racing, which encourage clean driving, not only because it’s more authentic, but because people could die during a crash at that speed. Kinda ironic, given Rena’s backstory as an ambulance driver. 

The sim itself is kind of scattershot. R gives you options for a full sim HUD, with bars showing you gas and braking pressure, and when the cars’ assists kick in (5). You can tweak nearly every aspect of your car’s handling--though there’s no options for changing parts or aesthetics. 

R doesn’t seem to care either way if you engage with its sim elements. Despite the detail, none of those tweaks are ever necessary, and the handling is forgiving enough that if you generally drive with an awareness of racing theory (slow down before corners, enter from the outside, exit from the inside) you can get through most races with little issue. The game doesn’t even penalize you for using other cars as a buffer, or driving off track to skip corners. 

I found R difficult when I tried it years ago, but with a little more knowledge of the basics, R turned out to be much more welcoming than other entries in the genre. Co-drivers and pit crew give you basic feedback on your driving, complimenting you when you take a good line or brake well, or giving you suggestions on what to improve when you approach a turn improperly. In fact, this was the first game to make me understand that you want to hit the brakes not only to slow down, but to shift the car’s weight forward and make it easier to direct. Concepts like that are easily understood behind the wheel of a real car, but require a more direct intellectual understanding without the feedback of real forces acting on your body. 

R cares more about variety than consistency as well. The headline discipline is clearly the circuit races, since that’s where story is generally delivered, and where you get direct interaction with other racers, but there’s a major rally racing component as well. It’s the part of the game I found the most engaging, since the courses provide more interesting mixes of terrain and cornering, giving races a varied rhythm. 

Unlike Top Gear Pocket 2’s rally races, R also takes a more traditional approach to rally, with a single racer on the course at a time, and competition largely based on passing points on the track with better times. The time trial focus makes it easy to drill down on improving your technique, and the co-driver shines here, not only giving you the usual rally racing guidance, but motivating feedback that keeps you aware of how you’re faring against the other drivers, even if they’re not on the track. 

There’s a few other novelty events, like drag racing or one that has you racing a souped up Fiat against standard circuit cars, but generally these feel even more out of place, and largely inconsequential. They’re never really given the build up or narrative context to make you understand what’s supposed to be special about them, and you don’t get any new in-race dialogue to emphasize the difference. So they end up as arbitrary changes to the handling model that exist only to give you something different to do. 

R's narrative generally seems to follow that same approach. The strong setup and familiar character dynamics give way to a set of arbitrary scenarios that don't tie together, and don't have any proper narrative weight. At one point you're forced to throw a race, instantly failing if you manage to get anything but second place. Rena never reacts to this betrayal, and while it eventually reveals some dark history with your manager, he never gives a justification or changes his demeanor. It makes the final confrontation where you both defect from your sponsor to form your own team, and eventually face off against them, entirely weightless. The final antagonist doesn't even get a character intro, just showing up in the final race as a name driving for your previous sponsor. 

Namco apparently worked with part of the team that helped them build Ace Combat 3 (6), but none of the detailed scenarios, character motivations, and world building of that title shows up here. The Ace Combat series in general does a lot with a little voice over, but R doesn't match those efforts. Even compared to previous series entries like R4(6), which delivered its storylines with only a single character per route, and pre-race preamble, R's character motivations and emotional beats are muddy and underdeveloped. 

None of this prevented me from enjoying the melodrama that R delivers. The pure novelty in the way it delivers its story carries it through its short playtime, and I genuinely wish the series had additional entries, if only to continue to refine the ideas here. Other racing games have attempted story modes, but few make it the focus in the same way. The in-race chatter in particular gives a more direct interaction with other drivers, and delivers a radio play style form of storytelling that compliments the form. 

With a little more attention to its characters and narrative structure, it could easily be the basis for a sports anime style drama that'd throw off the monotony that can sometimes come with sim racing. Sadly, this is instead a short and interesting one off in racing history. But if racing sims have taught me anything, it's that you can't always get the ideal podium finish. Sometimes you've got to be happy with "good enough". 

R: Racing Evolved is available on Gamecube, Xbox and PS2.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #182

Today marks the end of the Dead Heat Summer Race builds as we finish up with today’s sponsor, Ishtar (Rider)! “Ishtar is best girl, and you should give all your grails and QP to her!” Now that the ad copy’s out of the way, let’s get to her build. For this build we’re re-flavoring an old UA to create the Traveler Sorcerer (original names for everything can be found in the character sheet.) We also dip into Monk for a level because the 20th level of sorcerer is bad.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: BB 2: Electric Boogaloo

Race and Background

Ishtar’s still a Protector Aasimar and she’s also still a Goddess Alliance Anarch, which means she starts out with +1 Wisdom and +2 Charisma, Darkvision, Celestial Resistance to necrotic and radiant damage, Healing Hands to slap healing into people as an action, and the Light cantrip to help out racers with dumb human eyes.

She also gets Animal Handling and Religion proficiency from her background, as well as extra spells. We’ll get into detail about that last bit as it comes up though.

Ability Scores

Not a whole lot has changed since last time; make sure your Charisma is as high as possible for good spells and good Tricking People into a Race, then make Dexterity number two to stay on your scooter as you warp between continents. Your Wisdom should also be pretty good if you want to keep an eye on anyone trying to cheat by entering a rocket into a- hold on a second.

Where were we? Oh right, after that is Constitution. Gods don’t die. Your Strength is a bit low, but we’ll make up for that with technique and speed, so dump Intelligence. Once a Useless Goddess, always a Useless Goddess.

Class Levels

Sorcerer 1: First level sorcerers get proficiency with Constitution and Charisma saving throws, as well as two sorcerer skills. Grab Deception and Persuasion so we can get this show on the road. As a sorcerer, your Spells (which you can cast using your charisma) come from a special source, which in your case is the magic of Travel. You picked a pretty bad time for it, but I’m pretty sure gods can’t get sick? Humans can though. Stay home if you’re a human. At first level, you have a Soul of the Race, giving you a swim speed equal to your walking speed, and you can breathe underwater. DHSR is probably the least water-based summer event so far, but you get a bonus in all the other ones too, so it’ll pay off if you’re patient. You can also invoke the Curse of the Race after hitting a creature with a cantrip, lasting until the end of your next turn or until you curse another creature. Once per turn, you can trigger the curse by hitting the creature with a spell that has one of three requirements. If it deals cold damage, their speed is reduced by 15′ for a turn, or by the amount the spell already slows them by, whichever is greater. (You say you don’t play favorites, but that’s a lie.) If it deals lightning damage, it deals extra damage equal to your charisma modifier. If it forces movement, add 15 feet to the distance moved. Perfect for when you have to ground a rocket. You get a lot of spells this level, like Sword Burst for a good melee option while we wait to multiclass, True Strike so your punches can be slightly less bad, Friends to help coerce people into the race, and Prestidigitation to make yourself some free gems. For leveled spells, grab Chaos Bolt and Chromatic Orb for ways to trigger your curse with plausable deniability. Chromatic Orb even uses a diamond to cast, flavor win! You also get plenty of spells from your background for some more... “explosive” results. You get the cantrips Fire Bolt and Produce Flame, and the spells Compelled Duel, Speak with Animals, and Thunderwave.

Sorcerer 2: Compared to level 1, this level’s got a lot less going on. You become a Font of Magic to get your sorcerer level in sorcery points each long rest, which are mostly going to be useful at third level, and you can cast Distort Value to make your gems even more beautiful just by being around you.

Monk 1: Yeah, let’s just slide this in right now, why not? First level monks get Unarmored Defense to make your AC 10 + your dexterity modifier + your wisdom modifier. It’s not quite as good as mage armor, but it’s free. You also get Martial Arts, meaning your unarmed attacks use dexterity instead of strength, deal 1d4 damage, and you can attack as a bonus action if you attack as an action. Honestly you could’ve just used a knife before, but this is more flavorful. You also get to unleash your Radiant Soul as an action. You transform into a fancy shiny version, granting you flight and extra radiant damage once per turn.

Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers can spend their sorcery points on Metamagic to mix up your magic in a meta way. Extended Spell doubles the length of a spell’s duration, (very useful later) and Twinned Spell lets you take any spell that hits one target and make it hit two instead. You’re going to make a scooter fly eventually, it might be worth it to make sure you fly too. Fewer broken bones that way. For your first second level spell, grab Alter Self as one last preparation to trick people into racing by transforming into those close to them. You can’t change your general body type though, so you can’t turn into Charon to get Achilles to help out. Alternatively, you can use this to make natural weapons that deal 1d6 magical damage, and get a +1 bonus to your attacks and damage. Even sorcerers can do monk stuff faster than monks. You also get more background spells, like Beast Sense and Shatter. If you need to knock a rocket back to earth in the first place, it deserves to get wrecked.

Sorcerer 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma for stronger spells. You also learn Dancing Lights to put on a show at the opening ceremonies, and you can cast Find Vehicle from the Modern Magic UA to summon your scooter. Technically it can be any nonmilitary land vehicle, but no matter what it is it comes with some perks. You’re automatically proficient with its handling, and double your proficiency when making ability checks about driving it. Also, spells you cast on yourself can also effect the vehicle, so I guess that twinned spell doesn’t help here. At least it gives you more damage.

Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers have Magical Guidance, making them just a bit better at everything than normal people. By spending sorcery points, you can re-roll a failed skill check, hopefully doing better. You also learn how to cast Haste to speed up your scooter to the maximum. You also learn Conjure Animals and Conjure Barrage from your background. The latter doesn’t really see play, but the former will make it a lot easier to recreate your final ascension art.

Sorcerer 6: A sixth level Traveler can use their Accel Turn to avoid damage as a reaction. When you get hit by anything dealing bludgeoning, piercing, or slashing damage, you can reduce it by your sorcerer level plus your charisma score (not your modifier, your entire score) and move 30′ away without provoking attacks. You can use this once per short rest. You can also cast Fly now. I don’t think you ever actually touch the ground, do you? (You get resistance to fire damage too. Suck it, Icarus!)

Sorcerer 7: Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells, like Dimension Door. It’s not a fantastical trip through the world’s greatest capitals, but all teleportation has to start somewhere. And for you, that somewhere is 500′ away.

Sorcerer 8: Use your next ASI to become a Magic Initiate to steal a couple spells from the Wizard spell list. Grab the cantrips Gust and Minor Illusion for an easy way to trigger your curse and so you can make cool holograms to go with your communications (coming later). You can also cast Find Familiar once per long rest to make a little doll you that can help out the racers. You can also cast Charm Monster now. It won’t be enough to convince Lobo to change sides, but it’ll make it much easier to find judges for the other legs of the race.

Sorcerer 9: If your DM’s a stickler against UA, you can use your fifth level spell slots to cast Animate Objects instead to bring a chair to life or something. You also learn Destructive Wave. Probably shouldn’t use that one while riding.

Sorcerer 10: Grab the new Metamagic option Seeking Spell for more accurate spells, re-rolling a failed spell attack. Your curse is based entirely on being able to hit people with your spells, so it’d be nice if you could do that. You also learn how to use Message to keep up communications with the racers even if they’re, say, stuck in prison somewhere, and you can use Far Step to teleport you and your scooter around in short bursts, using your bonus action each turn.

Sorcerer 11: Use your fancy new sixth level spell slots to create an Arcane Gate, creating portals between a point within 10′ of you and a point within 500′ of you. You can also spin them around as a bonus action, so feel free to get Looney Tunes with it.

Sorcerer 12: Use this ASI to max out your Charisma for stronger spells, then use that last remaining point to bump up your Dexterity. That doesn’t really help yet, but trust me on this one.

Sorcerer 13: Good news; you can finally Teleport now. The bad news is it’s a seventh level spell. Also, it has a slight chance to mess up, and if you’re traveling across the globe “messing up” by even one percent means you’re several hundred miles off course.

Sorcerer 14: At fourteenth level you finally get another Travel Souvenir, the ability to open a Maana Gate without using spells, making it easier to move around a battle field. When you move on your turn, you take half damage from opportunity attacks, and can move through enemy spaces (as long as you don’t end your turn there.) You can also pass through solid objects, as long as there’s at least a 3 inch diameter space to move through. (again, you can’t end your turn there.)

Sorcerer 15: Fifteenth level sorcerers get eighth level spells, and I highly suggest you go with Sunburst. Being able to teleport all over the place is fun, but if you’re trying to replicate Ishtar’s NP you actually need a payoff at the end, and that’s this spell. Deal tons of radiant damage with all those shiny stars, and blind creatures that fail their constitution save.

Sorcerer 16: Use this ASI to become more Resilient when it comes to dexterity saves. You gain proficiency in them, and you also get +1 dexterity for your troubles. That bumps you up to an even number again, so your AC improves, as do your unarmed strikes.

Sorcerer 17: Seventeenth level sorcerers get their final level 9 spell, and yours is Gate. This lets you create a portal to a precise location for up to a minute, with no chance of mucking up unless a nearby deity isn’t a fan. The downside is this specifically only works on extraplanar trips, but I’m sure you can find enough sightseeing locations to make that work. To make travel even faster, you get your final Metamagic option, Quickened Spell. Cast action spells as a bonus action now, yay.

Sorcerer 18: At eighteenth level you receive your final souvenir, a Traveler’s Soul. Now you don’t need to eat, drink, or sleep, you can ignore critical hits against you, as they only count as normal hits, and you have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. People seem to focus on the “useless” part of your title way more than the “goddess” part. Show them why they shouldn’t do that.

Sorcerer 19: Use your last ASI for the Tough feat to grab 40 more HP. Goddess or not, nobody wants to get Power Word Killed.

Pros:

Your various defensive features make you surprisingly tanky for a spellcaster, with plenty of ways to negate common damage types and stay out of trouble.

Speaking of, thanks to your flying moped and teleporting you can be extremely mobile when you want to be, making it a real pain to keep you pinned down long enough to fight you.

You come packed with plenty of social spells giving you plenty of options to get away with stuff you shouldn’t. Break into secure areas, impersonate people, and charm foes.

Cons:

Your subclass’ features mostly focus on lightning and cold damage. Your damage dealing spells mostly come from your background, which focuses on fire and thunder. This means you can’t use your early subclass features to their fullest potential, which can make early fights difficult if you’re playing to character. That’s why I recommend you start off with Chaos Bolt and Chromatic Orb- they can be used practically at the start, then Ishtar-ly later on.

The curse of the sea is finicky, and it’s the only offensively minded feature you really get. It restricts your damage types, and it comes into play only every third turn unless you’re using nothing but cantrips. You can definitely feel this is a UA class.

You only have about 140 HP, and very little way to deal with magic damage. All of your defenses only worry about damage types associated with physical attacks, so most spells can still chew through you if you’re not careful.

[fansplaining]

A Note from Fansplaining

If you’re subscribed to Fansplaining on iTunes or another podcatcher, you’ve probably seen that we put out a short statement this week in lieu of a new episode. Because we’re committed to making all audio we release fully accessible, we’ll transcribe the clip at the bottom of this post, below the cut. But fwiw, it’s mostly just explaining what’s in this post:  

Black lives matter. We condemn white supremacy in all its forms. We believe the police should be defunded and dismantled. And we want to make sure everyone who listens to our podcast knows about ways they can contribute to this fight, and ways they can support the Black community (please note that these are U.S.-centric). We’ll be back with a new episode soon, but this is more important than anything we could say right now.

Places to donate

If you’re out of work or have lost hours in the past few months, you may not have money to spare. But even small donations—$5, $10—add up. A few organizations we recommend: 

House of GG, a Black-led organization, is fundraising to build a permanent home in Little Rock, Arkansas where trans and gender-nonconforming people can both be housed and receive leadership training.

G.L.I.T.S. is fundraising to buy two buildings to create a permanent place to house and support Black trans people in New York City, as well as sign leases for space to use in the interim.

Sista Afya, a Chicago-based organization, is fundraising to keep its therapeutic services, social events, and wellness experiences under $15 and to hold large scale events like a free arts festival.

For a larger crowdsourced list, see suggestions here.

Ways to get involved if you can’t physically or monetarily participate

If, like us, you live in New York City, here’s a great resource for actionable things you can do from home. Here’s a national list, though for more granular detail for your town/city/region, you should search social media. Some great google doc action happening right now!! 

As a reminder, when contacting elected officials: 

Always write your own email, rather than use a form. People who work or have worked in these offices strongly advise this, and report that form emails are regularly filtered out, often directly into the trash. 

Always write a postcard rather than a letter. Letters are scanned for things like anthrax and can get held up for days; postcards go straight through.

Ensure you know the official’s position on whatever you’re asking about before you call or write. If they’re already supporting or sponsoring a specific piece of legislation, call them anyway and thank them. They use constituent numbers to show that their positions have a lot of public support. 

Particularly for white and non-BIPOC: reach out to your family members, as much as you feel safe doing so, and speak with them about Black Lives Matter and the issues of the day. If you have language barriers with your family members, or just need a place to start, Letters For Black Lives is a great resource that includes material in many languages.

Stream this video—all ad revenue will go to bail funds, families of victims of racist police brutality, and other Black-led organizations.

Resources on anti-Blackness and racism in fandom

Because we are a fandom podcast, we encourage white fans in particular to continue to listen to Black fans and other fans of color when it comes to racism in fandom. If you’re new to the podcast or haven’t dug into the full back catalogue, we recommend prioritizing: 

Our pair of episodes on race and racism in fandom—especially anti-Blackness in fandom—featured eight different guests. Episodes 22A and B: “Race and Fandom Part 1” and “Race and Fandom Part 2.”

Ebony Elizabeth Thomas was one of our earliest and one of our most recent repeat guests. You can listen to her talk about race, children’s literature, and fandom in episode 7, “The Dark Fantastic” and episode 120, “Ebony Elizabeth Thomas.” Once you’ve listened to these episodes, buy or request that your library purchase a copy of her book, The Dark Fantastic.

Tanya DePass is the founder of I Need Diverse Games. In episode 42, “Fresh Out of Tokens,” she discussed fan/creator interaction and intersectionality in the context of games specifically. 

Rukmini Pande is a well-known scholar of race and fandom. She first joined us in episode 29, “Shipping and Activism,” to talk about the ways that ships intersect with politics; then, she returned in episode 89, “Rukmini Pande,” and discussed her academic work. Once you’ve listened to these episodes, buy or request that your library purchase a copy of her book, Squee From the Margins.

In episode 48, “Con or Bust,” we interviewed Diana Pho and Mark Oshiro, two board members of Con or Bust, an organization that raises money to help fans of color attend conventions.

For further reading, Fan Studies Network North America has put together a great list of resources.

Transcript

[Intro music: “Awel” by stefsax]

Flourish Klink: Hi, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth Minkel: Hi, Flourish.

FK: Welcome to not an episode of Fansplaining. Um, we almost completely canceled recording at all, but we decided that we wanted to record a short thing, because we know some people only receive us through their podcatcher or whatever and don’t ever go to our website or our social media. So it felt important that we actually record something short today.

ELM: All right. So, just off the bat, at the risk of sounding like a terrible brand black .jpg with white letters, I think it should be obvious to everybody right now but it’s always worth restating—Black Lives Matter. We strongly support everything that is happening right now. We both strongly believe that the police should be…what word are we gonna use? Dismantled?

FK: Yes.

ELM: Dismantled. Like, we, like, you know—and like, strongly condemn white supremacy, which is the foundation of our country and much of the world.

FK: Right. So… 

ELM: Very broad statement here, but like, you know, it’s definitely worth stating in explicit terms and not couching it around, you know, just to outright state support for Black people and the fight that is going on right now.

FK: Completely. And we really struggled with whether or not to record an episode because, on the one hand, there’s a lot of topics that we think would be really good to talk about that are within the purview of this podcast—stuff like the way people are using social media to organize, stuff like the entire conversation around K-pop fandom and the way that’s been going down. There’s like five things.

ELM: Spoiler, spoiler: It’s been going down poorly.

FK: Yeah.

ELM: Wait, side note: just anyone, please please please, cause I know a lot of people listen to this podcast and are in fandom but are not in K-pop fandom, if an article that you’re sharing about K-pop fans mobilizing doesn’t acknowledge the, like, rampant anti-Blackness happening within those spaces right now, they haven’t done enough research.

FK: Correct. And also, it’s both that and also if you see the narrative that K-pop fans are only bots, that’s also the other flip bad side of the coin.

ELM: Well, we should—now we’re gettin’ right into it. We’re not actually doing an episode. We’re not actually doing an episode. Yes.

FK: We’re actually gonna talk about this at some point in the future. Right now it feels like, you know, just being two white women talking about this stuff feels like not the thing to do right now? And we also don’t want to right now ask Black people to come on to our podcast and talk about things in a deeply traumatic and horrible moment. So we’re going to put a pin in the podcast and we’re gonna come back with all of those topics and a bunch of guests and basically begin to address this stuff, hopefully in a moment that’s less fraught. Is it ever gonna get less fraught? I don’t know if it’s gonna get less fraught.

ELM: That being said, let’s play it by ear! Because I could not tell you what’s gonna happen two weeks from now, but like… 

FK: [sighs] Yeah, I really don’t know either.

ELM: Just, we’ll see. So in the meantime, we are going to put a post on Tumblr so it’ll be shareable, and we are going to include resources—places to donate, in particular places that aren’t getting as much attention. More grassroots stuff that we’re seeking out right now. And also ways to be active and involved for people who don’t have the money or physical ability to be protesting right now, because I am very aware of the narrative of “You should be in the streets! And if not then you should donate!” And it’s like, well, what happens if you are unemployed and also physically unable to get out there? There are so many ways that you can really be, actively lend your support right now. 

So we’ll put those in there, and then also, we shared on Twitter a thread of great resources about anti-Blackness and racism in fandom, and since this is a fandom podcast we’ll be sharing some of those in that post as well, because it’s all connected.

FK: Absolutely. All right, everyone out there, stay safe, stay strong, if you’re in the streets stay in the streets, and we’ll be back when we can.

ELM: OK, bye Flourish!

FK: Bye, Elizabeth.

[Outro music: “Awel” by stefsax]

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 17

AO3 :: Previously

“You must stay close, Fraser.” John Grey’s tone is stern, clipped and anxious.

“I didna intend to let her out of my sight.” Jamie breaks away from the phone for a moment to shove his head through a shirt neckline, and checks his mobile for the hundredth time.

It has been a tense two weeks, while the SCD gets their paperwork and warrants in order. There cannot be any mistakes, or the MacKenzies and their company will get away scot-free, no pun intended. Jamie had returned to the office with little fanfare, but was well aware that he was being watched again. His decision to send Claire away had been a good one.

There had been certain buzz about the upcoming event, but Jamie hadn’t received an invitation himself—for obvious reasons, he thought. He had appraised Murtagh of the fundraiser so he could contact Grey, but no one knew anything; purposefully orchestrated, but no specific details beyond that. Wheedling Louise to add his name to the list to no avail, he’d had to come up with an alternative plan to be close to Claire and protect her as he’d promised.

Grey prattles on in Jamie’s ear, and he looks at the screen once more. No new messages from Claire; the last had been an hour ago, a racy selfie of Claire in her barely-there underwear as she dressed for the fundraiser. Suddenly, a certain word brings him crashing back to Earth.

“What? Ye can’t!”

“Of course I can’t, Fraser,” Grey says irritably. “I only said I wished I could arm you. But you’re a civilian, so that’s a no-go. I’ll have a detail there to help out.”

“I wouldna ken what to do with a gun even if ye did.” Jamie swallows hard, fear in his throat. “Ye dinna think it will come to that?”

“I’m hoping it won’t be. Keep your eyes open and stay alert, Fraser. If you see anything untoward, anything suspicious, call Murtagh.” It would be a very public takedown, and Jamie is equally excited and apprehensive. The videos SCD had discovered apparently show Bonnet’s face clearly, exculpating Jamie from Alexander McGregor’s death.

With a final warning to be careful, Grey ends the call. Almost immediately after, Jamie’s phone beeps with a new text. It’s Claire, in a beautiful yellow gown, blowing a kiss to the camera. Jamie’s confidence is renewed and his spirits lift, to see his Sassenach so beautiful, so brave, so irrevocably his.

X-x-X

The venue is sumptuously decorated, as befits Glasgow’s Gallery of Modern Art. Claire grips her coat as she hands her invitation to the guard at the door and is admitted. Geillis walks beside her, already looking for the servers with drink trays.

“Here ye go, get ye properly soused.” G hands her a flute of champagne. Claire sips slowly, looking around for a tall head of red hair. It’s not noticeable, and she doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that her Viking Scot is well-concealed; she desperately wishes Jamie could be at her side. Claire watches as her co-workers mingle and laugh, eating and drinking. She chats with a few of her colleagues, and while talking to Joe Abernathy, she spots a bright mop of curls skulking behind a set of cubicles acting as the servers’ station. Excusing herself to the loos, she sidles close to the station and faces the room, grabbing another glass flute as she senses Jamie at her back.

“Mo nighean donn, ye look beautiful,” he breathes on her neck, leaning in as close as he dares. He has spent his time hiding out behind the flimsy cubicle walls. Blending in with the servers, he’d made his way through the back-entrance gangway, pretending to be working with them tonight. No one had batted an eye or asked him anything. Donning a white jacket a bit too tight across the shoulders and at least three inches too small at the wrists, he pretended to sort through the champagne glasses and handed full trays out for servers to parade around the museum.

A sudden commotion near the entrance has her craning her neck to see Colum MacKenzie arrive maneuvering in an electric wheelchair, followed closely by Dougal. Claire sees Tom Christie, the hospital director, rush over to greet and flatter them. She can feel Jamie tense behind her.

“Claire, the MacKenzie…”

“I see them, Jamie. Don’t worry.” His hand slips into hers for a moment, warm and strong. She doesn’t dare turn to look at him. His mere presence at her back bolsters her courage, as she downs the rest of the champagne and prepares to walk back into the fray, with Jamie’s parting words in her ears and heart:

Ye need not be scairt, so long as I’m wi’ ye.

They resonate in her mind, steadying her. Claire finds Geillis and they nurse another glass of champagne. Geillis senses her nerves and Claire steers her far away from the gaggle of chiefs and important hospital administrators fawning over the fundraiser sponsors.

“Hey, there you are, ladies!” Joe saunters up to them, clinking glasses together. “What do you think of all this? Pretty swanky, huh?”

“Only the best for Queen Elizabeth’s,” Claire smiles, smoothing a hand down her dress. Her heels are starting to pinch her feet, and she fidgets, wishing she could be in her pajamas cuddled up to her big red Scot. She folds her coat and lays it on the table along with her gold clutch; no chairs have been provided, apparently to force people to stand around and mingle.

“Gowan wanted to see you, Geillis. He wants the donors from Nexus—you know, the hospital beds—to meet you. Can I steal her away from you a bit, Beauchamp?” Joe smiles easily and guides G with a hand at the small of her back. She looks back helplessly at Claire as she’s swallowed up by the crowd.

Claire is trying to find a glimpse of Jamie again at the servers’ station when she feels a strong, callused hand grasp her arm at the elbow. She tenses, fear skittering up her spine—this hand is unfamiliar, rough, and definitely not Jamie’s. She whirls to find Dougal’s grizzled face leering at her, teeth bared into a grin that resembles a snarl.

“Miss Beauchamp—we meet at last.”

Claire tries to wrench free, but that only makes Dougal tighten his grip. She wants to scream, but her throat is dry and she finds they are surrounded by two burly men who block the rest of the attendees from seeing what is going on.

“Let me go.” Her voice aims for strength but there is a tremor of fear.

“I dinna think so, sassenach.” The word takes on its intended meaning, an insult, a slur of sorts. Dougal begins walking her away from the table. “Jamie will heed us, one way or another.”

“Jamie is a good man,” Claire hisses, “not that you know anything about that.” She tries to cast about for Jamie, but they’re heading in the opposite direction from the servers’ station; Dougal yanks her arm again to make her keep up, causing her to stumble. Too late, she realizes she left her clutch—and her mobile—on the table.

“He overplayed his hand. Do ye think we dinna ken about his relationship wi’ ye, what he’s been tryin’ to do these past few months? He broke faith wi’ us, and his wife. Our contract, we willna honor it either.”

“Honor? What do you know about the word?” Claire spits out with as much venom as she can muster

“Honor or no, I ken I always win, lass.” With that, Dougal releases her, but Claire feels another hand descend, this time on her shoulder, gripping, and a small but insistent push at her back. She’s never felt anything like it, but immediately realizes what it is: a gun. Quietly, she is steered away from the crowd, into the exhibits. After hours, there is only emergency lighting barely bright enough to see.

The last thing she hears from Dougal before being swallowed up by the dark is, “I’ll wait in the car.”

X-x-X

Jamie can’t find Claire. He’d spotted her bright gold purse laying on the table where he last saw Claire, and he rips it open; her mobile is in it, and his wame sinks. He has no way of contacting her now, and he fears the worst.

He spots Geillis flirting with an older man, tipping her head back and shaking out her long red hair.

He hurries to her and with a curt, “Excuse us,” takes Geillis’s arm and leads her off to a corner away from the noise.

“What is it, Jamie?”

“Have ye seen Claire? I left for a minute to go to the loo and now she’s gone.”

“I saw her the last time ye did. Do ye think she might have left?”

Jamie’s heart pounds double-time. “Not on her own. I specifically told her not to, not tonight.” He holds up the purse. “She wouldna have left this behind.”

Geillis pales. “I can head home, see if she’s there anyway, or wait for her.”

“Yes, please, do that.” Jamie pulls out his phone, and dials Murtagh. “Uncle?”

“Lad, ye ken ‘tis not safe for ye to—”

“Claire’s gone. They’ve taken Claire.” He knows this with a certainty that shocks him. A series of expletives on the other end before he continues. “Call Grey, tell him to move in now.  We canna afford to wait.” Jamie ends the call; he’s on the move now, headed towards the main entrance so he can call a car.

Briefly, he glimpses a broad muscular man in the distance. There is a large black sedan blocking one of the nearby side streets. There is a sense of déjà-vu when he hears a muffled yell, and then he’s racing towards the sound, racing towards his life.