#grand american adventures

[thomaswaynewolf]

[kittyrinn-aiko]

This video was posted posthumously on YouTube.

You tube had taken it down, probably because someone thought what he was doing looked dangerous. His wife recently put it back up. Andrew, aka the Desert Drifter would go out on adventures in the Badlands, the Grand Canyon, and other awe espiering locations in the Southwest of the United States, film the locations and share on YouTube.

On the 31st of January Andrew was rear-ended while sitting at a stop light. He was hit so hard that his vehicle was propelled through the intersection and into a building. He was rushed to the hospital, his injuries so traumatic that he had to be put on life support. I don't have the exact date, but to make a long story short, due to a traumatic brain injury it was decided to take Andrew off life support.

I want to invite everyone to go watch his videos, subscribe to his channel, and if you can, support his Patreon.

Oh and, don't read the comments unless you want to cry. The amount of love and positivity is unlike anything I've ever seen on the Internet.

As for what he found in this video, it might very well be a major find, but I suspect only Andrew knew where it is.

[davideragland]

What a poser! From a Grand Canyon trip in early 2017

[bromcommie]

on that note I'm mostly serious about the shit russian. like sure it's all technically correct, clean grammar to the point of being mechanical and sounding like somebody stuffed a dictionary into his head (they did), you could understand it if you're a native and he can get around with it if need be, meaning he doesn't stick out as an american necessarily, but. he's not really anything else either. and it just does not sound right. like at all.

none of the gang really get this, naturally, except for natasha (who finds it hilarious). steve & bucky become regulars at the ocean view cafe or something and for months bucky's ordering for the both of them and chatting it up with the waiters while steve looks at him all delighted and enamored and blissfully unaware as he stuffs himself full of stroganoff. meanwhile the local old man soviet regulars gang have an intense debate and pool going on whether bucky could ever possibly be a second gen immigrant with that accent and if he is Where in the Everloving Fuck From. and Why Don't They Know His Family. inevitably one of them ends up losing his patience and just comes up to him with "pretty boy!! Moldova? Romania?"

and bucky's just like "?????? no????"

("I fucking told you he was just an NYU Slavic Studies hipster, Yaroslav. you owe me lunch")

by far my favourite niche ridiculous headcanon for post-ca: tws is the one where in order to get around bucky being prosecuted for his crimes as the winter soldier natasha or fury or whoever just get him a new identity as a random russian immigrant with the most stereotypical name possible like. everett ross rolls up asking for his head on a plate and natasha’s all “sorry what? no you’re mistaken bucky barnes was killed in action in ‘45 lol this is my ex-ballet teacher, Boris Bulgakov. he doesn’t speak any english” and it’s just bucky standing there in a bad fake mustache and an ushanka staring directly into the camera like he’s on the office. his russian’s shit and he speaks with a godawful new york accent and natasha’s just like “yeah no he’s from brighton beach actually”

[hikercarl]

Top Desert Hiking Destinations in the U.S.

Discover the best spots for desert hiking in the US. We've got your guide to breathtaking landscapes, unique wildlife, and unforgettable adventures in America's arid regions.

America’s desert areas are full of beauty, perfect for outdoor adventures. You can see canyons, red rock formations, sand dunes, and hidden valleys. These places offer a unique experience. The heat of summer can be tough, but fall, winter, and early spring are better. These seasons have milder weather, making it easier to explore the desert. Key Takeaways America’s desert regions offer a…

[ink-the-artist]

Love the contrast between the Americans’ “Apollo” and the Soviets’ “Sputnik.” You got the Americans naming their rocket after a Greek god trying to communicate the grandness and importance of this rocket. And you got the Soviets naming their rocket “fellow traveler.” Like a friend you go on an  adventure with together. This rocket is our little friend lol 

[spiritsofprogress]

I have the huge 50th anniversary book from my last trip and I’ve been reading it (instead of just looking at the pictures, sorry 25th anniversary book). And the first half of the book is definitely stronger and speaks my thoughts of disneys nostalgia factor better than I could

It gives nostalgia for a time most people in the modern day never lived for. This great sense of hope, optimism and comfort. I like the phrase “the past as it never was/ should have been” as it’s true! It’s very romanticized but in a good way. The optimism and good will that these aspects of the park being is astounding. Love each other, love today, love tomorrow.

Also this plays into my carousel of progress propaganda but still. I love the personalized, individual level history- the personal history! Not from a bigger story but the soft and sweet memories of home , friends, family. They really captured it.

[see-arcane]

It was 1838 when the Great Death came to Wisborg, Germany. The last of its victims went willingly, bartering her body and blood to destroy a monster and protect her beloved.

Said beloved dies the same morning, though his body lives a while longer. Every day of breath and food is a loss. But he cannot end himself. Not after all she gave to ensure his safety. So the dead man sits in his living skin and follows the rules of maintaining it. Days to weeks to months to years.

There are very few of the latter, as it happens. The doctor will pen something down about a weak heart. Perhaps a belated demise caused by braving so much ailment in that cursed year. In truth, he knows the heart was not weak, but broken. Grief is a poison and it took the young man away before he ever reached his third decade.

Time passes.

In England, a boy and a girl fall in love. There is a connection that is both immediate and startling in its joy—as if they had known each other before and lost sight of the other in a crowd.

She is a cunning and insightful soul, brimming with a vision that she knows instinctively to dub mere ‘intuition.’ Somehow there is an older wisdom in her young head than there ought to be; she knows it is vital to be proper. To be upstanding. To not let the world catch wind of her being anything too outré. Little wonder she goes on to teach in etiquette classes.

He is a fellow apparently born to the flotsam and footwork of property law. For reasons he can’t name, he comes near to tears at how benevolent his employer is. Has been since he was a boy, all but the young man’s second father. A man the youth can trust and wishes to impress just as much as he wishes to build a future for his fiancée. He would do anything for them.

For her.

Anything.

And so, when work calls him up out to the Carpathians, he stifles a sudden inexplicable spike of dread. As does she. It is only nerves. Only worry over such a long distance to travel. He will write, of course. It will be a grand adventure. And it will help them, won’t it? Of course. Of course.

He has such queer dreams en route to the castle.

Is it his voice he hears screaming in them? Is it his love’s?

(Turn back turn back the Scholomance had many students and though they died they still walk TURN BACK—)

He arrives at the castle. The Count is there to meet him.

Hell begins.

It stretches for months. It bleeds from one season into the next. Briefly, so briefly, it seems there is an exit before them in the shape of friends and knowledge—the Devil can be beaten!—but he wants to send his love away, out of the monster’s reach…

Too late.

(Again. Forever too late.)

Blood on her lips and welling from her throat. Her scream is of the damned. God Himself burns her; marked for all time—

(All lives.)

—as out of Heaven’s reach.  

“Unclean! Unclean!”

(No. No!)

He witnesses the gallant oaths their friends make. Of course, of course they will slay her in mercy. It as God wills. As the Devil wills. As she, his love, his martyr Maiden to Death’s callous aim, wills. How lovely that they are all in agreement.

(Again.)

No.

No. It is as simple as that. No. No. No. He does not allow it. Does not accept it. He will sell himself if need be.

But not before he collects the Count’s head.

And look—look—look—

(LOOK!)

—a miracle: he does it. He and the American feed their steel into the monster and the monster crumbles just as the sun dips low. The American collapses, death pooling in him as—

(LOOK LOOK LOOK)

—the young woman, purged of the Count’s venom, comes to their side, whole and alive and weeping at the sacrifice. When the couple’s child comes, he will wear the names of all who aided them, but always with the American’s name at the top. The boy is very young and so may still lay between his parents, sleeping in the nest of their arms. In the warm quiet, the young man and the young woman stare into each other. Their lips smile and their eyes run.

“I feel as if this was where we were supposed to be.”

She doesn’t ask what he means.

Instead, “Where we left off.”

He nods and brings his brow to hers. In their arms, their child hums and clings in his sleep. They spare a hand each to rake his hair. The others weave tight, anchoring.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

It is the truth. As it ever was, as it ever is, as it ever shall be.

[coolemmasulivan2]

It's Always You

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: You and Lando share a mutual attraction, but you've kept things professional due to career implications. However, after his first win race, things may change, blurring the lines between friendship and something more.

Word count: 6013

Author's note: First time writing about Lando. I started writing this on the day of the Miami Sprint and then when he won the next day I told myself I would publish it. Tell me what you think.

It's you, it's always you Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you So please don't break my heart, don't tear me apart

Miami heat wrapped around you like a steamy August day and even if American tracks weren't your thing, the paddock was definitely one of your favourites.

Working with McLaren since 2019 felt like winning the lottery. Travel, new faces, and a taste of different cultures – it was everything you dreamed of. Hospitality put you in the middle of it all – the team, the fans, even the families. Being young, you clicked quickly with the drivers: Carlos and Lando from the start, and Oscar when he joined.

Carlos was your rock, a protective older brother even after his move to Ferrari. Daniel was a blast, always making you laugh with his great sense of humor, and Oscar's calm personality mirrored yours. He became your trackside best friend, sharing everything over coffee and off-track adventures with his girlfriend, Lily.

Then there was Lando. Your relationship with Lando was different. Unlike Carlos, you saw him not as a brother, but as a friend... friends that had feelings for each other.

He was shy at first, stealing glances when you weren't looking. But time made his shyness disappear. Flirting became his game, playful touches here and there and unexpected hugs wherever he felt like it. You ignored the signs until his confession left you speechless in the middle of the night in Monaco.

"I have something I need to tell you." He said.

It was 2020. Monaco was hot that night. Everyone at the team dinner was buzzing about the upcoming classic Monaco Grand Prix. Like always, after the dinner, Lando offered to walk you back to the hotel where the team was staying – nothing new. You even joked about Carlos doing the same thing.

Like all the other times, you didn't think much about the gesture. It was something he used to do, and in your head, it was just a friend helping the other. After all, Carlos did it from time to time. Why should it be any different with Lando?

"What's up?" You asked, the streetlights shining on his face. "Getting nervous about the race? The car feels amazing, right?"

Lando messed with his hair. Your voice, normally like music to him, made him forget what to say. "Uh, no, not the race."

"Then what is it? Now I'm the one freaking out." You tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. "Did you lose your house key again? You're not staying with me."

He wished you'd just be quiet. "Fuck, Y/N!" He blurted out. "I like you." The words came out fast, just like his orange F1 car. Did you hear him right? When he saw the surprise on your face, he knew you had. "I, uh, I mean more than a friend." He stammered. "Like, a lot. You're always in my head, even in my dreams. All the fucking time. I can't even look at other girls because you're all I see. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it in any longer."

You suddenly froze, your heart pounding like a drum solo. Time seemed to slow down, with only the two of you and the warm glow of the streetlights as the real things around. You wanted to speak, but the words simply wouldn't come out.

"Please say something!" Lando begged, his voice shaky. "Anything! Even if you don't like me back, just tell me. But don't let this mess up our friendship!"

It didn't destroy your friendship, but it sent your world spinning. You realized your little crush on the driver was a full-blown fire, and with each passing year, the flames only licked higher. But every time Lando flirted, the same words you had said to him tumbled out: "It's inappropriate."

He hated those words. He'd always argue with you about it. "Come on, I like you and I know you like me too. I know it! Who cares about work? We can keep it quiet. It can be our secret." He always had a solution for every worry, but you remained strong.

You wanted to believe that you could remain strong.

The problem was, your feelings were turning into a rebellion. Keeping them bottled up was a losing battle, and you weren't sure how much longer you could resist the pressure from the driver.

Lando strutted into the paddock beside you, his black clothes and crisp white shirt doing nothing to hide his cocky grin. "Finally figured out why I haven't won a race yet." He announced, his cologne a heady wave in your direction.

You peeked over your sunglasses. "Oh yeah, Sherlock? What's the conclusion?"

He leaned close, his voice a low rumble. "No good luck kiss from you, that's what! Maybe we should fix that? Make it a tradition if it works."

A laugh escaped you. "So it's my fault, huh?"

"Exactly!" He grinned. "And if I lose again without a kiss, everyone's gonna hear about it."

"That's your best shot at flirting?" You teased. "Seriously, Lando, you're terrible."

A playful smirk tugged at his lips. He draped his arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the McLaren hospitality area. "The only girl I flirt with is you, love. Guess you'll have to show me how to improve."

Heat flooded your cheeks, betraying your fake indifference. Lando wasn't an idiot. He knew you felt the same way, a truth as clear as the Miami sunshine.

A booming voice shattered the playful tension. "Whoa there, puppet, keep your hands off of her!"

Carlos emerged behind you, clad in his new Ferrari blues. You turned to see him glaring at Lando, who simply scoffed and moved away, the arm around your shoulder replaced by Carlos's protective arm.

He leaned down, a quick peck on your head followed by a wink aimed at Lando, who rolled his eyes with a playful huff.

"Or what?" Lando challenged.

Carlos pretended to consider, then grinned. "Or I'll run you off the track at the race. And don't even think about getting jealous. It's a bad look on you."

Agree to disagree, you thought. Jealousy did look good on him. The way he tapped his foot impatiently, the way he chewed his lip with a focused intensity – those were the subtle giveaways that made your heart skip a beat.

"Leave him alone, Sainz!" You swatted playfully at Carlos' chest, the contact sending a blush blooming across your cheeks.

"Oh, look who's defending the love bird." He teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You blushed once again. "Shut up." You whispered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lando fighting a smile as you continued towards McLaren hospitality. A quick goodbye to Carlos later, you disappeared inside, ready for your daily tasks. Lando watched you go, his gaze lingering long after you were out of sight.

When he finally turned back to his friend, Carlos was waiting, arms crossed, a knowing smirk plastered across his face. "What?"

"Ugh, the both of you." Carlos rolled his eyes. "All this mooning and staring, it's getting pathetic. Just take her out, will you?"

Lando sighed. "I've been trying for years. It's always 'inappropriate.'"

"Well, try harder!" Carlos pressed. "Last thing you need is someone else catching her eye."

Lando's playful demeanor vanished. "What do you mean?" He pressed, a sudden seriousness tightening his features. Carlos simply offered him a pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Lando with a gnawing sense of unease. "Hey, what do you mean?"

The sprint had been a disaster. It all ended so quickly that it didn't give him enough time to think, no chance to catch Max and the others at the front. To make matters worse, the Stewards imposed a heavy fine of €50,000 for crossing the track while the rave was still ongoing.

Later, back at the hotel, he was torn between feeling exhausted and frustrated. A cold shower did little to wash away the bitter taste of defeat. He pulled on fresh clothes and collapsed onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he focused on the tension leaving his body, hoping for a moment of peace.

A loud ringing sound shattered the silence and startled him out of his daze. He groaned as he searched for his phone, buried somewhere in the crumpled sheets.

Y/n: Hey, Oscar and I are planning to watch a movie and grab some food. Wanna join us? We're in my bedroom.

Lando smile, looking at your text.

Lando: You know I like you. You shouldn't tell me when you have other guys in your bedroom. It breaks my heart.

Although he couldn't see you, he was certain you were rolling your eyes after reading his message. 

Y/n: Shut up and get your ass here.

A laugh escaped Lando's lips as he pushed himself out of bed. He stalked over to the mirror, running a hand through his damp curls. With a flick of the switch, the room dropped into darkness, and Lando walked out of his room.

Your room was on a different floor, but soon a familiar knock came at your door. Your heart kicked into a familiar rapid-fire beat as you swung the door open.

"Hi!"

"Hey, beautiful." He cupped your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Osc!" He jumped in your bed and in one smooth motion, he snagged a chip from the bowl you'd set on the nightstand.

"Hey. What do you feel like watching?" He quickly looked through your Netflix library, skipping over the typical romantic comedy options.

"Anything but that mushy stuff." Lando declared, earning a playful jab from you.

"Take your shoes off the bed, Lando!"

He chuckled, kicking off his sneakers. He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. You were a black Simpsons shirt and matching sporty shorts, your bare feet resting comfortably on the cool sheets. A small anchor could be seen on your ankle, sparking his imagination about what other hidden treasures lay beneath your clothes.

The spell was broken by a knock on the door. With a quick smile, you ran toward the door, returning moments later with a stack of takeout boxes. 

You settled next to Lando on the bed, while Oscar sprawled out at the foot like a contented cat. With the Avengers movie playing softly in the background, you devoured your food, a comfortable silence settling around the three of you.

Two hours passed by quickly as the credits rolled. Oscar groaned and got off the bed. You mimicked his stretch, feeling the pleasant ache of a relaxed evening.

"Looks like someone's having a sleepover!" Oscar teased, pointing a playful finger at Lando. The driver was sprawled across your pillow, a peaceful look on his face.

A soft gasp escaped your lips. "Oh, Lando!" you whispered, torn between amusement and a flicker of panic. He looked undeniably adorable, a mess of soft curls framing his face. You glanced at Oscar, who was already pulling on his sneakers. "We have to wake him up, right?"

Oscar chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "We? Seems pretty comfy to me, Y/N. Let the man enjoy his rest." He started towards the door, but you reached out.

"Wait, where are you going? He can't stay here." Panic bubbled in your chest. The thought of him sleeping in your bed sent shivers down your spine.

"So wake him up!"

Your cheeks flushed crimson. "I… I don't want to wake him." The words came out a soft mumble, barely audible.

Oscar leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then don't. Trust me, asleep is the only state he'll stay put. Besides, wouldn't you rather wake up to a grateful cuddle buddy in the morning?"He winked, leaving you speechless, alone with the British driver.

Oh my god, you screamed to yourself.

You tiptoed around the room, unsure of your next move. Finally, drawn by a strange magnetism, you found yourself kneeling by the bed.

Lando's serene face was illuminated by the soft bedside lamp. His chest rose and fell gently in sleep, a single black curl escaping the gentle mess of his hair.

An irresistible urge to touch him washed over you. Without thinking about it, your fingers reached out, tentatively brushing against the perfect curl. As if sensing the intrusion, Lando stirred, and his brow furrowed slightly. You quickly retreated to the bathroom, heart pounding as you slammed the door carefully behind you.

Leaning against the door, you let out a shaky breath. You hurriedly changed into pyjamas, suddenly aware of how thin they felt compared to your day clothes. But it was hot, and you hadn't brought anything else.

Peeking through the crack in the door, you peeked out, praying for the best. Relief flooded you when you saw Lando, thankfully still asleep, but now facing the other side of the bed.

You were wondering if that little couch in the corner was worth sleeping on. It looked quite small and uninviting. Sleep on that uncomfortable excuse of furniture, or share the bed with Lando? The answer, realistically, was obvious. 

You climbed in, scooting over as far as possible to create a respectable amount of distance from the body next to you. Sleep, thankfully, came quickly. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or perhaps the unexpected warmth and sense of security that came with having Lando beside you, but you drifted off faster than usual.

Sunlight, snuck into the room, painting stripes across Lando's face. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. Hadn't he closed those curtains last night? He sat up, surprise jolting through him as he realized he wasn't in his own bed.

Even more shocking was the sight beside him. You, cuddle against him, your thin pyjamas offering little to make him look away. One of your legs peeked out from under the discarded sheet, and Lando felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

What in the world? How had he ended up, tangled in your sheets? A quick glance around revealed his phone abandoned on the nightstand. It was still early, but Jon would be expecting him in his room soon. He needed to get out, get cleaned up and get ready for the day. But leaving felt like ripping himself away from something precious.

He stole a glance at you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, was turned towards him. A stray strand of hair tickled your cheek. Hesitantly, he reached out, tucking it behind your ear.  The touch, light as a feather, was enough to stir you awake.

Lando didn't flinch and when you fluttered your eyes open, his face was inches away. A wave of yearning swept through you, a desire for more mornings waking up beside him.

"Did I die and go to heaven last night?" His voice, husky with sleep, sent shivers down your spine.

"You fell asleep." You admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "And I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Right." He breathed the word out, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that both surprised and delighted you. A blush crept up your neck as he murmured, "Lucky me." Then, a sigh escaped his lips. "I have to go. Jon will be at my room any minute."

You nodded and smiled, despite the disappointment tugging at your heart. You watched as he hesitately rose, groaning at leaving your bed. His hair was a mess of adorable curls, and his rumpled clothes added a touch of vulnerability that made him look even more adorable.

He grabbed his phone and sneakers and then paused, a playful smirk on his face. "So, about that lucky kiss for good luck?" He teased, a hint of hope lacing his voice. "We already slept together!"

"Go!" You muttered.

"Fine, fine." He chuckled. "See you later, love."

He turned towards the door, and an impulsive urge surged through you. Before you could overthink it, you were out of bed and racing towards him. He reached for the doorknob, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.

For a moment, confusion clouded his features, but it quickly melted into surprise as you planted a kiss on his cheek. It was a chaste kiss, lingering just a beat too long to be considered entirely platonic. When you pulled away, his eyes held a mixture of shock and something deeper.

"There's your lucky kiss." You whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Now go."

Lando stood speechless for a moment, the kiss still tingling on his skin. Then, a slow smile spread across his face "Today is a day full of opportunities." He declared.

With one last lingering look, he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. You leaned against the wall, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You had never felt more nervous before in a race. At the start, it seemed like Oscar could give Verstappen a run for his money, but then the safety car came out and it felt like you were barely moving until the end of the race, with Lando being P1. It wasn't until the checkered flag waved that you finally exhaled, a shaky breath that escaped with a nervous laugh.

The McLaren hospitality buzzed with excitement. Lando had finally done it. His first F1 victory, a triumph long overdue. You joined the celebrations, a wide smile plastered across your face, not just for the team, but for Lando himself. It was a moment he deserved.

"Great race, Oscar!" You exclaimed as the Australian driver entered the hospitality area and hug you. "You had Red Bull sweating for a while there!"

He chuckled, pulling you into a brief hug. "Thanks, Y/N. I gave it my all, but the real winner tonight is Lando." He winked. "I'm sure your champion will be here any minute, looking for his girl."

You slapped his arm playfully, a blush creeping up your neck. "Don't say that in here!"

"Everybody knows." He whispered back.

As if on cue, Lando appeared. His eyes scanned the room, a triumphant grin splitting his face when they landed on you. You saw as he and Oscar hugged each other and the rest of the team.

He weaved his way through the crowd, a trail of congratulations and backslaps following him, but it was you he was drawn to. Everyone else faded into the background as he reached you, his victory grin melting into a tender smile reserved only for you.

You welcomed him into a hug, a sweet and loving embrace. He buried his face in your neck, the scent of champagne and his signature cologne an intoxicating mix.

"We did it!" He murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

"You did it!" You corrected, pulling back to cup his face. "I'm so proud of you."

Everyone was engaged in their own celebrations as he took your hand. He led you away from the loud crowd, a silent understanding passing between you. As you slipped inside his driver's room, he locked the door behind him, a thrill of nervousness ran through you.

He closed the distance between you, his eyes roaming your face before settling on your lips. With a tender touch, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a seductive path across your lips.

"Please!" He pleaded, his voice low and urgent. "Just this once…" You knew exactly what he craved.

"Lando--" You began.

"Please!" He repeated, his voice laced with a desperation that mirrored your own.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. A part of you, the part that had spent months pushing him away, hesitated. But the other part yearned to give in. You nodded.

He cupped your face in his hands and pressed you against the wall. The next moment, his lips were on yours, the taste of champagne a sweet surprise against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. You clung to his fireproof shirt. The world melted away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his lips moving against yours. All the reasons you'd held back faded away. 

But just as the kiss deepened, a knock on the door jolted you both back to reality. You broke away, gasping for breath.

Lando groaned. "Yeah?" The voice from the other side told him they were expecting him. Lando rolled his eyes. "Just give me a minute."

When you heard the footsteps fade away, you reached for the doorknob, but Lando's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist.

"Stop it, Lando." You whispered.

"Don't!" He pleaded. "You can't tell me you didn't like it. I could feel it, Y/N. Don't deny it."

"I'm not denying it." You admitted your voice barely a whisper. "But you know why this can't happen."

Lando's jaw clenched. "It's NOT inappropriate! Look," he said, his voice softer now, "I waited this long for my first win. I can wait for you, just as long."

He cupped your jaw and before you could react, he leaned in and kissed the corner of your lips. He unlocked the door in one swift motion and stepped out, leaving you breathless.

You'd politely declined Lando's after-party invitation at the strip club near the hotel. You weren't the nightclub type, and deep down, Lando knew that. You assured him that you hadn't rejected it because of the kiss, but the way the call ended, left a pit in your stomach.

"He's mad! I know it." You mumbled to Oscar, who sat beside you at the hotel bar. The rest of the team was split between a game of darts in the back and loud conversations over drinks by the pool. "He didn't say 'bye, love' or 'see you later, beautiful', we just said bye."

Oscar facepalmed as he looked at his drunk best friend rambling about their mutual friend who was likely doing the same thing at the party.

"You're his friend, Y/N, not his girlfriend." He teased, sending a blush creeping up your cheeks. You stammered a reply, but the words got tangled up in your throat. "He's probably getting lucky tonight." He continued. "Deserves it after that win."

The implication hit you like a punch to the gut. "Lucky? You think he'll...?"

A mischievous glint danced in Oscar's eyes. "Oh, absolutely."

You downed the last of your drink, feeling a hollowness in your chest. "Good for him." You mumbled, the words lacking conviction.

Oscar groaned, frustration etching lines on his forehead. "Jesus, Y/N! The only girl he wants to get lucky with is you. Stop playing these mind games and making yourselves miserable!"

You rested your head on your hand, a wave of emotions crashing over you. "Oscar," You confessed, looking him straight in the eye. "I really like him. Like, never liked anyone this way before."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Then do something about it."

Lando was having the best time of his life, celebrating his first win with his friends. He felt his chest vibrate with every beat of the bass, as he laughed with his friends. Despite the fun he was having, he was also experiencing a dull ache. Your absence stood out.

He'd downed a few too many drinks to drown the disappointment steaming inside. When you declined the club invitation, his frustration boiled over into a harsh goodbye, which he quickly regretted. 

"Did you see who just walked in?" Max shouted into his ear over the loud music.

"What?" Max pointed towards the entrance, causing a frown to appear on Lando's forehead.

Your arrival sent a jolt through him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and his earlier frustration vanished as a smile stretched across his face.

"Go get your girl, champ!" Max patted his shoulder with a wink.

Lando needed no further encouragement. He navigated his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you.

You scanned the room with a hint of apprehension. Even in your tipsy state, a voice of reason whispered in your head, questioning this impulsive move.

Just as you turned to leave, a warm hand closed around your wrist. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was. His familiar touch sent a familiar spark across your skin.

He wore a playful smirk, but his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you weren't coming."

You tried to appear casual, but your voice betrayed you. "I wasn't."

"How much did you have to drink?" He asked you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. How did he know what you had been doing? You stuttered in response, unsure of what to say. "Did Oscar let you come here drunk?"

"I'm not drunk! And how do you know I've been drinking?"

"Then why the sudden change of heart?" His gaze softened, searching your face. "And Oscar's been keeping me updated."

"Why doe--"

"Why are you here, Y/n?" He asked you.

You felt your face getting hot as you looked around the club, the among of bodies suddenly overwhelming. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, the words catching in your tight throat. "I need a drink."

As you made your way towards the bar, Lando followed closely behind. You approached the counter and asked the bartender for a drink. He nodded and began to mix your order. Lando stood by your side, looking a you. 

"How did you get here? Does Oscar know?" The concern in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded and then drank the entire drink that was placed in front of you all at once. "Yes. He called me an Uber and told the guy to drop me here." Lando looked surprised as he noticed the empty glass in your hand. You hadn't intended to drink it so quickly, but your nerves got the best of you.

 "Whoa, slow down there."

"I thought you wanted to celebrate!" You said to him as the bartender handed you another drink. You took it and walked away. Lando's face was adorned with a smile, but worry still lingered in his mind. Despite that, there was a sense of happiness as the night was finally complete.

You leaned heavily against Lando, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the elevator ride made you feel dizzy. He, somehow, seemed frustratingly sober.

"Hey," He chuckled, his voice warm despite the coolness of the metal walls. You managed a watery smile, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. "What are you thinking about?"

"Dogs." You mumbled. "Do you think they dream about bones?"

Lando's laugh filled the small space. "Maybe. I don't know beautiful."

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" You blurted out, smiling innocently.

He stopped in front of your room, his gaze holding yours. The concern that had flickered in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced by something more intense. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A giggle erupted from your lips. Lando reacted instinctively, clapping a hand over your mouth. It was late, and the last thing they needed was a noise complaint. "Shh." He murmured. "Gotta be quiet, love."

You nodded. "Okay!" 

"Where's your key?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. You shrugged, the simple action requiring more effort than you cared to admit.

"Lando?" You whined. "Sleepy..."

He cursed under his breath, scanning the empty hallway. Walking up to the front desk for a key wasn't exactly his ideal scenario.

"Alright, you're coming with me." He said gently, scooping you up in his arms. A sleepy protest tumbled from your lips, but you clung to him instinctively as he carried you back towards the elevator.

"Can we go to the beach?" You mumbled as the doors closed.

"The beach will be there in the morning." He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's almost five am."

A giggle escaped you. "Naked swim?"

He cleared his throat, the sound a little rough. You'd been a delightful firecracker all night, and he was struggling to keep his cool. "The shower's a much better option right now."

The elevator doors slid open, and with a sigh, he carried you out, your head chilling against his shoulder. He fumbled with his keycard, finally pushing the door open with his foot.

In the room, he gently laid you on the bed, the soft sheets making you relax and close your eyes.

For a moment, he stood there, watching you. The urge to pull you close, to feel your warmth against him, was killing him. But your vulnerability state held him back.

"Hey, love?" He said softly, his voice laced with concern. "Can I take off your shoes?"

You mumbled something incomprehensible but managed a weak nod. He carefully removed your heels, his fingers brushing against your ankle for a fleeting moment that sent a jolt through him.

"Maybe a shower would be good." He suggested, his voice gruff. "You'll sleep better."

"With you?" She asked him, excited.

Lando, still feeling the effects of alcohol, ran his fingers through his hair, feeling hot.

"You can't imagine how much I want to say yes... But no, not tonight." You pouted. Grabbing your hands, he pulled you up. "Ask me again tomorrow!"

He gently led you to the bathroom and helped you sit down. He waited for the water to warm up, and when it was ready, he turned around. Suddenly, Lando's breath caught in his throat.

Without him realising, you had taken off your clothes. You stood bathed in the soft glow, vulnerability etched on your face, wearing only your black lace lingerie.

He tore his gaze from you. His heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs, mimicking the feel of the alcohol in his veins. Only if you weren't drunk...

"Are you okay?" Your voice was so gentle and innocent, nothing like it normally sounded. You reached out and touched his back. He flinched the innocent gesture a powerful trigger for his already steaming desire.

"Y/N, please!" He pleaded. "If you keep touching me..." The sentence trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air. The more he looked at you, the more his willpower crumbled. Shame washed over him. "Love, just take a shower. You need to sober up." He gestured to a pile of clothes on the counter. "There are some of mine there. I'll be outside when you're done."

You stayed in the shower for a while, the hot water feeling good against your skin. You weren't completely sober, the world still held a gentle sway, but the edge of drunkenness had dimmed.

Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel Lando had left out. 

As you dried your hair, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Even in the state of mind you were, you knew you were going to regret it in the morning. You put on the clothes he had left you and shoved the feeling down. 

Lando, scrolling through his phone on the bed, looked up when the bathroom door creaked open. Relief washed over him as he saw you wrapped in his clothes.

"Feeling better?" He asked. You offered a small nod, leaning weakly against the doorframe. The playful energy that had fueled you earlier had dimmed, replaced by exhaustion. "Good!" He said, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sleepy?" You simply nodded again. He cleared his throat, the silence growing heavy in the room. "So... Are you comfortable sharing the bed, or...?"

"It's fine." You mumbled. A playful glint flickered in your eyes. "And I promise I won't, uh, bite."

Lando chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Don't get me wrong, love," He said, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. "You could do whatever you wanted most nights, believe me. But not tonight."

He gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed, inviting you to join him, an unspoken tension lingering in the air.

You waddled across the room, the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely on your body. Climbing onto the bed, you scooted closer to him, a nervous feeling running through you, despite the lingering effects of the alcohol still dancing through your veins.

"Can we at least...?" You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper. "You know... a goodnight kiss?

"You're a menace when you're drunk, you know that?" He teased, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

You batted your eyelashes in a way you knew usually worked. He sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, alright!" He complied. "But on the cheek. Lips are off-limits tonight."

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As he leaned in, the faint scent of his cologne filled your senses. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

"Goodnight, Y/N!" He murmured, his voice sending a flutter to your heart. "Hope you'll remember this tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, race winner." You replied, a hint of sleepiness in your voice.

Sunlight pierced through the blinds, finding your eyelids and forcing them open with a groan. Your head felt like a maraca that had been shaken all night, and your mouth tasted like a desert. Sitting up cautiously, you winced at the throbbing in the back of your head.

Memories and fragments started to come back. The kiss, the club, the dancing, Lando's strong arm around you... and then... a complete blank. Panic started to rise in your chest. What had you done? Had you said something stupid or done something worse?

The bedroom door creaked open and Lando entered, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He looked like a vision with his rumpled hair and a smile breaking out on his face as soon as he saw you awake.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He said, his voice sounding awful to your pounding head.

"Don't yell!" You mumbled. "Water?"

He chuckled, handing you a bottle of water. He sat on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes. You took a grateful sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in your throat.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked you, sitting on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes.

You took a deep breath. "I remember... bits and pieces." You admitted, shame creeping up your cheeks. "Lando, I am sorry if I did something or said something wrong... I must have been awful. I was very, very drunk."

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I wish you felt that comfortable around me all the time." Lando reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch sent a jolt through you. "You know how much I like you... Y/n, I'm in love with you."

Your heart hammered against your ribs at his confession. A real and pure confession.

"Lando--" You breathed, your voice thick with emotion.

He took your hand in his, his eyes filled with a gentle understanding. "I know..." He said, his voice a soothing balm. "Just know that I'll wait for you. However long it takes." He squeezed your hand.

Tears welled up in your eyes. The years of running, of pushing him away, suddenly seemed pointless. All you wanted was to be here, with him.

Leaning forward, you met his gaze. Then, you cupped his face gently and placed a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. It was a kiss filled with apology and relief.

"I'm tired of running." You whispered against his lips. "I'm in love with you too. I've always have."

Lando couldn't help but grin as you hugged him. First, the win, then the kiss and now the girl of his dreams confessing her feelings. Yeah, you could definitely say it was a very good day for Lando No Wins.

"I love you, Y/n." You smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile.

"I love you too, Lando." You knew, at that moment, hugging the person you had been in love with for years, that you were finally home.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

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🎀Masterlist🎀 🎀Masterlist 2🎀

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚Pile 1:

Hi pile 1! It seems like your life with your soulmate won't be based solely on romantic moments, although there will be many of those, of course. There will be a lot of teamwork, honest conversations, and even some arguments that, instead of separating you, will make you stronger. I feel like ypu two could have similar astrological placements or your charts could be really similar, a lot of mirroring energy. This type of relationship in itself will be a kind of mirror that allows you to see parts of yourselves you may not have known about. But the beautiful thing is that those small imperfections, those differences, will be what help you evolve together.

Both of you will learn to be more vulnerable with each other. There will be times when you'll feel a connection so deep that nothing else in the world can compare, but there will also be moments of doubt or questioning, and that's normal. It's as if fate puts you together not only to enjoy love, but also to help each other heal, overcome fears, and change patterns you may not have known existed. There will be a lot of love, no doubt. But this love won't be superficial. It will be a love built on mutual understanding, patience, and empathy. Your soulmate will show you the best of yourself, but also what you need to improve. And at the end of the day, that will be the key to a strong relationship, because both of you will be committed not only to loving each other, but also to growing together, to embracing the darkest and brightest parts of who you are. You two could mirror each other a lot, as well, one of you can be an empath, and that makes the connection even more beautiful and emotional <3

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚Things about your person: February could be an important month, the number 8, black and purple, water signs, they could have younger siblings who they really adore <3, American Horror Story is coming up for some reason, really sweet when it comes to you.

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚Pile 2:

Hi pile! First of all, this person can have strong fire placements in their charts, especially Sagittarius. This is what I'm picking up. Life with your soulmate will be like a journey full of passion, adventure, and, yes, a vibrant energy that you won't be able to ignore. Think about those moments when you feel completely alive, when everything seems to be in its place and things flow in an almost magical way. This is what your life will be like with your soulmate: endless emotions and shared experiences that will make you feel as if everything has more color, more intensity. The first thing I feel is that both of you will be so connected, as if you were not just a couple, but accomplices in a great adventure. There will be something very special about the way you understand and support each other. You will be like that unstoppable team that is ready to conquer any challenge. You will both push each other to keep pursuing your dreams, those dreams that, perhaps before meeting your soulmate, seemed so far away or even impossible. Your life with this person will be full of exciting moments: trips, projects, new experiences. You may be spontaneous, doing things you might never have imagined doing alone, but with them by your side, anything seems possible. There will be a chemistry between you that you can't help but notice. And I'm not just talking about physical attraction (although there will be plenty of that too), but about that spark that makes you feel complete. There will be moments of pure excitement, fun, and even laughter that you probably won't even understand how they happened, but you'll be so in tune that those little things will feel so natural. You'll both help each other grow in ways you never imagined. You'll be an inspiration to each other, and even though things may get complicated sometimes, the spark that unites you will always be stronger.

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚Things about your person: They could really like animated series or animation in general, artistic, really good at drawing, They could dye their hair or have a buzzcut, amazing style and piercings.

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚Pile 3:

Hi Pile 3! With your soulmate, life will be like a peaceful haven. You won't be with someone who makes you feel insecure or constantly questioning things. On the contrary, there will be a constant feeling of being supported, accepted just as you are. It will be a relationship where trust and communication will flow naturally. You'll both know when you need to talk and when you just need to be silent together, and that will be beautiful. It's as if words aren't always necessary because you already understand each other so well. This relationship won't necessarily be the loudest or craziest, but what makes it special is the peace that will permeate between you. There will be a deep respect for each other's space, and most importantly, you will both feel free, yet deeply connected. It's the kind of relationship where, even if you're not doing something grand all the time, simply being with that person makes you feel complete. There will be a lot of patience, many small displays of affection and care. It's not about grand gestures every day, but about those little things that show you're always thinking about each other. From a good morning text to a hug when you least expect it, those everyday actions will be what truly strengthen the bond between you. I feel that bears can be important for some reason (?).

If differences ever arise, they will be resolved with the patience and maturity that both of you will have, always seeking the well-being of the other. And at the end of the day, when it's all over, when there are no more words to say, you'll realize that with your soulmate, what matters is the deep connection, the one that goes beyond the superficial.

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚Things about your person: Bears, Earth signs, glasses, green, they could be a cinephile or really into books, Curly brown hair, Introverted but with a really fun and witty sense of humor.

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚Thanks for reading! Tell me if it resonated and i hope you have a great day!༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

[thomaswaynewolf]

[flamingfoxninja]

In the world of British Spyre, we cut to the Hudol's School of Explorers Extraordinaire! A place where young students learn the ways of globetrotting shenanigans in search of love, war, and treasure seeking.

We cut to Kristen Applebees, an aggressive party girl who is ready to thrash and snog with the best of them. More specifically she's snogging her boyfriend

Fabian Aramais Seacaster, a quiet gentle poet who read the grand tales of adventures that his family legacy provides, especially of his Mother, Admiral of the Fallinel Navy. His shyness eventually broken by joining the Hudol Football League, along with his friend

Gorgug Thistlespring, the resident bad boy on campus. Growing up adopted in a lowerclass family, he is consistantly angry when anyone gives him shit about it. Which results in many fights and detentions on school grounds, not like he cares. But he's not the only fish out of water cause he's friends with

Adaine Abernant, an American transfer student. Her parents are Ambassadors who are trying to make a good impression, so Adaine is working on learning the slang and behaviors of her peers. Where she comes off as a bit brash and ignorant. But she's more than ready to learn, especially from

Riz Gukgak, the inquisitive mind of Hudol's greatest academic student. His dad a gentlemanly spy, his mother a police Sargent. He was taught from a young age a love of investigation, forensics, law, and learning. There's no such thing as useless information, only information not yet applied. But his talent in academia is only rivaled by

Figeroth Faeth, extra curricular extraordinaire. She can only even accept perfection in everything she does. Theater, Art, Classical Music, Martial Arts. Nothing is out of her reach to master. And nothing, not even her parent's divorce, her crumbling life, will keep her from her craft. Though she can at times learn how to let loose, go wild, and take a break from resident party girl Kristen Applebees

And these are our Hudol Hunters! Say Hi Hudol Hunters!

[solaireverie]

cl16 | salute to me, i'm your american queen

pairing: charles leclerc x f!sargeant!reader

summary: [ social media au ] what the fuck is a kilometer?!?! or: charles and his girlfriend's adventures

warnings: language

faceclaim: elle fanning + pinterest

author's note: i can't explain this except that it was funny in my head. i should probably be working on the next part of deep blue but ehhhhhh. enjoy!

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant, vogue and 763,913 others

yourusername Overjoyed with becoming an official @.tiffanyandco ambassador 🩵 Shop the Formula 1 Commemorative Grand Prix collection on their website, now available worldwide.

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charles_leclerc so this is why you couldn't come to monza? 😨

↪ yourusername sorry babe it was scheduled in advance 🥲

user damn tiffany's marketing department really popped off with choosing THE y/n sargeant to rep this line 💅

↪ user like if you think about it it's really smart, y/n isn't just one of the most popular models rn, she's also directly connected to the sport bc of logan and charles

↪ user she is literally all i want to be in the best way 😤

logansargeant where's my charger y/n? i know you have it

↪ yourusername this could've been a text message logie boy

↪ logansargeant wtf don't call me that

↪ logansargeant also you haven't unblocked me yet from that time i stole your life-size cardboard cutout of charles and brought it to williams hospitality

↪ yourusername you're not helping your case here 😒

↪ carlossainz55 silvia was looking for that y/n 😱

charles_leclerc has added to their story

seen by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and 7,159,233 others

694,332 likes

f1wagupdate @.yourusername is in the paddock today for the US GP after being spotted yesterday in a hotel near the track! She has been seen in the Ferrari garage.

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user uhhh why isn't she in the williams garage???

↪ user uhhh probably cause she's dating a ferrari driver???

↪ user chill 😭 i'm sure she'll drop by

↪ user just say you're a hater and move on bro

charles_leclerc has added to their story

seen by yourusername, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 2,392,106 others

yourusername has added to their story

seen by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,985,274 others

logansargeant replied to your story

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, yourbestfriend and 4,128,293 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc Happy birthday my love 🥳❤️ I'm glad you had fun at your party 😉

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yourusername DELETE THE THIRD PICTURE

yourusername HOW COULD YOU

yourusername WHAT IS THIS BETRAYAL

yourusername count your days, charles leclerc

↪ logansargeant she just left the restaurant, i think you need to take her threats seriously dude

user charles is just like all the other sassy boyfriends out there 😂

user damn the road's looking real comfy tonight (i want what they have)

↪ yourusername oh dear don't do anything rash please 😭

↪ user this is why i love y/n lmao even when she's pissed at her bf she finds time to be the nicest human being ever

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant, yourbestfriend and 6,129,320 others

yourusername just a bit older 🤟

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gigihadid happy birthday darling 🥰

↪ yourusername thank you gigi!

logansargeant happy bday sis :)

↪ yourusername AWWWW LOGAN 🥹

user is charles still alive??? 😭😭😭

↪ yourusername who knows? 🤷‍♀️

↪ charles_leclerc i already said i'm sorry!!!

↪ yourusername do y'all hear something?

↪ charles_leclerc we're literally on instagram y/n... 😐

carlossainz55 y/n, charles says that he'll do anything if you'll talk to him again...

↪ yourusername he knows what i want 😪

liked by yourusername, logansargeant, lilymhe, deuxmoi and 9,120,163 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc Thank you for making my life so much better just by existing in it. I love you more than words can express. At the end of the day, you're who I want by my side. I'm so glad that I'll get to call you my wife for the rest of my life 🤍

💍 11.11.23

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yourusername je t'aime 🤍

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 51

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Minors DNI. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

51. don’t cry for me, argentina

You are lucky that you have traveled enough that you practically arrange everything for your journey on autopilot, operating in a daze of excitement and dread, daring to hope yet beating yourself down at every turn. 

This isn’t going to amount to anything. 

You’re flying to the bottom of the world just to crush yourself again.

Yet in the grand scheme of things, an 11 hour flight seems like the least you can do, to indulge this mystery. 

You’ll just go, and see. What’s the harm? Besides to your barely clinging last thread of sanity? 

You’ve never had the luxury of planning a trip without a budget. There is something incredibly convenient about just being able to book whatever flights and hotel you want without giving a fuck for the price. The zeroes in your bank account are vast, and this is really the first time you’ve splurged with them. 

The hardest part is arranging for the care of Dog with someone you trust. You know Winston would take him if you asked, but the Continental is not a kennel. You think there is some synergy in the Universe, when you recruit a girl from the coffee house who you befriended to housesit and watch your faithful pooch. Dog can tell that the energy of the house has changed as you pack, seeming both anxious and curious in that sage way canines have about them. 

“I promise I’m coming back soon,” you tell him, kissing him on the snoot. 

You hope you’re telling the truth.    

***

You feel as though you are holding your breath for the entire plane ride. 

You do not sleep, and when at last you land in Buenos Aires you feel as though you are walking amidst a fever dream, collecting your bags from the carousel on autopilot. A press of people await their loved ones outside security. There are smiling faces, laughter, embraces. You search the crowd, but no one is familiar. 

No one is waiting there for you, and you are scared to admit you’d even entertained the slightest sliver of hope. 

As though you’re afraid of jinxing yourself, you’ve hardly allowed yourself to consciously admit the purpose of your mission here. Certainly not aloud, and you didn’t even tell Winston where you were going, afraid he would talk you out of it. 

The warmth from outside presses through the windows of the last atrium of the airport; you have to take off your coat or you will cook. Stray dogs nap politely in the shade by an unmanned counter. This is a different world than what you’re used to at home, and at last that old familiar energy greets you; the beginning of an adventure. 

Anything could happen. 

You get your second wind, and with new courage you walk out into the warm day to hail a taxi.   

This beautiful city racing past the window seems like a fairyland out the corner of your eye, the bright purple jacaranda trees in full bloom dreamily painting the landscape. You see poverty and wealth existing side by side as you motor down the highway, and you think maybe it’s not so different from the other big cities you have known. 

You chat politely but haltingly with your driver. Maybe he can tell that your reluctance to talk has less to do with your grasp of the language than your mind being elsewhere. He gives up halfway to your little hotel in Palermo; you hope he doesn’t think ill of you, and you give him a big tip in American Dollars, the coveted currency in this part of the world where the value of the peso dives on a whim. You packed lightly, but he still insists on carrying your bag into the lobby, and you thank him profusely. 

***

Once you are settled in your room, you find you are reluctant to leave it again, and not because of jet lag. Out there lies a whole city to comb; out there you could find redemption–or the absolute devastation of one final disappointment. 

In the end, you make yourself go. You didn’t come here to stare out your second-story window, as nice as the view of the tree-lined street is. Your first plan is to check out the travel agency that printed the flyer, which is now crumpled and folded from your repeated perusing of it. They’d seemed perplexed about it over the phone, but very eager to sell you a tour anyway. 

It’s a modest little office within walking distance of your hotel, and you would have enjoyed the stroll down the shaded streets, if your heart wasn’t trying to escape from your chest, and your hands weren’t shaking from adrenaline. Posters line the windows advertising gaucho tours on horseback of the Pampas grasslands, epic views of the great Iguazú Falls, and the penguin colonies of the Peninsula Valdés.    

All of these things sound interesting, but it’s not what you came for. 

You go inside to find a young lady behind the counter. She is wearing a sleeveless pink shirt, showing off toned arms covered in tattoos. Her ears are studded from lobe to helix with silver. She looks intimidating, until her generous mouth parts in a smile. “How are you today? I’m Ava.”

You exchange pleasantries before you pull out your heavily-handled flyer, presenting it to her. “Does your company print these?” 

She looks it over with a little frown. “That is our logo,” she says, tapping the paper. “But I’ve never seen this before. Where did you get it?” 

“It was sent to my house, in New York?” 

This puzzles her even further. “I’m sorry ma’am, we do not do print advertising in the United States? It would be too expensive.” 

Of course it would. 

You are strangely elated to hear this, a fluttering in your belly like waking butterflies. “I’m looking for a man,” you say. “He’s tall. Handsome. Dark eyes, dark hair.” 

She lifts an eyebrow at you, her green eyes veritably sparkling, and you realize you’ve described a great deal of the male population of this country–and it sounds like you’re trying to solicit something untoward. “I have a photo!” you exclaim, your cheeks fiery with embarrassment. 

You dig through your phone with trembling fingers until you find a good picture of John (that won’t make you blush even harder). “Have you seen him?” 

She studies the photo. Then she studies it a little more, her lips twisting, and you can’t help it. Even with tears in your eyes, you burst out laughing, and she joins you a minute later. “I know, right?” 

She covers her smile with her hand, handing you back the phone. “I’m sorry, but I have not seen him. I think I would remember, no?” 

“Yeah. You probably would.” Your burst of elation is replaced just as quickly with disappointment as you tuck your phone back into your bag. It’s a dead end, then. Or at least…you’re left with more questions than answers. Someone made that brochure, used this agency’s logo and address, and sent it 5000 miles to your door.

If it wasn’t John, and he’s truly gone…then who? Was it a trap? 

Don César was certain the Aragón cartel was all but finished that fateful night, and according to Winston the Camorra were all too glad to be rid of Dante. You know that John Wick had a list of enemies longer than his arm, but why the fuck would any of them care about you? 

“Can I give you my hotel?” you ask. “Just in case, you could leave me a message?” You think that might be a little better than your cell number. Can’t you be tracked that way? Should you change your sim card? Should you get a burner phone? 

You’re not a spy, and you really don’t know what to do, both wanting to be found, and fearing it. 

“Sure,” she agrees. “How long will you be in Argentina?” 

“A couple of weeks.” The answer is actually indefinitely, but you figure she doesn’t need to know that. 

“I am leading a tour around the city sites tomorrow. It includes wine tasting and lunch at one of the best parrillas in Palermo. There are still openings if you might be interested?” 

“How many people are in the group?” 

“Right now, there are eight.” 

You’d surely be safe in a group, wouldn’t you? You still can’t shake the feeling like you’re caught up in some kind of old school spy craft game, so you agree. 

It can't hurt to get the lay of the land from a local, right? And maybe…she’ll take you somewhere you’re supposed to go?

What could go wrong.

***

It's strange pretending that you're a normal tourist, amidst the group of happy couples and young backpackers out to see the city. You make the obligatory smalltalk, though the whole time you are searching the faces of passersby, and the buildings around you, hoping for a clue.

As though she senses you might be a little fragile, or maybe because she feels sorry for you as the only loner in the group, Ava sticks close to you, and you enjoy getting to know her as she leads you all around this beautiful city like a line of lost ducklings in her stompy black boots.

By the end of the day you do feel like you have your bearings more. The tour’s big finale is a feast of various beef cuts grilled on a wood fired parrilla. The red wine flows, and the wooden interior of the restaurant is made extra cozy when it starts to rain, and the waitresses light candles to combat the gloom. 

It would be a lovely place to dine with someone special–but even in your little group, you are alone. 

By the time you make it back to your hotel room you are soaked, exhausted, a little drunk, and you fear no closer to solving your mystery. You’re not proud of it…but you curl up on your bed, and cry yourself to sleep. 

***

You have a checklist of the places to go that were mentioned in the brochure. You visited some of them briefly the day before, or at least went past them. You start with the Gardens, because they’re nearby your hotel. 

You don’t really know what you’re doing, of course. 

You are operating on the slim hope that if that flyer was sent to you with purpose…he will come to you at one of these places. So you leave your itinerary with the front desk, just in case your “friend” comes looking for you. Maricella, the bespectacled older woman at reception, accepts this routine with poorly disguised annoyance in this day and age of handheld computers that masquerade as phones, but she cheers a little every time you leave her a generous tip. 

Maybe it’s silly, but you’re finding your favorite part of having money is the freedom to spread it around. 

Though you haven't used your account in ages, you consider leaving breadcrumbs on your Facebook too, just in case. But that little fear in the back of your mind wins out, that maybe this is some kind of trap, so you decide not to project your movements that openly. 

At least, not yet.

You tell yourself that you’re not that desperate, yet, even if deep down that scratching feeling inside you only multiplies with every passing day that you do not find even the slightest clue of John. You search the faces in the crowd on the street, in the parks and museums and the fabulous restaurants, hoping. Truth be told, there is no shortage of lovely brown-eyed men in this city…but none of them are the right one. 

You go to El Ateneo Grand Splendid, marveling at the multi-story bookstore staged in a resplendent old opera house. You peruse the stacks slowly, praying that you will look up and see a familiar face. 

You tour the Japanese Garden, sitting on the bench when your feet hurt, looking around and thinking, John would love this place. 

You wander the Plaza de Mayo, marveling at the grand buildings, the pink Casa Rosada where the president headquarters, and the pleasant paths and plantings around the towering white Pirámide de Mayo obelisk, marking the beginning of Argentina’s bid for independence from Spain. 

You traipse through the museums of art and history, your attention only half engaged by the displays, even though MALBA contains one of the best collections of Latin American art under one roof. You do stop to give your attention to your old friend Frida. You remember the headlines when it sold for 33 million dollars not long ago, purchased by an Argentine businessman for the museum. It’s titled, “Diego y Yo,” one of Frida’s numerous self portraits, and you think, one of her more haunting. Her black hair frizzes free and wild across the canvas; her gaze daring. Diego Rivera’s likeness sits upon her forehead, her third eye, ever foremost in her thoughts.

The love of her life, and the source of her worst anguishes. 

You think you understand this piece better than ever, now.  

These excursions all end in disappointment, and the señora must see it all written on your face when you return to your hotel, exhausted inside and out. 

“You should never pin your happiness on a man,” she tells you, not looking up from her book where she sits behind the reception desk. “It only ends in heartbreak.” 

Are you that obvious? 

With a sigh, you nod, agreeing with her. “But how do you go back, when you know you’ll never be happy without them again?” you ask, hoping for some gem of advice in your time of need. 

“You have to stop lying to yourself, for one,” she answers frankly. “You don’t know what the future will bring.” 

This makes you smile a little, even if her words don’t really help, at least at that very moment. “Gracias, señora,” you say, making to climb the stairs up to your room. 

She huffs, as though she suspects you haven’t listened to her at all. “Sientate,” she orders you, pointing at a grouping of chairs in the courtyard connected to the lobby, then she disappears into the back. 

Puzzled, you do as you’re told. 

Your only other plans for the day were to sit in your room and cry, anyway.

Soon she re-emerges carrying two gourd cups with metal bombilla straws. You recognize the national drink, an herbal tea made of yerba-maté leaves. “You’ll feel better,” she says, setting it down in front of you. 

“Thank you.” 

You sit in silence for a while, waiting for it to cool. When she takes her first sip you do the same. It’s bitter, but not bad. An acquired taste, for sure. 

She breaks the silence with, “My country knows a thing or two about loss.”    

You nod, knowing it’s true. 

“You have to let it go, niña, or it will eat you alive. And what is the point of living like a ghost? The decision is yours, in the end.”

“I’m not ready,” you admit sadly, staring down into your guampa. 

“Well. You’d better get on with it. You seem like a nice girl.” 

You look across the table at this woman who does not know you, and yet somehow it seems she can see into your soul. You’re not exactly a fan of tough love, (who is?), but it’s more than your own mother was able to give you over the phone not so long ago. 

Are you still a nice girl? If she knew the things you did to survive one fateful night on a boat in the Caribbean, she might think otherwise. 

You sigh, tracing the metal rim of your cup. You appreciate the consideration this stranger has paid you, but you know, deep down, you can't. “I’ll think about it,” you say, if just to be polite. 

She pays you a look over her glasses that says she knows all too well, but she takes mercy on you with a slightly softened gimlet stare. “Sure you will.”

“Thank you for the maté.”

She waves you off with a smirk, like she knows you need to go crawl off into a hole and mope.

***

But you do think about what Maricella said, more than you actually want to. 

Are you just going to stay miserable forever and ever? 

You honestly don't know. 

You do know that you’re running out of places to go, and you’re running out of hope. 

You’re not exactly a religious person, but you find yourself wandering into the massive Catedral Metropolitana off the Plaza. Its neoclassical facade gives way to an opulent baroque interior, and its impossible not to feel an appropriate sense of awe. You walk around slowly, looking and thinking to yourself in the venerated quiet, the low murmurs of tourists and worshippers echoing through the cavernous space. 

In truth Catholicism has always felt a little like witchcraft to you. If you say the right magic words enough you can win forgiveness, the answers to your prayers, and maybe even salvation. At a side altar you buy a candle, lighting it and placing it with a cluster of others. 

You do not talk to God, per se…but you do talk to John. Whether it's healthy or not…he is the principal deity in your personal pantheon. 

Wherever you are…I hope you’ve found peace. I love you. I’ll always love you. 

When you leave, you can’t say it’s with a sense of closure or anything so helpful. But maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit of weight lifts off your shoulders. 

Maybe it’s time you stop chasing ghosts and go home, to your Dog who loves you and needs you, to your life that’s been on hold. If John was here…he would have come to you. You find you are able to admit that to yourself, now. You’ve done your due diligence. 

Maybe it's time to get back to the living. You find you are able to even think about giving yourself permission to do that now, in a way you just couldn’t, before. 

When you get back to the hotel you buy your return ticket to New York.

***

It does occur to you, now that you’re finally starting to accept the idea that John is truly gone, that someone sent you that flyer to lure you here, and that’s probably not a good thing in your world. You’ve been careful, and somehow so far you’ve skated by unscathed, though a part of you starts to wonder if you’re being watched. It’s a tingling little feeling on the hairs of the back of your neck that you mostly chalk off to paranoia, as you walk down the street. 

You decided you want to spend your last day in Buenos Aires at the epic Sunday street fair in San Telmo. It’s a neighborhood that dates back to the very beginnings of the city. Once the home of the first settlers, then the wealthy, then the wave of new immigrants from all over Europe at the end of the nineteenth century, now it is a bohemian enclave filled with markets and galleries and restaurants. 

It’s the only place on the brochure where you haven’t yet been. 

The stone cobbled streets are closed down for the feria. Market stalls line either side of the roads, and the crowd teems shoulder to shoulder. You marvel at the handmade goods on offer. Carved gourd maté cups and leather goods of all kinds, textiles and knickknacks and antiques. You didn’t think you wanted to shop so much as you just wanted to see it, but you find yourself infected by the energy of the crowd, and you are handing money over left and right for little things that tickle your fancy. 

A booth with silver jewelry set with natural stones takes you for most of the rest of your pocket money. You pick out a necklace set with pink rhodochrosite, the national stone of Argentina, a malachite inlay cuff bracelet for your housesitter back home, and pair of filigree earrings with dangling garnets that remind you of pomegranate seeds. You wear them immediately with a poignant pang in your heart.  

Tired and hungry after hours of wandering, you pick up a choripan sausage with bread and chimichurri sauce, and find a place to sit on the bench in the tree-shaded Plaza Dorrego. There are more booths here, and street performers as well. After you finish your late lunch you sit and watch a pair of dancers performing the Tango on a makeshift square of flooring set down for their stage. They’re beautiful, their movements sweeping and graceful yet so precise, full of the push and pull emotion that embodies the spirit of the mournfully romantic dance. She struts away, only to forcefully be pulled back again into his arms. Through twists and turns and dips and lifts, variations of the same struggle play out again and again. 

You wonder if the partners dancing are in love. They certainly make it seem like they are, but maybe it’s all for show. You find yourself hoping for a cynical moment, for their sakes, that their passion is all a facade. 

This thought sideswipes you. Are you going to turn into a bitter old woman now, cautioning youngsters against the dangers of love? 

If you could go back, would you caution yourself to love John less? 

You realize the answer is no. No matter how you feel now…all the anguish was worth the elation, even if you only possessed it for a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things. 

Just when you thought you’d managed to cry yourself dry, fat tears fill your eyes and you have to hide your face in your hands for a good long minute before you get ahold of yourself again. You’re quiet about it, but passersby are looking at you with worried expressions. You feel a supporting hand on your shoulder. Everyone is so sweet in this country. You’re going to miss it. “Estoy bien, todo bien, gracias, gracias,” you stammer with an apologetic smile, and they nod sympathetically, letting you be.  

Deciding it’s time to go back to your hotel, you gather your things and take a long pull off your water bottle. You’re fine. 

You’re going to be fine. 

If you keep telling yourself that, maybe eventually it will be true. 

You throw some money in the bowl for the dancers who ripped out your heart with the beauty of their performance, and make your exit. 

Yet, as you pick your way through the crowd to a less packed street, hoping to find a taxi…it starts to become apparent that you are not fine. Your limbs feel heavy, and you lean against the side of a stucco building, struggling for a deep breath. As your vision goes blurry at the edges and the darkness trickles in, your last thought is: Motherfucker, not again.

TBC...

-----

-all chapters buenos aires photo collage II

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

a list of some autumnal movies/series 🍂

i am nothing if not an organised little goblin who can not stop themself from making a good list. this is just in case you want something with that fall vibe but can't think of any. just close your eyes and point somewhere on this little list, or even put the numbers in a generator and go with whatever the result is ♡

winter | spring | summer

🥧 ‧₊˚ ⋅ movies ⋅˚₊‧

nosferatu (1922) 

sabrina (1954)

the creature from the black lagoon (1954)

psycho (1960)

rosemary’s baby (1968)

the rocky horror picture show (1975)

halloween franchise (1978-)

friday the 13th franchise (1980-)

an american werewolf in london (1981)

dark crystal (1982)

a nightmare on elm street (1984)

ghostbusters (1984-)

ronja rövardotter (1984)

clue (1985)

princess bride (1987)

the witches of eastwick (1987)

elvira mistress of the dark (1988)

dead poets society (1989)

when harry met sally (1989)

ghost (1990)

the witches (1990)

death becomes her (1992)

hocus pocus (1993)

addams family values (1993)

interview with a vampie (1994)

the craft (1996)

the first wifes club (1996)

the scream franchise (1996-)

halloweentown (1998)

practical magic (1998)

you’ve got mail (1998)

the blair witch project (1999)

sleepy hollow (1999)

chocolat (2000)

amelie (2001)

the lord of the rings franchise (2001-2003)

scooby doo (2002)

school of rock (2003)

mona lisa smile (2003)

peter pan (2003)

pirates of the caribbean franchise (2003-2017)

north & south (2004)

pride and prejudice (2005)

the descent (2005)

just like heaven (2005)

the devil wears prada (2006)

the lake house (2006)

penelope (2006)

el orfanato (2007)

juno (2007)

ratatouille (2007)

bridge to terabithia (2007)

the edge of love (2008)

twilight (2008)

the curious case of benjamin button (2008)

julie & julia (2009)

jennifer’s body (2009)

dorian gray (2009)

coraline (2009)

true grit (2010)

the cabin in the woods (2011)

jane eyre (2011)

wuthering heights (2011)

perks of being a wallflower (2012)

the odd life of timothy green (2012)

hotel transylvania (2012-)

the conjuring franchise (2013-)

what we do in the shadows (2014)

the riot club (2014)

as above so below (2014)

john wick (2014-)

the age of adaline (2015)

the witch (2015)

far from the madding crowd (2015)

the edge of seventeen (2016)

paterson (2016)

20th century woman (2016)

the love witch (2016)

mary shelly (2017)

murder on the orient express (2017)

get out (2017)

a quiet place (2018 + 2020)

the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society (2018)

on the basis of sex (2018)

knives out (2019)

ready or not (2019)

the lighthouse (2019)

little women (2019)

the gentlemen (2019)

emma (2020)

ammonite (2020)

the dig (2021)

fear street trilogy (2021)

good luck to you, leo grande (2022)

the batman (2022)

fresh (2022)

bodies bodies bodies (2022)

mr malcom's list (2022)

totally killer (2023)

slay (2024)

🧦 ‧₊˚ ⋅ series ⋅˚₊‧

moomin (1990-1992)

twin peaks (1990-1991)

x files (1993-2018)

buffy the vampire slayer (1997-2003)

gilmore girls (2000-2007)

supernatural (2005-2020)

vampire diaries (2009-2017) / the originals (2013-2018) / legacies (2018-2022)

downton abbey (2010-2015)

the walking dead (2010-2022)

once upon a time (2011-2018)

american horror story (2011-)

teen wolf (2011-2017)

peaky blinders (2013-2022)

outlander (2014-)

how to get away with murder (2014-2020)

the magicians (2015-2020)

izombie (2015-2019)

poldark (2015-2019)

critical role (2015-)

stranger things (2016-)

ghost files / buzzfeed unsolved (2016-)

lucifer (2016-2021)

shadowhunters (2016-2019)

anne with an e (2017-2019)

the good fight (2017-2022)

riverdale (2017-2023)

manifest (2018-2023)

killing eve (2018-2022)

succession (2018-2023)

you (2018-)

a discovery of witches (2018-2022)

the chilling adventures of sabrina (2018-2020)

dickinson (2019-2021)

virgin river (2019-)

carnival row (2019-2023)

the witcher (2019-)

the umbrella academy (2019-2024)

sanditon (2019-2023)

good omens (2019-2025)

the haunting of bly manor (2020)

i’ll be gone in the dark (2020)

queens gambit (2020)

the great (2020-2023)

shadow and bone (2021-2023)

the nevers (2021-2023)

wednesday (2022-)

interview with the vampire (2022-)

vikings valhalla (2022-2024)

lessons in chemistry (2023)

my lady jane (2024-)

[eocon-fr]

ᯓ translation of Esteban Ocon interview for GQ France

Esteban Ocon the humble formula.

Formula 1 is experiencing a new era, propelled by a growing media hype and a generation of talented drivers. Among them, Esteban Ocon, the new face of the Haas team whose transfer caused a stir this winter. An outstanding competitor who, far from the limelight and the spotlight, favours work and determination to impose himself on the track.

A page has turned for Esteban Ocon this winter. After five seasons defending the colours of Renault and then Alpine, the driver has joined the American team Haas. As is often the case in the merciless world of F1, his transfer was accompanied by its share of feelings, misunderstandings, rumours, and sensational statements. The complicated season of the 28-year-old Frenchman, embellished by an unexpected second place at the Brazilian Grand Prix in early November, ended with an absence that caused a great deal of noise. During the final race of the year in Abu Dhabi, Alpine had indeed lined up its young reserve Australian Jack Doohan alongside Pierre Gasly, reserving Esteban Ocon a back door exit, after 106 Grand Prix contested under the colours of the French team.

But the Norman has seen others during his nine years behind a Formula 1 steering wheel. The real positive change - which he has been able to observe - is the explosion in the popularity of his sport, notably thanks to the Netflix documentary Drive to Survive and especially to the acquisition of F1 by Liberty Media.

"When I arrived in Formula 1 in 2016, I remember the holes in the stands in Austin. The first corner was not complete, he describes. This sport has never been so worked now, and to experience that as a driver is very special. It’s a crazy thing to arrive on the Fan Forum [a stage where drivers are invited for discussions or games on the sidelines of the Grands Prix] and to see a crowd of 80,000 people, you feel like a rock star."

The downside of this medal is constant media noise and vocal fans who exacerbate rivalries and forge reputations that are difficult to change. Type the name of the new Haas driver into YouTube, and you will quickly come across a video called "Why is it so hard to like Esteban Ocon?"

"There is always information that is distorted or taken out of context that will come out, and people who don't understand everything and are quick to criticize, the driver puts it into perspective. But to get back to Netflix, it can't be bad publicity to be [in this series] because it highlights the sport that I've always loved. Even if it's become more of a business than a sport."

I ask him if that hasn't always been the case.

"It's true that watching documentaries and series about Ayrton Senna, James Hunt, or Niki Lauda, ​​you understand that business and politics have always been part of this sport. But I think we've moved to another level. Some drivers cope with it better than others. For me, the important thing is to see who stands out and who does a good qualifying lap in difficult conditions."

The headlines in the press and the buzz on social networks, the stories of drivers who go from heroes to zeros in the space of a race, Esteban Ocon prefers to distance himself from them.

"I understand that it makes the fans react, but it doesn't fascinate me at all," he admits. "I've learned to stay vigilant and know how to anticipate." That's all you ask of an F1 driver, after all."

A turning point in his career

Moreover, a week after his sad deal at Alpine, as the end-of-year holidays approached, the driver seemed to have already digested the episode. He was impatient to begin a new adventure but also to spend time with his family in Normandy.

"We had reached the end of the story with Alpine, and I can't wait to embark on a new challenge with a team that soared last year. I have grown from this period, and I am proud to have brought home the team's best results since my return to Formula 1 in 2016," said the winner of the Hungarian Grand Prix in 2021. "I obviously regret not having been able to fight more often for better positions over the years, and it is obviously not the ending I would have wanted. But it ended like that. One thing is for sure: it was the right time for a renewal."

We discussed his development since his F1 debut almost ten years ago. In 2016, Esteban Ocon became the youngest French driver in history to compete in a Grand Prix. He was barely 20 years old and was racing for the Manor team. After a season at Force India and a spell at Racing Point, the young driver joined Renault in 2020, where he obtained his first podium in Bahrain. A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then, but Esteban Ocon claims to have always followed the same mantra: getting out of his comfort zone. I ask him if a driver must necessarily change teams at some point to continue his progression. Does love last three years in F1?

"When you have a team and a car that win, there is no reason to change," he smiles.

While the media and social networks have reveled in the supposed tensions between the Alpine team and Esteban Ocon in recent months, and have serialized his rivalry with his teammate Pierre Gasly, the 28-year-old driver assures that his departure is due to a single desire: to embark on a new and exciting project to rediscover the pleasure on the track. But it is also a question of human relationships and trust. At Haas, Esteban Ocon will indeed be reunited with Ayao Komatsu, his very first F1 race engineer, who became the principal of the American team, who joined the paddock in 2016.

"He is not the type to make promises without having a plan to keep them. He explained to me his vision of things and the progress he envisaged for the team. As the races went on, I saw that these were not empty words, as there can be many in motorsport."

Haas went from tenth and last place in the constructors' standings in 2023 to seventh position in 2024. Last year, the team extended its collaboration with Ferrari for the engines and also formed a new technical partnership with Toyota. That said, Esteban Ocon knows that his mission does not look easy.

"We're going to have a lot of work both [with the young British driver Oliver Bearman]. We have a huge project on the simulator that is not up to par, for example. It's a fairly young team that needs drivers who are 100% involved. It's a great project," he enthuses.

To build strong ties with his new team this winter, and to put all the chances on his side, the Frenchman explains to me that the engineers from the Haas team will spend time with him near Annecy, at 321 perform, a center specializing in high-level sport, and in particular stress management. The goal of this course is to establish psychological profiles. In concrete terms, it involves putting each member of the group in stressful situations. The psychologists or the coach ask very tough and very personal questions, without the answers being revealed to the group. A collective debriefing then takes place. The goal: to observe each person's reactions and give them the keys to manage the pressure and the inevitable moments of tension.

"A drama teacher will also intervene, and I think it will be a shock for the new engineers. The team boss Ayao [Komatsu] will come too, but we're going to spare him, Esteban Ocon laughs. During these kinds of sessions, we break down all the barriers, and it leads to the most embarrassing situations. I hope none of these exercises come out!" Imagine role playing, singing, shouting. He gets serious again: "We're going to experience difficult moments during the season, and we have to be able to tell each other everything. It's super important to create a bond as soon as possible and for them to be able to see the submerged part of the iceberg of a driver's life. It's not just arriving at the circuit and putting on your suit."

Championing your bridle and learning from your mistakes

Sometimes, being an F1 driver means forcing yourself to stay up until the early hours of the morning. While Esteban Ocon poses in front of our photographer's lens with more ease than you would have thought, as comfortable in a full denim look as in a leather jacket, his partner Flavy Barla talks to me about the end of the 2024 season and how she supports him. About ten days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix at the end of November, the couple, for example, switched to the Nevada time zone... from Europe.

"We went to bed around 5 or 6 a.m. and went up around 3 or 4 p.m. These moments are difficult because we live completely out of step with the whole world, but it helps me a lot once I'm there, Esteban Ocon puts it into perspective. The life of a driver doesn't leave room for compromise, and everything I do on a daily basis is with a view to the car race. It's when you've prepared the best that you get the best grades."

In this respect, years of experience pay off. Because Esteban Ocon hasn't always been so ready. The former Alpine driver remembers a particularly difficult race during his first season because he had shifted his sleep by four hours... in the wrong direction.

"When I arrived, I was upside down," he jokes today, specifying that his coach Tom Clark, a jet-lag specialist, now concocts a specific program for him based on melatonin and blackouts glasses. Not very sexy, but effective.

"All this means that I am often tired between races, but in good shape in the moments that count. Each season, with my team, we put something more in place in my preparation, to perform better throughout the year", the Frenchman emphasizes.

What did he learn last year?

"At the end of the season, I was working in the heat to prepare for races like Singapore", he tells me, describing hellish one-and-a-half-hour rowing or cycling sessions in the sauna. "But it was cold in Qatar this year! It was the hardest race in history. I was cold in the car. Now, I know that the only race to prepare for the heat is Singapore."

At the beginning of October 2023, the drivers suffered from the heat in Doha (up to 40 degrees), and Esteban Ocon even threw up in his helmet during the race. The Emirati GP is now taking place a few weeks later to avoid these mishaps. Since his first steps in F1, Esteban Ocon has seen the calendar change and new urban circuits (Las Vegas, Miami) and other destinations (the Losail circuit in Qatar and the Jeddah circuit in Saudi Arabia) appear. 21 Grands Prix were contested in 2016 compared to 24 today, and this change of schedule inevitably affects the pace of training and life of the drivers.

"Ideally, I should already be starting my physical preparation [the interview was conducted on December 14]. But we have less and less time off-season to really develop the physical part. So you have to be very efficient and assiduous during these times to build up your health and energy capital for the whole year."

On the program are full days of training with lots of cardio and muscle strengthening, and meals every two hours.

"It's important to have endurance and mass at the start of the season because racing dries you out a lot."

Despite these new constraints and all the work that awaits him at Haas, Esteban Ocon seems to have put all the chances on his side to bounce back in 2025 and beyond.