#honda loyalty

[awkwardrocker]

Not about engine loyalty. If you actually read what I wrote, it's about redbull creating a whole new very untested engine that could make or break their future in F1. They have never been more vulnerable than they are now. Their entire future resides on their new engine being good. That means being appropriately tested and given adequate feedback. Yuki's ties to a different manufacturer would be a concern there because what if during testing he and Max are giving contradicting feedback that confuse the engineers and skew the progress of the engine? What if he lets slip something vital that helps Honda with their engine? All of these are hypotheticals that seem very far fetched and not like something Yuki would do but what if something happens within the team and Yuki isn't happy with redbull and retaliates?

Genuinely it's not a Yuki attack. These are genuine things that people in the workplace have done before and need to be considered and accounted for. It would be a massive risk and the team would idiots not to consider some sort of sabotage.

At the end of the day, NONE of us know Yuki or anyone else involved. And even if we did, people hide things and say one way only to do another all the time. It is simply a concern that likely came up and had a massive impact on the results.

If it wasn't a concern, Yuki and Honda would have never felt the need to claim that they would cut ties. But they did. I, along with many others, don't believe that they'd ever truly cut ties because of their history. They helps him to get to F1 and stay there. That's not an indictment. That's a fact. And good on them for doing that. But you can't benefit so greatly from that and then pretend like it means nothing the next second. There will always be ties and loyalty. Doesn't matter what is said publicly.

I need everyone upset about Liam's promotion to understand that it had nothing to do with him being better/worse than Yuki. Yuki outperformed him. Yuki deserved the chance. BUT Yuki is not a Redbull driver. He is a Honda driver. He has no loyalty to Redbull and that is why he did not get a chance next to Max. It's not that he didn't deserve it. It's pure business.

Redbull are ending their relationship with Honda. They are creating their own engines. It's likely seen as a big liability to Redbull to have Yuki actively involved in any tests or even near anything involving the 2026 engine.

This is not an attack on Yuki or his character or anything like that, so please do not take it that way. But, Yuki's loyalty to a different engine manufacturer is a major risk to any new manufacturer like the Ford/Redbull powertrain. You just never know. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve a good drive, but Yuki's loyalty will forever be to Honda (as it should) and that poses a lot of risks for Redbull.

Once again, I am not commenting on Yuki's character or making assumptions about him when I say this, but there are a lot of big concerns if he gets promoted. He could ditch them for Aston immediately because Honda asks, he could share information about the new engine to Honda, or he could give questionable feedback that negatively impacts the new powertrain. Maybe he wouldn't do these things. But if there's even the most miniscule potential that he could, it would make any team hesitant. F1 is rampant with cheating allegations and questionable tactics to win. The teams will want to protect themselves in any eventuality. And that is what's working against Yuki so greatly.

Yuki has proven to be a very competent driver over the past year, but let's not forget that he nearly lost his seat in 2023 and the rumored reason he stayed is due to Honda. He owes his career to Honda, not Redbull. And at the end of the day, that's his main flaw within this team. It's not his driving. It's not his temper. It's not anything else. It's purely who he is aligned to poltically in the racing world. Is that fair? No. Is that how racing works? Unfortunately, yes.

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 16

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : WARNINGS WILL GIVE SPOILERS !!! MDNI, mentions of drugs, selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions of death, guns, shooting

Chris’s POV

I didn’t wake up until 3pm, sunlight streaming through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. My body ached like I’d been hit by a truck, but the heaviness wasn’t just physical, it was mental too. The events from last night lingered in my mind like smoke, refusing to clear.

Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I saw a notification from Y/n, her name lighting up the screen. She’d replied to my late night text at 7am , like the early riser she was:

"Probably won’t be finished until 6, but I’d love to meet you after! Can’t wait. xx"

A grin spread across my face as I read her message. Y/n had quickly become the best part of my life, the one constant that kept me grounded in the midst of the chaos. Knowing she wanted to see me, even after last night when I’d left her house abruptly, made me feel.. normal. Like I was just a guy with a girlfriend, looking forward to dinner or a drive. Not a dealer. Not someone neck deep in this life.

But then my mind shifted, and I couldn’t help but think about Nate. He’d been heavy on my thoughts since the funeral, and not just because of Danny. After last night’s incident at the docks, I wondered if he knew what had happened. Did Vince fill him in? Did he know I’d gotten into a fight with an H Block, or was he still in the dark?

I sat up, tossing my phone on the bed and running my hands through my hair. I needed to see him. Nate wasn’t the type to reach out, even when things got tough, but I couldn’t let him spiral alone. The weight of Danny’s death was already crushing enough. Add in everything else going on with the cartel, and I knew he was probably close to his breaking point.

Grabbing my jacket, I slipped on my sneakers and headed out the door. Driving to Nate’s place, I tried to clear my mind, but the tension in my chest wouldn’t go away. I kept thinking about last night, the way I fucked up that H Block guy, the adrenaline that surged as Vince encouraged me to keep going. That’s what haunted me most. I’d crossed a line, one that was getting harder to ignore.

When I pulled up to Nate’s place, something felt.. off. I spotted a black sedan parked a couple of houses down, its windows tinted. It wasn’t a car I recognized, and that alone was enough to make me suspicious. Nate’s neighborhood wasn’t exactly known for flashy cars, most of the people here drove old Hondas or pickups.

I stayed in the car for a moment, watching. No movement. No one got in or out of the sedan. Maybe someone swung by to pay respects to Danny. Maybe it was a cop since Danny’s death was now a murder investigation, after all. Or maybe it was something worse, like someone from H Block scoping out Nate’s place.

Shaking my head, I grabbed my phone and sent Nate a quick text:

"I’m outside. Want to go for a ride?"

No reply. I waited a minute, then another, my fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Finally, the front door creaked open, and Nate stepped out. The sun was low on the horizon, casting the street in an orange glow as he walked toward the car. He looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped like the weight of the world was crushing him.

I nodded at him, and he climbed into the passenger seat without a word.

“What’s up?” I asked as we pulled away from the curb.

He shrugged, staring out the window. “Not much.”

I glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood. “You look like shit, man.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s been a shit week.”

“How you holding up?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

Nate shrugged, still not looking at me. “Same as you’d expect. Just tired of everything.”

I didn’t push him, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts. After a minute, I asked, “You figure out who it was that tried to make the hit at the funeral?”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah. But no idea who he’s connected to. Guess he thought he’d make a name for himself, going after us at Danny’s funeral of all places.” He paused, clenching his fists. “But he’s gone now. Fled the city. No one can find him, but I’m not worried. He’ll show his face eventually. When he does, I’ll handle it.”

I didn’t doubt that. Nate wasn’t the kind of guy to let things go, not when it came to family.

“What about Danny?” I asked carefully, keeping my eyes on the road as I drove. “You guys got any leads on his murder? Pieced together what happened that night?”

Nate leaned back in his seat, running a hand over his face. “Not much, but Vince gave me some details. Danny was found outside the warehouse at the docks.” He turned to look at me, his face grim. “Vince was one of the first on the scene, but he couldn’t stay. He got some of the guys to move Danny’s body before the cops could get there and start poking around.”

My stomach twisted. “Why’d they move him?”

Nate scoffed, his tone bitter. “Why do you think? The warehouse is full of supplies. Cops start sniffing around there, and it’s game over for us. Vince didn’t have a choice. Told everyone to play it like Danny was shot somewhere else, that they drove him to the hospital but died on the way.”

I tightened my grip on the wheel, my knuckles going white. The thought of Danny’s body being dragged around like that made me sick.

Nate continued, his voice low and cold. “Hospital bought it. Cops bought it too, at least for now. They think he was killed in the middle of nowhere. But we know the truth.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating. My mind raced, piecing together the events. “Say it was one of those H Block fucks” I said, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “What if someone from their crew was trying to break into the warehouse and Danny just happened to be there at the wrong time?”

Nate frowned, turning to me with suspicion. “What makes you say that?”

I hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth. “Because I ran into one of them there last night” I admitted, my voice low. “Caught some guy trying to steal our supplies. Vince told me to handle it, so I did. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? If they’re getting bold enough to hit the funeral, they’d try the warehouse too.”

Nate’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with anger. “You think it’s connected?”

“I don’t know” I admitted. “But it feels too close to ignore.”

Nate didn’t say anything for a while, his gaze fixed on the horizon as the sun dipped lower. “We’ll find out” he said finally, his voice hard. “One way or another, we’ll find out who did this. And when we do..”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. The fury in his voice said it all.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The weight of what had happened was sinking in deeper, but I couldn’t let it consume me. Not now. Not when there was still so much left to unravel.

"Wait, the fuck were you doing at the docks last night? Thought you had a dinner to attend?" Nate says, raising an eyebrow as I pull into a gas station.

I sigh, pulling the car to a stop near the pump. "And I did attend that dinner" I reply, stepping out. "But Vince pulled me out early. Needed me for a run. Ended up partaking in a physical fight, too. Exactly how I wanted to spend my Thursday night."

Nate lets out a dry laugh, leaning back in his seat. "Makes two of us in physical fights last night. At least I didn’t get my lip split open." Nate smirks, grabbing at my face.

I smirk, rubbing my thumb over the slight sting still lingering on my lip. "I thought you said the guy fled town? Who the hell were you fighting?"

"Three H Block runners" Nate says nonchalantly. "Teenagers. Just needed to let some anger out. Came out without a scratch."

Typical Nate. I chuckle under my breath, shaking my head as I open the door and step out of the car. He doesn’t do things halfway. I start pumping gas, my mind replaying the fight from last night. As much as I wanted to forget it, the tension wouldn’t leave my body.

After filling up, I walk into the convenience store to pay. The fluorescent lights buzz above as I hand over a twenty and grab a bottle of water for the road. Stepping back outside, my eyes instinctively scan the lot.

That’s when I notice it. a black sedan parked by the pumps a few spaces away. It’s the same type I saw near Nate’s house earlier. My stomach twists.

Has to be a coincidence, I think to myself, trying to shake off the paranoia. Now that I’ve seen one, I’m probably just noticing them everywhere.

The thought lingers, though, as I slide back into the driver’s seat. I glance at the time. 5:30pm. Almost time to pick up Y/n.

"You need me to bring you anywhere before I drop you off?" I ask Nate casually, adjusting my rearview mirror.

"Where you headed?" he asks, cracking his window and lighting a cigarette.

"I'm picking my girlfriend up at six." I say, sliding it in with just the right amount of smugness.

Nate’s head snaps toward me so fast I almost laugh. "Girlfriend?!" he repeats, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You kept that quiet."

I grin, knowing exactly how surprised he must be. "Didn’t come up."

He shakes his head, a sly smirk creeping onto his face. "Man, you soft now, huh?” 

“Maybe” I chuckle. “But if any questions are ever asked about this, say you and I got into it okay?” I say pointing at my lip.

“Is that what you told her?” Nate raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah man, couldn’t tell her I had someone pull a knife on me. She’d flip. She doesn’t know about the whole incident at the funeral, fuck, she didn’t even know about the funeral. You love to carry a knife on you too, so it check out in my brain.” I say shaking my head.

“God you’re in this thing a couple weeks and couples therapy is already calling.” Nate laughs.

Y/n’s POV

The courtroom had been stifling all day, and I was practically counting the minutes until I could leave. My phone buzzed just as I was tucking my notes and books into my bag.

"I'm out front. Take your time x."

A smile broke across my face as I read Chris’s message. This day had dragged on relentlessly, and I couldn’t wait to see him. Just the thought of being in his company made everything feel lighter.

I made my way out of the courtroom and through the courthouse doors, the crisp evening air hitting me as I spotted Chris’s sleek Mercedes parked at the curb. He looked out through the passenger window and his face lit up when he saw me approaching.

As soon as I got in the passenger seat, I leaned over to kiss him, melting into his warmth.

“It’s so nice to see you” he said softly, his eyes holding mine for a moment longer than usual.

“It’s nice to see you too” I replied, buckling my seatbelt.

He started the car, the low hum of the engine filling the space. “Where do you want to get food from?” he asked, glancing at me.

I didn’t have to think long. “Honestly? I’m really feeling McDonald’s right now.”

Chris laughed, his expression a mix of amusement and fondness. “If McDonald’s is what my girl wants, McDonald’s is what my girl gets.”

I couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t fancy, but I loved how he always made me feel like my choices mattered.

We headed to the nearest McDonald’s, sliding into the drive thru line. After some playful back and forth, we decided on a 20 piece chicken nugget meal with sweet and sour sauce, paired with two Pepsi’s.

When we reached the pickup window, the smell of fresh fries filled the car, making my stomach growl.

“You better not eat all the fries before we park” I teased, reaching for a couple as he handed me the bag.

“Hey, we both know fries have a lifespan of, like, five minutes” Chris shot back, smirking as he grabbed a few for himself.

We drove to Castle Island, the sky was now pitch black. Chris pulled into a quiet spot near the water, cutting the engine. The world felt still except for the occasional rustle of the trees and the distant sound of waves.

We opened the bag and dug in, alternating between nuggets and fries, laughing as we both reached for the sweet and sour sauce at the same time. It was simple, but moments like this with Chris always felt special.

“This is perfect” I said, leaning back against the seat, the salty tang of fries lingering on my tongue.

Chris glanced over at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “You make everything perfect.”

I felt my cheeks flush as I nudged him playfully. “You’re so cheesy.”

He chuckled, but his eyes softened. “Only for you.”

Chris smirked, tossing another nugget into his mouth as he turned to look at me. "I love having you as my passenger princess," he said, his tone light and teasing.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Passenger princess? Really?"

"Yup" he said with a grin. Then his expression shifted slightly, like he’d been meaning to bring something up. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, do you drive?"

I couldn’t help but laugh at the question. "Can I? Yes. Can I legally? No."

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Wait, what? Why not?"

"My driving test is coming up soon" I admitted. "I never really needed to know how to drive until we moved out of the city. So I only started learning recently. But honestly, the thought of the test freaks me out."

Chris chuckled, his smile softening. "That’s kinda cute. Don’t stress about it, though. And, for the record, I have no problem driving you around. I’d take you over Nate any day."

I grinned at his playful jab. "Speaking of Nate, have you talked to him since the whole argument?"

Chris nodded, his eyes flicking to the water outside the windshield before meeting mine again. "Uh yeah.. I was actually with him before I came to meet you. Everything’s cool now."

I nodded back, taking in his response. I hesitated for a moment, but curiosity got the better of me. There were questions I’d been holding back for a while, and now felt like the right time to ask. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course" he said, tilting his head slightly, his expression open.

"So.. in the gang or whatever you call it," I started cautiously, "is there anyone else like you and Nate in it?"

Chris paused, wiping his hands on a napkin before leaning back in his seat. "Age wise, you mean?"

I nodded, watching him closely as he mulled over the question.

He shrugged, his tone casual, but there was a faint edge to it. "Nah, not really. It’s just me and Nate in our 20’s. He’s the youngest, and I’m only a year older. Everyone else is in their thirties or forties or older."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Seriously? Just the two of you? That’s.. a little unexpected."

Chris considers this for a moment, looking out toward the horizon before turning back to me. "Yeah it can be weird sometimes. But Nate and I stick together. It’s not like the older guys treat us badly or anything, they just see us as the runners, not the ones calling the shots."

I nod again, chewing on his words, a tangle of thoughts forming in my mind. I decide to push some of the heavier ones aside, for now, focusing on enjoying this moment with him.

"You and Nate have always been close, though."

Chris smiled faintly, his eyes softening at the mention of his best friend. "Yeah, we are. He’s like a brother to me. Sometimes I just wish he’d get out of this life, you know? But I don’t think he’ll ever change his ways."

I wanted to tell him that he deserved better, that they both did, but I held back. Instead, I leaned into the moment, savoring the way he’s starting to open up to me.

"Well" I said softly, "I’m glad you two are okay now. And for what it’s worth, I like seeing this side of you, open, honest. It makes me feel closer to you."

Chris looked at me, his expression shifting to something tender and unguarded. "You’re the only person I feel like I can talk to like this" he admitted.

My heart swelled at his words, and I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his.

We sat there in the car, the last of the fries growing cold as the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. But deep down, I felt like something had shifted between us, a step closer to understanding each other’s worlds, even if they were still so far apart.

"Can we go back.. to yours?" I asked softly, trying to keep my voice light, not wanting to come across as invasive. "I mean, I want to make the effort with your family, like you have with mine."

There was a brief silence before Chris responded, his voice a little uncertain. "Uh.. yeah, sure."

His hesitation wasn’t lost on me, and I quickly added, "If it’s too much, it’s okay, I just thought I could get to know your world a little better."

I saw his lips tighten slightly, and he turned toward me with an almost apologetic look. "No, it’s fine. It’s just.. it’s nothing compared to what you live in. Your house is so pristine and presentable.. whereas Uncle Jerry’s place, well.." His voice trailed off, the words left unfinished, as if he didn’t want to insult his uncle’s place.

My heart tugged at the mention of his uncle. I knew Chris had a complicated relationship with his family. He’d told me before that after his own family cut him off, he’d been staying with Uncle Jerry. I reached over, placing my hand gently on his arm. "That doesn’t matter to me, Chris. I just want to be with you, wherever that is."

He looked at me, his eyes softening, and I could see a faint relief in his expression. But then, I felt the need to add something else, something I’d been thinking about for a while. "And besides, I was thinking, when you’re out of all this, maybe you could try reaching out to your family. Maybe try rebuilding those connections."

Chris’s face hardened for a second, and he seemed to retreat inward. I held my breath, not sure if I’d crossed a line, but then he exhaled slowly, looking out the window.

"I don’t know, Y/n" he said quietly. "I dont know if they’ll ever accept me back. Not after everything." His tone was guarded, but I could hear the underlying pain.

I squeezed his arm, my voice gentle. "You never know. People change, Chris. And you’ve changed, too. I just think, maybe.. they might not be so quick to turn their backs on you if they see that."

He didn’t answer right away, and the silence between us stretched for a few moments. I wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, but I didn’t press further. I could see he needed time to process it.

Instead, I smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood. "But hey, it’ll be an adventure, right? Going to Uncle Jerry’s place?"

Chris smirked, his eyes flicking toward me. "Yeah, if you call it that. You’re really sure you want to see where I grew up?"

I nodded, my expression sincere. "Absolutely. I want to know all of you, Chris."

A genuine smile spread across his face then, and he leaned over to kiss my forehead lightly. "Alright. Let’s go then."

We both settled into a comfortable silence as he started the car again, the city slipping away as we headed toward his uncle’s place. And though I didn’t know exactly what would happen when we arrived, I knew one thing for sure, I was ready to be there for him, just like he had been for me.

Chris’ POV

As we pulled up outside my uncle Jerry’s place on Medford Street, I couldn’t help but shake my head. The house didn’t exactly scream "homey" and in the low light, it looked even worse than usual. "It looks like a right trap house, doesn’t it?" I said, laughing under my breath, but my words carried that familiar bitterness.

Y/n, always the optimist, tried to reassure me. "It’s not that bad" she insisted, but I could tell by the look on her face that she was still taking in the sight of the place.

I just hoped Jerry wasn’t asleep on the couch. I wouldn't want to subject her to that, she didn’t need to see the way he lived. Shit, I barely could stand it myself. I’d hoped he’d be passed out in his room, preferably not stirring when we came in.

I reached over and unlocked the front door, the sound of the key turning in the lock echoing through the stillness of the night. The house was dark, which was perfect. The less Y/n saw of the chaos, the better. Exactly what I wanted, since you can’t see shit.

We stepped inside, the heavy smell of old furniture and stale air hitting me immediately. The house was quiet, too quiet. Jerry’s room was at the back, and the living room was to the left, with the usual mess of old magazines, fast food containers, and a busted-up couch. I wanted to get us to my room as quickly as possible, where things were.. more put together.

Since Jerry’s place was a bungalow, there wasn’t much to navigate. It was basically a long stretch with rooms off to the side. I led Y/n to the right, to the first door that opened to my room. I flicked the light switch, the soft glow illuminating the space, and I motioned for Y/n to come inside.

"This is where I crash" I said, trying to sound casual, but there was a tinge of pride in my voice. Compared to the rest of the house, my room was pristine and presentable. I kept it clean, I had to, if only to feel like I had something that was mine.

Y/n took a moment to look around, and I could see her eyes soften as she surveyed the room. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. A small bed, a desk neatly organised with books, and a few pictures hang on the wall. Nothing fancy, but it was a place where I could think, breathe, and for the first time in a while, I felt comfortable with her being there.

"Make yourself at home" I said, closing the door behind us. The place was quieter, calmer than the chaos outside, and it felt like a bit of peace.

I watched as Y/n moved around the room, touching a few things here and there, but not too much, respecting the space. I felt a sense of pride surge through me. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was a part of me, and in that moment, it was enough.

Y/n had sat down beside me on the edge of the bed, her legs tucked under her as she glanced around my small, dimly lit room. I could feel her eyes lingering on the few personal touches I had scattered around, nothing flashy, just things that made this place feel like mine. And for some reason, having her here with me felt different than anyone else ever had.

"You know" she said softly, breaking the silence. "I’ve been thinking a lot about the future lately."

I turned to look at her, my heart tightening at the way she spoke. "What do you mean?" I asked, leaning back slightly on the bed to face her more fully.

She shifted, pulling her knees to her chest as she glanced down, then back at me. "I mean.. us. What we’re doing. What it all looks like in the long run. You know, once this.. all this.. is behind you." She gestured vaguely, the weight of what I was involved in hanging heavy between us. "I can’t help but picture us, together, in the future. Somewhere.. where we can just breathe. You and me."

My chest tightened, a lump forming in my throat. I knew what she meant, and honestly, I’d never really let myself think about it, about a future, about a life with her outside of everything that dragged me down. But hearing her say it out loud made it feel real. It made it seem possible.

"I’d like that" I said softly, my voice hoarse, vulnerable. "I’d like to have a future with you. Somewhere.. just us. Away from all this shit."

Her eyes softened, and she moved closer, settling in beside me on the bed. There was a quiet kind of understanding between us, the unspoken bond growing stronger with each moment. She leaned into me, her head finding its place against my shoulder. "We’ll get there" she whispered. "We just have to take it one step at a time, right?"

I nodded, my hand finding its way to her back, pulling her a little closer, the warmth of her body grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. My hand slid to her side, fingers gently tracing the curve of her waist as we sat in the comfortable silence.

Then, without even thinking about it, I turned to her. Her face was close, the soft curve of her lips tempting, and before I could stop myself, I leaned in, pressing my lips to hers. The kiss was slow, tentative at first, like we were both still figuring out what this was, what we meant to each other. But the longer it lasted, the deeper it became, until there was no space left between us.

I felt her hands move to my chest, pushing me gently backwards, and before I knew it, she was straddling me, her legs draped on either side, her breath coming out in soft, shallow gasps against my lips. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of heat flood through me, my heart racing as I looked up at her. There was a wildness to the moment, an urgency, but it felt right, like everything had led up to this. To us.

Her hands moved to my shoulders, then down to my chest, her touch sending electricity through me. My hands found their way to her hips, pulling her in closer, the warmth of her body against mine driving me crazy. But just as I was lost in the moment, just as everything felt like it was finally falling into place, the sudden beep of my phone broke through the haze.

I groaned, pulling away from her reluctantly as I reached for my phone. The alarm was a reminder - a notification for something I couldn’t ignore.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, silencing the alarm. My stomach tightens at the reminder.

“Shit” I mutter.

“Is everything okay?” Y/n asks, tilting her head slightly, her soft expression making me hesitate.

“Yeah.. it’s.. work” I answer, fumbling for the right words.

“Oh” she says, standing up from the bed. I can tell she’s disappointed, though she’s trying to hide it.

“What do you have to do?” she asks quietly, her voice almost reluctant.

I sigh. “I’ve got to deliver some weed. Just a fifty bag, so it’s not much. I can drop you home first, and then go do it. The dude knows me, so he won’t care if I’m a little late.”

“Yeah, that’s okay” she says with a small nod, but her shoulders sag just enough for me to notice. I hate this. Hate that I keep doing this to her.

We make our way out of my house and back to the car. I unlock it, and we both slide into our seats. The engine hums to life as I glance over at her. She’s staring out the window, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket.

“Have you made any attempts to try to leave yet?” she asks suddenly, her tone colder than before.

I grip the steering wheel tighter. “No.. not yet” I admit. “I said two weeks because.. because I have to figure out how to get out. It’s not as easy as just walking away.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her silence weighing heavy in the car. Finally, she speaks, her voice low.

“Where’s this going to?”

“Longwood” I reply. “Why?”

“You have to go through Longwood to get to my place,” she says, glancing over at me. “Just deliver this off, then drop me home. At least it gives me a bit more time with you.”

I hesitate. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like I’m just throwing you home, either.”

“I’m sure” she says firmly. “Put it this way, it’s probably one of the last runs you’ll ever do, right? I’m glad to be here, ending this part of your life with you.” She gives me a small, reassuring smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

The drive to Longwood is quiet. Occasionally, Y/n hums softly to the radio, but I can tell her mind is elsewhere. Mine is too.

When we arrive, I park a little down the street, avoiding the house. No way am I letting anyone see her here. I text the dude to let him know I’m here, and he replies almost immediately, telling me to meet him around the side of his place. I glance at Y/n sitting in the car, her fingers absentmindedly drumming on her knee as she stares out the window. I glance at her. “I’ll be quick.”

She nods, giving me a faint smile, though the worry in her eyes is unmistakable.

I lock the car behind me as I step out, tucking the fifty bag into my jacket pocket. Walking down the street, I keep glancing over my shoulder, my eyes flickering back to where the car sits. I hate leaving her like this, even for a few minutes.

I round the corner of the guy’s house and stop, positioning myself at the edge where I can still see my car. It’s a habit, maybe paranoia, but with Y/n sitting inside, I can’t take any chances. I lean against the wall, trying to shake the nagging feeling in my chest. I shouldn’t have brought her with me.

The dude comes out from the back of the house, his hoodie pulled up over his head. He nods at me as he approaches.

“Yo” he greets casually, pulling a fifty dollar bill from his pocket and handing it to me.

I slip him the bag of weed in exchange. “All good?”

“Yeah, man. Easy.” he says with a grin before disappearing back into the shadows.

I turn to leave, relief washing over me. Simple. Quick. Just the way I wanted it.

As I step back onto the street, I hear the low rumble of a car creeping slowly toward me. My heart sinks.

A black sedan rolls up, its headlights off. It stops just a few feet from my car, parked awkwardly in the middle of the road.

A black sedan.

Again?

Something’s wrong.

I freeze, watching as the passenger window rolls down ever so slightly. My breath catches when I see it – a hand, pale against the dark, gripping the barrel of a gun.

“Fuck” I whisper, my eyes darting to the car where Y/n is sitting.

Before I can move, the first shot shatters the silence of the night, followed by the sound of breaking glass. My car’s back window explodes into shards, and I hear Y/n’s muffled scream from inside. The sedan’s tires screech as it takes off, leaving the street in chaos.

Fuck. Y/n.

a/n: BUCKLE THE FUCK UP BITCHES

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 9 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo @sophand4n4 @ilovepurpledragons @mattsside @riasturns @mattsredgaphoodie

[haydenthewitch]

before we had the poolverine honda oddesy fight we had the stucky knife fight (the one from captain america winter soilder)

1. wade and logan don't hold back becuse neither of them can die. it's a freeing feeling, being able to beat the living shit out of each other. steve and bucky (rather, captain america and the winter soilder) don't hold back becuse that's how they were taught to fight in hand to hand combat; quick, efficent, brutal. there is no point messing around when a war is to be fought and you are a super-soilder. it's filled eith a desperation- just stay alive, just stay alive thrumming through their veins.

2. most everyone on this site KNOWS that the oddesy fight was filled with emotion in a pretty obvouis metaphor for gay sex. I raise that the stucky knife scene fight, as seen in Captian america and the winter soilder is also Filled with emotion in a metaphor for a gay relationship. you see, in the first part of the fight, before the mask comes off, steve is fighting to protect his frenids, sam and nat. He can stall time by trading blows with the winter soilder if it means that his frenids are safe (as much as they can be) and formulating a plan. His fatal flaw (in a greek myth way) would be loyalty. But once the Mask comes off, and bucky's face is reveled, you can feel his intentions change. I get the same feeling as when steve looks at a picture of peggy carter; a pregnant pause and sense of regret. Then, Nat shoots a balistic missile at the winter soilder, and the PAIN! IN! HIS! FACE! He immeadly looks to see if bucky is okay!! and he's just gone!!! A shift in loyalty becuse of a long lost first love... sigh

for comparison, here's the fight i'm talking about:

[itsmarjudgelove]

THE FAMOUS TALE OF HONDA TADAKATSU

Honda Tadakatsu (本多 忠勝) was a Japanese samurai, general, and daimyo during the late Sengoku and early Edo eras, serving Tokugawa Ieyasu. Known for his exceptional skill in battle and unwavering loyalty to Tokugawa, Honda Tadakatsu was often referred to as the "Warrior who surpassed Death" due to his numerous victories on the battlefield. His iconic helmet, adorned with deer antlers, became a symbol of his fearsome reputation and military prowess. Honda Tadakatsu was a member of the Tokugawa Four Heavenly Kings (Shitennō), with Ii Naomasa, Sakakibara Yasumasa, and Sakai Tadatsugu. Despite participating in 57 combat campaigns during his lifetime, he was said to have never received a single wound. His reputation as an undefeated warrior and his legendary status in Japanese history solidified his legacy as one of the greatest samurai of the Tokugawa era. His dedication to Tokugawa Ieyasu and his remarkable military achievements continue to be celebrated in Japanese culture and folklore.

[sam24]

Minivans And Pawnshops

Summary: You were out on a mission for a week, and when Tony, your self-appointed overprotective bodyguard, notices your Greek god of a boyfriend acting weird, he makes it his personal duty to figure out why. By asking Steve what was going on? Hell no. By slipping a Stark Tracker on him and shoving 11 people into an 8-seater Honda Odyssey to follow him.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader

*****

“Take a left.” Friday’s monotone voice rang out.

“Take a left here, Happy,” Tony instructed, looking up from the Stark Map on his phone.

Happy rolled his eyes, mumbling something along the lines of I know, the robot already told me.

“This isn’t necessary, Tony,” You repeated for about the hundredth time. “Steve is not cheating on me.”

“My evidence says otherwise,” Tony urged Happy to drive faster, earning a grumble from the latter. “He’s acting very suspicious, always going out and coming back late every time.”

“Actually, I can vouch for Tony on that one,” Clint adds from his squished place in the last row of the mini-van, practically sitting in an annoyed Natasha’s lap. “He’s been acting pretty weird.”

“Doesn’t automatically mean that he’s cheating,” You defended. “He probably has other reasons.”

“Fine. Cheating or fight club. Which would you prefer?” Tony cocked his head at you, and you shoved it back.

“If he is bedding another woman, I will make sure he cannot bed any woman ever again!” Thor declared loudly into your ear, Wanda also wincing on the other side of him.

“You mean cut his dick off?” Sam piped in from the back, who was purposefully shoving into Bucky with every turn the car made.

“Um, indeed. I think so,” Thor shrugged. “I am not sure what I meant either.”

“Uh Mister Stark?” Peter turns around from the passenger seat that he was sharing with a very uncomfortable Bruce. “Did you really have to bring all of us? I have a lot of math homework to finish.”

Tony waved him off. “I have like 30 assistants back at the tower, kid. Someone will do it for you. Plus, all of us have to catch Rogers in the act and publicly shame him.”

You turned back to Tony, remembering what you both were initially arguing about after the ringing in your ear settled down. “You didn’t have to sneak a damn tracking device on him! You could have just asked what he was doing like a normal person.”

“Fuck being normal. At least be grateful that I waited for you until you came back from your mission to catch him red handed.” Tony smirked. “Or should I say cum handed.”

Everyone gagged.

“Actually, I don’t think that’s how it works,” Vision frowned, basically underneath Wanda. “The semen technically would not be in the Captain’s hand, unless-”

“Vis, honey.” Wanda just shook her head.

“Plus, I already asked Cyborg over here.” Tony pointed to the back at Bucky, who was still glaring at Sam. “He went uhh, I don’t know and ran away,” Tony said in his best dumb jock voice.

“Nothing is going on, Tony.” Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Just turn the car around.”

“I agree with Barnes.” Natasha kicked Tony’s seat from the third row. “Turn around, Happy.”

Bucky looked past Sam and Clint, who were hitting each other’s knees with their own. “Steve told you too?” He asked in Russian with a raised eyebrow.

Natasha shook her head with a smirk. “No. I’m just smart like that.”

“Too late, buddy,” Tony ignored their secret conversation, flashing a fake smile over his shoulder. “Like the great John B once said, ‘We didn’t come this far to get this far’.”

Peter whipped around once again, his eyes lighting up at the quote. “Mister Stark, I’m really glad that you’re watching my TV show recommendations, but I’m pretty sure someone else said it before he did-”

“Happy, take another left here.” Tony called out, mimicking the AI who just said it seconds before.

You rolled your eyes, the red dot in the center of Brooklyn on the phone screen catching your attention. You had no reason to doubt Steve’s loyalty toward your relationship. He loved you and you loved him and you knew that he would never do anything to hurt you. But, you were curious as to why Steve was apparently acting weird while you were gone, and what the hell he was doing in Brooklyn.

“Trust me, Tone. He’s not cheating. I’ll just ask him when he comes back, it’s probably just some stuff he has to take care of.”

“C’mon guys,” Bucky pressed. “Let’s turn around. I need to pee or something.”

“Hm, sounds like you're in denial.” Tony said to you, ignoring Bucky once again. “Don’t worry, the next step will be coming soon. Anger,” Tony announced with a grin like it was some kind of flashy news headline.

“Tony, why the hell does it sound like you want my boyfriend to be cheating on me.”

“Aw come on, it’s not like that,” Tony gestured at Happy to take a right. “I’m just looking out for you.”

You rolled your eyes once again, rubbing your wrist, remembering the death grip Tony had on you earlier as he dragged you into the light blue Honda Odyssey packed tight of Avengers in the back of his garage. He was saving it for his future family, he had claimed when you asked why Tony Stark of all people owned a minivan.

“Stop!” Tony yelled, and Happy quickly stepped on the brake, sending everyone flying forward. You heard Bruce and Peter groaning in the front. “This is it. The big reveal,” he announced.

You immediately scooted ever closer to Tony as he pressed his forehead to the window.

“He’s having an affair with . . .” Tony paused with a frown, his sunglasses sliding down the slope of his nose. “The owner of Vintage Pawn Shop?”

Pawn shop? Didn't Steve say something about a pawn shop a while back?

Identical confused eyebrow furrows made their way onto everyone’s faces, except Bucky’s and Natasha’s, as you spotted your unmistakable 6 foot 2 super soldier through the glass littered with fingerprints.

He was describing something to the old lady working in the store, looking hopeful and tired, like he had been searching for it for days. She nodded and raised her finger in a one minute, honey type of way and started rummaging through some things behind the counter. She pulled out a small box from somewhere, opening it and gently placing it in front of Steve.

You squinted your eyes, accidentally shoving Tony’s head into the window of the car as you craned your neck closer, trying to read the woman’s lips.

She said something along the lines of This might be what you’re looking for, sweetie, and Steve’s eyes lit up, a clear wave of nostalgia crashing over him. With gentle calloused fingers, he lifted a ring out of the box, admiring it with a soft smile.

“Friday,” Tony called out, face still squished between you and the car window. “Connect to the store’s CCTV.”

Before you could ask since when the hell Friday could do that, the Stark Map with a You have arrived at your destination adorned on its screen quickly was replaced with the live footage from the store’s cameras.

“Did this belong to someone that you knew, honey?” The old woman’s kind voice grainily made its way through the speaker of Tony’s phone as she noticed Steve’s eyes glistening with tears.

Everyone tried to move closer to the phone for Steve’s reply in the overcrowded car. “Ow!” You heard Clint yell, probably at Sam. “That was my foot, dumbass!” He was immediately shushed.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, still smiling at the ring. “My ma’s.”

Multiple gasps were heard throughout the car, Happy’s being the loudest.

A weeks old, sleepy memory that was buried deep into your brain immediately flooded back.

You and Steve were wrapped around each other, your ear pressed to his heart, slowly lulling you to sleep with a familiar beat.

“Y’know, you remind me of my ma.” Steve randomly declared against your hair, and you peered up at him to meet the soft currents in his eyes. “Beautiful. Kind. Doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips as you smiled, cupping your face to pull back and look at you. He stared lovingly at you for a while, settling into a comfortable silence.

“Everything okay?” You turned your head to kiss his palm. The last time he had looked at you for this long without talking, it was right before he burst into tears after you had almost died on a mission.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just thinking.” He pulled you back into his chest, placing another kiss on your forehead. “She would’ve loved you.”

After a little bit of silence, he spoke again. “Her ring was beautiful.”

“Oh?” You hummed.

“Yeah.” He nuzzled his nose into your cheek, a slight Brooklyn accent slipping through as he talked slowly, his words laced with sleep. “Don’t know where it is, but I wanna find it for you. I’ll look through every pawn shop in the state. And when I find it I’ll propose when the time’s right under the stars and you’ll say yes because you’re just like my ma, and Ma loved me more than anything in the world.”

If Steve had brought up the topic of marrying you during the day when you were wide-awake, you probably would have had a stroke of happiness.

But right now, it was night.

It was night and you were half-asleep, wrapped up in Steve’s warm arms, feeling more at peace there than you ever had anywhere else.

Nothing but peace.

So you just drowsily grinned into his bare chest, your hand snaking up to rest on his cheek. “She loved you more than anything in the world, huh?” You repeated. “Well then I guess your Ma and I are pretty similar.”

You looked up from the screen and back at the window, staring at the ring in Steve’s hand with wide eyes. The sunlight bounced off of it and the jewel sparkled in the light with an elegant touch. Steve was right- it was absolutely gorgeous.

A smile crept onto your face, matching the one on Steve’s.

“Why the hell are you smiling?” Tony’s voice interrupted your daze. “He’s gonna propose to the side chick!”

[wallofshamef1]

more death threats but by proxy this time...

You do realise that Liam was his only friend when he came to the UK and is the one who taught him english?

Redbull is preparing for the future and "shopping in house", meaning they want driver with only loyalty to Redbull Racing. Yuki's loyalties have always been with Honda. So the choice for Liam makes a lot of sense, regardless of who is better. In admin's personal opinion, they are pretty equal though.

Murder is never the answer and this is just weird...

[moonshynecybin]

Hi, if its convenient can you put me a link to all Bezz vrimes of haterism on Marc. Is he really that insane to go on record like a drunken man

omg i would love to... those videos are so literally iconic and all of this is so funny to me... SO um. like marc absolutely had a hand in crashing bez out really early at valencia 2023, but it didnt get on the broadcast bc the fucking TITLE FIGHT was happening and stuff so the broadcasting crew simply had other priorities. sorry marco. BUT this still pisses known vale loyalty weirdo and proud scorpio bez off. like a lot. so after the last race of the year when everyone is doing burnouts and getting drunk and celebrating the end of the season he decides to fucking show up to honda hospitality to idk. demand justice. or something, maybe get an apology or explanation. like honesty i have no idea what he thought would happen tbh, because marc had also crashed out of that race later on (jorge martin doing stupid shit and marc high sided to the MOON) and on top of that it was his LAST RACE WITH HONDA. so marc is literally crying all over the place and trying to achieve emotional catharsis about closing a major chapter of his life and saying goodbye to this team that he loves and means so much to him then bez (A FUCKING VALE CRONY??) shows up and starts allegedly yelling at him. which i imagine did not impress marc in the least. so he refuses to talk to him! or turns him away idk but SOMETHIN happens that pisses bez off even moreeeee so he goes into his post race briefing just absolutely spitting mad in like. a puffer jacket with a beer literally in his hand. messy.

so he starts running his mouth. calls marc the dirtiest rider in motogp and says marc only got away with it bc hes MARC MARQUEZ and there was a conspiracy from the stewards and the broadcast in favor of marc (um. buddy.) and its makes a bunch of headlines bc vr46/marquez flavored beef keeps the lights on around here. MARC says to the media i dont wanna even talk about that person. NEXT. so it goes.

but its not even over, because later that day (entering the celebration portion of the evening) bez gets WAYY drunker (TOASTED.) and posts up to the ducati garage to party about pecco’s championship win, whereupon he steals a microphone from skyitalia and goes around bothering people and dropping little digs at marc the wholeeeee time. tbh it is VERY funny. hes like pecco hello how are you today congratulations i WILL beat you next year. did anyone know that marquez made me crash. now lets talk to your GRANDMA ! like its awesome. i watch it when i get sad and imagine the PR guy was locked in a closet somewhere screaming. theres a vid with excellent translation here. homie is on the MOON.

anyways he saw marc on track at testing and was clearly still a lil annoyed but then he walked most of this back like three days later (i DO think some stories got published saying they physically FOUGHT and there were some made up quotes that were obvs crazy, but i also think my man marco got a taste of the vale/marc media divorce vortex and went runningggggg) which is. also so funny. "i dont care what people think" (cares sooosossoso much)

[adimouze]

What I seem to think (for some reason) is that Perez STILL holds the upper hand here. This is what they'd do "if" Perez takes their offer. Perez doesn't seem to want to leave, but who knows how much more of this he has in him.

I'm baffled by the fact that they have Yuki who has much more experience than Liam, why not do put him there for one year until Honda leaves and then bring up Liam because they truly never saw Yuki as an answer.

Liams p16's are apparently good enough. This is why I always thought that they're more concerned about consistency rather than results. If you're consistently p16 that's good but how dare Daniel be p4 then p8 then p12, nope that's bad.

In terms of Vcarb too, they had an experienced driver at their disposal. Fine, they wanted him gone and wanted a rookie. Why not keep him for the 6 races and have him develop the 25 car when they're aware both Yuki and Liam cannot help in that regard.

If Perez is truly getting the sacking, I don't see Horner lasting there long either.

I hope Max grabs a damn life jacket and jumps off this sinking ship because this team's horrific decisions will be their ruin. We can already see it.

honestly horner's days are numbered regardless. i don't see him lasting beyond max's inevitable retirement. i kinda think max might give next year to see where the car development is going and then he'll be like. i cant lose to these fucking assholes and step away.

and it was never about performance, nonny. it was never about performance, never about loyalty, never about reliability, never about anything daniel had to offer. it was always about money in the pockets of rich old men. this is why red bull is in a mess now. nothing daniel could have done and it gives me some peace. that it was never about daniel.

he proved himself. he doesn't need to keep defending himself. i hope he's living his life, allowing himself to eat as much as he wants, and enjoy this life that he has earned for himself. he's only 35 he's got so many options, including just chilling at disneyland. at the very least im so happy they don't get to have him anymore. he's no longer anyone's scapegoat. liam is welcome to that. may his career never prosper.

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 18

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions of death, mentions of guns, shooting, mentions of shooting

Chris' POV

I ended up crashing at Nate’s place last night. After the chaos of the evening, there wasn’t a chance I was going back to my uncle’s. Nate had a guy who could handle the car, so we made a plan to have it fixed first thing in the morning. I barely slept. My head was spinning, replaying every second of what happened.

Y/n.

The way she didn’t even look at me when she got out of the car, it wasn’t just fear. It was something worse: disappointment. I couldn’t get it out of my head. As soon as I woke up, I grabbed my phone and sent her a text:

Hey. Just wanted to check on you. I know Its all so messed up, but I need to know you’re okay. Please talk to me.

I stared at the screen for a long time, waiting for those three dots that never came. I didn’t blame her, but it didn’t make it sting any less.

Nate was already up, tossing on a hoodie and grabbing his keys. “Car guy is gonna meet us at the docks. Vince wants to see us there anyway.”

“Vince?” I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

Nate nodded. “Yeah, something about last night. Probably wants to know why there’s heat on us now.”

Great. Vince wasn’t exactly the forgiving type, but it wasn’t like we had much of a choice. 

We headed out, Nate’s beat up Honda rattling as it cruised through the early morning streets. The docks were quiet at this hour, almost peaceful, if you didn’t know the kind of business that went down there.

As we turned onto the road leading to the docks, my stomach dropped.

A car passed us going the opposite direction, creeping just slow enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

A black sedan.

“Chris-”

“I see it” I cut Nate off, keeping my voice low. “Just keep driving. Don’t even look back.”

Nate tightened his grip on the wheel, muttering a curse under his breath. “You think it’s them?”

“Who else would it be? They’re probably snooping, trying to see what we’re up to.”

“Shit.”

“Don’t stop. We’ll tell Vince. He’ll sort it out” I said, my voice steady, but inside, my mind was racing.

What the hell were they doing this early? The docks weren’t exactly prime real estate for tourists or morning joggers. Whoever they were, they had no reason to be there unless it was for us.

We reached the lot near the warehouse, pulling in next to Vince’s black SUV. Nate killed the engine, and we both sat there for a moment, neither of us saying a word.

“You think they’re watching us?” Nate asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Probably” I admitted. “But we’ll let Vince handle it. That’s what he’s here for, right?”

Nate nodded, but the unease in his eyes mirrored my own. This wasn’t just about the car anymore or even the shots fired last night. This was bigger. And now, Vince was involved.

I pulled out my phone again, checking for a reply from Y/n. Nothing. My chest tightened.

“Let’s go” I said, opening the door and stepping into the crisp morning air. The docks might’ve been quiet, but the tension was anything but.

Vince was leaning casually against his black SUV, talking to Sully. Sully, who was Danny’s right hand man.

It still made no sense to me why Vince thought I could fill Danny’s shoes. Especially when there is people like Sully still around, who had been groomed for this life since day one, practically raised on Vince’s rules. 

Vince glanced up, his eyes cold and calculating, and motioned us over with a flick of his hand.

“I heard about last night” he said, his voice low but sharp. “Shooting in Longwood. That was your car, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah” I admitted, my jaw tightening. “They got the back window. We weren’t hit, though.”

“And what kind of distraction did you have that you didn’t see it coming?” His gaze bore into me, cutting through whatever excuse I might’ve tried to muster.

“I wasn’t distracted” I said firmly. “I was doing a run. It happened when I was heading back to my car. I didn’t even have time to react.”

Vince studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “And you’re sure it wasn’t you they were after?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I don’t think so. I think they thought Nate was in the car. We just saw the same sedan pulling out of here on the way in, they’re lurking, Vince. Everywhere.”

The mention of the car seemed to hit a nerve. Vince’s jaw tightened, and he glanced at Sully, who gave him a slight nod, as if confirming something.

Before Vince could respond, the rumble of a tow truck cut through the silence. It pulled into the lot, heading straight for my busted car. Nate walked over to deal with the driver, giving directions to the warehouse, while I stayed behind with Vince.

“Looks like you’re making a habit of finding trouble,” Vince said, his tone lighter but still laced with an edge.

“Not by choice” I muttered, watching as the tow truck maneuvered my car out of the warehouse.

Vince stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve proven yourself to me, you know.”

I frowned, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“The other night. When we had an unknown on our turf, sniffing around. You handled it better than Danny would’ve.”

His words sank in, and I struggled to hide my disbelief. “I just did what I had to do” I said carefully.

“That’s the point” Vince replied. “You didn’t hesitate. Danny would’ve folded, made a scene. You didn’t.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to argue, to tell him I wasn’t cut out for this, but another part of me, the part that had survived in this life so far, knew better than to argue with Vince Moretti.

Nate walked back over, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Car’s sorted” he said. “He’ll have it ready in the next day or two.”

“Good,” Vince said, nodding. Then he turned his attention back to me. “Keep your head on straight, Chris. We’ll need it.”

I swallowed hard, nodding even though my stomach was in knots. As Vince and Sully walked off, Nate gave me a look.

“What the hell did he mean by that?” Nate asked.

I didn’t answer right away, my mind still spinning. “Nothing good” I muttered finally, staring at the empty street where the black sedan had been. “Nothing good.”

As Nate and I got back into his car, the weight of everything Vince said lingered. My head was pounding from the stress, and my chest felt tight thinking about Y/n. I hadn’t heard from her still, and it was killing me.

I pulled out my phone again as Nate began to drive.

Me: Y/n, I’m so sorry for what happened. Please, just let me know if you’re okay. I don’t expect you to want to talk to me right now, but I need to know you’re safe.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Nate asked, breaking the silence.

“Of course, I’m thinking about her” I snapped. “She was in the car when it got shot at. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

Nate’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I do. I’ve seen shit like this go down before. You’re not the first guy to have someone close to you caught in the crossfire. But you’ve gotta focus, Chris. Losing your head over this isn’t gonna fix anything.”

“I’m not losing my head” I muttered, though the edge in my voice betrayed me.

“What are you gonna do if she doesn’t answer?” Nate asked as he ordered his food.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice low. “I can’t just leave things like this.”

“She’ll come around” Nate said, though his tone wasn’t entirely convincing. “She just needs time.”

“Time doesn’t fix this” I muttered. “How do you fix something when you’ve dragged someone into a world they don’t belong in? And they could’ve been killed in the process. She shouldn’t have been there.”

“You tried to protect her” Nate offered. “She chose to come. That’s on her.”

“No” I said sharply. “It’s on me. I should’ve said no, Nate. I should’ve been smarter.”

He didn’t argue, which somehow made it worse.

When we got back to Nate’s place, I sat on the couch, staring at my phone, willing it to light up with her name. Every second that passed made the pit in my stomach grow deeper.

Finally, I sent another message.

Me: Y/n, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need to explain everything to you. Please. Just one chance to fix this.

I leaned back, running my hands through my hair, the guilt eating away at me. I had no idea if she’d even read my messages, let alone respond.

The silence in her almost built a rage in me, a rage I didn’t know how to contain. It wasn’t directed at her,I couldn’t blame her for shutting me out, but at Vince, at everyone in the gang, at the world, at the life I’d been roped into, at the situation that had unfolded last night.

I needed to see her, to speak to her, to hold her and know she was okay. Every minute of radio silence chipped away at my resolve, and the frustration boiling inside me threatened to spill over.

I stared at my phone, considering whether to call or just show up at her place. But I didn’t even know if she’d be home. It was nearing 11 am, and I didn’t want to make things worse by ambushing her.

“Wanna get McDonald’s breakfast?” Nate asked from the other side of the room, breaking me out of my spiral.

I looked up, narrowing my eyes at him. “Seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

He shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do? You’re sitting there brooding, and I’m starving.”

I let out a sharp exhale, trying to let his nonchalance cool my temper. “Fine” I muttered, standing up. “Let’s go.”

We got in Nate’s car, and he started the engine, pulling out of the driveway. The ride was quiet, the tension in the air thick as I stared out the window, my mind racing.

Y/n’s POV

The morning sunlight streamed through the cracks in my curtains, warming the room in a way that felt cruel given the cold heaviness in my chest. I woke up with my heart pounding, the events of last night replaying in my mind like a relentless reel.

The shattering glass. The gunfire. Chris yelling my name.

I sat up in bed, rubbing my hands over my face as I tried to steady my breathing. My room, my sanctuary, felt suffocating this morning. The usual comfort I found in the soft sheets and familiar walls was absent.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, but I didn’t have the energy to look at it. I knew it was probably Chris, but I couldn’t bring myself to face him, not yet. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face twisted in panic, his voice pleading to know if I was okay.

I didn’t know how to feel. Part of me was grateful we were alive, but the other part, the bigger part, was furious. Furious at him, at the situation, at myself for ever stepping into his world.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I sat there for a moment, staring at the floor. My limbs felt heavy, like they were weighed down by more than just exhaustion. I stood up slowly and walked to the window, pulling back the curtain just enough to see the treehouse outside. It had always been my escape, my safe haven, but even it felt tainted now.

I needed to move, to do something to shake off this feeling. Dragging my feet into the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy, a clear reminder that I’d spent most of the night crying.

After changing into some sweats, I made my way downstairs. The house was quiet, only able to hear the faint hum of the refrigerator. My parents weren’t home, thank God. I couldn’t handle their questions or concerns right now.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, but it tasted bitter, even with sugar. I left it on the counter and wandered into the living room, sitting on the couch and pulling a blanket over me. My phone buzzed again, and this time, I forced myself to look.

The tears came again, silent and unrelenting. As much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t. I cared about him too much. But caring about him meant being dragged into this nightmare, and I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to handle it.

I needed water. My throat was dry, my lips cracked from how much I had cried. I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a glass picking up the Brita pitcher from the counter. As I poured the water, my eyes caught on a note stuck to the fridge.

"Will be out for the day. Have a delivery of fabric samples coming, make sure you answer the door. Mom x"

I stared at the note for a moment. It was strange how mundane her words felt after everything that had happened. Still, it gave me a small sense of routine, a task to do, a reason to stay put. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere today, so answering the door was no problem.

I took a sip of water, letting the coolness soothe my raw throat. My mind wandered as I leaned against the counter, the events of last night still looping endlessly in my head. I felt so detached from reality, like I was floating somewhere between anger, fear, and heartbreak.

The sound of the doorbell jolted me out of my thoughts. My gaze flicked to the clock on the oven. That must be the delivery Mom mentioned. The timing was almost eerie, as if the universe was giving me a task to force me out of my spiraling thoughts.

I set the glass down and walked to the front door, tugging at the hem of my hoodie as I approached. I pulled the door open, expecting to see a courier with a box of fabric samples in hand.

But it wasn’t a delivery man.

It was Chris.

He stood there on the porch, looking a little worse for wear, a McDonald’s bag clutched in one hand, my moms delivery held in the other. His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.

“Hey” he said finally, his voice quieter than I’d ever heard it. “I.. uh, I brought breakfast.”

I stared at him, frozen in place. Part of me wanted to slam the door in his face. Another part wanted to step outside and throw myself into his arms, no matter how much I wanted to be mad at him.

“Can I come in?” he asked, shifting nervously.

I hesitated, gripping the doorframe like it might ground me. “Why are you here, Chris?” My voice came out steadier than I felt, laced with the exhaustion I couldn’t hide.

“To talk” he said, glancing down at the bag in his hand. “And to make sure you eat something. I didn’t think you’d be in the mood to cook.”

His thoughtfulness made my chest tighten, and I hated how he always seemed to know me so well. I wanted to yell at him, to demand answers, to make him understand how much pain I was in. But instead, I stepped aside and let him in.

Chris walked into the kitchen, placing the bag on the counter. He was careful, almost like he was trying not to disrupt the fragile atmosphere between us.

“You didn’t answer my messages and I-” he said softly, his back still turned to me as he pulled two McMuffins and hash browns out of the bag.

“I didn’t know what to say.” I admitted, cutting him off, standing by the doorway, my arms crossed.

He turned to face me, leaning back against the counter. “And I get that. I do. But I couldn’t just leave things like this. I needed to see you, to talk to you. And.. to make sure you’re okay.”

I scoffed, the bitterness finally bubbling to the surface. “Okay? Chris, someone shot at us. At me. How am I supposed to be okay with that?”

His expression crumpled, and he looked down at the floor, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I hate that you were there. I hate that you had to see any of that. If I could take it all back, I would. The last thing I want to do is push you away.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Well, congratulations, Chris. You succeeded. I’m not pushed away, I’m shoved. And now I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

He stepped closer, stopping when he was only a few feet away. “Y/n, please.. I know I’ve fucked up. But I need you to know that you’re the only thing keeping me sane in all of this. I don’t know how to fix this, but I’ll do whatever it takes.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My emotions were tangled in a way I couldn’t unravel. Instead, I just stood there, staring at him, trying to figure out if I could trust his words, or if I was just fooling myself all over again.

Chris took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine for a sign that I’d let him continue. I stayed silent, arms crossed tightly across my chest as I leaned back against the counter. The weight of his words already felt heavy, and he hadn’t even said much yet.

“I never got to tell you this” he began, his voice low and measured, “but at Danny’s funeral.. someone tried to make a hit.”

My brows knitted together as I straightened up slightly. “What?”

“They were caught before they could do anything” he explained quickly, as if to reassure me, though his tone carried no reassurance at all. “It happened right when Nate was reading Danny’s eulogy. The guy had a gun on him, but he was spotted before anything could happen.”

I stared at him, my mind racing to connect the pieces. A hit at a funeral? While Nate was speaking?

Chris ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “And then last night, before I picked you up.. I was with Nate. I saw that car, the car, snooping around his house.”

“The black sedan?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded grimly. “Yeah. It was parked down his street, just sitting there. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but then we saw it again at a gas station later.  Im assuming same car, same guys. They must’ve been tailing us, thinking it was still Nate in the car.”

The room felt like it was spinning. Everything about last night suddenly had a sharper edge, a deeper layer of terror I hadn’t fully realized in the moment. “You’re saying.. the shooting wasn’t meant for you. It was meant for Nate?”

Chris nodded again, his jaw tightening. “I’m certain of it. They thought Nate was in the car, not you.”

The air seemed to thin as I processed his words. Anger bubbled up beneath my fear, mixing into a volatile storm. “So I was just collateral damage?”

“No!” Chris said firmly, stepping closer, his hands reaching for mine, though I didn’t uncross my arms. “You were never supposed to be involved, Y/n. I never wanted you anywhere near this. I-I don't even want Nate near it anymore, but he’s-” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “He’s in too deep. He’s too stubborn.”

“So are you” I shot back, my voice cracking with emotion.

Chris flinched, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he looked at me with an expression that was equal parts guilt and desperation. “I know. And I’m trying to figure out a way out. But this.. this isn’t just about me anymore, Y/n. It’s about Nate. And now it’s about you too.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t sign up for any of it.”

“I know” he said softly, his shoulders slumping. “And I’m so sorry. For all of it. For dragging you into something you should’ve never been a part of.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of my shaky breaths. I looked at Chris, trying to decide if I could trust him to keep me safe, or if staying anywhere near him was the worst decision I could make.

“You need to fix this,” I said finally, my voice steady but cold. “You need to figure out a way to get Nate out, to get yourself out. Because I can’t live like this, Chris. I won’t.”

Chris stared at me, his lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the weight of my ultimatum crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

“And I mean it, Chris,” I said, my voice sharper now, unwavering. “You do it. Today. I’m not waiting any longer. It’s either your Allies or your Affiliates. You decide which one you want.

His head dropped, and he let out a breath, running his hands over his face. “Y/n..” he started, but I cut him off.

“No. No excuses, no ‘I’ll figure it out’ You make a choice. Right now.” My chest was heaving as I spoke, the adrenaline surging through me making my words come out faster than I could think. “Because if you can’t.. then I can’t stay, Chris. I can’t keep doing this.”

His hands dropped to his sides, and he stepped closer, his voice quieter but laced with urgency. “You think I don’t want out? You think I’m happy living like this? Every second I’m in this life, I’m looking for a way out. For Nate. For me. For you.”

“Then do it!” I snapped, the frustration bubbling over. “Stop talking about it like it’s some impossible task and just.. do it. You’re Chris. You’re smart. You’re resourceful. You can figure this out if you really want to.”

Chris stared at me, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do it. I’ll make the call. Today.”

I nodded, my arms still crossed, my heart still pounding. “Good. Because this is it, Chris. No more excuses. No more waiting. It’s either me or them.”

He didn’t respond right away, just stood there, looking at me like he was trying to memorize every detail of my face. “I’ll fix this” he said again, his tone steadier now. “For you. For us.”

I wanted to believe him. For the first time in a long time, I needed to believe him. Because if he didn’t.. I wasn’t sure I could take much more.

Chris’ POV

I held her gaze, searching for any sign that she might doubt me. She didn’t speak, but the way her eyes softened told me she wanted to believe what I’d said. “By tonight, I’ll be out of this. I promise you, Y/n.” My voice was firm, but inside, I felt like I was balancing on the edge of a knife. Making promises to her was easy, but keeping them while dealing with Vince? That was going to take everything I had.

Still, right now, none of that mattered. What mattered was her, safe, here, in front of me. I pulled her into a tight hug, never wanting to let her go. We slightly swayed side to side before pulling back from each other. 

I got you hash browns, a sausage McMuffin, and an iced latte. Thought you might need something good after the night you’ve had.”

She blinked, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite the exhaustion on her face. “Thanks” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitated, watching her closely. “Did you sleep at all?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Barely” she admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear.

I nodded, concern creeping into my chest. “You need to rest, Y/n. How about this: eat breakfast in bed, and then sleep for the rest of the day. I’ll stay with you.”

Her lips parted like she was about to protest, but then she seemed to reconsider. The guarded tension in her shoulders eased slightly. “That actually.. sounds nice” she murmured, surprising me.

“Good” I said, relief washing over me. I grabbed the bag and her drink, gesturing toward the stairs. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”

We made our way upstairs, the silence between us thick but somehow comforting. Once in her room, she climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged as I handed her the iced latte. She took a sip, her eyes momentarily lighting up with gratitude, though the tiredness still weighed heavily on her.

I sat next to her, unwrapping her food and placing it on the nightstand within reach. She ate slowly, the quiet between us filled only with the occasional rustle of the wrappers. I didn’t push her to talk, sensing she needed this, just the simplicity of being here, without questions or demands.

When she was done, she set the wrapper aside and shifted closer to me, leaning into my side. Her head rested on my shoulder, and I instinctively wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. I could feel the tension in her body begin to melt away, little by little.

After a moment, I broke the silence. “I need to send Vince a message” I said quietly.

She tensed slightly against me, her fingers stopping their absent-minded tracing on my arm. “What are you going to say?”

“I’ll tell him we need to meet later. I’ll let him know I’m done. Finished with all of it” I said, my voice steady.

She exhaled slowly, relaxing again. Her fingers resumed their soft movements against my skin. “Thank you.. for taking me seriously” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, Chris. Or the thought of you losing Nate.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting her warmth ground me. “You won’t lose me. I promise you that.”

She nestled closer, and I could feel her breathing start to even out. The quiet of the room was almost deafening, broken only by the faint sound of her sipping the last of her latte.

As she drifted off, I stayed still, my thoughts spinning. The weight of what I had to do pressed down on me like a vice. Tonight, I’d face Vince and make good on my promise to her. There’d be no more runs, no more deals, no more looking over my shoulder. But leaving Vince wouldn’t be easy, and I knew the risks better than anyone.

Still, for her, for us, I’d risk everything. She deserved a life without fear, without chaos, and I wanted to be the one to give it to her.

When her breathing steadied, I carefully reached for my phone, typing out a message to Vince.

Me: Need to meet later tonight. Got something to tell you.

I stared at the screen for a moment before hitting send. The message was short and to the point, and I knew it would raise questions. But that didn’t matter now.

Y/n shifted slightly against me, and I tightened my arm around her. For the first time in a long time, I felt something like hope – a fragile, flickering thing, but it was there.

As I sat there, holding her, I made a silent vow. By tonight, I’d be out of this life for good. Whatever it took.

a/n: im going to keep my mouth shut here so i dont give spoliers

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo @sophand4n4 @ilovepurpledragons @mattsside @riasturns @sturnslutz @chrisstxrnsaxe

[yugioh-rare-pair-poll]

Round 2: Poll 7

Propaganda under the cut

Pairing 1:Buddyshipping (Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Hiroto Honda | Tristan Taylor )

Propaganda: honda and jounouchi are the epitome of “idiot x idiot” they’re stupid but most importantly they’re stupid TOGETHER | They bicker like an old married couple and they're CONSTANTLY huggung/romatically fistfight/basically putting their hands all over each other. they are huge goofs.

Pairing 2: Alternateshipping(Dark Magician/Red Dark Magician)

Propaganda:These two are so important to me, the episode about them impacted me deeply. How the red magician fights his counterpart but clearly envies how loyal he is to Atem, and how well Atem treats him, as opposed to Pandora who mistreates him, and then at the end, joining their side to fight alongside his counterpart and finally getting to experience the joy of helping Atems deck, themes of sacrifice and loyalty i am UNWELL | As for Dark Magician/Red Dark Magician OH BOY. There are intense parallels between the two during the duel between Yami and Pandora. They're both duel monsters who are incredibly loyal, one just happens to be in the wrong hands. Red Dark Magician wants someone to be loyal to, someone to appreciate him, and he gets used and betrayed in the end. I think RDM deserves better and be comforted by the one he was made to emulate.

Now, let’s keep things civil. This is a silly poll where we can share why we love our overlooked ships. There’s no need to be nasty to prove your point. Bashers will be banished to the Shadow Realm.

[batsplat]

well bat you can’t just drop that you’re a signed up expert on the 2006 250 cc szn and not share WHY (unless you already have ofc…..I’m so sorry tumblr search is so ass) please divulge!! I see bb Jorge domination from the wiki 👀 also Aleix…Dovi…and Chaz Davies entered under like 5 different teams omfg what was going on w Casey’s bestie that year

JORGE DOVI TITLE FIGHT JORGE DOVI TITLE FIGHT omg, I'm like the #1 scholar of 2006-07 250cc era (admittedly another one of those fields where I'm not exactly getting a lot of competition on this website, guys please they're so funny). my short thesis for their 250cc vibe is here, where I described it as the huis clos of teenage motorcycle racing. which!! it is

also jorge categorically did NOT dominate that season, he scored only 17 more points than dovi!! but the thing is that jorge wins WAY more races than dovi does (the races dovi win are pretty cool, mind) - it's as close as it is because jorge is a bit less consistent and also tends to stink up the place in the wet. and then 2007 is a way more dominant season... still, broadly everyone's very impressed with dovi because the consensus is that dovi's honda is way way inferior to jorge's aprilia. see from the 2008 season preview (x):

MotoGP has received a welcome injection of young blood this year, and all of the rookies have been fast. The first question we hoped to see answered is the duel between Jorge Lorenzo and Andrea Dovizioso. Last year, Dovi managed to make Lorenzo's life very difficult, despite being on vastly inferior machinery. This year, the Italian is only on slightly inferior equipment, and will be hungry for revenge. Lorenzo, for his part, will want to make his mark on the series, and get a good finish to establish his place in the hierarchy, which he feels is really at the very pinnacle.

(this is also what sets up dovi being late noughties motogp forums' darling, like I cannot emphasise enough how much they LOVED that guy in 2008. plucky underdog syndrome)

it's a big dovi story point that him sticking with honda during 250cc is like,, a real act of loyalty. and initially it gets paid off when he gets the repsol honda ride in 2009, and then it gets rather less paid off when it all becomes a bit ugly in 2010-11 (more on that here). so it's not even that dovi's defeats during 250cc reflect BADLY on him.... but. but!! the joy of it is that these two SO clearly do not fuck with each other that the vibes are just consistently DREADFUL. in really fun ways!! you've obviously always got these great podium photos where one guy aggressively does not want to be there

generational vibes mismatch

it's also just so AWKWARD because dovi just doesn't really care to engage with jorge AT ALL and jorge is playing out all these sports movie narratives in his head where dovi is like,, his great teenage rival who he learns so much from fighting before joining the big leagues. dovi is not interested in being jorge's great teenage rival. and jorge is just so dramatically undersocialised that his attempts to sidle up to dovi and engage with him are consistently very funny to watch. cf something like sepang 2006... jorge is always trying so so hard. not always clear WHAT he's trying but he sure is trying

and 2007 adds another great twist with this, where jorge shows up with increasingly zany celebrations. so dovi's not only being beaten but he's also having to watch his title rival like,, show up in full gladiator kit. which is just. not dovi's vibe. regular reminder that jorge had a dovi mask made but unfortunately never used it:

as far as WE know, he still has that thing. anyway please just take a moment to picture dovi's reaction to jorge lorenzo showing up with a mask of his face. just let that image sit there for a moment in your mind's eye. appreciate it

what dovi had going for him those years was, a) the power of his contempt and distaste for jorge, and b) the ability to remind everyone of how underpowered his bike was. and both of those things were perfect to very much GET to jorge, like it genuinely would've been easier for him if dovi could've had the decency to openly despise him. he wants some feisty rivalries!! not dovi just staring at him like he's dirt on his shoe and then turning away omg. here's jorge about dovi in 2008 (from the longer post about the jorge/dovi feud):

'play the victim' godddd you can really picture dovi doing his factual neutral little just :) telling :) it :) like :) it :) is :) lines about how shit his bike is while jorge is having so many emotions he's going to explode. you get the sense jorge felt dovi was always looking down on him, like it's SUCH an unpleasant vibe... and jorge basically confirmed that's exactly what was going on when he said the following in 2018, during their teammate stint:

DURING MY WHOLE CAREER TRIED TO UNDERMINE MY MORALE likeeee this goes SO far back... jorge seeing dovi as this kind of condescending know-it-all who has always thought he's smarter than jorge... it's such a horrid little dynamic with two fundamentally clashing characters repeatedly trapped together, all of jorge's brash earnestness constantly colliding against the wall that is dovi's cold disinterest. funny in every single iteration, I'm so so glad they got to be title rivals for two years to consolidate their life-long loathing of each other. now THERE is a reconciliation that is not happening any time soon. anyway, if literally a single person is interested in more in-depth discussion of the 2006-07 250cc seasons and the actual races therein, lmk

[mariacallous]

As freshmen at New York University’s film school, some chums and I had an unusual greeting. “We live on rice gruel!” we would say if we saw one another around campus. “We’ll make do on millet!” was the reply.

This back-and-forth comes from an early scene in Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai (1954), a movie somewhat force-fed to us on our first day to teach concepts about the language of cinema such as shot/reverse shot and the fourth wall—conventions that today’s students already have in their blood having played with iPhones before they could walk. Though presented as a literal classroom assignment, Seven Samurai’s appropriation as an inside joke among know-it-all 18-year-olds is proof that watching this landmark of world cinema does not feel like homework. Indeed, revisiting the “good guys with a code facing an unwinnable battle” picture for its 70th anniversary, remastered and appearing in cinemas across North America this summer, reminded me that it’s just as fun now as it ever was.

If one had to chisel a Mount Rushmore of so-called foreign films from the influential midcentury period, surely the image of Toshiro Mifune’s mad swordsman Kikuchiyo from Seven Samurai would be among the four granite faces, right next to the cloaked figure of death from Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal (1957), Marcello Mastroianni with the fedora and whip from Federico Fellini’s self-mythologizing 8½ (1963), and Jean-Pierre Léaud’s truant teen in François Truffaut’s directorial debut The 400 Blows (1959). (For the French nouvelle vague, you could also make the case for Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless, but I’m picking The 400 Blows because this way they all have numbers in the title.)

Though Kurosawa was already a known quantity internationally after the release of Rashomon (1950), a period drama in which several people recall a violent incident differently depending on their point of view, Seven Samurai was both a domestic success and a ripping-enough yarn—swords! archery! horses! mud! gruel!—to engage the rest of the world.

Japanese cinema of the postwar period was initially reluctant to dig into its samurai storytelling heritage, the notion of blind loyalty to feudal lords being understandably less popular at the time. The two most famous Japanese films released just before and after Seven Samurai remain Yasujiro Ozu’s Tokyo Story (1953), basically an enormous guilt trip pointed at modernity for letting down their elders, and Ishiro Honda’s Godzilla (1954), a nation’s collective apocalyptic nightmare that somehow mutated into a still thriving merchandise line. Seven Samurai is set in the late 1500s, during the Sengoku period of civil war, a chaotic time that found many of the samurai class without masters. Many of these men became mercenaries, but imagine a story in which some of them (seven, if you will) decided to join forces against impossible odds because it was the righteous thing to do. In revisiting classic Japanese heroism but acknowledging the then-current sentiment, the picture had its rice gruel and ate it too.

The tumultuous setting depicted in the film—the most expensive in Japanese history at the time—no doubt resonated with a Japan that was modernizing rapidly, as did the secondary theme, blurring the lines of a previously clear class system. The highborn Katsushiro (Isao Kimura) falling for the farmer’s daughter Shino (Keiko Tsushima) amid the endless meadows of chrysanthemums, and Mifune’s Kikuchiyo, revealed to be a fraud to the samurai class but one who proves himself in combat, may feel like classic movie characters, but to a postwar Japan in search of a new identity, these transgressions resonated on a much deeper level.

Seven Samurai has a very simple story that perfectly suits its several high-energy set pieces. The 207-minute epic (that’s about 29 minutes per samurai) is set during a time when the countryside is terrorized by bandits who plunder small villages, depleting their harvests and kidnapping women. Already brutalized villagers, aware that they will soon be targeted again, decide to defend themselves by hiring some outside muscle. But how can they afford to pay (see above: “We live on rice gruel!”)? you may wonder. The wise elder who lives inside a mill with a water wheel providing an incessant warlike beat knows the answer: Don’t just find samurai, “find hungry samurai.”

Timid representatives of the village head to town and witness the bravery and creative thinking of Kambei (Takashi Shimura). They convince him to take the gig, and then he assembles his crew. This includes Kyuzo (Seiji Miyaguchi), a cold-as-ice swordsman; Gorobei (Yoshio Inaba), a brilliant tactician; the eager silver-spoon apprentice Katsushiro; and the loose-cannon Kikuchiyo, who, in time, emerges as the real star of the show. (There are two other guys: One is kind of the morale officer, and the other is just Kambei’s pal.) Anyway, if the plot seems familiar, yes, it has been adapted for Western cinema several times, most notably as the gunslinging The Magnificent Seven (both in 1960 and 2016), sci-fi romp Battle Beyond the Stars (1980), and, if you want to stretch it, the dopey comedy Three Amigos! (1986) and the Pixar cartoon A Bug’s Life (1998). Beyond that, a great many standard cinematic tropes have their roots in this movie.

Most obvious is the first act of the film, in which Kambei builds up the team. There’s no need to overly intellectualize it; it’s just fun to watch him size up potential comrades, test them out, and then make his appeal. There’s also a wonderful moment in which we think we’ve got a new addition but the samurai in question shrugs off the approach when he hears there’s no money or fame in the job. Should Disney ever purchase Toho Studios, we can maybe expect a limited streaming series to find out whatever happened to that guy. Anyway, every movie from The Dirty Dozen to The Blues Brothers to The Right Stuff to Ocean’s Eleven to School of Rock owes a lot to Seven Samurai.

Another influential development is how the villagers (and we in the audience) first meet Kambei. There is some tumult in town as a thief has kidnapped a child and barricaded himself inside a building. Kambei cuts off his hair (a very big deal for a samurai), poses as a monk, and then, after a series of badass moves, rescues the child and kills the baddie in slow motion. Introducing the hero through a mini-mission before we get to the real mission is now so common (think every single James Bond movie) that it’s funny to think it had to originate somewhere.

Most of the so-called movie brats of New Hollywood revered Kurosawa, but none so much as George Lucas, who would later use his clout to help the Japanese director secure funding for his expansive project Kagemusha. While there are more one-to-one alignments between other Kurosawa films and Star Wars (most famously, the original R2-D2 and C-3PO in 1958’s The Hidden Fortress, two comic-relief peasants tagging along on an adventure to save a princess), there’s still a lot in Seven Samurai that made it to the galaxy far, far away.

For starters, there are those wipe transitions between scenes. And then who is the wise elder hunched in the dark speaking truncated wisdom if not The Empire Strikes Back’s version of Yoda? The romance between Katsushiro and Shino is something like a Han Solo-Princess Leia dynamic in reverse, as well. On a technical level, though, one can point to the rising action of the final battle. While there is no exploding Death Star, Kurosawa, who deployed multiple cameras shooting concurrently, cuts not just between different angles of the same fight but between several skirmishes all building to the final thrilling, albeit pyrrhic, victory.

Most striking for its time—and still fiery today—is Seven Samurai’s most impressive element, Mifune. An explosive performer by any standard, let alone the typically taciturn style seen in Japanese movies of the period, Mifune is like a cross between Stanley Kowalski and Woody Woodpecker: muscular one minute, flamboyantly loosey-goosey the next. Like Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire, Mifune dominates every scene he is in with an unpredictable magnetism. (Though never stated as such, John Belushi’s famous samurai character on Saturday Night Live is basically an exaggerated version of Mifune.) Kikuchiyo is a drunkard and a brute but also silly and, when necessary, fragile. His scene rescuing an infant from a burning building is probably the best thing in the entire movie. Any other actor could have played the part as merely loud and annoying, but Mifune turns the role into something sensuous, mesmerizing, and sui generis. There are many reasons we’re still talking about this movie 70 years later, and the biggest reason of all is him.

The anniversary of the picture means its first remastering to 4K and a significant release in North America. (Not just New York and Los Angeles but places including Akron, Ohio; Paducah, Kentucky; and Kitchener, Ontario—here’s the full list.) With a 15-minute intermission plus a little time to buy popcorn, we’re talking about a four-hour commitment at the movie theater. With today’s limited attention span and hectic schedules, programming this film may seem like going up against impossible odds. Hopefully, there are enough people out there still ready to heed the call and do what’s right, no matter the cost.

[neptunescore]

Are you a ferrari fan for the team, driver(s) and/or something else?

I'm a checo and honda fan so choosing a team was easy when I first got into f1. However, with rb and honda's contract ending and the initial uncertainty of checo's contract renewal, I've been questioning my loyalty to the team.

tbh might switch to ferrari next season cause of lewis

So I'm a full tifosi😅 like this team could have the worst car/ worst drivers/ worst stratrgies/ do things i hate, and I still wouldn't be able to let them go (wow this is starting to sound like a toxic relationship😭)

However, I absolutely LOVE carlos. I don't even know when it started, but I realised that while I was cheering on ferrari during races, I also felt like an insane amount of joy every time I saw carlos overtake others in that mclaren of his. And then he came to ferrari... and yh, I'd never been happier :]

Now that carlos' contract is ending, I think it'll just go back to the way it was before. Where I'll still be happy for him and cheer for him, but my main focus will remain on ferrari (can't believe I'll get to see LEWIS HAMILTON in RED!!!)

My brother, tho... this man's having a full-on existential crisis at this point💀 he's a merc fan, but he's literally IN LOVE with lewis hamilton and doesn't really care about the team. Yet for some reason, he's refusing to let the team go as of next year bc he's 'been supporting them since he started watching the sport' and 'it's the PRINCIPLE of things OKAY?!'😭 I'm just feeding him all of mercedes' recent comments and implications abt lewis so he can finally realise how shit the team is treating his man and BE FREE OF THEM.

Anyway, nonnie, I hope we're both wearing the same team colours next year🤭 <3

Edit: My 2 FAVOURITE drivers are carlos and max (If ferrari ain't winning, then I'll only accept him on that top step) and during the whole 'carlos-maybe-to-rbr' era I literally had to sit down and wonder whether it was time to move teams😭. Sadly, that shit didn't happen, so I'm probably gonna remain a ferrari fan forever 😐✊🏽

[argentcochon]

I’m calling it now: Yuki is going to replace Alonso at Aston Martin in 2026.

1) Alonso has expressed a desire to retire soon-ish

2) Aston Martin will be the only Honda engine on the grid in 2026, as Red Bull expects to have their own engines by then. Yuki’s position on a Red Bull team is pretty contingent on the Honda partnership.

3) With Liam supposedly getting the promotion to Red Bull over Yuki, I doubt his loyalty to the Red Bull family will last.

4) Yuki won’t leave RB before there’s an open seat, because he’s too smart to take the risk of leaving F1 without a guaranteed in.

[vivmaek]

I turned 22 and graduated from college today ‼️

Here’s 22 things I’m grateful for:

1. Finally getting my fucking degree

2. My parents, and for what they provided me with

3. The support and understanding that my brother has always given me

4. My friends who have served as my biggest lessons in love

5. My dog and cat for their loyalty

7. My grandma’s neighbor who taught me how to swim

8. Those times where I fucked up so badly that I had no choice but to change

9. Being read to every night as a child

10. My ninth grade English teacher

11. My best friends old Honda

13. Being forced to walk to school

14. Rejections that hurt before realizing it’s for the best

15. The mountains that I grew up in

17. The librarians who memorized my student id number

18. Luck saving me when my hard work failed

19. The trust I’ve begun to build within myself

20. Having a home to come back to

21. Thunderstorms in the summer

22. Anyone who has ever read my written work, including my astrology posts here on tumblr. It means so much knowing that people have taken the time to understand my thoughts. Thank you <3

Sorry if this is a lil’ corny :p but I felt like sharing :)

[pickingupmymercedes]

So, I'm pretty sure George is going nowhere unless it's on his own will. Toto is not the only decision-making person in Mercedes, and the others seem to be very pro George. There has also been a lot of media content of him lately, not only in European/Western media, but also in China. There is no reason to let George go, especially not in his current form. Toto has been loud to praise him in German TV, has been defending him and they do have a comparable relationship, they know each other since George was 15. In my opinion, the Max/Kimi talk was about who gets the other seat and not about having both of them in one team, and Toto really like to stir up the media sometimes. Even if George decided to leave the team after 25, there will be many teams to gladly pick him up, so we should not worry. It's nothing but speculations after all. (and I have not heard anything about that handover, but that would be the most stupidest thing Mercedes could do. Lewis won 6 world titles with them, Kimi has never raced in F1 before. That's even more pressure to put on him, and he will not be the number 1 driver from the beginning as he has literally zero experience. I'm really hopeful to believe that Mercedes know that and don't expect anything from him in the first few races.)

So, I'm not a Russell fan (also not a hater, he's just not one of my favs), but I've been a Merc follower for a while now.

F1 is not only about markets and advertising, but it plays a huge part in it. Specially since Liberty took over. And the drivers today either win enough to be constantly on the up or they have a strong commercial appeal (in a ideal world you get both).

I, particularly, have noticed a different approach to media from Russell's team this year (it was due, honestly) and maybe I'm biased here, or haven't paid enough attention, but it is his third year in a Mercedes, and he's not as commercially appealing as he should be (kind not his fault to some extent).

I have a pretty wide access to Chinese and Japanese media (because of my work) and, again maybe I'm being biased, but even Alonso sells better than Russell in those markets. It's also nowhere near the likes of the Mclaren's, Honda powered drivers, Lewis, and Yuki/Zhou.

In the Americas, his position is slightly worse tbh. In the US, the Ferrari duo, Lewis and Checo are the main faces, and I really thought he'd have some sort of easier introduction in Latam with his first win being in Brasil, but he's just not there, (again, markets I have easy and wide access too)

Now, in Europe, I think that's where his biggest selling pool is. His image sells to the old-money/heritage type (and I have a personal view that that's like 1/4 of the reason it's so hard for him to sell in eastern/latam markets) but in Europe it hits the jackpot.

All this to say, I don't think Max is in contention to a seat so he gets to show how valuable he can be (commercially), because he's already a multiple wdc anyway, he's gonna sell regardless. Russell, we already have a somewhat decent outlook. Kimi's the one we have no idea of.

I also wouldn't take what Toto says to the media to heart. Like, at all. For a number of reasons but the main one being his loyalty is to his money. He is a business man, first and foremost.

Do I think Mercedes is actively planning to get rid of Russell atm? No, not in the near future. But for 2026 maybe. And not only because of driving, or season results alone, but because F1 and the teams need to sell, and George's image sells to a very specific demographic.

Now, as for leaving only on his own will. Anon, please it's F1. It's Mercedes. They forced Lewis, of all people, to leave. The guy who won 6 wdc and 8 wcc with them. And I hope Russell's camp is not as dense as Sainz's and their blind belief he was irreplaceable (because no one in that circus is).

But I do agree George probably has a good couple of almost garanteed seats should he leave Mercedes.