#it better get renewed for all five seasons

[zipadeea]

Like, obviously The Sea of Monsters is going to be great on screen. Obviously. Grover in a wedding dress, Percy as a guinea pig, Clarisse character growth, the chariot races, Annabeth facing the sirens, we've got a full-on Odyssey and it's fantastic. I don't want to wish away all the good things coming! Season 2 is going to be so much fun.

But. BUT. Season 3, man. The Titan's Curse. Thalia. Zoe Nightshade. THE DI ANGELOS. Holy shit, season 3 is going to be excellent.

[itsgodepi]

First Winners | MV33

Summary: After a challenging first season, you return to the Formula One world with renewed determination and lots to prove. You and Max have finally left your rivalry behind and the future has never looked more promising.  Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader Note: this is the second and last part of a collection called Chasing Firsts, being First Loser the part 1 of it. It can be read as a standalone but you'll understand things better if you have read part 1. Word Count: 11k Warnings: emotional distress, mentions of injury Also on AO3

“Sorry!” you shout, breathless, as you sprint across the track, heart racing with effort and pure excitement. 

It is one of those nice sunny days, where the sky is clear but the air remains refreshingly cool, just right for the snug embrace of the race suit. Ahead of you, the drivers are already standing on position, their brightly colored team gear popping against the backdrop of the asphalt.  

Formula 1 Gulf Air Bahrain Grad Prix 2022.��

Just reading the huge sign placed in front of the group makes your skin tingle, the thrill of the season ahead and the weight of what had come before thrumming in your heart.  

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Lando’s voice rings out, dripping with playful mockery, his face lighting up with exaggerated shock. 

The teasing begins immediately as you half-run to your place, playful cheering and clapping for your ‘long-awaited’ arrival. Your eyes find Max across the group —his signature grin spreads wide, eyes sparkling with amusement. You wave off their jokes with a smile of your own, shaking your head and quickly unknotting the sleeves of the suit from your hips. Not even five minutes have passed. 

"I had to take shots for the opening titles and all that stuff!” you explain, slightly out of breath as you slide into your spot. 

Your position is on the left side, wedged between Yuki Tsunoda and the McLarens. Behind you, the Alpine drivers stand a step higher, getting settled in for the photo. Daniel is quick to throw an arm around your shoulders, shaking you from side to side with an exaggerated cheer while you try to fix yourself. 

“Welcome back! We missed you” 

You look up at him, your lower lip pushed out in a joking warning “Don’t say that! I’ll cry!” 

Daniel just grins. “Oops. My bad,” he laughs, releasing you and falling back into position.

The photographers quickly signal they are ready. 

You also draw a smile for the cameras, despite the emotions that start bubbling inside of you. The uncertainty, the fear that your racing career was over and you wouldn’t get into a Formula One car ever again. You weren’t even lined up for a reserve driver role, left scrambling after Hass had terminated your contract late in the off-season. Every seat was covered.

And yet, her you were again, this time wearing AlphaTauri’s colors. 

The world seems to blur around you, your eyes stinging as you try and fail to blink back the tears welling up. You turn around, pressing your hands over your face in a desperate attempt to pull yourself together. You can hear the confused murmurs around you, drivers shifting slightly as they notice the photographers stopping their work. 

“What’s wrong?” someone asks, but before you could respond, Alex Albon’s voice rings out above the chatter, announcing to everyone within earshot, “Aw, she’s crying!” 

That was it —every driver and staff surrounding you turned into a mix of soft chuckles and sympathetic coos. You feel a hand gently land on your head from the spot behind yours, Fernando, offering a quiet, steady reassurance. Daniel also shifts beside you, using his body to shield you from the cameras as he begins to draw comforting circles on your back. You let out a shaky breath. 

Some things never change, you think. At least, this time, they’re happy tears. 

A couple days later, you find yourself standing among the drivers in a more composed manner. The pre-race buzz growing loud around you.

Max comes to stand beside you, flashing a grin and checking “How are you feeling?” 

You cross your arms in front of you, glancing at the grandstands and staff rushing around. Everything had to be perfect for the first race of the season. 

“Honestly? Weird,” you admit, scrunching your nose “It’s just... I don’t know” 

Carlos, catching the tail end of your confession, chimes in “You’ve already been through the hard part,” he casually shrugs “Now’s just like last year” 

You grimace, changing the weight from one leg to the other. The problem is that this could not be a repeat of last year, and yesterday’s qualy was clearly not helping that resolution. Sixteenth, for godness sake. 

“Yeah, but with the new team...”   

“Ah, don’t worry!” Lando chimes in, flashing you a cheeky smirk “No one will even notice the change, just a different shade of blue.” 

He wasn’t wrong. In your almost identical white race suit, only the blue details and deep red logo of Hass had been swapped for the completely dark blue parts of the AlphaTauri emblem. They could have easily photoshopped you into the start of the season’s group photos. 

You are fast to quip back “Says the guy who’s been a walking papaya for three seasons straight!”, nodding at his McLaren gear. 

“Excuse me, it’s four seasons,” Lando corrects, mock-offended as he dramatically clutches his chest. “Have some respect!” 

Carlos snickers, nudging you with his elbow. “Yeah, look at him, he’s a senior now” 

“Whatever” you shake your head, waving a hand in the air to dismiss their corrections. “But yeah, I was hoping for a darker color or something. They had some nice blue ones back when you were in it” you add, glancing up at Max. 

The Dutch, who had been quietly hearing the conversation, raises his eyebrows slightly. His eyes shifting between you and Carlos, his old teammate, trying to recall those days in Toro Rosso. 

You, on the other hand, remembered it vividly. That lanky teenager with rosy cheeks and a wide grin, who shyly laughed off the harsh questioning from the media and was still learning how to handle the spotlight that never seemed to leave him. Max Verstappen, then the youngest driver in Formula 1 history, had merely been a young boy thrust into the cutthroat world of racing, where every mistake felt magnified and the pressure was unyielding.  

And now, here he was, standing tall and confident next to you on his eighth season. He had transformed into a fierce competitor, coming off a runner-up finish in the previous World Championship and now fiercely hungry for his first title. 

Max sure had grown a lot. 

Just a few minutes later, a staff member gently interrupts your conversation, guiding your group toward the red carpet as the national anthem prepares to play. The Red Bull driver helps you weave through the crowd all the way to the front, and finds a spot right next to you as they finalize preparing the ceremony. The atmosphere around you hums with excitement, fans' cheers growing louder as everyone settles into place for the race presentation.  

It doesn’t take long for someone to notice that Max has given up his prime position at the center, as the race pole winner, for a place next to you. But by then, he’s already achieved his goal: calming your nerves with a few light-hearted quips, leaving you smiling even as he’s more or less escorted back to his position. 

Still, after the ceremony comes to an end, the Dutch manages to find his way back to you. Just to wish you good luck one last time. Max tries to do so seamlessly, thrusting himself into the sea of people and matching your pace as you walk back to your car —despite his own resting in the front row. The Red Bull mechanics waving their arms and making signs behind him, their expressions a mix of frustration and amusement, likely thinking he has forgotten his starting spot. 

“Be careful, though, no ending up in the curb today,” he calls out, a playful grin lighting up his face when you near the crowd of white and blue AlphaTauri personnel “You’re not a rookie anymore!” 

Your eyes widen when his words sink in, instantly transporting to last year events and how mad you had been at him. Those interviews and press conferences where you had been at each other neck, especially at the one Max references.  

He had pushed you to the edge —both metaphorically and on the track—, so calling him a rookie was the softest thing he was going to get from you. 

Max lets out a hearty laugh at your reaction, taking a couple steps back in his car’s direction. You roll your eyes, shooting him a playful middle finger which is thankfully hidden by the crowd of people still swarming the grid. No need to give the media something to buzz about before the race had even begun.  

In a twist of irony, despite Max’s playful warnings, it’s him who ends up in the curb in the season opener. Well, not exactly like that, a fuel system failure forces him to retire just a few laps from the end. But naturally, when he wanders into the AlphaTauri garage afterward to congratulate you on your impressive debut, you can’t resist the jab. 

Max sighs dramatically, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I deserved that." But his smile is genuine, a glint of pride in his eyes as he pats your back. "Nice job out there." 

It feels good. Really good. 

Qualifying may have been rough, and your aggressive overtakes might’ve drawn some criticism, but that day, you managed to score your first points for AlphaTauri and secure your highest finish yet. Eighth place. Not bad, not bad at all. 

You know you can’t promise this kind of result in every race, but it still feels like a statement. A message to all those who had questioned the team’s decision to sign you, who flooded the internet with doubts about your abilities. They chalked up your signing to desperation, to picking the only driver left on the market.  

Now, with a hard-earned finish in the books, you feel a sense of vindication. You have proved you belong here. 

Honestly, part of you understands their doubts. Not a single rumor had circulated about you being an option for AlphaTauri—or any other team—after a long break and the presentation of the new cars for the season. It had seemed clear: you had lost your opportunity in the F1 world, like many others. Once you stepped out, it felt like there was no coming back. 

Yet, just two weeks before the start of the season, you were walking into AlphaTauri headquarters to finalize your contract.  

From that moment, everything became a blur—papers to sign, photos to take, and a whirlwind of patience required to navigate your new life. Patience with your new team, with the bosses, and as always, with the media. 

In the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, the car starts having issues as soon as qualifying starts. The steering is a mess, failing to respond to every single one of your manoeuvres, and the engine loses power lap after lap. The result: the withdrawal of your car just before the end of Q2. 

It’s fine, you tell yourself, repeating it like a mantra. You’ll make do with what you have. You’ll forget everything when the lights go out. Even relaying a more polished version of it to the reporters. 

It is March anyway, more specifically Drive to Survive new season’s release week, so they don’t care that much about your Qualy. Their focus lies elsewhere: namely, your huge rivalry with Max Verstappen, the centerpiece of Netflix’s media campaign. 

A rivalry that does not exist anymore. 

“I mean, I understand the interest,” you accept, taking a sip from your newly acquired Red Bull can-shaped bottle to organize your thoughts. “Max was having an amazing sea-” 

Your sentence is abruptly cut off by a hand falling on your shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze. You turn back in surprise to see Max himself making his way past, his PR minder close behind. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he shyly smiles, noticing he has distracted you from the question 

You wave it off “It’s alright”, looking back to the camera 

“We were actually talking about you,” the reporter interjects, seizing the chance to bring the two of you into the spotlight, already moving his microphone towards Max. 

Max raises an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and caution on his face. You can sense the tension; it’s no secret that you have not been nice to each other in past interviews. Glad it is not like that today.  

“About Netflix and all that” you finish for the reporter, noticing he wasn’t going to 

“Oh, right, did you see the posters by the entrance?” Max suddenly remembers, a clever shift in the conversation. Like you, he must have been receiving this type of questions all weekend. “They look straight out of a movie! The one where you are jumping out of the car is the be...” 

“Of me?” you cut in, pointing to yourself in disbelief. 

“Yeah, it's you! From back in Austria, I think” Max confirms with a nod, taking a step toward his waiting interviewer. That’s when the crash went down “They’re just by the gate, next to the security. You should check them out.” 

And just like that, Max has deftly diverted the spotlight and got you both off the hook from what could have been an incredibly uncomfortable interview. Sometimes, his media training does work wonders. 

Later, he even sends you a photo of the poster, and you have to admit it: you look amazing in them. 

Sunday morning dawns, and your sixteenth position on the grid is turned into a disappointing nineteenth due to necessary changes in your car's components. Last place. You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that you hardly get to feel the weight of starting at the back, since the steering wheel starts throwing every known error at you the moment you drive out of the pit lane for the formation lap. The radio crackles to life in the middle of your panic, informing you that the car is also smoking. 

Just like that, your car is deemed unsafe to drive, and you are left to spend your second race seated in the AlphaTauri garage watching Yuki, your teammate, raise to P7. 

This time, it’s you who walk over to the Red Bull garage after the race, hoping to congratulate Max on his amazing race and to escape the celebratory cheers in your own. The moment is far more fleeting than when he had come to see you in Bahrain. Max all smiles and adrenaline, skin glistening with champagne as he pulls you into a brief half-hug in the crowd of mechanics, before he’s whisked away to a meeting room for a post-race debrief. 

He’s the winner, after all, and the season seems to look better for him with each passing race. 

Meanwhile, for you, things only going downhill from there on. You’re doing terrible in qualifying, and fixing it in the race turns into an almost impossible mission as the rest of the cars swarm past, easily overtaking you even in the slowest sectors. 

Those words of encouragement from Bahrain morph into doubtful glances once again. It doesn’t matter that you beat your own record with a seventh-place finish in Imola or that you manage to get within the points in Spain after a grueling race. The media decides to deem that performance “inconsistent” instead, and it stings. 

Then comes the Canadian Grand Prix, a moment that seals your fate. You had climbed the grid from seventeenth place with sheer determination and some questionable overtakes, you were pushing it to the limit and the strategy was looking so promising. Lap 58 and you had managed to reach P9.  

But as you exit the pits on your final set of tyres, everything comes crashing down. 

“There we have it. Comes out of the pits on cold tires and goes straight on into the barrier” the sportscaster's frustration is almost palpable as they show the footage of your onboard camera “Such a shame” 

The clip replays in your head and the TV on a constant loop. The way you accelerated and simply lost control, as if it were your first time in a Formula One car. Do you even know how to drive? —it’s basically what Esteban Ocon had screamed over the radio during your battle in the opening laps, and at this point, you’re starting to believe it yourself. 

Your phone buzzes over the hotel bed, pulling you out of the haze. It’s Max. 

Didn’t see you back at the garage. Hope you’re alright. 

You leave the message sitting there, unread, unsure of what to say. It’s the first time you’ve skipped seeing him after the podium, breaking what had quietly become a tradition between the two of you since the Abu Dhabi GP. Max comes to your garage when you secure a decent finish, and more often than not, you head over to Red Bull to celebrate his wins. But yesterday, you couldn’t face it. 

A few minutes later, another buzz. 

Got a plane back to Monaco with a few of the guys. You’re welcome to join.  

Thought it might be better than flying alone. 

You hesitate, the idea of being around the other drivers feels exhausting right now. 

It alright, Max. I already got the flight back. 

Thanks 

His response is instant. 

If you change your mind, we’re leaving in a couple hours. Just let me know. 

After the summer break, you return to the paddock with a new mindset. You have made a decision to not to care anymore. Not about the whispers, the criticism, or the endless pressure to prove yourself. Last year, you achieved a dream you had been chasing since you were a child—your first season in Formula One. And yet, instead of soaking in the accomplishment, you had spent every race weekend consumed by the opinions of others. 

You are not going to make the same mistake this year. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your time in Formula 1, it’s those opportunities like this, to redeem yourself, don’t come twice. So, you are decided to block out the noise. If people want to talk, let them. You have a job to do: racing. 

But life has a way of throwing curveballs. 

It’s Qualifying day at the Belgium Grand Prix, and the paddock is alive with the usual pre-session buzz. The weather, typical for Spa, is unpredictable —dark clouds loom over the track, threatening to turn the session into a chaotic lottery as the track slickens. 

Unfortunately, you have found yourself being kicked out in Q1. You were pushing, clocking good lap times, but the worry about your wheels slipping on the wet asphalt held you back from going full throttle. As the session concludes, you can’t shake off the disappointment. 

You discuss possible questions with your PR minder while waiting for your turn in the media pen. Your gaze drifts occasionally to the large screen nearby, watching the remaining drivers test the limits of their cars in the second session. 

Suddenly, your stomach drops, and your heart races as you see a car spin out of control on the screen. It takes a moment for your brain to register the scene; it’s Sergio Perez. The monitor shows him losing grip during a fast lap, the car sliding wildly before crashing into the barriers. A collective gasp fills the media pen, and your breath catches in your throat. 

A couple of hours later, Red Bull officially announces what everyone feared: 

“Following a severe accident during Qualifying today, Sergio Perez has sustained a wrist injury that will prevent him from competing in the Belgian Grand Prix. He is currently receiving medical attention, and we wish him a swift recovery.” 

The weight of the news hangs heavily in the air, and as fans and media begin speculating who will fill Checo's seat for the race, whispers circulate around the paddock. Some believe Yuki, with his existing experience in the Red Bull family, will be the front-runner for the seat. Others argue that Liam, fresh off impressive performances in F2, might be a bold choice but also an intelligent one. 

It is safe to say that, when your name is announced in the following statement, nobody is expecting it. 

Your new photo, clad in the Red Bull race suit, plasters itself across every headline, every social media feed. The press loses its collective mind. 

From the back of the grid to Red Bull’s frontlines: A risk too far? 

The mistake that could cost Red bull the constructors’ title 

An erratic driver in a top-tier car. Will she crumble under pressure? 

Inconsistent and unreliable. The weakest link signed for Red Bull’s title chase? 

Every headline, every article paints the same picture—Red Bull taking a reckless chance with you, questioning your consistency and readiness for the top-tier spotlight. It’s as though no one remembers the flashes of brilliance you’ve shown, only the times you’ve faltered. 

You can’t help but notice the lukewarm response from Christian Horner when he arrives to the paddock on race day.  

"We’re giving her the opportunity, and she’ll have to show if her performance is up to our expectations." declares the Red Bull principal. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement. More like a public trial, and you’re the one on the stand. 

But Max? Max defends you, openly and unapologetically. 

“Everyone’s being so quick to judge, but no one gets on this level by accident” he is asked about innumerable times that morning pre-race, and his response is always firm. Leaving no room for doubts “She’s more than capable.” 

It’s a bold statement, one that earns Max a few raised eyebrows and more than enough jokes about needing to be saved from his PR team. But he doesn’t care. He stands by you, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’ve got someone in your corner. 

The pre-race ceremony feels like a fever dream. Drivers and team members pass by, offering fist bumps, handshakes, and quick words of encouragement. This time you are ushered to the front line for the race presentation, to stand next to Max Verstappen because that is your place right now. As his teammate. 

"You do look better in blue, I’ll give you that" he whispers with a teasing grin, giving you a playful nudge 

“Told you” you smile up at him, genuine happiness pulling at your lips "Guess I’ve got to prove I can drive just as well in it too." 

"You will" Max responds, his tone suddenly serious, but there’s no pressure behind it —just belief.  

When the lights go out, the roar of the engines swallows your every thought. You’re starting P13 as a result of Checo’s accident, but as the race unfolds, you move higher and higher in the grid. By lap 30, you're in 8th, and there’s no stopping you now. The Red Bull feels like a beast under your hands and you’re squeezing every bit of power out of it, pulling off daring overtakes with a confidence you didn’t know you still had. 

Each overtake, each maneuver, pulls you higher up the grid. By the time the final laps roll around, you have somehow managed to slip into P3, a podium spot within your grasp. This is surreal.  

Still, Carlos Sainz’s Ferrari is looming large in your mirrors. He’s fast, too fast, and he’s on fresher tires —he is not the one who had to fight half of the grid to get into this position. You know it's only a matter of time before he makes his move, but you defend like your life depends on it. 

The Ferrari dives down the inside after the straight, and you can't hold him back any longer. He slips past, his car a red blur as he takes P3. The podium slips through your fingers, but you hold on to P4, pushing the car to its limits until the checkered flag waves. 

In the media pen afterward, the energy is electric. You raise with confidence as the reporters wave his congratulations and questions. They press you for details, dissecting every turn, every near-miss. One reporter brings up the moment mid-race where you almost went off-track, and you grin, leaning into the microphone. 

“Oh, yeah, look...” you sigh, laughter bubbling up inside you “Max told me to try his settings this weekend and, wow” 

The interviewer chuckles at your reaction, but he really doesn’t know the half of it. It's unlike anything you’ve driven before, a razor-sharp font end and a rear looser than you've ever seen. The result of it is an extremely sensitive car, unpredictable, always on the edge of losing control.  

“It’s hard to get used to, but you know... you don't argue with someone who's going to be the world champion." 

A new announcement comes like a wave crashing over the F1 world a few days later: Sergio Perez will be sidelined for up to five races due to his wrist injuries. The rehabilitation will be long and difficult, but the doctors are optimistic about his full recovery. The news spread like a wildfire, the weight of expectation settling heavily on your shoulders. You’ve had your fair share of ups and downs this season, but stepping in for Checo? That was definitely not on your bingo card. 

Arriving at Zandvoort later that week is a surreal experience. This time, you’re not just las minute filling in, you step into the paddock as a —somewhat— confirmed Red Bull driver for the start of a race weekend.  

You’re dressed head-to-toe in the signature blue and red, the bold bull logo stamped on your chest for all to see. It feels like a second skin, but at the same time, heavier than you expected. Honestly, the simple attire by itself draws a lot of attention, more than you wanted —though, sorry to disappoint, you’re clearly not Max Verstappen.  

At least, when you finally step into the Red Bull garage, the cameras and the blatant stares don’t follow. Your eyes shift through the garage as you try to gather your bearings, taking a deep breath, but someone quickly catches your eye.  

Victoria. 

The sight of her sent a wave of warmth crashing over you, and you rush forward, surprising her with a hug that she instantly reciprocates. It has been so long since you last saw her, only got meet her a few times during your seasons in F3 and F2 when you came to the Netherlands. 

“Oh, look at you!” Victoria whispers, her voice thick with emotion as she buries her head into your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, really proud. This is huge” 

“I know, it’s not in the best conditions but-” you lament, voice lightly trembling 

“Don’t say that” she pulls away to look you in the eyes, still firmly holding your hands in hers, and you feel like a small teary child again. “You deserve it, this opportunity. Nobody gave this to you, you’ve worked for it” 

“I wish you were here,” you confess, letting go of her right hand to wipe the stray tear rolling down your cheek. Victoria squeezes your hand, probably a bit overwhelmed as well, so you decide to lighten the mood a little “Your brother’s too good” 

“Are you saying I wasn’t?!” Victoria shots back in faux indignation, giving you a playful light push. 

“But you’d at least let me pass.” 

“Yeah, I would have,” she states, confidently, her smile brightening the moment “I’m glad you two fixed things.” 

The mention of last year’s chaos weighs heavy in the air, you take a deep breath, “Sorry for not coming to see you last year. That was... a hard weekend.” 

The 2021 Netherlands Grand Prix was a weekend you'd rather forget. You’d felt exposed, vulnerable, and, honestly, betrayed by Max. Even though you were never more than acquaintances during your karting days, and the fact you had clashed so badly during that season that season, you thought him, more than anyone, could understand what being crossed by the media was like.  

At that point especially, when, after weeks of leading drama-filled headlines, that video of you completely broken after your crash with him had flooded every social media platform. He should have known better than to approach you in such a delicate moment. 

But, anyway, all of that was now forgotten. 

“I know,” Victoria’s expression softens at the memory. Her eyes reflected the same pain you felt, and the understanding between you two was palpable “Max wanted mom and I to check on you since the team was dragging him everywhere, but well, he got to you first.” 

That surprises you. You had guessed Max caught wind of the release of the video before approaching you after the race, but you supposed he just wanted to save his ass in what looked like an awful-looking media scandal. Never to check how you were feeling. 

Someone media team swoops in just as you and Victoria are settling down, pulling you away for promo videos and media duties. You nod, giving your friend a parting smile, and follow them toward the motorhome where the familiar sight of cameras, mics, and branded backdrops wait for you. The Netflix crew is also buzzing around like bees, documenting your every step just in case you trip. 

Max is already there, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing that signature smirk.  

“Took your time,” he says, raising an eyebrow as you approach. You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.  

"Blame your sister," you say, nodding toward the garage where you last left Victoria. “She’s distracting.” 

Max chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and coming closer as the crew sets up for the first video. “Told her to hang around for a bit, hope recording doesn’t take too long.”  

You are guided to stand by a table with portable cooking stoves, different ingredients and cooking utensils perfectly laid out for you to use. The arrangement seems to spark a realization in the Dutch’s mind.  

“Oh, I almost forgot it. My mother wanted to invite you over to the house for lunch, or dinner, or whenever you want really...” Max trails off, scratching the back of his neck “I’ll just go pick you up at the hotel” 

You blink in surprise. Lunch with Max’s family? It’s been years since you and his sister were close enough to even consider something like that. The thought makes you feel warm, almost nostalgic for a time when things were simpler.  

“I’d love to, but—” you gesture around, the motorsport chaos swirling around you both, “I’ve got a lot to catch up on, car stuff, strategy... I want to focus.” 

“That’s okay” Max nods in understanding, and you notice there’s an ease to your interactions now that wasn’t there before. “But don’t be too hard on yourself, alright?” 

From them on, the weekend unfolds with lots of promo recording, meetings with the engineers and adapting to the team. 

Qualifying is... bad? Honestly, it is the first time ever in your career you have entered Q3, which, for you is huge milestone, but the high expectations put on you make it seem like an even bigger failure.

Max is second, at least, which can make for an easy race win despite the poor help his teammate can guarantee him. 

Race day also brings a whole new set of challenges. The weather at Zandvoort is temperamental, shifting between light rain and slick track conditions, and making tire strategy crucial. The pit calls come fast and frantic, and in the heat of the moment, you make a mistake. You swing in for the tire change and, surprise, the mechanics don’t try to even touch your car, but instead they start standing up and getting out of your way. 

It takes you half a second to understand what is happening, but when you see the white overalls, you immediately push the gas pedal. You’ve stopped in Haas’ garage.  

The mechanics from both teams wave frantically, guiding you to the correct pit box, but not without some laughter.  

“Sorry, too many changes in one year” you mutter into the radio, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks beneath the helmet

Your race engineer is quick to reassure you "No problem," though you can still hear the suppressed laughter in his voice.  

Cameras catch the Red Bull and Haas crews chuckling after your departure, and even the commentators can't hold back their amusement.

You get driver of the day too, for some reason. 

Later that night, just as you finally collapse onto your hotel bed, exhausted, Max sends you the clip of your pit stop mishap with a string of laughing emojis. You sigh, a tired smile tugging at your lips. You’ll have to get used to these post-race celebrations —Max is on the way to sweep every single trophy this season.  

Another win at his home race, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face all night. For you, a consolatory P5. You will do better next time. 

Asshole 

Go to sleep 

Before you can even roll over, the Red Bull driver is already writing back. You pull the covers over yourself and turn off the lights, waiting for his reply to light up your screen. 

Can’t

I’m drunk still 

Did you get to the hotel alright? 

You can almost hear the slur in his words, even through the letters. It takes a second for you to reply. 

Yeah, just got here 

I’m so tired, seriously, am not fit to party every week 

You have to stop winning so much 

There’s a long pause, the kind that makes you think he’s finally drifted off. But then your phone buzzes again. 

Okay 

I won’t win next week 

Promise 

A smile tugs at your lips at Max’s messages, warmth spreading through your chest at the silly prospect, and you tap out a quick reply. 

Like you can help yourself 

Good night, Max. Get some sleep. 

You fall asleep before you can see his good night message, the events of the day finally taking a toll on you. 

In Italy, everything feels different. Max and you fall into an unspoken rhythm thanks to the convenience of being in the same hotel. Every morning now begins with a knock at your door, the familiar sight of Max waiting to walk with you to breakfast, and then sharing a car to the track. This continues at the paddock as well, though Grand Prix’s weekends are always a chaos. You suffer through meetings, recordings and PR obligations side by side, exchanging glances when things drag on too long or when something utterly pointless is said. And sometimes, if you are lucky and the schedules align, you can even get to spend some low time relaxing back at the motorhome. Not because you are obligated, but because you want to 

It is a welcome change. You have never been this close to a teammate in your time as a professional and Max Verstappen, contrary to all your previous thoughts about him, seems like the perfect person to have that experience with. 

On Saturday, the meeting with the engineers stretches long into the evening. Despite the success of qualifying —better than expected, even, you’ve secured a solid P4, just a couple sports behind Max's P2—, the debrief is exhaustive. The engineers dive deep into every tiny detail: tire degradation, fuel consumption rates, weather forecasts, braking zones, and a million other things you’re digest in time for tomorrow. Your brain is buzzing by the time it finally wraps up. 

The hotel’s restaurant has already closed by the time you roll into the lobby, and you both groan in unison as the realization hits —there’s no food in sight. The trainers, ever vigilant, push you both into the elevator, their meal-prep containers left earlier in your rooms supposedly your savior for the night. You know what's waiting for you though, and it's not appealing. 

“I can’t eat another freaking rice bowl,” you whisper once the trainers step out on one of the lower floors, the mere thought of it making your stomach turn. 

Max chuckles beside you, rubbing his stomach in agreement. “I think I’d rather starve.” 

The two of you stand in comfortable silence for a moment, digesting the reality awaiting you. The floors of the elevator flash by on the display, climbing higher and higher toward your rooms. 

“I mean...” Max starts, crossing his arms and leaning against the elevator wall with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I did see an open pizza place down the street when we were driving by” 

“But tomorrow’s race day...” you mumble, trying to reason with yourself as much as him. 

“Yeah...” Max nods, giving you space to mull it over. 

The elevator dings and opens on your floor, and Max straightens, preparing to walk out and head toward the sad prepped meal waiting in his room. But just as he’s about to take a step, you reach out and grab the fabric of his shirt, halting him. You press the button to close the doors again, making a quick decision. 

“Okay, but you’re not ordering!” you say, a grin starting to creep onto your face. 

Max bursts into laughter, leaning back against the railing again. “Alright, alright.” 

You wrap your arms around yourself, glancing at the two of you in the mirror. Both of you are still fully decked out in Red Bull merch from head to toe —Max even has his cap with his number 33 embroidered on it. This has to be the stupidest idea ever. 

“The fucking Max Verstappen ordering pizza at 1 a.m. on the night before a Grand Prix,” you shake your head, already imagining the headlines. “As soon as they see you, they’re gonna freak o—” 

“Like you’re any better!” Max interrupts, a teasing grin on his face. 

Luckily, you manage to get through the pizza run with only a couple of selfies snapped by the restaurant owner and a few late-night customers. Once the pizza box is securely in hand, you both make a quick dash back to the safety of the hotel. It’s too late to hide your little escapade from the trainers —the notifications on your phone are already rolling in. But with the scent of freshly baked pizza wafting up to your room, you decide not to care. The film Max picked playing as a mere background as the two of you scarf down the greasy treat. 

The next day, the Italian Grand Prix dawns with bright sunshine and adrenaline coursing through your veins. Each lap feels like a heartbeat quickening, anticipation pulsing through you as you steadily climb through the positions. Your focus is razor-sharp, each corner, each straight, a delicate balance of precision and control. Max is just ahead, having commanded the race since the second lap, and after battling off the Ferraris and Mercedes, you’ve finally latched onto his tail. P2. 

You push hard, feeling the car respond beneath you with perfect precision, each movement sharp and purposeful. You’ve fought off them off, but they’re still close, their pace threatening to catch up any second. You need to widen the gap —need to create more space—, and you try to close in on Max to let him know exactly that. 

But something feels off. Max doesn’t pull away, sometimes to the point you could easily overtake him.  

What is happening? It’s not like he’s letting you pass, he is perfectly blocking the path, but why does he seems to already be at his limit? 

“News on Plan X?” you ask over the radio, using Max coded name for some privacy. Better not to raise any alarms if they decide to put it up on TV. 

“No changes”  

You furrow your brows at the quick response of the race engineer. That can’t be. You could —easily— go faster, overtake him. Your pace keeps decreasing with every lap spent behind Max, the difference even making it difficult for you to maintain a comfortable gap between the two. 

Maybe they don’t want to tell you there’s a problem? Or don’t see it? Is it his tires? Did he get any damage? —Why are you faster? 

Despite the way your instincts scream for answers, you decide it’s better to keep quiet. A double podium is on the line, you can’t be fighting Max. Of course you want to win, to show your worth, but you also have to be a team player and these points are extremely important for Red Bull and, of course, for his championship. 

The familiar silver and blue machine looms closer in your rearview mirror in the middle of your internal battle. Lewis Hamilton is relentless, shortening the gap between you with pure experience and determination.  

You push down on the throttle, focusing on the track ahead, trying to distance yourself from him as best as you can while protecting Max. You change your line, block him at every turn, do everything to keep him at bay. 

But with just three laps to go, despite your best efforts, Lewis finds his moment. He slips past with surgical precision, and the sting is immediate. Frustration surging straight from your heart. Could you have passed Max? Could you have won this race? Yes, says a voice in your head, you could have. 

But it’s too late to act on it, you have betrayed your instincts and now you can only watch Hamilton as he pulls away.

P3. 

As you cross the checkered flag, though, all the frustration takes a backseat in your mind. Finally, you have made it. You’ve secured a podium, your first one ever.  

The moment you park the car in front of the sign with a number 3 and pull yourself out, a tidal wave of emotion crashes into you. The cheers of the crowd, the roar from the team. You can’t even keep yourself upright. Your legs feel weak, your heart thudding wildly in your chest.  

You lean into the car, burying your head in your hands, your helmet still on as tears flow freely, the overwhelming joy and relief of this moment too much to hold in. 

Before you can fully grasp the moment, you feel strong arms wrap around you, pulling you upright. Max is there, his face alight with pride and joy. He helps you remove your helmet, the tears still rolling down your cheeks, and pulls you into a tight hug. His laughter bubbling through the noise. 

"You didn’t want to win, huh?" Max yells over the cheers, a wide grin on his face. "No more parties, you said? You were tired!" 

His joy is contagious, and for a moment, you forget the exhaustion, laughing through your tears.

When he finally breaks away from the hug, it’s only to lift you onto the front of your car. You try to protest —it’s his victory, after all, not yours— but Max doesn’t give you the chance. He lets go of your hand and steps back toward the barriers, your helmet still in his hold as he cheers for you alongside the team. Leaving you to bask in your moment. 

Your dream come true. 

The celebration is everything you had imagined and more. The deafening roar of the crowd, the weight of the trophy in your hands, and the surge of pride coursing through your veins feel surreal. It’s all too much and yet exactly what you’ve dreamed of. The champagne flies in all directions, and Max and Lewis make sure to drench you in it until you're soaked to the bone.

By the time you make it to the post-race conference, cleaned up as best as you could, your skin still feels sticky, and your hair —well, that's a lost cause. 

“An incredible race today!” the presenter congratulates you at the start of your round of questions, “It’s been a long journey to get here, hasn’t it? We’ve been waiting for you” 

 “I know!” you laugh, nerves still fluttering, but adrenaline keeping you afloat. “Finally got a race with nice weather. I’ve always hated the slicks, if you hadn’t noticed.” 

“But you’ve always been good on rainy days,” Max interjects from his relaxed spot on the sofa, picking the mic unprompted for the first time 

“What are you talking about? I almost ended up on the gravel in Spa last year,” you throw him a sideways glance, incredulous “Two times!” 

“No, I meant, like, back in karting,”  

“Ah, seriously?” you sigh, exasperated but amused, finally catching onto where he’s going with this. Max lets out a low chuckle, and you turn to Lewis and the interviewer “You know why he’s saying that? It’s because when that inchident thing with him and Charles happened, I was third all through it.” 

You can almost see the journalists in the room perking up, pens poised with renewed energy. You’ve never really talked about this before —there was no need, especially since the main character on it hadn’t mentioned you either—, so this was probably news to everyone.  

Honestly, you weren’t sure Max even remembered you being there. 

“And you know,” you continue, getting into the swing of things, “those two were driving like we were playing Mario Kart or something. Max pushed Charles out to seventh. Charles came back up and almost crashed into me. That was a disaster!” 

The interviewer grins, playing along with the banter. “Did you also end up in a puddle?” 

“I actually won, since they were both disqualified,” you reveal, shaking your head as you look back at Max. His fond smile swiftly drawing one on your lips. 

The Singapore Grand Prix looms large, buzzing through the paddock with one question on everyone’s mind: will Max bring home the championship today? Five races before the end of the season?  It’s a delicate balance. For Max to seal the deal, he not only needs to win but also relies on Charles to have a disaster of a race —preferably a low grid finish or, better yet, a DNF. And with Singapore’s notorious twists and unforgiving barriers, it's not out of the question. 

The fact that both of you are starting at the front of the grid, while the Ferraris languish in fifth and sixth, only heightens the expectations. It feels like everything’s falling into place. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be the night Max brings home the title he’s fought so hard for. 

“How am I going to sleep tonight?” you murmur as you pull the room key from your bag. You’re restless, still wound up from the qualifying session. “I’m all like, I don’t know. I feel like I could run a marathon right now” 

“Not going to follow you on that one,” Max chuckles, low and tired, stretching out his arms as he follows you out the elevator “Sorry” 

The hotel corridor is quiet, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet as you make your way to your room. You look around. It’s a nice hotel this one, with a good gym and a big room. Such a shame the weekend has been so chaotic. 

“Must be nice being so relaxed”  

“Wasted all my nerves in Qualy,” he replies, shaking his head with a grin. The soaked track, the stifling humidity—it had all made qualifying feel like a war zone. Max had been knocked off pole a few times, twice by you. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you, can’t have you stealing the championship” 

You pause, halfway through opening your door, and turn to look at him, incredulous. “You asshole, I’m like 200 points behind you!” 

“Yeah, sure, sure” the Dutchman concedes sarcastically. “Just know I’ll be watching you” 

Rolling your eyes, you lean against your door, pushing it open with your back. The door swings inward, but instead of stepping inside, you instinctively reach out, arms open. Of course, the goodnight hug —a routine that feels oddly familiar now. You can't quite remember when it started, when Max began waiting for you at the paddock or leaving you at your door every night. But as his arms wrap around you and you're pulled into his warmth, you realize you don’t really care. 

“You’ll do great tomorrow” 

“You too,” you whisper back into his shoulder, and a tiny smile draws in your lips just thinking about your next words “Mister World Champion” 

“Don’t say that yet, you’re going to jinx it” Max susses you, jokingly, pulling back slightly but still holding onto you. Your arms rest comfortably over his shoulders. 

You chuckle, looking at him straight in the eyes. “I told you, Max, there’s no way to jinx it. If it’s not tomorrow, it’ll be the day after. I just know you’re going to win so much that you’ll—” 

“That I’ll get tired of it” Max finishes, in a whisper. The memory of the night you told him that, after his loss in last years’ championship, fresh in his head. “And you know, the same’ll happen to you. Just look how great you’ve done this year, with only—” 

“You are just saying that” you interrupt him, grateful for his encouragement but also realistic. Just a few races are left for you to enjoy being in a title winning team, or simply on a team. Your one-year contract, once again, ticking by in front of your eyes. 

“I don’t have to say it, you’ll see it” he assures you, his confidence radiating in every word. “But you won’t get tired, you’ll want win after win, after win” 

You both laugh at that, maybe because it's the truth or because you are both basking in the promise of such futures. Of such fantasies. 

Silence falls between you, the air grows thick with unspoken words. You gaze into each other's eyes, those familiar galaxies pulling you closer. Why does he have to have such pretty eyes?

And before you know it, you both lean in, the world around you fading away as your lips meet for the first time. Soft, tentative, but with so much want. 

Max pulls back just a fraction, looking a little breathless, but then he gently nudges you toward your room, his body still hovering close to yours as he keeps the door open.

“The security cameras...” he chuckles when you glance up at him, clearing the confusion swirling in your eyes. 

You can’t help but smile, the giddiness of the moment washing over you. Unable to resist, you bring him close again, your hand finding its way to his cheek as you lean in, capturing his lips with yours once more. 

Sometimes, Max’s media training really does work wonders. 

When you and Max arrive at the paddock the next afternoon, you feel like you are floating in a bubble of excitement. The usual chaos of race day is buzzing around you—engines roaring, engineers shouting, and the media snapping photos—but all of that seems distant. You exchange glances filled with unspoken affection, a spark of joy igniting between you at every second you get to spend together. It doesn’t matter if it’s during the endless drivers’ meeting or the PR duties, it’s nice being nice to him. 

The media, ever-watchful and ever-mistaken, reads the chemistry as confidence, speculating about the brilliant strategy from Red Bull that has practically secured Max’s first championship. And yes, there’s truth to that, but the reality is that Max is simply too happy about finally kissing you. 

The Dutchman makes a small detour to your driver’s room a couple minutes before you have to head to the track, a mischievous grin spreading across his face when he finds you alone. Without a word, he pulls you in for a quick, sweet kiss, the kind that leaves your heart racing and your cheeks flushed. 

“What was that?” you laugh, your hands playfully resting on his chest as you look up at him, curiosity dancing in your eyes. “Do you do that with Checo too, huh? For good luck?” 

“No, just you,” he replies, his tone light and teasing. Then, he leans down again, his hand caressing your face as he pecks your lips.  

Yet, just as the kiss deepens, a knock on the door and a voice calls out. The race start.

The race is a delicate balancing act from the moment the lights go out. Max launches into the lead, commanding the front of the grid with the ease of a seasoned champion, while you follow close behind. Every lap is executed with seamless coordination between the two of you, the Red Bulls in perfect sync, widening the gap from the rest of the field. The strategy is clear—avoid the battles, manage the tires, and let the Ferraris and everyone else fight among themselves. Both of you know what’s at stake: the championship. 

Your engineer's voice crackles through the radio at intervals, feeding you updates on tire wear, fuel management, and gaps. You can see Max upfront doing the same, his moves calculated and fast. There is no room for errors. 

The laps tick down, the race dragging into what feels like an endless cycle of corners and straights. But everything changes when you hear the voice of your race engineer again, this time with a note of concern. 

“Carlos closing in behind. In DRS range.” 

Your heart skips a beat, though you keep your hands steady on the wheel. It’s clear he’s not going to let you both just cruise to victory. 

Max is still ahead, but you know he's starting to struggle. He’s been pushing, maybe too hard, and the tire degradation is catching up to him. You can see it in the way his car shifts through the corners, just a little slower, a little more unstable. He’s giving it everything, but the gap with the Ferrari is closing, and fast. 

You know the moment is coming. The moment you’ll have to make a decision, if they don’t make it for you. In the pitwall they seem to have reach the same conclusion, relaying both Max and Carlos gap to you every few seconds.

Carlos makes a try to overtake you, once, twice, without success. You are blocking him, but can’t do so for much longer while you have Max at an arm's length. 

Your race engineer comes through the radio, again, the tension in his voice this time unmistakable “You can push”. 

Permission. 

Your heart sinks. The conversation from yesterday replaying in your mind. 

As the next lap approaches, you take a deep breath and swing out of the slipstream, pulling alongside Max. There’s a brief, silent moment of understanding between you. It’s not a fight, just necessity. And with a heavy heart, you make the overtake cleanly, taking the lead. 

You glance in your mirrors again, catching sight of Max falling back. The tires are gone, and the Ferraris are right there to capitalize. Within a lap, Carlos gets by, then Charles. Max is slipping, and you can feel the weight of it settle in your chest. 

Later in the day, the headlines say you have feed the Lion to the vultures. You knew Max was a hard time and, despite it, you just let him go. Like deadweight. 

There’s a brief second of silence on the radio before your engineer confirms, “Good job. Keep pushing.” 

Now it’s just you, leading the race, with Carlos right on your tail.

The roar of the Ferrari engine fills the space behind you, the threat of him overtaking growing with every lap. You push harder, your tires squealing as you take the corners, doing everything you can to hold onto the lead. But the Ferrari is relentless, inching closer, until finally, in a desperate late-braking move, Carlos gets past you. Almost crashing into your car. 

The disappointment hits you instantly, but you can’t dwell on it. You’re still in second, still in the running, but the possibility of Max winning the championship slipping away gnaws at you. 

Lap after lap, you fight to stay close to Carlos, but the gap widens. Max is slipping further back, and by the time the checkered flag waves, he’s dropped to sixth. You cross the line in P2.

Your highest finish yet, but it feels hollow. 

Parc fermé is a blur. You climb out of the car, handing over your helmet and gloves without even thinking, your body running on autopilot. The podium awaits, but you feel none of the excitement you imagined you’d feel standing on the second step. The cameras flash, the crowd cheers, yet your mind is elsewhere. 

After the podium ceremony, you’re guided back to the garage, drenched in champagne but weighed down by disappointment. The team welcomes you back with smiles, their congratulations sincere, but you can see it in their faces —the unspoken acknowledgment of what just unfolded on track. The championship remains in a limbo. 

You change into a clean race suit, steeling yourself for the media. The cooldown room had already been hard enough with all those cameras in your face, capturing your every twitch, and you’re not sure how much more you can hold together. 

You don’t really think about it as you make your way to the opposite part of the garage and knock on his door, a hand pressed to your chest.

There's no response. Maybe Max hasn’t made it back to the garage. 

Still, you decide open, just in case. 

Your eyes widen when you see him, not sure if you are ready to face him. But your heart wills you to take a step inside. Max is sitting in the corner, slumped on the sofa with his head in his hands. The sight hits you hard. Memories from last season, of you sitting in his same exact position, flooding your mind. 

Without a word, you reach into your suit and pull out the handful of candies you grabbed earlier. It’s not much, feels silly to do even, but right now it's the only thing you can offer. You place it gently on the table in front of him, just as he had once done for you.  

Max looks up, his eyes tired but warm. A tight-lipped smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  

You try to reciprocate it, yet only a grimace comes out.  

The engineers and mechanics start calling for you to head to the debrief from outside, and you look at the door and back to Max. You want to give him the same space he gave you, to be as understanding as he had been last year, but you feel rooted to the spot. 

Max finally speaks, his voice is soft “Congrats on P2.” 

“The first loser” you correct, with a shrug of your shoulders, a tight smile on your lips. The old joke weighting in your heart.

And Max smiles, for real this time. 

That’s when it all hits you. The weight of the race, the decisions, the pressure —it all crashes down at once. Tears start welling up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them.  

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, your voice breaking. “I’m really sorry Max, I don’t want to go back to fighting again” 

Max is on his feet in an instant, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice soft in your ear. “It’s not your fault. You did what you had to do. Don’t cry, I’m not mad.” 

“But, I shouldn’t—, I—”  

Max just holds you tighter, sussing your cries, one hand gently stroking your hair as you cry into his chest. Your hands clutch at his fireproof shirt, desperate, like he might slip away if you let go. 

“And I didn’t even have nice candies for you! I-” you sob, pulling away from his chest long enough to gesture to the table, your voice catching in your throat. “Just the ones for the throat. This is so bad, I’m so sorry” 

Max eyes widen with surprise as he takes in your teary outburst, a chuckle slipping out of his lips, but there’s no teasing in it —just something tender and understanding.  

“Don’t laugh!” you protest, fresh tears brimming in your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” the driver helplessly smiles, pulling you back against his chest and letting you cry. After a moment, he adds quietly, “If it means anything, I bought the candies like way before I gave them to you. In a nice store I found" 

You pull away, confused, your brows furrowing. 

“What?” Max questions with a sheepish smile “You thought I had a nice bag with your favorite candies just laying around in my room?” 

You lower your eyes as you mutter “Thought it was from a fan or something”, a pout forming in your lips 

“No, no” he shakes his head, rubbing slow circles into your back. “I bought them back in France, after the fight in the parade. I felt really bad about everything that happened” 

Your eyes widen. France? That was weeks before you patched things up last year. Had he been carrying those candies from race to race, just waiting for a chance to fix things between you two? 

More tears well up, the flood of emotions overwhelming you. “Max, no! That’s even worse!” 

After a season filled with battles and close calls, Max finally clinches the championship at the Suzuka Grand Prix. Despite your best efforts to keep calm, your excitement betrays you the moment set your eyes on him. Surrounded by the team, the photographers and the fans, basking in the glory of his first title.  

Without much thinking, you run straight to Max, throwing your arms around him in an embrace that’s far too enthusiastic to go unnoticed. Max pulls you in without hesitation when he sees you, laughing as you both collapse into each other, overcome with relief, pride, and sheer happiness. 

The sportscasters on live TV are quick to catch it, chuckling at the scene. 

“Oh, are those..?” one of them wonders, amused. 

“Yeah, they are!” another commentator jumps in, clearly enjoying the moment “Do these two have something to tell us?”  

That night’s celebration is truly unforgettable, a whirlwind of champagne, cheers, and heartfelt toasts. The team is overflowing with joy, reveling in the culmination of their hard work, eight years of relentless effort finally paying off in the most spectacular fashion. Laughter rings out as stories are shared, memories of the long nights and tireless preparations flooding back to everyone in the room. 

Max at the center of it all, his dream come true. His first World Championship. One of many. 

And although the saying states that misfortunes never come single, it is fortunes that do it this time. A couple weeks later, as you savor every moment left in the Red Bull garage —nestled in your incredible world championship-winning car and with a schedule that perfectly aligns with Max’s before Checo returns—, you find yourself at the top of the grid. 

Your first win. 

It’s exhilarating, the trophy gleaming in your hands as you stand on the top step of the podium, the crowd erupting in cheers below. You can hardly believe it, especially after the uncertainty of whether you would even participate in this season. But here you are, excelling everyone expectations and proving that you deserve to be here. You belong here. 

However, as sweet as the victory is, there’s an inevitable bittersweetness when you slip back into the Alpha Tauri race suit. Hanging low on the grid again despite the high expectations everyone has thrown onto you. This is your true seat after all, but the contrast still feels shattering, like waking up from a dream you didn’t want to end. 

Guess you will have to remind yourself of your Wolrd Champion boyfriend’s words: “It will come”. Because one day your name will be etched on that trophy right alongside his. Max is sure of it. 

The end of the season arrives just a month later, and both Red Bull and AlphaTauri teams gather for their final celebration. A constructors and driver’s championship in their pocket.

It’s a glamorous night, everyone dressed to the nines. Max looks dashing in his tailored black suit, and you in a long dress that makes you nervous just to walk in. The evening is full of happiness and memories, a fitting end to a thrilling year.  

After a long round of applause for Max and his championship win, Christian Horner takes the microphone, a grin spreading across his face as he addresses the crowd. 

“Actually, can our newly confirmed driver for Alfa Tauri come up to the stage for a second, please?” he announces, and the room erupts into applause. Your heart skips a beat.  

No one really knew about your contract extension —two more years in the AlphaTauri seat, with the possibility of a return to Red Bull on the horizon—, so the announcement makes your future with the team feel all the more tangible. 

You leave your seat to walk towards the stage, confusion written all over your face. You clearly weren’t expecting a live announcement, less so bringing you up on the stage for it.

Max leaves the spotlight for a second to come to meet you at the top of the stairs, lending a helping hand. 

“Can you explain to me what am I doing going up on stage with the world champion?” you whisper. You grip his arm, grateful for the support as you follow him to the center. 

“Well, bringing the rising star, what else?” Max states like it’s obvious, a smirk tugging at his lips. And then he can’t help but whisper “You look beautiful” 

Standing on stage, you feel the nerves tighten in your chest, the weight of all eyes on you suddenly overwhelming as Christian thanks you for your efforts this season. But the team principal’s voice breaks through the buzzing in your ears. 

“I’ll be honest, kid,” he starts, turning toward you with a playful glint in his eye. “If I knew you were this good, I would’ve saved myself a lot of calls from Max.” 

Laughter erupts from the crowd, and you can’t help but smile, shaking your head at Max, who just smirks and shrugs innocently. You didn’t know the Dutchman had had such a hand in bringing you into the team. 

Christian raises his glass, his expression shifting into something more serious. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want a round of applause for both of them —our two first-time winners. For many more victories and better ones, if that is even possible” 

Max steps forward, taking your hand and lifting it alongside his, both of you standing together, as winner, first winners. The room erupts in cheers and clapping, the weight of the season finally settling in. You exchange a glance with Max, and in that moment, you both know that this is just the beginning of an incredible adventure together. 

Author's note: First of all, thank you all so much for reading! I can't thank you enough for the comments and support you gave to First Loser.

I hope you enjoy this ending a lot too. I hadn't even thought of writing a second part but now that I see it, I'll have to give agree with you: it needed a part 2. So thanks for the encouragement! hahaha

(Also thank you to the person who say they wanted to see a reunion with Victoria, I loved writing it)

Taglist: @youre-on-your-ownkid, @bieberismysoulmate, @nebarious, @drezzerk33, @yuiiimd

[tippenstoepens]

Prettiest Girl in the Room

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Wordcount: 1.2k

You couldn’t hold it against Joe. As an adult woman, you knew better by now. Kisses don’t come with strings attached and just because a person kisses you, doesn’t mean they want to spend the rest of their life with you - especially if that kiss happened while both parties were drunk.

Which Joe made pretty apparent when he didn’t call you the morning after your kiss. Or the three mornings after that. Or the three months after that. All you had heard from Joe was his reaction notifications from the cast group chat when someone would send a Twitter meme made of the show. Everyone fancied one of Jackson’s character screaming “Well, you can shove your ham up your ass!” 

“Joekeery loved an image”

That’s all you got. 

You went about your life the way you always did between gigs: waitressing during the week, babysitting your friends’ kids on weekends, and sending out the odd self-tape in hopes your career wasn’t over before it had even begun. It was a nice, simple life. Not every actor was fortunate enough to afford a roof over their head in New York City, no matter how many doubles they worked. You consider yourself spoiled rotten every day. What could possibly be missing?

You didn’t date. That was probably part of the problem. That’s what made Joe’s silence ache so deeply. You wondered if it would change anything if he knew that the most action you had gotten in months before the kiss was getting catcalled in the streets. A simple kiss meant the world to celibate, touch starved women like you.

Maybe you should be the one to call him… And maybe you should crawl on your knees begging him to pay you a modicum of attention with “DESPERATE” written on your forehead in red Sharpie just to put the icing on the idiot cake. 

He popped into your mind way more often than he was welcome. At the grocery store when one of the songs he always played in the makeup trailer started harassing you over the intercom. In your kitchen when you removed fish bones from your salmon. In bed when you were trying to… Well, that’s no one’s business. 

“Guess who has two thumbs and just got renewed for a second season,” the director bubbled in the group chat.

“Oh, I love this game,” David texted. “This show. Our show got greenlit.”

It was time to shake it off. Not just for the sake of the show, but for your own sake. It wasn’t healthy to dwell so much on the past. 

On the first day back from hiatus, the producers and director had the cast sit for a table read of the first few scripts they had written. As Joe’s TV wife, you’d expect to be sitting next to him considering most of your scenes were together. Maybe you should talk to Joe and clear the air before the table read started. Yes. That’s the mature thing to do.

You arrived twenty-five minutes early - which is on-the-dot on time in the acting world. Joe wasn’t there when you arrived. Or ten minutes after you did. Or five minutes after that.The anticipation of Joe’s arrival was turning your stomach into knots. He was usually punctual. Surely, he wasn’t tardy because of you.

“Any word from Joe?” The director mumbled to his assistant. 

“Haven’t heard from him,” they replied.

You began to worry. Was he skipping out on the table read because he didn’t want to see you? Had his avoidance of you gone that far? He’d have to get over it eventually. He had a contract to fulfill. Just as you began your descent into a catastrophizing spiral, the clock struck eleven and Joe jogged into the room - beads of sweat forming at his hairline. “So sorry,” he panted. “Traffic was terrible.”

“It’s okay, we wouldn’t get started without our golden boy,” David teased. “I hear he’s up for sexiest man alive this year.”

Joe blew a short raspberry in response.

“Alright, alright, let’s get right into it, shall we? From the top of episode one.” The director chirped, no doubt relieved that he didn’t have to read Joe’s lines for him. “Interior. The Henderson bedroom. John and Jane Henderson lie in bed, covered only by their silk bed sheets. They’re snuggled up together. Post-coitus is implied.”

Say sike right now. You had never done a scene like this with Joe before. Never! The Henderson’s didn’t even have a scene like this in their honeymoon episode.

Of course this would be the first scene on the first day back after your first time seeing Joe after your first kiss. It was fan service. Every girl, guy, and person wanted to see more of Joe’s skin these days. But why did you have to be dragged into it?

You turned to look Joe in the eyes as you would have at any other table reading. Normal. This is normal. Business as usual. But it didn’t feel as easy as it was before. At first, you struggled to make eye contact and when you finally did, the intensity of his gaze made you blush a bit. Only a bit. The show must go on.

“That was amazing, sweetheart,” he scooped the line off the page and met your gaze again. 

God, the script writing was really going downhill this season, huh?

You sighed contently as the script dictated. “You’re tellin’ me!”

The whole cast chuckled.

The rest of the table read went on without a single hitch. After the ice was broken, things weren’t nearly as awkward as you dreaded they would be. The cast went through the entire table read five times before the lunch break. The first thing you did with your free time was approach Joe.

“You didn’t call.”

“Neither did you."

Fair, but not really because Joe was the one with a booming career and Joe was the one everyone tuned in to the show for and Joe was the one with most of the power in this dynamic and Joe was the one who initiated the kiss and infinitely many other reasons that he was to blame came to mind before you finally came to the conclusion that you didn’t call Joe because you were afraid of the possibility of rejection. What if you followed up only to find out that he wasn’t interested in you? Your low-self esteem convinced you that reaching out to a person like Joe was asking for embarrassment.

“So what now?” The rough exterior melted, revealing the vulnerable little girl inside that just wanted a boy to like her back.

“Well, that’s up to you,” he shrugged.

Not necessarily the answer you wanted. You just stared him down until he said more things.

“If it was just a drunken kiss, I understand. We’ll never speak of it again. We’ll keep things professional.”

“And if it wasn’t?” You murmured while making sure to avoid eye contact lest you be made a fool of for saying that.

“If it wasn’t… I’d like you to have dinner with me," he blushed. "Some time. If you… I dunno if you have free time- Well, of course you have free time, but I meant- If you want to have dinner,” he stammered and stuttered.

“I’d love to.”

Joe sighed in relief. “Great. Do you like Italian?” He smiled a bashful, closed lipped smile and it made the corners of his big, brown eyes crinkle.

“I love Italian.”

“I know a spot in the lower east side near Ludlow. Friday at eight? I’ll pick you up if you like.” God, his eyes.

The submissive in you wished he would stop worrying about what you like and make you do what he liked. The romantic in you found his sheepishness so charming.

“I’d like that,” you beamed.

Taglist: @thefrontofmymind, @bejeweled13swiftie

[bloop-bl00p]

Rewriting Sir Pentious justice for the snake boie

Doesn’t anyone find it weird how we’re gonna have the backstory of everyone in later seasons?

Not only do they hardly follow the redemption aspects but they also give us little to nothing about the characters. I can buy that Heaven is corrupt and/or unfair but rather than having Adam throwing curse words and profanities every five seconds, why not show it in elements of the main cast backstory?

Reveal that they were essentially in unjust situations where they had no other choice but sins to survive, the type of stories that’ll make the audience think “Is Heaven fair in its judgment?” then you have the reveal that the system is corrupted. It feels like common sense to me.

Anyway, Sir Pentious wasn’t that much of an asshole in my rewrite, we understand why he acted the way he did but he still fucked up.

Madhav Karmakar was born in 1858. He was an Indian migrant in England who wanted to follow a partnership in engineering. Studying hard and else he worked ten times harder than the other students due to prejudice regarding his origin.

He made his way into a prestigious university and went out with his diploma ready to show off his skill but generally still faced racial discrimination. Throughout his life, Madhav had to do everything in his power to completely suppress anything that tied him to his country, fully adopting British mannerisms and culture, suppressing his accent, and else. At 17, he became an apprentice and started studying Mechanical Engineering, ending officially his studies at 24.

His hardship allowed him to work alongside others to develop steam machines and various ways of transportation. Despite having clearly mastered, and even ameliorated his domain, Madhav still had fewer opportunities compared to his colleagues and was paid less than the other regardless of the amount of work he put in.

What was first jealousy due to the unfairness of his situation quickly became Envy directed at his white counterparts. He started slowly destroying the reputation of his associates mostly by secretly sabotaging their work in various manners, introducing faulty designs, tampering with documentation, sabotaging equipment and tools, and anything really just to make himself feel better.

It lasted for years until one of his sabotages cost him his life. In 1888 at 30 years old, he caused one structure to collapse and the debris fell on him breaking his legs, he died screaming for help under the remains and suffocated because of the dust.

A few years following his arrival in Hell, he used his ingenuity to create steampunk-style machines in order to conquer territory. Problems, most of the lands were already owned by powerful Overlords. Madhav overestimated his inventions a lot so he got his nonexistent ass beaten all the time. He even gained the nickname Sir Pretentious though he still tries and insists on being called by his real surname (nobody does.)

The dude persisted, gaining the reputation of the village fool. Surprisingly for everyone he finally managed to get his hand on a very small portion of a territory… only for it to be snatched away by a punk rookie a week later. It would be easy for any Overlord to step up but they have their own business to take care of and some find it funny to see those two quarrel all the time.

Bit of a fun fact:

→ If I had to redesign him, he’d be fit with a large figure, we’re talking of the man who built this alone…

.. I doubt the egg boys can lift things too heavy considering they are fragile. So yeah, Madhav isn’t a twink.

→ The egg boys aren’t literal eggs just small mechanical robots he built to be his minions, if they were to break they’ll be gears everywhere but he could still rebuild them later. He wishes he could make them a bit smarter.

→ Snakes are very often associated with lies and manipulation and everything related to it. That’s what Madhav has been as a human, an envious liar. But, snakes can also symbolize renewal and rebirth in other cultures, and since he’s gonna be the first redeemed it kinda fits. I don’t know if Viv knew this but shout out to her if she did.

→ Keeping the romance with Cherry, I can appreciate a really good Enemy to Lover but the way it was framed feels like Cherry only got interested when she learned he had two dick, which feels icky and disingenuous.

So, I thought of slowly making their relationship more of a “Are they fighting or flirting” type of thing. That and having Cherry make comments between their fight like “You’re getting better at this!” which flatters Madhav because he never really had recognition for his fighting skills or invention.

He’s still a bit stuck in the old-timey way of courtship, and considering those things could last 3 to 4 years, with him you can expect the slowest slow burn possible. Anyway, he still respects lots of British traditions, being a regular correspondent and sending letters and gifts. I can see him asking to go on a walk or organize Rendez-vous to learn more about Bomb when his rivalry gets more friendly.

→ His obsession with fighting Alastor comes from the fact that he didn't manage to get up the stairs as quickly as the deer did. So he’s envious and seeks to beat Alastor in a battle to prove he’s the superior one, but he loses every time. His last chance is to side with the Vees, but Vox doesn't even bat an eye when he is near. So just imagine how ecstatic he was when Vox proposed to him to be a spy. While the first weeks were fine, he found himself getting attached to the staff more and more. It was a genuine environment where few people actually recognized him as the brilliant engineer he was (I thought he could actually help with the hotel construction since the building is old and all) and they actually called him by his name.

Not siding with Vox will be the first step to his redemption, renouncing to act of his envious feelings and focusing on what he already had rather than seeking to destroy those above him.

→ His lisp gets worse when he’s lying, he obliviously maintains a whole evil British persona in his quest for respect so as he slowly starts to get genius he’ll slowly start to speak with more ease.

→ Regarding how he’ll appear once in Heaven, he’ll be a human. I find it strange that you don't get to get your human appearance once saved. Viv said it herself, the reason why sinners look like that is because their appearance is in correlation with their sins, life, and the ways they die. It’s a way to mock them.

If this dude or girl gets redeemed, they’ll stay on a couch and that’s just sad, imagine you die go to Hell redeem yourself and you're still a furniture. Anyway, Madhav will get his human form back but with hints of his demonic form.

Kinda like Lovesart23 you should go see her videos and rewrite.

[black-arcana]

EPICA Collaborates With Dutch Amusement Park Efteling On New Single 'The Ghost In Me (Danse Macabre)'

Dutch symphonic metal titans EPICA have unleashed their eeriest creation yet, the spine-chilling music video for "The Ghost In Me (Danse Macabre)" , a haunting track that lures listeners into a world where shadows dance and the afterlife whispers. This song is a unique collaboration with Europe's second-most visited theme park, Netherlands's magical De Efteling, and their much-anticipated new attraction, Danse Macabre.

Drenched in ghostly imagery, the video mirrors the unsettling thrill of De Efteling's new ride, which opens its gates on October 31, right in time for this Halloween season. Ever since their childhood, every member of EPICA has loved this theme park that welcomes over five million visitors per year. Therefore, this collaboration was a true match made in the otherworld.

Submerge yourself now in the music video which was filmed right inside and in front of the new attraction — and as if this wasn't already exciting enough, the band even received their very own "EPICA gravestone" that you can spot, if you look closely.

EPICA's keyboard player Coen Janssen comments: "Every kid in the Netherlands knows how magical De Efteling is, and working this closely with the most beautiful theme park in the world surely is a dream come true!

"As a young boy, I immediately got captivated by the 'Danse Macabre' by Saint-Saëns as a soundtrack for their haunted house 'Spookslot'. So when De Efteling announced their new plans for the ghostly attraction 'Danse Macabre', all pieces of the puzzle fell into place immediately: Why not combine our symphonic side with the 'scary' side of metal and do our version of this epic classical piece?!?

"We are so happy that De Efteling trusted our vision and gave their full support, providing us with the new ride's storyline, so we could write lyrics fitting the fantastic narrative and even adding a new chapter!"

"The Ghost In Me (Danse Macabre)" lures fans into a darkly enchanting dance with the dead in the YouTube video below and will also appear on all streaming platforms soon, when more of EPICA's next chapter will be unveiled.

The song has already made its live debut at the band's monumental "Symphonic Synergy" shows in Amsterdam this September, and fans in Mexico City will have the chance to be the next to hear it live at two shows in December that EPICA will perform exclusively with a full orchestra and choir.

In a recent interview with Spain's Mariskal Rock, EPICA singer Simone Simons spoke about the progress of the recording sessions for the follow-up to 2021's "Omega" album. She said: "I think that there should be a single by the end of the summer-ish. That's that's our plan. And the album should be released [in] 2025.

"I just wrote with Mark [Jansen, guitar] and Rob [Van Der Loo, bass] also yesterday that I'm so happy with the songs, I'm so proud how everything turned out and it's gonna be another amazing EPICA album.

"We added a couple of new elements, but also went back to the roots, the old EPICA," she continued. "And yeah, I just can't wait for people to hear this.

"I loved 'Omega' and we toured so much with 'Omega' and had wonderful experiences, but then when you reach the end of a touring cycle, you start to get itchy and feel, 'Okay, now it's time to do the new album. Can we do it as good or maybe even better than the last album?' That's always the thing we strive for, ways to renew ourselves a little bit. And we feel a very strong spiritual connection also that it's our ninth album. So there's gonna be themes around the symbolic meaning of nine, the number nine."

Elaborating on the musical direction of EPICA's next album, Simone said: "The songs are heavy. There's a beautiful ballad, a very cinematic song, very uptempo, very doomy, melancholic and amazing, amazing power riffs. It's the most epic EPICA, I think, so far. Yeah, I think so. I mean, I'm feeling it. I'm very happy with it. I'm proud of it. And they are going to start recording the orchestra now next week. They're flying to Prague; that's where we record the orchestra. And I will be recording my final vocals as well."

In November 2022, EPICA released "The Alchemy Project" through Atomic Fire Records. The EP was co-written and performed with diverse guests ranging from extremists like FLESHGOD APOCALYPSE, Niilo Sevänen (INSOMNIUM) and Björn "Speed" Strid (SOILWORK) along with melodic masters like Tommy Karevik (KAMELOT),keyboard legend Phil Lanzon (URIAH HEEP) and Roel Van Helden (POWERWOLF) to a once-in-a-lifetime song with Simons, Charlotte Wessels and Myrkur.

Just one day after the release of its anniversary reissues "We Still Take You With Us" and "Live At Paradiso", EPICA celebrated 20 years of existence live in September 2022 at 013 in Tilburg, Netherlands, the same place where they played their first show (supporting ANATHEMA) back in 2002.

EPICA was formed by Jansen after leaving AFTER FOREVER in 2002, and the band quickly gained attention outside their home country, taking big steps towards becoming the leading symphonic metal superpower they have long proven to be. After their ambitious debut "The Phantom Agony" (2002) and the surprisingly eclectic sophomore work "Consign To Oblivion" (2005),the road took them to new heights via their first concept masterpiece "The Divine Conspiracy" (2007) and their global breakthrough "Design Your Universe" (2009). 2012's opus "Requiem For The Indifferent", 2014's bedazzling "The Quantum Enigma" and "The Holographic Principle" (2016),cemented their reputation as not only one of the hardest-working metal bands in the business but also as one of the best. With "Omega", the final part of the metaphysical trilogy they began with "The Quantum Enigma", they reclaimed the throne without so much as the blink of an eye, amassing three million-plus streams during the first week of the album's release.

[certifiedbi]

DR was never gonna get Checo’s seat at RB, despite whatever dots the DR3 girlies were conjuring 😭 I do think that the way this went about was wrong, and he deserved a much better goodbye then what he got but lets be honest - this was a long time coming. The deal was to outperform Yuki consistently, he didnt. End of story. Redbull has actually done so much worse to other drivers - and they’ve actually given DR so many chances to prove himself.

In all honesty? He didnt deserve to step in and replace Nyck mid-season last year, and they definitely should not have renewed him for this season either.

EXACTLY!!!!!!!!

And you've also got to remember how many times redbull have sidelined Lawson despite how talented he is. Including when they resigned DR after Lawson's stellar five race stint.

DR pissed away every good career opportunity he had, ran out of talent, and washed up. But his PR brainwashing has worked on the masses.

And I totally agree that redbull went about it the wrong way, but that's not Liam's fault and yet he's the one getting half the blame.

[foxufortunes]

Some random tips and trivia for anyone wanting to take a slightly more realistic look at exy and sport in their fanfics:

Long jogs are not good for sports like exy. The best you can say is they're good cardio, but most exercise they should be doing anyway is good cardio. To oversimplify: long term energy and fast action energy have different power supplies and training one doesn't really help the other. There's a reason sprinters and marathon runners are not the same people. Exy is a sport of fast bursts and in some cases long jogs can actually be detrimental to your ability to play these sports.

Dear lord, warm up and cool down. I know most of us just assume this is in there and glossed over, but if you're going into details, warm up and cool down and wear warm jackets after. Especially cool down. I know Kevin and Neil have already fucked their bodies but don't make it worse. Also, rest days. You body needs time to recover. Kevin and Jean will be lucky if they recover enough not to have any career after college given how much Tetsuji has fucked the Ravens with his training. Thea is probably in agony the entire time and she doesn't have long left playing.

Goalie's lead the defence line. If you want to throw around a defence captain type plot, it's your goalies, it's always goalies. Because they have the best view of the entire court. You dealer should control the entire team's plays, as the person who should be going from defence to offence and back (assuming they work similarly to other sports with a similar position) but the defence is always run by the goalie, and your goalies are usually really fucking loud about it.

Your division/class is actually nothing to do with your team's skill, but your school's sports program and budget. The Foxes are not a Class I team, Palmetto is a D1 school. To get this status, your school has to have a certain level of sports program, featuring a certain number of sports, sports for women, upcoming/rarer sports and certain required sports. While EAU blatantly ignores all of this as presented in canon (they seem to be D3 status, maybe D2 at best) who got their status through bribery and corruption and their coach, Palmetto, as presented in canon, clearly meets D1 school status. Your school's division also affects what kinds of scholarships they offer. Typically, only D1 schools offer full ride sports scholarships. It's most likely Palmetto was looking to fund an exy team and Wymack went to them because they're a D1 school, or they approached Wymack, unlike the Ravens who clearly don't understand how this works.

On the topic of Wymack: the ERC couldn't have had anything to do with Andrew's miracle in October. We'll get to this but the ERC is just not that powerful, and, see above point, they have nothing to do with Palmetto's status. Now, Nora actually gives us a far more likely and better reason in the EC, that she then overcomplicated in canon trying to make the ERC more powerful for no reason, especially given Kevin wasn't even with the Foxes at the time. In the scene where we see Wymack recruiting the cousins, Andrew brings up the idea that Wymack's initial four year will be on it's last year that year and he needs results or the school will decline renewing his contract and rebuild the exy program from scratch under a new coach. This is far more likely a reason for him to need Andrew's miracle. It's his final year of his contract, the school wants results, and if they drop out now with so few games won, he's done for. And given how many NCAA rules he and Abby help the Foxes break, it won't be long before the rest of the Foxes lose their scholarships too.

Four years might seem like an odd amount of time for an initial contract, and it sorta is, but one thing mentioned in TSC that's never brought up in the original trilogy is redshirting. Basically, for all you have a five year contract, you can only play four seasons. One season, you get to practice, but not play games, this is called red shirting, and in my experience and what I've heard from others, it's typically the freshman, for obvious reason, but this does bring up issues for Wymack's team design, and means Neil will have to take a year off eventually. And don't even think about how this affects the Ravens.

Speaking of Ravens, this is honestly one of the most basic NCAA rules: you cannot play professionally and play NCAA. Kevin and Riko literally cannot be playing for professional teams and be playing for the Ravens, the NCAA would boot them instantly. And, up until very recently, you also cannot be paid for your photoshoots, or using your likeness or sponsorships. To play NCAA, during the period AFTG is set, you cannot make any money as a player. Now, there's an argument that Tetsuji could probably make that Kevin and Riko didn't make money as players, but as celebrities in their own rights, but that's a very grey area. But, no, they weren't getting paid for photoshoots or interviews or sponsorships or anything like that. The only exceptions are tournament winnings, and there is a very strict cap on that, and stipends which there was a lot of debate over whether that counted as payment or not. They cannot be paid for anything related to exy because the second the NCAA makes an exception for exy, every other sport wants it too, and I'm sure some of them are mafia backed too. Mafia bribery doesn't fix everything, and if your trying to write your mafia as not a bunch of idiots, they'll know where to stop.

And then the ERC. They're just not that powerful, y'all. I get that Nora wanted to make them seem powerful, but given how Riko does most of the shit not Tetsuji, even that's pointless. So, for a start, the ERC needs specific scope. It's cool to call it the Exy Rules and Regulations Committee, but for what? Sports tend to have an overall ruling body, but they don't actually control everything. They control things like national tournaments and teams. Then you have the country's body, that controls things like the leagues, and they often have different rules that take time to catch up to each other. Different leagues within the same country can have slightly different rules. And often the NCAA also has its own rules. (To use volleyball, because that does have wildly different rules, in the NCAA liberos can serve in certain conditions, and that's about the only place in the world this rule exists). Basically, they only have control if you're competing in their tournament or affiliated. For the ERC to have such control over the Foxes, they're likely an NCAA committee, this means the ERC only has power over rule and regulations of Class I exy (oh yes, each division has their own committee), meaning they control things like gear regulations, rules on bench size, foul rules ect. Not which class the Foxes are in, not if Andrew's allowed to play with them, nothing like that. It's strictly the rules of the game. And they are the bottom of the power chart. Above them you have things like the division committee, the student athlete's committee and so many others. The ERC actually has very little power because the NCAA is a massive, slow moving, complicated bureaucracy. Even if they could drop the Foxes a division or get rid of Andrew, it would take years.

[corduroykoala]

I've been rewatching Frieren and was struck by just how effectively it uses montage to tell its story.

The passage of time is a huge part of the story, so montage is an obvious tool to employ, but Frieren uses it for more than just skipping to more interesting parts. Yes, that is often the goal, but it is also done in a way to demonstrate that time is passing. The montage in the first episode stands out—seeing a young shopkeeper appear much older just a few scenes later—as does the one used while the party waits in the Cabin with Kraft—Fern and Kraft are initially the only ones who pray at meals, but then Stark joins and, eventually, Frieren does as well.

My favorite montage, however, manages to convey not just the passage of time, but Frieren's perception of it. Relevant clip and discussion of it below the cut.

Throughout the series, we're also frequently told how much time has passed since Himmel's death, which serves to accentuate the passage of time as the characters—particularly Fern and Stark—get older. Fern is twice as old at the end of the season as she is at the beginning. The viewer can understand and relate to her experience of time.

In contrast, Frieren explains in the first episode that the ten-year journey with the Hero's party was short to her as an elf, not even one-one-hundredth of her life. On her journeys, we're constantly reminded of how short months and years seem to her, though it's generally played off in a light-hearted manner, juxtaposed against Fern's desire to continue their journey and not linger in one place for very long. To the viewer, this may make sense logically, but it is difficult to fully comprehend as a human. It's a lot like trying to understand the difference between one thousand and one million.

Episode 10 plays out largely in flashback, detailing Frieren's relationship with her master. After a fifty-year jump in time, Frieren is told to live in obscurity until the time comes when she can kill the demon king. Cue montage.

We see Frieren do as she was told, living a (mostly) quiet life as time passes. We see a small community grow into a village, a town, a walled city. We see a thousand years pass in about a minute of screentime. End montage.

We then see Himmel and his party approach Frieren to recruit her. It's a fairly standard Himmel flashback, demonstrating his uncanny insight and calling back to Frieren's meeting with Flamme. Then, the music falls out and—

Before you can even say the word montage, it's over. Five frames in rapid succession. The entire journey—ten years—in a single heartbeat. Painfully short, barely enough time to even understand what you just saw. One second in a video 100 seconds long.

This quick sequence captures just what that journey was like for Frieren. Of course she didn't get to know Himmel better. How could she have been expected to? It was barely any time at all, just one one-hundredth of her life.

This is my favorite montage in Frieren. It made my breath catch in my lungs the first time I watched it, and it did the exact same on rewatch. I love this show and I am incredibly happy it was renewed for a second season.

[marshallpupfan]

Hopefully this isn't too weird or invasive a question, but I'm curious what draws you to Paw Patrol as an older fan, and also what your experience has been like in the fandom and as a collector? (I'm assuming you're an older fan and probably close to my age from the non-Paw Patrol media you share haha).

I am indeed one of its older fans, and I can think up a few reasons that keeps drawing me to it.

One I can say right away is the fact I have a big love for canines, thus I tend to gravitate towards anything with dogs (and wolves, depending on if they're heroes or villains). They make up plenty of my favorites characters, as some of you seen in one of my previous Asks, and I generally tend to enjoy things more when they're involved (a friend recently recommended an older game to me, which I enjoyed all the more because you got to travel around with your trusty dog).

Funnily enough, not too long ago, I took an interest in the Asterix and Obelix franchise because of its dog character, Dogmatix... and I was quite thrilled when I heard he was getting his own spinoff cartoon! Of course, it was only available in French at the time, but much to my luck, the first half of season one got dubbed in English and [officially] posted on Youtube, free to watch! I gave it a go, and I thought it was pretty good! If anyone's curious, click this link to check it out. And yes, this might've been a thinly-veiled attempt to talk about this cartoon somewhere, since there aren't many English-speaking fans. lol

Arquebus/Musketix is the best character.

But yeah, the pups are one of my biggest draws to PAW Patrol, and unlike some fans, I rather like it when other pups get added to the cast. Boomer and Claw both certainly helped renew some of my interest in the franchise, particularly during a time in which I felt things were going downhill. Hey, I just love dogs!

Obviously, Marshall's easily my biggest draw to PAW Patrol. I'll admit, I tend to take a far bigger interest in an episode when he actually gets some good attention... and it's why my interests start to wane when he doesn't. The dude's legit my #1 favorite animated character, so I suppose it's no surprise to hear I often tune in specifically for him. That's not to say I don't get enjoyment from the other pups, but I'm just so crazy about that spotted pup!

Another aspect that draws me to PAW Patrol is just how fun it tends to be (or used to be, but the modern seasons still have their moments). I don't want to go too deep into this because I don't want things to get too serious, but let's just say... life can be quite rough anymore, and it never seems to get much better. I often look for something that can help me escape that for a while, even if it's just for a half hour at a time. I found that PAW Patrol does that for me. It's cute, colorful, fun, doesn't try to be complex, and by the end, everything turns out okay. And if I need cheering up after a bad day, a certainly clumsy, spotted pup often always puts a smile on my face. Some days, I need that.

----

As for my experiences with the fandom, I'd say it's been largely positive. I do tend to meet a lot of friendly people, many of which tend to be supportive and/or cheerful when I need it, and I generally enjoy interacting with most of them right back! I certainly don't regret being a part of it for the last five years or so.

With that said, I've had encounters that certainly weren't pleasant. I think everyone knows about my copycat by this point, so no need to retread that old ground. There's one infamous user out there who just seems to hate everything (unless it involves Everest), and he often turns hostile if you don't agree with his opinions. The same dude even tried arguing and verbally attacking those who work on PAW Patrol... including their families, too! Crazy guy. I've also encountered some fans who seem to make stuff up, believe their headcanon to be fact, and then become angry when people don't agree with them. I once had someone tell me Ryder is "gaslighting" Rubble, and... I don't even want to know what that means or why they believe that.

And in-regards to being a collector, the reception I often encounter has been quite positive, too. Most fans really seem to enjoy seeing my collection, even if it's just out of curiosity to see just how much merchandise they made of one single pup. I still get compliments on it all the time, from both fans and non-fans of Marshall, and I've even seen other folks who just think it's legit cool.

Surprisingly, I've only had one negative encounter so far, and it was, believe it or not, from someone who used to be a fan of PAW Patrol. She became one of those folks who encountered bad users, got tired of them, and then decided every fan must be awful... and of course, she tore into me because I "talk too much" about Marshall and deemed me a "freak" for collecting so much merchandise. Most of what she said was largely laced with swears and insults, and I'm sure she believes she put me in my place or something... though in truth, I was laughing at most of her replies. Why she felt the need to throw such a temper tantrum on me, I'll never know, but she didn't succeed in even the slightest to discourage me or anything. lol

[queer-ragnelle]

thoughts on camelot? (the tv series)

Anon—I don’t just like it. I love it. I watched it every week in 2011 as it originally aired. Rewired my brain.

Most of the characters really nailed it for me. It has my favorite Morgan, Kay, and Lot. It has great Igraine, Vivian, Guinevere, and Gawain. I loved the rivalry between Merlin and Sybil. Calling her “a pet nun.” Hilarious. She’s so messed up I love evil women. I love blasphemy. Uther dies within five minutes of episode one, as it should be!!

Only character I didn’t care for was Leontes—he’s too old to pass as Guinevere’s childhood friend and he doesn’t feel like Lancelot at all who I would have rather had. Reverse affair was meh. Leontes is just kind of boring. Arthur was clearly better which kind of misses the point of the love triangle appeal. Oh well!

Everything else slapped—costuming, music, filmography, set design, acting was awesome, engaging script!! The ending!!! I felt legitimate devastation when it was announced it wouldn’t get renewed and I refused to watch Game of Thrones out of bitter spite. So unfair we’ll never get another season. I wrote a full review here.

[direwolfrules]

Just watched the Grey's season 19 finale...

Don’t read further if you don’t want spoilers

I'm losing my goddamn mind!! The chaos! The cinematography! The ships that no one wanted together (Jo and Link)!

First, Maxine actually surviving was the biggest plot twist of the century. They foreshadowed her death so hard it’s crazy that she’s still kicking. Every episode since she first appeared I’ve thought “Oh my god they’re gonna kill her”. AND THEY LET HER LIVE!!!!

Blue and Jules are gonna be delightfully messy next season. God, I love you Mike Chang Intern and Hippie Izzie Intern. To be fair to Blue and Schmitt, the last time someone followed a DNR at Grey Sloan, Gary Clark shot up the place.

Simone ignoring all the signs from the universe not to marry Trey until she was literally walking down the aisle. I literally turned to my mom and said “well, at least Blue doesn’t have to worry about missing the wedding”.

Simone and McNephew having a classic on-call room romp. Because my joy at someone actually using the on-call rooms for their intended purpose this season could only last so long. YOU ARE MAKING THOSE COMMUNAL BED SHEETS NASTY!!

Teddy falling victim to Chekhov’s Toothache is sending me. My mom said before hour 1 was done that a toothache can be a sign of a heart attack, and that it’s really suspicious that Grey’s sent all the Cardio folks except for Teddy to Boston. And because she’s an English teacher I believed her, and I still lost my mind anyway. She doesn’t have a pulse, McPatient/McPilot is dying, and McNephew and Simone pull some impulsive shit. The cut from this to Jo and Link finally resolving their will they won’t they tension was so funny to me. ALL THE STUFF, followed by drama that we already went through less than five seasons ago.

At least Yasuda and Helm got to be cute. I love them. They’re everything to me. Yasuda kicks ass, Helm’s about to be the only Chief Resident thanks to Schmitt’s previously stated breaking of a DNR, and I’m not looking forward to the next season where we’ll probably get a plot line about how they can’t be together since Helm’s Yasuda’s boss. My mom said that since the relationship began prior to Helm’s renewed employment, maybe they’ll be an exception, but we’re not getting our hopes up. We’ve been burned too many times before.

Also Helm looked so good this season?! Like, I’m so glad they decided to develop her beyond “haha, frumpy lesbian in love with a straight chick”. She’s got confidence, style, and a hot girlfriend who drives the getaway van at weddings that never should have happened. Who’s doing it like Helm right now?

On a less happy note, *in Adele Webber* RICHAAARRRD! Next season better start with Richard not having drank that vodka tonic. Please Webber, don’t do this bud. Amelia cannot be your Charlotte King. Please.

[thesassypadawan]

Wizard *part 2* (Knight Obi-Wan x RealWorldFemReader)

Note: Read Under My Tree first to get an idea of what’s going on. 

Summary: After a very monumental Christmas with Obi-Wan, it’s time to share the good news with the other most important person in his life, Anakin. What better way to do so than making it the most special New Year Fete he has ever had. Happy New Year!

Warnings: Contains fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

Other Notes: Anakin is ten years old in this.

New Year’s Fete Week is the first five days of the year (according to the Galactic Standard Calendar) and is a five-day festival that celebrates the new year.

New Year’s Day, the first dawn of the year. A time of renewal and fresh starts. The moment when we say goodbye to the old and hello to the new…by celebrating with those we care for the most.

“There!” Obi-Wan declared, straightening the star. “How does that look, darling?”

“As pretty as a card,” you said with a warm smile, setting a tray filled with fresh baked cookies on the small table.

It had been barely over a week since Obi had popped the big question and what followed was a whirlwind of craziness. First you told your family of the joyous news, which they were absolutely elated for you both. Then there was the whole matter of sorting out certain affairs, the biggest being of how you were going to tell the other most important person in Obi-Wan’s life…Anakin.

With two hot chocolates in hand, you came to join your fiancé next to the tree. Offering him a nug, Obi accepted it gladly. “Do you really think Anakin’s going to like all of this?” He asked, wrapping an arm lazily around your waist.

“Of course,” you laughed, resting your head on his shoulder. “In fact, I know Ani will love it.”

“Speaking of the little imp,” Obi-Wan muttered, sensing a ripple in the force.

The second bedroom door slid open and out stepped a still half-asleep Anakin. “G’morning, master,” the ten-year-old yawned, completely oblivious to his surroundings.

Not wanting to spoil the surprise quite yet, Obi replied in his usual cool tone. “Good morning, young one.”

“Morning, Ani,” you chimed in the chipperly.

“G’morning, Aun…” Anakin began to mumble, when suddenly your voice registered, and he snapped fully awake. “Auntie!” He exclaimed excitedly, running over and throwing his short arms around you.

“Hey, kiddo,” you hugged him back tightly. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” the padawan beamed up at you. “Are you here to go to the festival with me and master?”

Obi-Wan tousled Ani’s hair. “She certainly did. She also came to help me prepare this special surprise for you.”

On cue, Obi and you stepped to the side. Revealing the tree, presents, decorations, and cookies.

Anakin’s eyes widened in wonderment as he took everything in. “Whoa, what is all of this?!”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched Ani immediately zone in on the gifts. Typical kid. “This is your first Christmas.”

“Christmas?” He asked, gently shaking a package. “What’s that?”

Grabbing a cookie for them both, Obi-Wan came to join his apprentice on the floor. “It’s a holiday your Auntie celebrates on her planet around this time of the season. She wanted to share it with you. Maybe make it a yearly tradition for the three of us. What do you think?”

Anakin took a big bite of his gingerbread wookie. “If it means I get yummy treats, presents, and spend the whole day with you guys…then I’m in!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a morning filled with eating sweets, merrymaking, and unwrapping heartfelt gifts…it was time for the New Year Fete.

The two of you agreed to tell Ani your big news after the fireworks tonight. A wonderful way to end an absolutely perfect day. And, with that plan in place, your happy trio headed off to the festival.

As soon as you arrived, Anakin, of course, began begging for some kind of sugary snack.

“Haven’t you had enough already?” Obi chuckled as he (and you) were led through the bustling crowd, to the nearest confectionery stall.

“Nope, never enough!” Ani replied cheekily, before asking the elderly vendor nicely for an order of fried dough balls.

“Oh my, such a polite young man,” she kindly said, handing Anakin his container. “And handsome too with that scarf and pendant.”

A huge grin spread across his face. He had loved the scarf and river stone pendant you both made him so much, that he insisted on wearing them out today. “Thanks! They’re gifts from my mom and dad!”

Trying not to show either of your surprise, Obi-Wan quickly paid the woman and whisked you all to a more secluded area.

Exchanging glances with Obi, you sat down on the bench next to Ani. “Kiddo, why did you tell that lady we’re your parents?”

“’cause,” Anakin mumbled, popping a ball into his mouth.

“Because why?” Obi-wan asked, taking the other seat beside Ani.

Swallowing, the padawan reached for another. “Because Auntie has that ring on her finger. Which means you’re getting married, and we’ll become a family. So that will make you like my mom and dad.”

Anakin paused a moment, looking back and forth between you two. “I got that right, right? Unless you don’t want me to be your kid.”

Neither of you could believe what you just heard. Anakin had known all along, and he wanted to…

Smiling softly, you pulled him into a loving embrace. “You got it right, Ani.”

“We would be honored to have you as our kid,” Obi added, joining in on the group hug.

“Wizard,” Anakin said happily, tears of joy shining in his eyes.

[redsnowdrop]

Sainz: "I understand Ferrari, but Hamilton is not better than me"

Federico Mariani

23 July - MILAN

Source: Gazzetta dello sport (it)

To my -> F1 Masterlist <-

The Spaniard, in an interview with GQ Magazine Spain, analyzes his farewell to the Maranello team:

“I took my opportunities when the car was competitive. Future? Williams, Red Bull and Mercedes are options."

Carlos Sainz's future is still to be defined, but the Spaniard can already outline an initial assessment of his experience at Ferrari, the team he will leave to make room for Lewis Hamilton in 2025. The farewell will take place after four embellished seasons, for now, by three successes, the first in F1. Satisfactory results in the eyes of the son of art, as admitted during an interview with GQ Magazine Spain. And during this conversation there was no shortage of significant passages about the farewell to the Italian team and the inevitable comparison with his cumbersome successor.

FERRARI - Arriving in 2021 in place of Sebastian Vettel, Sainz has stood out at Ferrari thanks to continuous performance. The results were excellent, even if they were insufficient to fight for and win the world title. Carlos, however, still feels satisfied: "The year started in a complicated way between my non-renewal and Hamilton's arrival.

Then the appendicitis operation.

However, after the victory in Australia the season went rather well." No regrets looking at the overall experience with the Italian team: "It happens when you realize you don't have the means to win a World Championship. Otherwise it would have been more difficult to accept not having taken advantage of the opportunity. Indeed, analyzing the individual races, when I had the winning car, I didn't make any mistakes."

SAINZ AND HAMILTON— The other big issue concerns Ferrari's choice to replace him to make room for Hamilton. But, after this change, does Sainz feel inferior to Hamilton? Carlos is blunt: “Obviously I would say no. But I think any other driver would say the same. I think I'm the best option for any Formula 1 team because, if I didn't have this mentality, I wouldn't be a driver and I wouldn't have such a competitive soul." However, Carlos admits: “However, I obviously understand Ferrari's decision, the opportunity to sign a seven-time world champion and what it can mean for a team. That's why, when I analyzed everything carefully, I didn't feel bad." And he adds: "After all, I won't be replaced by just any driver, but by the best in history or by one of the greatest in this sport." A great tribute to the greatness of Hamilton.

SAINZ FUTURE— And now what will be Carlos' next moves, still officially without a seat for 2025? Sainz does not hide: “Williams is a historic team in F1. It's true, it's one of the few I have left. The same goes for Red Bull and Mercedes. There are two or three stables to evaluate. The future still seems quite uncertain. I raced in five different teams during these ten years, keeping a wonderful memory of each team. I wouldn't rule out returning if the opportunity arises." But first there is the experience in Ferrari to finish: “We need to take advantage of the opportunities to get on the podium in the next races. Also because I don't know if I will have similar chances next year."

[muthaz-rapapa]

Hirogaru Sky Impressions (3/5)

Alright~

So we're more than halfway there. Excited for leaks season yet?

Show is still going good despite the last 10 episodes being mostly filler. I don't have anything to really complain about since as far as fillers go, the quality of HiroPre's is definitely better than those of previous seasons.

But me being me, of course there is going to be some form of criticism so let's gogogo~ and get that over with.

Again, the fillers are quite enjoyable but ever since the recovery of Captain Shalala, doesn't it feel like we've gone too long without any plot-related episodes?

Thankfully, it seems they're getting back to that with ep 31 next week. But even so, the lack of clues or hints about the Undergu Empire and the reason for its antagonism dragged the show's momentum slightly. So it felt longer to get through these 10 weeks.

"Filler doldrums" as I'd like to call it because tuning into Precure weekly became more of chore than something to look forward to.

But it wasn't that bad so let's hope the next 10 episodes will be more balanced.

Moving on.

I spoke too soon on not having to worry about the handling of Mashiro's character arc anymore. Why am I surprised, though? Whenever I let my guard down, my expectations are always betrayed. Oiy.

But honestly, they got me all hoping and excited since they actually gave her potential content to work with. Like her taking an interest in creating picture books. Or even her cooking skills or passion for makeup. Or her long distance relationship with her parents. That's quite a bunch of material to expand on for her.

Instead, she's been regulated to the passenger seat again to let Sora drive.

On one hand, I understand and can accept that Sora would receive more focus since the she is the main character of the overall story. Her coming from another world and therefore being a fish out of water bird out of Skyland when it comes to most things Earth-related...along with being someone who's never had friends before due to spending most of her time training are all prime real estate for development.

However, you can't deny that there is a blatant amount of lead favoritism.

It's not as bad as previous seasons since the writing for HiroPre is a lot better. But when the rest of the cast individually gets one episode of spotlight for every five or so the lead gets, it can be tiresome or even suffocating to sit through.

...on another note, my theory about Captain Shalala possibly being a double agent for the Undergu Empire turned out to be wrong after all. But I think having the enemy take Shalala hostage was the more suitable direction to go for breaking Sora down in order to let her renew and restrengthen her resolve as a hero. The loss of respect for your idol can be a really difficult thing to bear and that might be too harsh a topic for Precure's target audience. It achieved similar effects to the Broken Pedestal trope anyway so no complaints there.

Anyways, we may have broken the Pink trend this year but I'm not optimistic it will stay that way as long as there's always one primary lead in each group. Frankly, I think we're going straight back to special Pink treatment for another 4 years before 25th anniversary but that's a thing to worry about later.

As for Tsubasa and Ageha, I was more satisfied with their focus eps. Mostly.

Tsubasa's always teaches you something new. I really liked the one about branching out your dream, which is something we all need to hear should we ever reach our goal or get stuck on what to do next. And Ageha's most recent one with her older sisters and her parents' divorce when she was younger provided more depth into how she became the person she is today.

But I wasn't pleased when the Peach airline promotion ep that should've been about Mashiro spending time with her parents went to Tsubasa instead. I mean, Tsubasa showing off his airplane knowledge is always amazing but...ngh, they really don't care for Mashiro, do they?

Another thing. I became a little concerned about the portrayal of Ageha. She is shown to be consistently confident and composed in most things she does...but most 18-year olds aren't like that. So I worried for a bit if that might've sent an unintentional message that "you should be as competent as Ageha when you reach adult age" which is like ehhhh......not true.

Though it's only a flaw you notice if you're incredibly scrutinizing like I am. And given Ageha's personality, there's nothing wrong with presenting her as such cuz she wouldn't be Ageha without those traits. But definitely think of her more as a role model instead of one to emulate, that's all.

Right so, next week...is not the debut of Cure Majesty.

YET.

But very soon. Maybe even the week after? September titles haven't been released yet (as of checking right now) but with only...wow, 18 more episodes to go, they better make the best of it.

I don't think Ellee-chan suddenly getting older will become too much of an issue with pacing...as long as they don't put her in school if she still largely retains the mind of a toddler.

Or maybe she'll only grow older when transforming into Precure and return to being a baby during off-hours? That'd be interesting...it wouldn't be as fun as seeing her more grown up, yea, but it'd be unexpected, at least.

Whatever. Just give me more lore and I'll be good.

Finally (haha), let's talk about the future of Precure for a bit.

This season is obviously not going to be the last of 'em. If it was, they wouldn't try to scare you with it in an All Stars movie preview of all things. They'd likely do it the boring way by just announcing it in the news. :P

Anyways, we can definitely expect the franchise to continue for another 5 years. 25th anniversary is something Toei absolutely has to aim for because it will be a double milestone.

Quarter of a century run for the Precure franchise.

And (if my projected calculations are correct), if we keep to teams of 4-5 every year up until till 2028, we will hit over 100 Precure total.

Pretty exciting, yes?

With mixed-gender teams no longer being just a dream (look, Cure Wing even made the news! WAAAAHHH!!! xD) and upcoming projects like the Otona Precure series and the all-male Precure stage play in the works, it's definitely a confirmation that this franchise has no intention of ending any time soon.

If you want more consumers of your product, you need to accommodate for a variety of people and all sorts of new and different ideas, aspects and tastes.

Formula they probably won't budge on too much (not for the main tv series anyway) but there always will be other rooms to explore, y'know?

Ok~ So Precure won't be ending but summer is~

Hope everyone enjoyed it in spite of the heat and best of luck in school or whatever your future endeavors are!

See you in another 10 eps! (^ _ ^)/"

[natlacentral]

The Kiwi director bringing live-action Avatar: The Last Airbender to life

Netflix's live-action adaptation of Avatar: The Last Airbender is arguably one of the biggest productions of the year. The project, which has a budget of US$120 million, has captured imaginations worldwide since its debut last month. Today, Netflix confirmed the series will be renewed for two more seasons.

One of the visionaries behind the new show is Asian-New Zealand creative Roseanne Liang. Serving as co-executive producer and director of episodes five and six, Liang knows the responsibility she carries in taking a beloved story from script to screen.

"It is a huge weight to bear," she says.

"We wanted to provide the best thing in the spirit of why we love the original Avatarand that's all we can really operate through. Have faith, trust our instincts that our hearts are pure, our minds are true and we're doing the best we can."

It all started in 2021, when Liang's agent called her about the show. Netflix was looking specifically for pan-Asian directors and her name was on the list.

"I knew about the show because all my friends had been saying 'you need to watch it' at various points. I was like, 'oh it's a Nickelodeon animation' and they're like, 'no, you don't understand. It is life, it's got one of the best dramatic arcs ever, you've got to watch this show' ... I watched the hell out of the three seasons and became a convert. Everything everyone told me was true."

Liang says there were huge challenges in adapting a 20-episode, half-hour animated series into eight hours of epic live-action television.

"The world is so rich, there's bending, there's all this flora and fauna and animals, it's this pan-Asian, indigenous world that is taking from cultures that seem familiar to us but are different and new. The challenge of that world-building was vast.

"It's also hard to get the tone into your head - you can do silly things like sucking frogs and cactus juice in the animation - because it's animation - but I don't know if you can have the tonal whiplash in a live-action like that.

"We'd always have to find that line. The dramatic can't be too dramatic, we've gotta undercut it with probably a quip or something, but the funny can't be too slapstick cause people will be like, what is this."

Liang says casting for the project also came with a bit of pressure. Season one follows a 12-year-old Aang, 14-year-old Katara and 15-year-old Sokka, and finding young actors capable of undertaking the roles was "scary".

"They're all teenagers. I think Dallas (Zuko) is a bit older but still young, just in his early 20s. It's all about casting the right actor - and person. Because the person needs to be able to deal with the pressure of what they're about to go through.

"The children had an incredible support network though. Dallas Liu and Ian Ousley (Sokka), they were best mates, they chose to room together in Vancouver where we shot and they were each other's support buddies. I just love their bromance, it's a beautiful thing when cast members look after each other like that."

The Netflix adaptation attracted some scrutiny after the creators of the original series - Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino - stepped away from the project citing creative differences after being involved for two years. Liang says their departure was "a source of pain and dismay".

"We cared so deeply about the source material ... at the same time, we know what we're doing it for. Some things won't live up to people's understanding, we're never going to be able to completely mimic or mirror the animation, but some things - I've gotta hand it to the writing team - some things they made even better."

A plot tweak in episode six, directed by Liang, follows Zuko's journey in a way that strengthens what the character stands for - Liang argues, better than the animation itself. While episode four features the addition of one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking flashbacks of the series, the funeral of Iroh's son Lu Ten.

"The Leaves from the Vine storyline about how much Iroh grapples with his part in the war and the cost of who he was in the army, the writers were like, we think we can add this moment in here to really cement the relationship between Zuko and Iroh.

"Zuko did an immense kindness to Uncle Iroh by sitting with him in mourning and it is a gift that Iroh repays. That relationship is one of the most rewarding, beautiful, fun, funny relationships of the whole series."

As a Chinese-New Zealander, Liang says it was a huge honour to be involved in a project that highlights the richness of a pan-Asian, indigenous world.

"It was the ethos of the entire production team that we do something new in this sphere that won't draw the silly, polarised calls of "wokeness" because it makes complete sense in this beautiful world that Bryan and Michael created in the original series. It was always diverse and that was their vision.

"All we had to do was serve that vision and it was just the most natural thing in the world."

While she hadn't worked on a project of this scale before, Liang could draw on rich experience from her involvement in local productions such as Creamerie (with RNZ's own Perlina Lau), Banana in a Nutshell and My Wedding and Other Secrets. She hopes her success inspires other New Zealand creatives to aim for the stars.

"Just because we come from a small country or are part of a diasporic community, that's no barrier to working at this level ... whether it's your ethnicity or your upbringing, don't let it limit you because you can get there."

In fact, Liang's "New Zealand-ness" was a strength on set. Wearing an 'Aroha Mai, Aroha Atu' shirt, she explained that the Māori phrase means 'love received, love returned' - an understanding that helped connect with the First Nations indigenous crew that worked on the show.

"The ethos that we have in New Zealand, the multi-cultural understanding of people and relating to each other, it helps - so much of my job is feeling people's energy and giving my own energy back to them and growing up in New Zealand where these - usually indigenous - ideas of how to serve people and act with love has served me so well.

"It's really been nothing but an asset to my entire process."

[tevantarlos]

For me, you’re totally right!!! The writing has been so terrible lately. I didn’t know where else to rant, so I apologize in advance for the HUGE rant.

It’s getting annoying and tiring that we have to follow up with so many different storylines.

It doesn’t even make sense anymore. I mean, we have at least five more villains. Of course, we knew some from before but it’s STILL unbearable. They tried to fit so much into an episode when it could’ve fit into an entire season.

For reference, there were a lot of unfinished storylines:

- Rosalind’s accomplice

- People targeting the police and someone taking out the “guy” behind it (why was it brushed over???)

I don’t know about you but I’m TIRED of Monica. There was a lot of screen time that could’ve gone to the main characters of the show but it didn’t.

But what I’m hating right now is the way Everton treats Lucy.

IT’S INFURIATING. After Jackson’s death, it seemed like she had no one other than Tim or Tamara. However, she doesn’t have either at the moment.

IT WAS ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE HER DAMN BIRTHDAY!!! Why did no one say anything? They (Angela and Nyla) also brushed off what she said about having 12 undercover identities. I don’t know about you but they’ve never been encouraging.

It’s sad and disheartening that her friend is a LITERAL teenager and treats her better than everyone else on the show. With Tim out of the picture, she’s alone. I mean, what happened to everyone’s friendship? It used to be Nolan, Jackson, and Lucy. I know they used to date but I mean, come on, they moved on so why shouldn’t they stay friends?

The fact that Nolan’s more friendly with his ROOKIE is baffling. (I love Celina by the way, this isn’t a diss.

I mean, what happened to character development? We don’t see much of Aaron or Celina. They waste so much time with storylines that fizzle out the next episode and don’t matter anymore because either Angela, Wesley, or whoever can’t (legally speaking) touch the criminals.

I’m more upset that they ruined Chenford. For drama? This show won’t be getting renewed in the future, maybe there’ll be an eight season but come on…It’s upsetting how we won’t see Lucy and Tim together anymore. Wasted five seasons of my life only for them to break up and end their relationship in one.

Personally for me, I believe Lucy and Tim are the ones who have TRULY been through it.

I mean, I understand everyone else has their stuff. However, Lucy has been kidnapped and nearly died. Her parents aren’t even supportive of her career. Her best friend died.

TRIGGER WARNING (ABUSE/SUICIDE)

DOWN BELOW

!!!

While Tim was abused by his father, found out about his father’s affair, had to sell the house he was abused in, etc. He went to war and now the whole thing with Mad Dog jumping off the roof!

Meanwhile, everyone else is happy. Sure, they went through so much but they AT LEAST HAVE SOMEONE TO HELP THEM THROUGH IT!

THESE TWO HAVE NO ONE!!! They aren’t married or have good parents!!!

Sorry for my rant, feel free to ignore but I’m sad about the turnout of this season. I wished they somehow got married and moved into a beautiful house far away from this chaos, and had at least three children by next episode but that won’t happen.

There's too much to try and keep track of in too few episodes.

The pacing of the episodes is utter crap because they tried to cram a full season worth of shit (which is usually 20 to 22 episodes), into half a season of 10 episodes.

So the storylines are all over the place. The characters are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

Don't apologize. I bitch a lot on this blog. No one I know in RL watches the show, so the only people I can rant to are other fans on here.

Where do you get 5 more villains? I thought it was 3. Monica, Blair and the guy who I think is mobbed up, that Lucy's working for as UC, and taking care of his kid. Who else do you think is involved? Oscar? I think he just did Monica a few favors. I don't see him as one of the villains of the season.

As for the unfinished storylines, I'd be very surprised if they finished them. The show has a lot of problems and this, and the timeline are major ones, imo.

I hate Monica and have ever since she came on the scene. All her BS doesn't interest me at all, and I want Angela to kill her.

Who is everton? I'm sure you meant someone else, because I don't know a single character with that name. So, I can't comment on it because I don't know. Do you mean Primm, the guy that stopped her from making Detective?

I hate that Lucy lost both Tim and Tamara this season. Also, don't get me started on the birthday bullshit. Tim's the only one who remembered and even did something for her.

John's supposed to be her friend, but ever since Jackson was killed and Bailey's stupid ass got with him, he's basically been like 'Lucy, who?'

As for Angela and Nyla, I'm already pissed that they were being assholes to Lucy earlier in the season. Angela only gets involved with Lucy, when it involves Tim. Nyla doesn't give a shit in any way.

John doesn't have time for Lucy. He's up his lame ass wife's ass all the time, and dealing with Celina's spiritual bullshit.

Honestly, while Celina has grown on me a little, I still like Aaron more and want him to have more screen time than her. But yet, I'm assuming their scenes were cut since there was only 10 episodes and they had to force the drama bullshit though, so their scenes were cut.

Yeah, I agree about Chenford. They've both been put through the ringer this season more than anyone else, and yet they get fucked over while everyone else gets to be happy. That's such bullshit.

I'll admit, I like drama. It makes shows interesting. However, when the drama and bullshit doesn't let up and my favorite characters are sad/hurt/lonely/abandoned all the fucking time, it doesn't make me want to keep watching, as it's too depressing.