#motogp 2025 line up

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Under the cut to read on tumblr, here to read on Ao3 <3

I'll commit your every scar to my memory rosquez, 6k words

(set 2025)

Marc has been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now.

Inspecting for every micro feature which signaled he was getting older.

He doesn’t want to get older, he can’t.

All his career, his success had come when he was a kid and he had been nicknamed “alien” for it goddamnit.

youngest pole sitter, youngest podium finisher, youngest winner, youngest champion.

key word being young. 

he doesn't feel old, but older, god yes. Everyday.

A new source of pain coming out, an old one resurfacing, the fear of falling behind, of not fitting in anymore and of running out of time.

All present and heavy on his body, which took the hit every time.

Why he thinks that, he isn’t  sure.

But he feels like he must get everything now or it will all have been useless.

It’s been one year now since he and Vale reconciled, and nine months since they made their relationship official, but only to intimate friends and their families, since Marc was still a target in the paddock, and they both knew that having a gay relationship wasn’t exactly the greatest thing to share in a sport like theirs.

And while the respective families had reacted well (except for a bit of skepticism on Alex’s side) the Academy had been more bitter, especially Uccio, but it was to be expected since he is so obviously in love with Vale since the dawn of time.

The mirror in their room at the Ranch keeps reflecting his toned and muscled body, along with his freshly shaved face and regrowing curls.

If he has to be honest he isn’t the one who brought up the aging thing.

First Vale, at his birthday, after he was officially a Ducati factory rider for that year, telling him he was “growing up”, getting closer to 35.

And it terrified Marc.

Then his brother, joking about him retiring so that he could be the only Marquez on the grid “haste que tu y Mr doctor creéis un hijo con magia y aterroricen a MotoGP” (Until you and Mr Doctor will create a son with magic and terrorize MotoGP) 

And finally Bezzecchi two weeks ago.

He was talking to Celestino, to which he seemed glued to the hip, almost symbiotic, as if they only existed one attached to the other.

“Sta invecchiando comunque, magari Vale con i gusti per i più piccoli che ha se ne trova uno più giovane e meno sfasciato” (He’s aging by the way, maybe Vale with his taste for younger people will find a younger and less broken one) 

“Sei un coglione Marco dai” (Marco you’re a dickhead come on)

“Dico la verità, magari tra una settimana ci porta un ragazzetto di 20 anni che lo guarda con gli occhi a cuoricino e che non sia mezzo pieno di cicatrici” (I’m saying the truth, maybe in a week the he’ll come to us with a 20 year old boy who looks at him heart-eyed and who’s not half covered in scars)

“Immagini? Tanta fatica e poi se ne sbatte un altro”

(Can you imagine? So much trouble and he ends up fucking another guy)

“Sarebbe karma” (Would be karma)

Marc had been hidden behind the door throughout the whole conversation, and a wave of nausea and vomit overwhelmed him, causing him to rush silently to the toilet and throw up.

Maybe they were right. 

He was getting older, Vale had said that himself, joking about his smile lines.

He had started exercising even more, buying more products for skincare and trying to act like he was 20 again.

And suddenly he didn’t feel pretty anymore, he just wanted to ride a couple laps on the dirt track and forget about it.

He looks at himself one last time, not failing to notice the faint line of a wrinkle in the corner of his eyes staring right back at him, menacing.

He puts on his gear, ignoring everyone in the kitchen and heading straight for the track, grabbing the bike with the bright orange “93” plastered on front.

It’s the best way to shut his mind off, it’s just him and the track, the bike being a direct extension of his body.

He completes ten, twelve, fifteen laps then he slips, bike flying out of his hands and his body tumbling down in the dirt.

His arm hurts, but his brain aches more.

Finished finished finished.

He goes to grab the bike to climb on it again when he feels a pair of arms around his body. Vale.

“Are you ok Marc? Do I need to grab your painkillers? I’ll help you back on the bike if-” the older one gets cut off harshly by Marc, who has pain in his eyes

“I can still do things Valentino you know?”

He's angry, his tone bitter and his words harsh.

He’s not like that and Vale knows, he’s tender when they speak, they’ve hurt each other way too much already to be cruel to one another now.

Vale has a concerned expression painted on his face, his eyes quickly running to Marc’s right arm, then to his face again.

“Let me get up”

“Ok but-“

“I want to do some other laps let me do them” 

it’s not a plea, or a begging, his voice is resolute and firm.

Vale is visibly worried, but lets him.

He looks as Marc gets back on the bike and restarts, the corner of his eyes caught by Bezz and Celin giggling between themselves.

Marc gets off the bike after one hour, when his body cannot take it anymore and his brain is foggy enough with thoughts about breaking, turning, speeding.

He leaves the bike in the garage, stripping out of his leathers, the only clothing underneath a sleeveless adherent black top, half dirty from soil and grass.

And just when he was convinced to have sedated the thoughts for at least a good few hours his eyes trace the outline of his scar, dead tissue on his arm.

He goes to their bedroom bathroom quickly, to avoid more sensations to overwhelm him, getting into the shower and turning the hot water on, letting it rinse away scenarios where he’s not present in Vale’s future. He spends at least twenty minutes under the water, washing himself carefully and almost trying to clean away the scars littering his body, obviously without succeeding.

As he gets out of the bathroom he’s only wearing a towel around his hips, and he inevitably meets his reflection staring back at him from the mirror.

He wants so desperately to see the 20 year old wonderkid he used to be, but that’s his past. Marc knows time passes for everyone, it takes from you, sometimes more than it should, sometimes it’s harsher on your body and sometimes on your soul.

He isn’t fucking eighty he knows that but still. He’s grown. He’s not the starstruck kid Vale first met and with whom shared many nights during their rivalry.

He’s a grown man now, he looks different, he can see the tiredness in his own eyes, pain sometimes so much it eats his body whole, the same pain which has him stay awake some nights.

And he knows Vale is older than him but Vale is also Vale and no one in their right mind would ever question his capacities or greatness, not even if he was 90.

And like Bezzecchi said he had a taste for youngsters, full of life and ready to do whatever he said as if it was a command.

He used to be one of those, but now…

He hears his name getting called downstairs for dinner, yells back he’s getting dressed and will soon be there.

He avoids the mirror while changing, his body feels wrong every time he tries to look at it, his face transpires the worry sleeping in his chest.

They all eat together, Pecco is there too, he’s getting used to sharing spaces with his future teammate which is good, but Bezzecchi is there too, casting funny glances at his best friend making them both giggle while sometimes looking over at Marc. He speaks maybe four words during the whole dinner, his brain feeling like it’s underwater and needs to be saved from drowning into the abyss.

As they finish eating he helps clean up the table and when he’s proposed to stay and watch a movie he fakes a headache, heading upstairs and leaving the academy to enjoy their time. 

Not even two minutes later he’s in his boxers under the sheets, back turned to the glassy hell his mirror has become.

He hears the door opening and quiet steps making their way to him.

“Ei amore, everything ok?”

Vale’s tone is tender and caring, something which only surfaced once they reconciled, a side of Vale making him humane, not the cold and distant concept of a God Marc still had in the back of his mind.

It was good in a way, but on the other hand it made him feel weak, like he needed to be spoken softly otherwise he would’ve broken like glass. 

“Si, I’m a bit tired and have a headache, can we just…can we just sleep?”

It was the most obvious of the answers, the fakest one, and yet the only one he could give him at that moment.

Valentino nods, taking off his shirt and pants and climbing into bed, Marc laying his head on Vale’s stomach, feeling the man’s hand stroke his curls gently.

Valentino is tired too, he had to follow an event all day and close a contract for VR46, he falls asleep in a half hour, while Marc has his eyes wide open in the darkness of a night lightened only by a pale moon in the distant sky.

He hears his mind speaking again, telling him how he’s not himself anymore, he’s not what Vale wants and he’s not the best Vale can have, because afterall he is THE Valentino Rossi and everyone wants a piece of him and Vale could feel entitled to request a piece of every one just because of who he is.

You’re not the one Vale deserves.

He could have them younger, prettier, faster, better.

He could have someone he can be seen with, with someone he could bring to races and shit like it was normal to do.

He could have someone who didn’t try to fight him so hard back then.

A new rookie maybe, fast, magnetic, idolizing him.

Vale would have every right to just let him go to find someone who doesn’t look so broken, who doesn’t risk getting more and more broken every week.

Perhaps he wants children.

And well for how much you can adopt kids maybe, no surely, Vale wants his kid to look and be like him.

Marc doesn’t cry, but just because he’s too afraid of waking Vale up, and surely seeing him acting so pathetic would be the last straw Vale would need to leave him and go find someone else.

So he doesn’t, he cries a lot internally, he tries to trace every mole on Valenitno’s body because he’s so afraid that in a matter of time he’ll be unable to see him like this again.

or feel the heat of his body next to his own.

Afraid to wake up without the smell of his shampoo or go to sleep missing the pair of arms that are holding him at this moment.

He manages to fall asleep after more than an hour, thoughts feasting on his brain like worms on a carcass, the same word echoing endlessly in his mind.

useless

He wakes up to an empty bed, no sign of Valentino in the room whatsoever, and he imagines his life could become like this in a matter of time.

He doesn’t understand how those little comments managed to get under his skin so much, he had never been the one to take those things to heart because…

because he had never actually believed any of that shit talk before.

But now he’s the first one to think that, the first to indulge on it. 

He can feel a sense of inadequacy crawling in bed with him, wrapping his hands around his throat and slowly depriving him of the chance to breathe.

It’s burning and it hurts like hell, it’s ugly.

He scrambles to the bathroom, throwing up bent over the toilet, coughing and sniffing like during the worst hangover of his life.

He can make out rushed steps coming to the door, Valentino crouching down to level himself with Marc, stroking his hair and back, worry painted in his eyes.

“Marc, do you want me to get you something? Are you ok?”

Weak, undeserving, not enough

That fuckin voice doesn’t shut up goddamnit, it haunts his mind and poisons everything coming in close contact with him.

What if it can poison Vale?

What if by standing so close to Marc he’ll end up being corrupted by this voice?

No no no, he’d rather suffer alone and watch Vale be happy with someone else rather than seeing him hurting.

Because that’s what Marc is when it comes to who he loves.

Selfless, adoring and ready to let go, because he knows he’s not an easy person to put up with so he never pushes.

“No I’m ok I just didn’t digest dinner well that’s all”

“Marc”

“I told you it was yesterday’s dinner Vale, I’m already feeling better, see?”

And he smiles, the fake PR smile Vale has seen hundreds of times, he could recognise Marc’s true smile in a crowd full of people, his laugh in a room filled with clowns and most of all he could recognise Marc hurting in a massacre.

His eyes are lifeless, a veil of something trapping the joy and happiness inside, not letting them see the sun.

“Marc tell me what’s going on because you’re not ok and I am not letting you leave the room until you’ve told me what’s happening”

“I decide if I can get out of the room or not Vale, you’re not my mom, I told you i’m ok so let me go thank you”

Vale wants to stop him but he knows it would be worse, Marc would shut down and respond robotically to questions he dreads to know the real answer to.

“Marc. I won’t force you ok? But please tell me what’s going on, you look-”

“I know what I look like there’s no need to tell me”

Marc thinks of old, spent, expired, outdated. 

All different words to mean only one thing.

undesirable.

And weak.

He fucking threw up in front of Vale, he almost had tears in his eyes, he had to come up with his fake smile he knew Vale would recognise, he’s so fucking stupid god how can he act like that and hope to still have a chance in keeping Vale.

He gets past him, putting on a pair of joggers and a short sleeved shirt of his and walks out the room, grabbing his biker boots and protective jacket by the entrance and putting them on, ignoring the boys sitting in the living room looking at him with curiosity.

Probably he yelled before, and they heard him.

Amazing.

He slams the door shut behind him and goes to grab his street bike.

Once he’s put the helmet on he’s alone. 

Truly alone.

No other voices or sounds, not even the one in his head.

It’s quiet, like one of the earliest nights he remembers sharing with Valentino, the one in Aragon perhaps, or the many in between races when they could wander off in one of Vale’s secret spots and share everything, even the silence.

He starts the bike and goes for a ride, a long one, he didn’t bring his phone with him so he doesn't know how long precisely.

He comes back home once he’s hungry and beginning to feel tired.

Once again he doesn’t dwell on the academy boys watching him, he can only imagine what they’re saying.

He doesn’t let the thoughts come to him this time though, he just heads straight for the shower and gets ready for lunch.

Vale is an amazing cook, he prepared something that smells delicious, but Marc can’t eat more than half a plate before already feeling nauseous.

He eats everything anyway, he doesn’t want to upset Vale more, so he forces every fork until he clears the plate.

“Vale” it’s Bezzecchi’s voice, he has a strange tone to it “how’s Pedro? didn’t you say he should come to the ranch soon? To see what he’s capable of off track?”

Marc doesn’t want to suppose things, but the way he says the last sentence sends shivers down his spine

20, fast, starstruck by Vale, not half covered in scars.

Check, check, check, check.

The qualities Bezzecchi talked about a few weeks prior are all part of Pedro.

Marc excuses himself from the table for the second time in a row, feeling bad about doubting Vale but also not holding him responsible if that came up to be the case.

He had said it himself he was now the past of MotoGP, and Pedro the future.

Bezzecchi cackles from the table, Celestino elbows him in his ribcage, earning a harsh stare from his friend.

Vale just sits at the table, looking in the direction Marc had disappeared to, trying to understand what was going on with his boyfriend, because he truly has no idea and is scared something had happened outside of the peace of the Ranch, maybe someone finding out about them and threatening Marc to reveal their relationship to the public.

He decides to leave him alone for a while, maybe he’s just not used to having all these people around all the time and needs his space, a moment alone to quiet down his brain.

He spends the afternoon with the boys, racing around the track, checking and analyzing data and talking about Bezz’s newfound harmony with Aprilia.

The clock hits eight pm and they’re all hungry as hell, so the boys quickly make their way to the bedrooms to take their showers and change, since they also decided to go out tonight for a party held by one of Bezz’s DJ friends.

Meanwhile Marc had stayed in the room the whole time, spending half of it crying his eyes out because he couldn’t stop thinking about what if Valentino actually decided to break up with him again and the feeling of emptiness he would feel eventually.

The other half he spent it trying to understand how to make himself look younger for Vale, which clothes to wear, how to act, to talk, to lie when his arm hurt while they were having sex.

Fucking pathetic

He wishes he could tear his brain outside of his skull, anything not to hear that sharp voice commenting his every move and look, he just wants the world inside his mind to shut the hell up and leave him be, at least for a few hours, just that.

A few hours where he doesn’t have to worry about being abandoned by the one person he loves more than life.

A few hours where he can love himself again.

But his brain doesn’t concede him neither those few hours, it’s a machine programmed to drive him insane, unstoppable.

Vale knocks on the door, he recognises their passcode, never changed during all those years spent together.

“Dinner is in five minutes, are you coming?”

“Yes yes, just let me get dressed and I’ll be there”

“Ok, see you downstairs amore”

It cuts deep, the bug whispering in his ear the word amore is just a way to keep him close for need, not driven by real feelings.

He comes down two minutes later, a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt he stole from Vale not so long ago, still smelling like him.

He smiles softly at the man, sitting beside him, across Pecco, who greets him with a nod.

The boys eat in a rush, not speaking a word, apparently they were supposed to meet some other guys by nine and they’re never going to make it on time.

They practically absorb their food and are out the door in twenty minutes, in Luca’s car off to the bar they set as a rendez-vous point.

And so he and Vale are left alone.

He doesn't know how long it’s been since the last time they were completely alone, not even that annoying guard dog of Uccio staining the environment.

“You’re really beautiful tonight amore”

Lie

“My shirt looks really pretty on you, makes you look smaller”

He doesn’t actually like it

“Want to go upstairs?”

He just needs a release, not you.

“Yeah sure” he’s convincing, Vale doesn’t seem to notice his body twitching when his fingers touch his arm.

They reach their bedroom, Vale guiding Marc towards the bed, hands running under the stolen shirt to go catch on his abs, fingers looking for a strong grip.

They share a sweet kiss, nothing like the ones shared after their battles on track, quick, charged and filled with need.

 Marc knows Vale wants those back, not these ones, too plain and domestic for him to ever like.

So he tries to pull the switch, biting at Vale’s lip, pressing himself against him, backing up until his body is caged between the wall and Valentino, who looks rather surprised at the sudden change of attitude.

“Fuck me Vale come on” it feels dirty, demanding, but that was exactly like he was back then, and he so desperately needs to feel like that again.

Vale’s lips are on his neck, biting and sucking hard, matching Marc’s tone.

It’s not what he wants, it’s what Vale wants.

And that is enough for him, he’ll just try to enjoy what was probably going to be one of the last nights together, and he didn’t want Valentino to resent him for it too.

He’ll just have to relax, think about Vale’s happiness and take it.

After one particularly harsh bite he winces, but so quickly Vale cannot register it while dragging him to bed.

The grip on his wrist is strong, possessive, needy.

It’s what Vale wants, stop being fucking selfish and let him have it.

The voice is right, he cannot be selfish and wish for Vale to stick around out of pity.

He needs to earn his lover back, who cares if he has to do things he doesn’t want to do?

In the end it’s all for love.

He lets Valentino undress him, sharp teeth attacking his nipple, making him moan loudly, he’s exaggerating a bit his actions but it’s for a good cause. 

He keeps repeating to himself this is ok to do, he really wants to please Vale, it’s not bad, he used to like the sharpness and rush of adrenaline that came with battling on track so why should this be different?

He feels Vale’s hand cupping him through his boxers and he thrusts his hips up, eyes closed and hands gripping both on Vale’s hair and back, keeping him there.

“You smell so good Marc, never going to let you go”

And that’s where Marc loses his battle with himself.

He tries to keep it in but a sob comes out anyway, a tear rolling out of his eye and ending up on the pillow underneath his head.

And Vale knows Marc. He knows the difference between a sob due to pleasure and this.

This is not Marc enjoying it so much he cries, this is Marc not enjoying it at all.

He stops, getting up and sitting in front of Marc who has his eyes closed, hands balled into fists and his mouth shut in a rigid and thin line.

He’s fucked it up, he let his own feelings ruin everything again.

He doesn’t want to look at Vale, to see the disappointment and displeasure which surely the older has in his eyes right now.

He can’t bear to see how pathetic he is in Valentino’s eyes.

You ruined it for him, good job.

His head echoes with this thought, he was almost there, so close to faking it perfectly but he had to fucking cry.

He didn’t even cry in front of Vale when he told the world he hated him and he should be off the sport, but he cries for this.

“Marc?” Valentino’s voice is filled with something, it sounds like concern, fear almost.

“Marc, would you open your eyes?” no he can’t he fucking can’t because they’re filled with tears that are just going to spill out if he does, he doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want Vale to see him weak and scarred and broken.

“Amore please, what’s going on? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry if I did just please open your eyes and tell me”

There, now Vale even thinks it’s his own fault, amazing, really fucking amazing, another step towards separation.

Vale is so fucking worried right now, Marc is practically crying in front of him, trying to hold his tears in to seem tough but his body is shivering and his lips already trembling.

If he seriously went overboard and hurt him he’s going to punch himself in the face, he would never want to wound Marc.

“Amore?” It sounds like a plea, and it is, he’s begging for an answer, because he has to know what he’s done wrong.

Was he too harsh? Too demanding? Did he hurt his arm? How many possible things may he have done wrong? 

Marc gathers what little forces he has left and props himself up, sitting on the bed and opening his eyes, but he doesn’t look at Vale.

He wouldn’t be able to see him even if he wanted to, tears clouding his vision and falling on the bed.

Vale grabs the shirt he discarded earlier on the bed, the one with a wrinkled 46 printed in front in a now not so bright yellow font.

“You’re shivering Marc put this on, you’ll get sick if you don’t” he lets Vale dress him, he feels like he doesn’t have control on his body and it makes him go insane.

He always needs to have control, otherwise how can he handle reality?

He finally manages to look up at Vale, and the man can see the pain rooted deep into his stare, and he aches.

He aches because how could he not notice how much Marc was truly hurting? His eyes look like the ones he had back in 2014, after the press conference where he first broke his heart.

God that stare, the haunted gaze he had that day, it will haunt him forever.

A kid, he was a kid and he managed to kill him.

And now he looks like that kid again. Confused, hurt, crushed and dead.

“I-I’m sorry I ruined it Vale, I didn’t mean to I-” he stops, a hiccup interrupting his words “I can’t I’m not what you need right now and I get it” What was he saying? What does he mean not what Vale needed? He is everything Vale needs and way more than what he deserves.

“I just…I thought I could at least still let you have this but I can’t even fucking bring myself to ignore myself for this while”

Vale is so confused right now, because he doesn’t understand. Why is Marc talking like he’s going to fucking die in a minute? Why should he ignore himself? 

He has so many questions but he cannot even pose one, his lips sealed by incredulity.

And Marc on the other hand feels like he isn’t even deserving of an answer, he wants to scream and cry and beg Vale for a chance, but he doesn’t.

Finally Vale manages to speak up, the feeling of instability being suppressed by the need to understand what was killing Marc’s mind.

“Marc, what are you saying? let me have what? you didn’t ruin everything and what’s with the 'I'm not what you need’ thing?”

It looks so real to Marc now, the concern and the preoccupation radiating from Vale.

You failed him, you just had to shut up and endured and you fai-

For the first time this week he manages to shut the voice up, sending it back to the hell it came from long enough to be aware of the fact Vale really cares about him.

He breaks down, crying in front of the man he loves for the first time.

It’s ugly and messy, and he’s fuckinging exhausted, he wants to hold Vale, he wants to be held by him, he needs to feel at home.

And even if he doesn’t say that explicitly Vale gets it, he throws his arms around the boy, keeping him there for a while, not bothering to check how long, he places him on his lap, Marc’s ruffled hair tickling his neck as he continues sobbing into his collarbone, shoulders shivering at every sound.

He gets his head up from Vale’s neck, and fixes his gaze on Vale’s.

“Please Vale promise me you won’t leave me for someone younger and prettier, because I know you could do that anytime if you wanted because you deserve it but please don’t, I know I’m not beautiful like before and that I’m broken now and that you should be with someone who doesn’t hurt himself every week and I know I can’t do what I did before in bed but I swear I’ll try to do it again, and and I get it you could have anyone because you’re you but I only want you please please I love you I can’t let you go I need to be with you I know it’s so pathetic and dumb but I beg of you don’t leave me”

He rushes his words out, one attached to the other not caring anymore if he sounds weak, his face is now completely wet with tears and Vale’s shirt is soaked as well, but he doesn’t care, it feels like he let go of an enormous weight and is finally free.

Vale's answer comes like a helping hand to a drowning person, the hand that grabs yours and drags you out of the angry waves keeping you underwater, your lungs burning.

“Marc I- I don’t even know where to start I mean…why would I ever leave you if you’re the best thing I ever got the chance to have in my life? Why would I need someone younger when I have you and how could I want someone prettier when no one’s more perfect than you?

You’re right you’re not as beautiful as before, you’re far more breathtaking now, and you’re everything but broken, do you think that just because you fell and injured yourself you aren’t attractive to me anymore? Those scars symbolize you never giving up. They are one of the most attractive things you have, amore.

Marc I don’t care if we cannot have that rushed sex we used to have when we raced together, I love what we do now, I adore it, I feel much more connected to you, back then it was adrenaline and desire, now it’s love and need, I wouldn’t trade it for any sum on money in the world you must know this, I would never want to hurt you or force you to have sex with me if it hurts you, ok?

And I don’t fucking care I am who I am, or the fact I could have anyone else because 

I. have. you. 

And you’re the only one I want or need or dream about sharing my life with, you get it?

I love you Marc Marquez and I’ll be damned if I let these thoughts get to you and make you act like that.

I’m never going to leave unless you want me to, because I already left once and I hurt you and myself and I cannot go through it again. 

It was the worst period of my life because I looked for you every night and you weren’t there, because of me.

I should be the on worrying about you leaving me because of what I did, never never never the opposite” 

And now Vale is crying too, his eyes holding onto Marc’s gaze like his life depends on it, like he needs an answer to breathe again, because he too feels like he’s drowning and being brought to safety by his lover.

“You still love me? You swear?” It sounds so feeble and desperate Vale wants to open his chest with his bare hands and gift Marc his heart as proof of his love, because the only way he could doubt his love for him would be Vale not showing it enough, not doing everything the boy needed to feel loved.

“Of course I still love you Marc, I never stopped, and I never will, I want to share my whole life with you, you are my star and I will never let you say those things about yourself again, got it?”

“Even if I’m older now? I’ve got scars and lines and I look-”

“You look perfect. Listen I know I said I don’t believe in therapy and all that shit but I just- it’s just I didn’t like what they told me there and I decided to shit on it, but it actually helped me realize I still loved you and if you need to go there to understand how much I love you I’ll pay for it, I’ll bring you to your appointments and I’ll accept whatever outcome you get from it”

It feels good now, to Marc. It’s like he got dragged out of a stormy ocean onto a tropical beach, sunny, warm, quiet and calm.

Quiet.

No wretched voice demonizing or belittling him, just Vale, the only other presence on his dream beach, so close to him he can feel their hearts beating in unison.

He locks his fingers with Vale’s, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah I- I want to go, because I don’t want to feel like this again, I need to free my mind. Do you understand me? It’s so full it feels like it’s going to explode”

Yes, Vale knows. He’s gone through it more than he likes to admit, and he just nods, pulling Marc even closer, pressing a sweet kiss on his forehead, feeling the boy relax under his touch.

Marc tilts his head, looking up at Vale, and goes to plant a soft kiss on the man’s lips.

No rush, no lust, nothing except deep love and trust, a feeling of peace hovering over the couple who drifts to sleep together, Marc being able to dream of a beautiful snippet of his life with Vale, them together at the Ranch, not worrying anymore about hiding because Marc is retired and nobody will say anything, Stitch and Shira running after a kid with big blue eyes in the garden, the academy boys discussing who’s the favorite uncle.

Marc and Valentino holding hands, Marc’s head on Vale’s shoulder as they look at the little  girl laughing, playing with the dogs and the grass.

It’s domestic, soft, and quiet.

So quiet.

The only sound being the laughter coming from their friends and families and the dogs panting behind the buzzing girl.

She looks like Vale.

She calls him and Marc picks her up, she smiles, they’re happy.

There’s no need to worry anymore, Vale never left him, Marc neither, they went through Marc’s insecurities together, they didn’t let go of eachother.

In the real world Valentino is smiling, putting Marc to bed, covering him with their sheets, dreaming of the same thing. 

A life, a future with Marc.

[leoisstillalive]

hot and heavy- 1.9k word of a WIP. not part two of my ducati 2025 ranch fic, part 4 maybe??? i write out of order which is very bad but. alas! i need to fix this fuckass dialogue uughghh

Riding on dirt was different to asphalt in every conceivable way. Marc was reminded of this immediately as he slid onto the motocross bike and shifted the front tyre against the gritty track. It was like running up a rubber hill on roller skates, constantly vying for grip where there should be none, feet kicking the floor to knock the rear end off-balance for an inch more pace, and yet only in danger when he remembered to be afraid.

On asphalt, every twitch, each imperceptible nudge of weight counted. If one worried about such trivia on a dirt bike, they would be doomed to a sharp hug with the gravel.

The habit was hard to break for a MotoGP rider, but far from impossible.

Marc began to anticipate the ache in his wrists from clinging to the juddering bike as it threatened to slip on the corners; the quake of the seat as he opened the throttle sooner than he should and the vehicle tried to break free from under him.

Remarkably, it did not, and he hared past the start line, engine jack-rabbitting as he dove into the first corner again. It became an a-rhythm- its sequence entirely unpredictable, but not unexpected.

The laps were irreplicable with new hurdles at each sweeping curve- the scatter of Pecco's rear tyre as Marc gained on him, a slight crater on the inside line from where one of them had dug in too deep. He made up time in a different sector every round. It would have been marvellous to watch.

Sweat dampened the inside of his gloves, body peaking at the exertion, raring to push further. It was the wall to break down for any athlete, the concept of a limit. That cry to stop, to conserve energy, only came when the body believed there was no urgency, that its survival was not within the balance. Marc learned to anticipate it with some eagerness. He used the wall as a tightrope, where he teetered on the edge of self-destruction, where the slip of a foot or a hand could paste him against the circuit barrier. For a win, survival was always worth the risk.

He tore out of the tightest corner, dumping the clutch and feeling the front-end shudder- reminiscent of the lift on a GP bike. He threw himself down the "pit" straight (which was more of a large curve), blasting past the camera crew, who clapped him on from where they stood, hidden under the trackside shelter from the sun's glare.

When he wrestled past the finish line, he released the throttle and the bike's roar quietened to a meagre grumble, like a horse nickering for breath. He rolled off the track and onto the path leading up to the shelter. It was a small, concrete cottage that doubled as a garage- detached from the house.

As he withdrew from his pinpoint race focus, he suddenly became aware of all the places his leathers pinched, how his undershirt soaked through from September's last attempt at Summer heat and the motorbike's hot, worked engine. He felt the wind whip at the shaded goggles of his helmet, loosened a strap under his chin and let it clack against the plastic.

Once the bike was securely under the shelter, he dropped the kickstand and killed the engine. His head was buzzing still, body weightless with adrenaline, and the ground swayed as he hoisted off the bike.

"Awesome stuff, Marc," He thought he heard from somewhere behind him, voices muffled through the helmet.

He mindlessly followed his post-race routine, static nerves dulling in the process. He untucked the suit from between his legs, peeled the zip apart and fumbled with the straps of his gear. He tucked his chest padding and gloves into the empty helmet shell habitually, sliding the open leathers down to his hips.

"We got some good drone footage of that battle with Pecco," A man with a bushy moustache and blindingly red Ducati cap- Marc vaguely recalled somebody introducing him as Giuseppe- informed him in Italian.

Marc was unsure whether he would call it a battle- it was like Pecco had let him pass, "Yeah?"

The man nodded, "There are a few things you need to watch for us, though- just to see if you'd like to redo it. We lost you a bit coming into turn--"

Marc didn't mean to, but he found himself tuning out, flitting his eyes across the small crowd of 15 (or so): a handful of media officers, two or three journos, camera crew, and hospitality- probing for Valentino. There was no need for him to be present, he was not due to film his segment on Pecco until the next morning, but a part of Marc dreaded and hoped for him to poke his head out to watch.

He needed to keep an eye on him- stay vigilant and prevent an ambush like a wild animal. It was a bit of a horror film with his back always to the wall, eyes roving between every entrance and exit, every window and face, a desperate grasp for some control while trapped in Vale's territory.

There was no sight of him. It set a cold, heavy weight in Marc's chest and he bit his cheek hard to subdue it- not disappointment, definitely not, probably anxiety. He turned his gaze back to Giuseppe.

"--so would you be able to look over some of that later?"

His thick eyebrows lifted expectantly and Marc felt the man knew he was not listening.

Marc spread a smile across his cheeks- one that could not quite reach his eyes, "Of course, sí! Just let me know what and send it over to me."

It was apparent Giuseppe had not suspected a thing when he clapped a weathered hand upon Marc's shoulder and flashed him a thumbs up. He waddled back to his colleagues and ducked his head into a conversation over a dim laptop screen.

Marc turned his attention to the track, where Pecco still bore into the white dirt, bristling with youthful energy. And Marquez was not old for a man, just two years into his thirties, skin still elastic and clean-shaven. But for a rider, he was nearing retirement age- a thought that had nagged insistently for over a year, swelling each time he flew over the handlebars and wiped out in the gravel, the new aches and bruises that he never got when he was younger.

There was a bitterness there, he supposed as he watched Francesco fly across the circuit. In knowing he had the disadvantage. In knowing he was a dying breed.

A meek, young lady bustled up to him with an open red bull can, black hair folded into a bun atop her head. It was water, of course- just a sight for the sponsors if he got caught on camera. He smiled politely and accepted the can, dipping his head in thanks. She beamed, flushed pink, and hurried away. It was pleasing to know he still had fans, even deep behind enemy lines- both in Tavullia and Ducati.

The liquid graced the back of his throat, and he hummed at how it cooled his feverish skin. He turned his mind to the overtake he pulled on Pecco, how he had ducked into the gap hoping for some bite, a bit of fire from his teammate, but received no tug at the bit- just the sight of him pulling too wide out of the bend and watching Marc pass.

It was not alike Pecco to neglect a fight, particularly one that had no say in the championship standings, no cost if he lost. Marc believed him a sensible, thoughtful man, but it never halved his aggression on track- something the Spaniard deeply admired in a rider.

Perhaps he did not want to disrupt the synergy of the team, perhaps he wanted to maintain a neutral mood for the duration of the weekend.

Marc spotted Pecco abort a movement that seemed like dropping a knee as he skidded into turn six, and his lips peeled into a soft smile. Old habits die hard.

Pecco was a polished rider, movements calculated in the turns prior, easy on the throttle and braking, seeming like he valued his life as he carefully grabbed for speed entering the pit-straight.

The caution left him only at a disadvantage in time trials, however- something Marc had assimilated over two years of watching. He was a fierce fighter up close. Unrelenting, almost Spartan in his aggression.

And that was the VR46 Academy fighter dog mentality, Marc supposed, swallowing hard at the reminder of Pecco's connection to Vale. He was a Crown Prince cut and pressed by a god, filed at the dull edges into something deceptively sharp. It was why, for all Pecco's pretence at cordiality, Marc remained guarded.

A figure shifted in Marc's periphery and he plastered a smile onto his lips once more, prepared to see that same black-haired girl and sign a shirt or a cap, or acquiesce to a photo. He spun and met with high, wiry shoulders under a baggy shirt, a mass of thin, dark, curly hair tucked under a black hat, and a single, glinting horseshoe earring.

Marc's blood ran cold, heart dropped to his stomach, smile turned pursed and drawstring-tight.

"Ciao," Valentino drawled, voice smooth and casual.

Thick-framed sunglasses shielded his eyes, but Marc knew he was not looking at him, could tell by the tilt of his chin that he was talking past him, above him, sat atop a mighty steed and unwilling to grace the commoner with niceties. Marc gritted his teeth as to not bite his fucking tongue off.

"Ciao," He echoed, shuffling a step away to relieve the pressure that gathered between them, tender like an abscess.

"You were not bad out there," So Vale had been watching.

Marc was normal about that. He could be normal. But his gut curdled suspiciously and his hands itched to connect at his middle, fumble together. The shadow of a compliment cast projections of Marc, twenty-two years old and bashful, on the surface of his face. How desperate he had been for Valentino's attention, searching for each Italian phrase in his head- is this good? I learned this for you. Only for you.

A small part of that boy jolted awake in him and Marc slammed the pillow back over his head, reminding himself who Valentino truly was, how he had looked Marc in the eye and laughed with-- at him before dropping the guillotine.

No more rose goggles.

"Mm," Marc hummed, feigning disinterest as best he could, turning back to face the track only for Valentino to saunter up beside him.

"Not as good as you were, though," Vale bit with a cold smile, arms folded across his middle, "Your confidence went with your youth, eh?"

As if he had plucked the thoughts from Marc's very mind. It was all words, just words thrown about to-- Marc was unsure what for; they were meaningless. He was fast, everybody knew it.

But... there was that nagging feeling again- that doubt that Valentino could conjure so well.

Marc licked and bit his lip, conscious of the man beside him, his body rigid and anxious- braced to flee. He forced his shoulders into a shrug, willing his muscles loose.

"Not retired, though," It was a weak snap of his jaws, a pathetic dig to show he would not take it lying down, proof that he was no longer that naive fan Vale once knew.

Valentino huffed in his dangerous, sardonic way- Marc thought of the press conferences, everybody in the room seeming to know something Marc did not, Marc smiling obliviously, stupidly as Vale tore into him, sharp teeth flashing for the cameras.

[coimbrabertone]

Motorsports Christmas: An After-Action Report.

May 26th, 2024 was one of the biggest days in motorsports, and it was freaking exhausting in the best ways possible.

So, everybody knows that the Monaco Grand Prix and the Indianapolis 500 are on the same day, well, the Charlotte 600 is on that day too, making for the triple. This year, the Catalan Motorcycle Grand Prix also fell on that weekend, so there was a quadruple of racing, and I was ready to watch it all.

I woke up around 5:30am - the joys of the Mountain Time zone - in time to watch MotoGP at 6am. Aleix Espargaro took pole on the factory Aprilia and Raul Fernandez on the Trackhouse Aprilia satellite bike lined up third, but it was Pecco Bagnaia in second that turned into the protagonist of the race. Bagnaia held off the likes of Jorge Martin, Marc Marquez, and Aleix Espargaro behind to take a calculated victory.

I was happy for Bagnaia, however, with Jorge Martin in second having a dominant championship lead, it did sort of feel like a pyrrhic victory. Bagnaia gives this controlled, smart victory ride but it doesn't really matter since he only scored five more points over his main championship rival. Add in the fact that Marc Marquez, who is toe-to-toe with Bagnaia in the fight for second, finished third. This means that Bagnaia leaves the Catalan Grand Prix 39 points behind Martin and just 2 ahead of Marquez.

That's not even the worst part.

Enea Bastianini - the rider I support - kinda had a meltdown this race. First, he starts eleventh, loses places off the start, and then got pushed off at turn one by Alex Marquez. Enea cuts the track to rejoin, receives a long lap penalty, refuses to serve it. He then gets gets pushed off again in a second attempt. Enea receives a double long-lap penalty for failing to serve the penalty, serves one but not the other, and then gets a thirty second penalty post race.

In his interviews, he called it a protest against unfair stewarding decisions.

On track, it led to him finishing eighteenth and out of the points.

This is particularly devastating as Jorge Martin and Marc Marquez - the guys in second and third - are fighting to take his seat for 2025. I already did a blogpost about this a few weeks ago and I have a lot to get to today, so I'll keep this brief, but yesterday was not a good day for Enea Bastianini.

The Monaco Grand Prix also happened. Swiftly moving on...

Joking. I'm joking. Monaco was actually pretty good this year. The Ferraris and McLarens qualified 1-3 and 2-4, respectively, so we got a fight between them rather than Red Bull dominance. Unfortunately, they decided to fight by going as slow as possible to prevent anyone else from pitting once they all got a free change of tyres under red following a scary first lap incident between Sergio Perez and the two Haas cars.

Still, it was a fight between Ferrari and McLaren and the top seven all put a lap on eighth place. That was as vintage F1 as you could get. It was also at vintage speeds with them running around four seconds off the pace, but hey, strategy shenanigans are fun.

Charles Leclerc won and proceeded to drop the Monegasque flag in front of the Prince of Monaco, twice. That is objectively funny and probably my favorite F1 moment of the weekend.

So, the Indianapolis 500.

Normally it would start shortly after Monaco, however, a rain front in Indianapolis delayed the 500 into the afternoon. This would wreck Kyle Larson's attempt to do the full 1100 mile double at Indy and Charlotte - more on that later - but it did actually lead to some great moments for me personally. Spending the hours in discords with other motorsports fans talking about when the rain might stop, when the track might dry out, when the race should start, whether Larson would stay or go...it all gave a very wholesome, community feel that I really enjoyed.

Then the race itself. It was amazing.

The clouds cleared, we got a partly cloudy afternoon with filled grandstands and a full 500-mile race around the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. We got a little bit of everything. Crashes (where thankfully nobody was hurt), engine failures, competing fuel strategies, sixteen different leaders - that's half the field! - and a last lap, penultimate corner pass for the win.

Now, I'm an Arrow McLaren fan. Alexander Rossi was a driver who I followed in F1 because I was excited at the prospect of seeing the first American driver in a decade. Rossi's F1 hopes with Marussia didn't work out, but he went on to Indycar and won the Indy 500 in his first attempt. Between the peak Andretti years where he had the knife between his teeth bringing the fight to the likes of Josef Newgarden and Scott Dixon, to now, where he's in that beautiful #7 white and orange McLaren, bringing the fight to the likes of...Josef Newgarden and Scott Dixon.

Then there's Pato O'Ward, the exciting, young, charismatic Mexican charger in the #5, driving an awesome orange and black car. It's perfect, he and Rossi have night and day cars, and they were slingshot passing each other in the Indianapolis 500 to save fuel. That was the happiest I was during the race, watching my two favorite Indycar drivers in my favorite team leading 1-2.

Then Alexander Rossi made his final pitstop for fuel.

They were racing to keep track position, so they fueled him just a bit short, and I fear that ultimately decided the course of the race.

Josef Newgarden cycled out in front at the end of the fuel cycle, Alexander Rossi attacked first, got in front, but immediately got overtaken again as he had to save a bit of fuel. Rossi would try again, but Newgarden would nose ahead, as would Pato O'Ward.

Pato O'Ward was a student of the Indy 500, so he knew he had to make the pass as late as possible to ensure that Josef Newgarden wouldn't be able to respond. Pato would lift in turn one on a number of final laps to stay second and keep the draft, before finally making the attack in turn one on the final lap...only for Josef Newgarden to come back at him in turn three.

There was nothing Pato could've done at that point.

Josef made the pass in turn three, got a good exit off turn four, and Pato didn't get enough of a draft to the finish line in order to stop him. Pato was rightfully devastated, Rossi ended up in fourth, behind the lead two in addition to third placed Scott Dixon, as a result of his fuel strategy.

It was utterly devastating.

But that's motorsport. The days that you lose are what make the days that you win more meaningful. The Indianapolis 500 happened in its entirety despite all the rain and the worries. Not only that, but NBC is saying that the preliminary ratings look to be over 5 million viewers for the race. A last lap pass, a back-to-back winner, and a ratings bump over last year. As much as I wish Pato or Rossi could've won that race, I've spent the last day making my peace with it. For now, I'll just be happy that Indycar as a sport snatched a victory from the jaws of defeat.

Then there was the Coke 600 at Charlotte.

I tuned in late thanks to the late Indianapolis 500, and I was pretty emotionally drained at this point, but a charge from Brad Keselowski at the end of the second stage got me motivated again. Brad Keselowski, the owner-driver of the #6 for the team I support in NASCAR - Roush Fenway Keselowski Racing, also known as RFK Racing - pushed his way up the field. He moved into second, and he was hunting down the leader, Christopher Bell.

I began to believe that, after a 1,113-day winless streak, Brad Keselowski would win two races in three weeks.

Unfortunately, as soon as he caught up to the back of Bell, it started raining.

To add insult to injury, Kyle Larson, who had run the Indianapolis 500 earlier that day and completed all 500 miles, finishing 18th after a pitlane speeding penalty, had just arrived at Charlotte. He was about to take over the #5 from replacement driver Justin Allgaier, only he never got the chance.

At this point, I was emotionally drained after three and a half races, so at around 8:45pm, I fully embraced my grandmother era and went to bed.

That wound up being the right decision, because despite waiting out the rain and attempting to dry the track, NASCAR would end up calling the race anyway when they hit the end of Fox's TV window. Christopher Bell would win the race, Brad Keselowski would have to settle for second.

I quite literally missed nothing by going to bed when I did.

So, I sorta got the result I wanted at Catalunya, a full-on positive result at Monaco, and narrowly had my picks finish second at both Indianapolis and Charlotte.

In the grand scheme of things, that's not a bad Motorsports Christmas.

And on June 14th and 15th, we have Motorsports New Years with the 24 Hours of Le Mans, so the Racing Holidays aren't quite over.

[speciallivery]

🌧️ for the wip game!

Hi Mitchie <3

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

Thank you! So the really angsty bit has not been edited yet, so I'll share this bit with the public.

It's a MotoGP WIP, I hope you don't mind.

Context: It's 2025 Aragon, Marc crashes thanks to Pecco. Pecco thinks Marc is pissed, and also they're sleeping with each other. Valentino doesn't know that yet, and Marc is not subtle.

Marc crashes out at Aragon. They make contact, and Marc goes down. 

It is ruled a racing incident, it sucks, but stuff happens. God knows that it has happened before, both ways, and it will happen again, both ways. That’s racing. 

But Pecco wins, and the twenty-five points make a major dent into Marc’s championship lead. Not that Pecco cares that much, but he guesses that their casual arrangement will also be put on hold for the night.

But Marc finds him in the Ducati garage after the race. He walks in with a big, practised smile. Which, of course, Marc is allowed to be there, in his own team garage with his own teammate. Except Pecco is here with Vale. 

Early on, after Vale had gone off on another podcast, Marc and Pecco had agreed to avoid the big V-word as much as they possibly could. Pecco was not Vale’s handler, no matter how much Pecco would wish that Vale would just let the issue rest. Marc promised he understood, he would try his best to avoid Valentino when he was around in a paddock. Pecco had solemnly sworn that he would not show Vale any of Marc’s data. It worked. 

Marc struts in like he owns the place (and in a way, he does) but it feels manufactured. Somewhere near uncanny, Marc’s spine is too rigid, the expression on his face is too carefully constructed to be as congenial as possible. Pecco knows no one — especially not Pecco — is ever getting a fully real Marc Marquez, ever. That’s just Marquez’s modus operandi, but today, the mask feels extra thick. 

He ignores Vale and walks right up to Pecco and before Pecco understands what is happening, he is caught in a hug. 

“Congratulations Bagnaia, you did good,” Marc says, as he nearly lifts Pecco off the ground. 

When he lets go, his hand lingers on Pecco’s waist for just a bit too long. Cold fingertips accidentally ghost over a sliver of bare skin as Pecco’s polo-shirt rides up. Valentino swallows audibly. Pecco feels something catch him around his throat.

“Eh, thanks Marc.” Marc, not Marquez, Marc. He cards a hand through his hair and pulls his shirt back in place. His face feels flush red at his teammate’s praise. It’s stupid, he just wasn’t expecting Marc to be, what? — nice? 

“I thought you’d be angry,” he admits.

Marc laughs, “why would I be angry? It’s just a racing accident. It’s hard racing, I like it. I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose,” he adds.

Ah. 

“Besides, you would’ve won the race anyway. I don’t think I would’ve been able to keep up eventually. It was a good race.” 

Vale watches the exchange, he hasn’t said a word since Marc walked in. His gaze shifting between Pecco and Marc and back to Pecco as Marc grabs Pecco’s hand with both of his, leans in and lowers his voice, conspiratorially.  

“We will be celebrating your win together, yes?” 

It has not just caught; it gets pulled taunt.  

Somewhere behind him, Vale opens his mouth. Either in pure astonishment (unlikely) or to actually say something (more likely), but he closes it and kisses his teeth instead. His eyes wide, his lips form a thin line. 

Breathlessly, Pecco nods, a little too eager for his own liking. “Yes, yes, eh, I’ll see you-?” 

“I’ll text you!” Marc says. 

For a second there, Pecco thinks he can see the mask slip. Marc breaks his chosen smile for something more feral, something more hungry. His eyes dark and trained as he peers past Pecco to look at Valentino. Then, the mask is put back on as easily as it had slipped away. Perhaps it was on purpose. 

Marc gives Pecco’s hand a friendly squeeze. “I’ll text you,” he repeats, softer this time, before he lets go of Pecco’s hand and turns around. 

“Ciao, Pecco! — Valentino.” This might be the first time Marc has acknowledged Valentino Rossi in years. 

He can feel Valentino practically dissecting him with his eyes. There are gears turning, uncomfortable conclusions Vale will get to on his own time. Pecco just turns and shrugs. 

Valentino frowns, considering, but ultimately he says nothing.

[batsplat]

Hi! I'm kind of curious about your thoughts on which team will pick up Acosta if KTM pull out MotoGP or if any team will.

as I understand it, still quite a likely option they're in the sport for 2025 and even 2026 albeit with paused development of the bike, but they might be fucked to develop the bike for the next regs. if that's the case, I think acosta will want to be jumping ship for 2026 - which is also obviously ahead of schedule but gives him time to scout out his options. if they DO withdraw tomorrow... idk man, could be rough! wonder how tight miller's pramac contract is

if acosta still has some time, well. it kind of depends on a bunch of things we don't yet know. in some ways, the most obvious choice is honda: the only ones with a factory seat theoretically available in 2026 and the manufacturer that's currently lacking an obvious 'superstar'. the problem is that they're honda. for that to look like a remotely attractive option, honda needs to make a serious step over the off-season and... well, idk, nothing I've seen over the past few months inspires all that much confidence. maybe they can show acosta some banger 850cc engine plans. the second most obvious choice feels is yamaha, where even without any breaking contracts you do have a pramac seat on offer for 2026 that would presumably get full factory support. yamaha's trajectory has been vaguely promising and, while they clearly have full faith in fabio, pedro's kinda too good to not want him if he's literally right there to be taken. in some ways, fabio is the superstar you're least likely to displace - he's younger than the other non-pedro riders of that calibre (martin, bagnaia, marquez) and he's basically the only thing yamaha have had going with them since 2021. that kind of thing creates a special bond... fabio is essential to yamaha. would be interesting to see how that particular intra-manufacturer/team dynamic would develop lol

aprilia feels the least likely option. they don't exactly have much money to be throwing around, especially since there'd have to be some contract breaking to get rid of one of their current riders to get rid of him. also not personally who I'd bet on to develop a stunning 2027 bike, cf the money point. and then... well, there's ducati. theoretically there is a vr46 seat becoming available in 2026, which... hm, obviously a bit of a complicated situation. idk, this one also heavily depends on certain ducati riders' performances next year! theoretically ducati are kind of sorted for the next few years with this line-up - and theoretically dall'igna has reiterated his faith in aldeguer's ultimate potential, who is still seemingly their longer-term bet. but also, ducati said before this year they had no particular interest in marc - and, well, they didn't need him, but clearly they did want him. and they didn't want their rivals to have him. if acosta continues to look like the next big thing - and given that ducati knows they surely won't be this dominant forever - it would make a lot of sense to poach him while they have the chance. at the very least they can offer him a bike he can win races on tomorrow. acosta I think would prefer to have a manufacturer oriented around him, and would be wary of the lack of an obvious path to the factory team... but well, if that path could open up for anyone, it's him. marc's old and god knows what state his body will be in two years from now, pecco will be pushing thirty, and one of them might take at least a bit of a hit to their stonks in the next couple of years. if you can trust in anything when it comes to ducati, it's that you can't trust them. even by manufacturer standards they're a ruthless bunch - and depending on what everyone's results are looking like in the first half of 2025, I wouldn't put it past them to offer pedro a satellite seat for one year with the guarantee he'd get a factory seat in the following one

my personal vibes-based pick right now for where he ends up is yamaha, but that might be because I've sniffed insane amounts of hopium and have decided yamaha's situation doesn't look All That Bad right now. this is a complete vibes thing and I'm aware pedro will be guided by competitive logic first and foremost, but I just feel pedro would prefer not to go for ducati if there's a plausible alternative. again, honda would make a lot of sense, but they NEED to at least start getting their shit together. aprilia just doesn't really work. so, yamaha. (also, I reckon manufacturers really wouldn't want to give him a one year option while he waits to see how the chips might fall for 2027 - if they have to fuck about with their line-up, they kinda want to lock this guy down.) but also obviously all of this is extremely extremely pointless speculation!! it's just a lil thought experiment, idk any more than you do, god knows how any of this will pan out

[chussyracing]

What has been happening in the world or motorsports lately?

Prema is officially joining indycar

Noel Leon will race for them in F3

Arvid Lindblad moves up to F2 with Campos

Since Liberty Media acquired 86% stake in motogp, its CEO said that Lewis Hamilton is seriously interested in buying a team

There have been quite many changes made to Baku circuit including shortened DRS zones, new asphalt and walls moved a bit at some places

Mike Krack teased that Alonso will stay with the team after 2026 and that "the door is always open for Verstappen to join"

"Leclerc and Hamilton duo unfazed by Newey snub" is objectively a hilarious caption so I had to write it down

Lando will have his own grandstand at Silverstone next year

Red Bull has an upgraded floor this weekend to test out a kind of hybrid between their various versions

Logan is supporting Andretti in Indycar this weekend and adding to rumours that he might be joining the series himself

Helmut Marko again mentioned that they will announce vcarb line up (before Singapore i think)

Bahrain confirmed as location for 2025 preseason testing

Dennis Hauger is allegedly considering another season in f2 (please Dennis i don't mean to be rude but you overstood your welcome)

Btw red bull apparently not only doesn't count with winning wcc but Max claims he also doesn't count on winning wdc anymore

Alex Palou became Indycar champion for this season

Not really news but interesting stuff I learned:

Apparently it's common practice to sign contracts to Monza only with f2 drivers and then depending on your results, they will either extend for the rest of the season or use a different driver (usually their f3 juniors whose season is done by then)

Ferrari fashion show for Spring Summer 2025 takes place on 21st September and you can watch their livestream on youtube

[autumnapricot]

do we…have the same exact dad actually anon? 😂 mine too was the reason i started both f1 and motogp because when i was a kid, on sundays he would always have the tv on for the race during lunch time lol. i still drive home to my parents place every sunday to watch motogp with my dad—best tradition in the world ☺️ i feel like it‘s a kinda universal experience atp and i love it!//

aww haha! that's also what happened to me, but with dinner! because i live approximately 6 hours forward from CET.

and i'm so happy to see that you're still bonding with your dad by watching motogp every sunday! my dad just stopped watching f1 & motogp sadly. i asked why, but with f1 he said that the drivers are getting younger and younger (and it's true, half of the 2025 grid are much younger than me, and i'm the youngest kid in the family) and he doesn't feel that it's going to be interesting anymore. and my dad stopped watching motogp when rossi retired.

when i see the pictures of marc, damn, he's still as handsome as i remembered him when i was still a kid lol. his toothy smile, i'm sorry? that's one of the most gorgeous smiles i've ever seen. and i love the teasing glint from his eyes too.

he and carlos seem to vibe together. i'd be not surprised if they were closer in private. they're both racers, hailing from spain, they're close in age, and i love that both marc and carlos are that kind of playful, easygoing people.

but i think carlos isn't sponsored by estrella galicia anymore? that's why estrella moved back to mclaren after sponsoring ferrari, and peroni stepped up? but i might be wrong though!

but with marc joining ducati, maybe (a lil part in me hoping this) there'll be a joint ad for lenovo with either oscar or lando? i very hope so lol.

hihii like i said, universal experience atp!!💓💗

ohh true yeah i feel like a lot of the elder generation feel like that? my dad too stopped watching f1 (and i actively don‘t watch it anymore either tbh *fake fan exposed* because i just felt like there‘s so many stupid ass rules implemented nowadays, for the dumbest, most idiotic things ever (fuck you fia) and it‘s kind of lost the whole racing spark to me? motogp has lately also been going down that road far too much imo like let these mfers race!! i‘m happy to see some things going in 2027. wtfdym drop one position for a little elbow rub? give me war gimme them kicking each other idc *to be read with a grain of sarcasm) anyway i think it‘s kind of sad actually🥲 maybe you can convince your dad to watch either sport again for a race☺️

i personally think marc has only been getting more handsome with the years, i find him more attractive now even than when he was younger (sometimes he was too perfect like a barbie doll haha, i like me some character on the face, some smile lines, some little fine lines, some frown lines, some dark undereyes….maybe i just like older man oh) but yes, that‘s one gorgeous smile, and that little sparkle in his dark eyes that i think he‘s recently been gaining again after such hard years. yeah. that‘s a man.

i think carlos once mentioned that marc and him meet up for lunch whenever carlos is in madrid so i do think they are friends in private too or at least close acquaintances! which is lovely 🥰 tbh yeah i think carlos is not sponsored by estrella galicia anymore…. :((

ohhh now i‘m imagining marc with lando and/or oscar…i fear it would be the tiniest bit awkward lmao because lando may come off as stand-offish and oscar is his endearingly calm slightly awkward self, and marc‘s more reserved perhaps…but now that i think of it there was a video of oscar with marc from last year at philip island (..i believe…) i would dig seeing some more of them! 💕

[pertamax7]

Aprilia RS-GP MotoGP 2025 Jorge Martin Nomor Start 1 Dan Marco Bezzecchi

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[holopiscom]

Pasangan Pembalap Terhebat dalam Sejarah MotoGP

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[legomotogp]

Yamaha Bidik Juara Dunia MotoGP 2025 | Quartararo dan Rins Siap Beraksi ...

[sbknews]

Trackhouse presents new season liveries & athlete line-up ahead the 2025 NASCAR Cup Series & MotoGP World Championship.TrackhouseMotoGP

[bring-subaru-back-to-wrc]

WHAT

[coimbrabertone]

So, since writing this blog, Carlo Pernat - Enea Bastianini's manager - has revealed that Enea while ride a factory spec KTM at Tech3 Racing next year. The article that broke the news yesterday also hinted that KTM is considering rebranding Tech3 from Red Bull GasGas Tech3 to another brand within the Pierer Mobility Group umbrella.

Now, at first I thought this was going to be like Husqvarna or back to just running the second team as KTMs as well, but then a thought occurred to me.

Earlier this year, Pierer Mobility Group (I'll refer to them as KTM from here on out) increased their stake in MV Agusta from 25% to a controlling 50.1% interest. MV Agusta has a ton of history in MotoGP, particularly in the 60s and 70s with the great Giacomo Agostini. I'm not an insider, I don't know anything other than what I read in the MotoGP news, but the stars line up for me on this.

It makes an awful lot more sense to market an Italian sports bike brand in MotoGP than a Spanish (or Swedish in the case of Husqvarna) dirt bike brand, and if the new lead rider for Tech3 is going to be the Italian Enea Bastianini, then it lines up even better.

Also, with Jorge Martin gone, Enea Bastianini gone, and Marc Marquez to the factory, a lot of people in the paddock seem to think that this kills Ducati's chance to keep Pramac.

I'm not quite convinced yet, since a Pramac rider is leading the championship on a Ducati while the two Yamahas are 13th and 20th in the standings, respectively. I know Yamaha is said to be offering generous terms, but is that worth going from the manufacturer with 241 constructors' points to the one with 36?

We'll see what happens, but Ducati doesn't have a top rider to offer Pramac anymore, and that certainly doesn't help.

Perhaps Marco Bezzecchi's struggles on the 2023 Ducati this year will make him more receptive to being on a 2025 Ducati at Pramac next year, but he's already rejected Pramac once, so that's hardly a guarantee.

So silly season continues, and now that the main rider dominos have fallen in place, the biggest question isn't about rider moves anymore, but rather does Pramac stay or go? Once we know that, then the rest of the rider market can fall into place.

MotoGP Silly Season Predictions - Plus Larson Waiver Talk.

As recently as this morning, I was planning on this week's blogpost being about the Kyle Larson waiver situation over in NASCAR, however, MotoGP then decided to do everything all at once and launched silly season into high gear.

So, with regards to Larson, I'll just say one thing: he raced in the Indianapolis 500 competitively and made NASCAR look good mere years after Jimmie Johnson, unfortunately, struggled in a Chip Ganassi Indycar on road and street circuits - and there were a lot of jokes at NASCAR's expense after their seven-time world champion spun out every race. So how does NASCAR repay him? Utter silence over whether or not he'll get a playoff waiver.

Kyle Larson is the 2021 champion, took his car to the owner's championship final four as a result of playoff shenanigans in 2022, and then made the final four in 2023 again. He is considered one of the top talents in NASCAR and he has the results to back it up. So why is there controversy over him getting a playoff waiver for this year?

Because Kyle Larson prioritized the Indianapolis 500 last weekend.

I talked about this in my Motorsports Christmas blogpost, but the Indy 500 was rain delayed and Kyle Larson stayed there to compete, and only then he flew out to Charlotte. Now, Kyle Larson landed, was ready to get into the car, but then it started raining in Charlotte too. Just before midnight, as the track was drying, NASCAR controversially decided to call the race, thus Kyle Larson was not able to relieve Justin Allgaier in the #5 and resume the rest of the Coke 600 at Charlotte Motor Speedway.

NASCAR is mad because every other weekend of the year, they're the biggest show in racing, they can throw their weight around and try to chase NFL ratings while all other racing series are considered a niche. That's true every weekend except Memorial Day weekend, when the Indianapolis 500 reigns supreme. The whole existence of the Charlotte 600 is to compete with Indy.

Larson prioritized the bigger race and that made NASCAR made, because they're used to getting their egos stroked.

Larson is one of the best drivers in NASCAR and the double attempt brought good publicity to both sports. He had already won his way into the playoffs and made an effort to get to Charlotte for the end of the 600 - give him a waiver. If not, well, you face the possibility that Austin Cindric is in the playoffs after his shock win at Iowa, and one of the top drivers in the series isn't.

I like Austin, I'm glad he won, but he's nowhere near the same level as Kyle Larson. If he can compete for the championship and Kyle can't, then it makes the NASCAR playoffs look even less legitimate than they already are.

Anyway, that turned into a longer rant than I intended, so I'll leave it there. Now onto the main topic for today: MotoGP silly season.

Yesterday at Mugello, Enea Bastianini spent the final laps of the race charging from fourth to second, overtaking Marc Marquez for third and then pulling off an audacious last corner pass on Jorge Martin for second. This meant that Enea finished just eight tenths off leader Pecco Bagnaia for a factory Ducati 1-2.

So naturally, Ducati has decided to replace him.

Marc Marquez, who finished four and last out of these three, is going to the Ducati Lenovo Team, according to Autosport.

This was all but confirmed when, a few hours later, Aprilia confirmed the signing of Jorge Martin for Aprilia. Jorge Martin who finished third and got overtaken by Enea Bastianini in the final corner, mind you.

Now, of course, Ducati is not judging this off of one race alone and I acknowledge - as I did in two recent blogposts - that Enea has had a rotten time on the factory Ducati seat. That being said, seeing him lose Ducati to Marc Marquez, who finished last of the main three, and then lose out on the Aprilia seat to the guy he overtook in the final corner. It stings.

That being said, some news out of this weekend might offer a possibility for Enea to have a bit of a soft landing from the factory seat anyway. Let me explain:

Earlier in this weekend, Marc Marquez spelled out his demands in an interview. He said that he was not interested in going to Pramac, saying that he didn't want to switch from a satellite team (he's currently riding a 2023 Ducati at Gresini Racing) to another satellite team (Pramac runs 2024 Ducatis, same as the factory team, with factory contracted riders, they are still customers, however). Instead, Marquez said that the best option was a factory team, and if not that, then a factory bike at minimum.

Translation: Marc Marquez wanted the factory team for 2025, and if he couldn't get that, then he wanted a 2025 Ducati at Gresini, remaining at his current team.

In response, Gino Borsoi, who is the team manager at Pramac, insisted that his team had a contract for two factory-spec Ducati GP25s next year. This was somewhat of a surprise for a number of reasons, one: Ducati announced late last year that they signed Moto2 rider Fermin Aldeguer for 2025, and it seemed like the natural landing spot for him was going to be Pramac...until it emerged later on that Ducati wanted to start Fermin out on a 2024 bike. Two: regardless of which spec Ducati Fermin is going to be on, Pramac has been heavily linked to Yamaha lately.

The Japanese bikes are struggling in MotoGP right now and, ever since RNF switched to satellite Aprilias for 2023, Yamaha has not had a satellite team. Four bikes capturing data instead of two could really help Yamaha right now, so they've been linked to pretty much every Ducati satellite team the last few months. VR46 with the romanticism of a Valentino Rossi and Yamaha reunion, Gresini until they renewed their deal, and most recently, with Pramac.

Yamaha was desperate and the rumor has been that they offered very generous terms to Pramac.

So, the news that Pramac may stay with Ducati after all is a shock to the media, but it does not seem to have been much of a shock to Ducati. Ducati had been working on a way to keep both Martin and Marquez, and it seems that they wanted to offer Pramac the chance to run MotoGP's biggest star - Marc Marquez - as a reason to stay...and potentially a reason to accept taking on a rookie Aldeguer on a year-old bike as well.

Now that Marquez is going to the factory team instead and Jorge Martin has snatched the open Aprilia seat, I see an opening. Ducati can send Enea Bastianini to Pramac, keeping him on a factory spec bike while giving Pramac another frontrunning rider. Aldeguer joins as Bastianini's teammate, on a GP25 if that's what it takes to keep Pramac in the fold, because Marc Marquez will be in the factory team so freeing up a GP25 won't be as important.

What about VR46 and Gresini then? Well, I think Marco Bezzecchi's current season has been a bit of a disaster, so he won't really have much of a chance to get a factory ride next year, so staying at VR46 seems likely. Furthermore, his struggles mean that Bezzecchi probably isn't going to have much luck demanding Ducati gives him a GP25, so status quo is probably the most likely outcome there. It's unfortunate for Bezzecchi, but the sheer reality is that, with all these hot riders on the market, his options seem to be either stay at VR46, or make a more or less lateral move to Trackhouse Aprilia.

Then Franco Morbidelli, another Valentino Rossi academy product, can drop from Pramac into the other VR46 seat.

Where does Fabio DiGiannantonio go then? Well, with Marquez going to the factory, Fabio can now return to Gresini and be reunited with Frankie Carchedi. Thus, restoring the 2023 lineup of Fabio DiGiannantonio and Alex Marquez.

So, to sum things up, I think Ducati can keep all three of its satellite teams and all eight bikes like this:

Ducati Lenovo (GP25): Pecco Bagnaia and Marc Marquez.

Pramac (GP25): Enea Bastianini and Fermin Aldeguer.

VR46 (GP24): Marco Bezzecchi and Franco Morbidelli.

Gresini (GP24): Fabio DiGiannantonio and Alex Marquez.

Maybe Pramac will go to Yamaha after all, maybe my predictions will look radically wrong in a few weeks. I don't know how it'll turn out, but this is the scheme I've thought up in my mind.

I need to do something since with Marc Marquez at Ducati and Jorge Martin at Aprilia, my two favorite teams now have my two least favorite riders and I'm trying not to dwell on that part.

So yeah.

Oh, also this weekend Indycar raced at Detroit, but uhh...the less said about that, the better.

[legomotogp]

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