#task: qatar

[eu-nicola]

the finish line part 2

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: love triangle, forbidden relationship, tension, infidelity, etc

word counter: 8107

author's note: english is not my first language

mention: @drama-lama-mother @bunnies-p1tst0p

After an intense night, dawn came too quickly. Lando had to fly early to Qatar for his next race, and although you always tried to accompany him, this time your own commitments kept you in another direction.

You gathered your things and went down with him to the car that would take you to the airport. The journey passed in silence, and both of you clung to that last shared moment. Once at the airport, you took his hand and gave him a supportive smile. As you said goodbye, Lando hugged you tightly, as if he wanted to retain some of your energy for the days you would be apart.

“Take care and don’t forget to send me news,” he said, giving you a kiss on the forehead before moving away.

“Of course. And you, don’t forget to sleep,” you answered with a smile. “And to win, if you can.”

You both laughed, and after one last hug, Lando headed towards his boarding gate. You followed him with your eyes until he disappeared into the crowd.

Once Lando left, you headed to your gate. The flight to Monaco awaited you. You would spend a few days busy with your own obligations, but there was something about that little distance that also gave you space to reflect.

During the flight, you tried to focus on the tasks at hand, but your mind inevitably wandered to the race and to Max. The memory of the party was still fresh in your mind: his smile, his unavoidable presence in the lounge, and that spark that always lit in you, even when you didn't want to admit it.

When the plane landed in Monaco, you felt grateful to have a few days to yourself, although you also knew that you couldn't completely escape the thoughts you carried with you.

As soon as Lando landed in Qatar, your phone buzzed with his message. “Landed and ready to start the week. Missing you already,” the text read, accompanied by a couple of smiley emojis. The simplicity of the message brought a smile to your face and you responded without hesitation, sending him encouragement and reminding him that you would be watching every session of the race weekend.

However, during those days in Monaco, between relaxing walks and afternoons in cafes overlooking the harbour, there was something that disturbed the peace you were trying to maintain: the complete absence of news from Max. The last time they had spoken by text, the conversation had extended longer than you had expected. It had been casual, almost innocent, but a part of you had felt that something had been left hanging. That something, perhaps, could continue if one of you took the next step.

And yet, not a single message. Nothing. The days passed, and though you hated to admit it, every time your phone vibrated with a notification, a spark of anticipation would rise in your chest, only to die down when it wasn’t him. You kept telling yourself that you weren’t going to be the one to break the silence, that if Max wanted to talk, he would have to do it. You weren’t going to give him that privilege of knowing that you had been waiting for something from him.

Despite this, you couldn’t ignore the latent annoyance that built up with each passing day. Why had he shared so much in those previous messages if now it seemed to just disappear? It wasn’t logical. To push the doubts out of your mind, you immersed yourself in your affairs at home.

As the race weekend approached, you tried to convince yourself that this was all just a whim of your mind, that Max was just another driver in a world where competition and ego were always at the forefront. It didn’t mean anything, right?

Well, it did mean that, the sun was softly streaming through the window as you enjoyed a quiet breakfast on the small balcony of your apartment.

Suddenly, a notification lit up your phone screen. At first, you ignored the impulse to look at it right away, not wanting to admit that you were so attentive. However, curiosity won out and as you looked, your eyes widened a little more. It was Max.

"Why aren't you in Qatar?" the message said, direct and blunt. "I thought you would arrive a few days later. Aren't you coming?"

For a moment, the message left you unsure of what to respond to. After so many days of silence, it seemed like it was the most normal thing in the world. You bit your lip, trying to decide whether to ignore it or respond, and finally, the frustration you had been building up for days came to the surface.

"It's none of your business, Max," you wrote back, in an attempt to keep your distance, to make him see that his disappearance had been noticeable.

It was only a few seconds before his response appeared. It was almost like he had been waiting for a sign from you. “I didn’t know you missed me,” he replied, accompanied by a smile emoji, as if this was all a game to him. “Seriously, I thought you would come.”

You shook your head, trying not to fall for his game, but then a new text came through. “Maybe you’re not coming because you know what’s going to happen,” he wrote. “I’m going to win. Don’t you want to come watch? This time, it’ll be my new championship.”

You felt a pang of nerves mixed with something you didn’t want to admit. Still, you resisted. You didn’t want him to think that only his words could convince you.

“What makes you think I care?” you wrote back, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I know,” he replied immediately. “I felt it at the last race. And I know you felt it too.”

You took a breath, feeling those words land right where you didn’t want them. Your pride forced you not to answer, to let the conversation hang in the air. So you put your phone away and decided to ignore him for the rest of the day. You kept telling yourself that you weren’t going to fall for him, that his ego wasn’t your responsibility. However, as the hours passed, the phone continued to vibrate from time to time. Each message from him added a little spark of intrigue, and although you didn’t read them right away, you knew Max wasn’t giving up.

Finally, after hours of silence on your part, you opened the conversation. There were more messages, each one a little more persuasive than the last.

“You know I want to see you? I can’t shake the idea that you should be here,” one said. And then, another text, reading it almost as if you heard it: “Come to Qatar. Not to see him. Come to see me.”

At some point in the afternoon, Max became more direct, his words more forceful. “I want you to be there when I become champion. There is no other time like this, and you know you want to see it. And I want to see you.”

Those last words echoed through your mind, even though you wanted to downplay it. You were on the verge of doubt, trying to hold firm, but the intensity of his messages shook that resistance.

You didn’t respond, at least not that night.

The next morning, after a night in which your thoughts had kept you awake, you decided you could no longer resist. In an attempt to convince yourself, though, you chose your words carefully. You picked up the phone and, after a moment of hesitation, texted Max.

“I’m going to Qatar,” you began, keeping your tone neutral. "But not to see you. I'm going to get Lando."

The text went out and you stared at the screen, knowing that his response wouldn't take long. And sure enough, within a few seconds, the incoming message icon lit up your screen.

"Sure, sure," Max replied, and you could even imagine his mocking smile as you read. "Just for Lando, right? Let's just say I believe it."

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to respond to his sarcasm. It was frustrating that he was so clear about the effect he had on you, that he knew exactly how to play with words to provoke you. You decided that the best response was to ignore him, so without giving it another thought, you put the phone aside and focused on another important task before leaving: calling Lando.

Hearing his voice on the other end of the line calmed something in you. The simplicity and sincerity that Lando conveyed to you was a refuge, and that was exactly what you needed at that moment.

—Hey, how are you? —you asked, trying to sound casual.

—Well, a little tired after all the training —he answered, and you could imagine him in some room of the hotel, surrounded by the preparations for the race week.

—Listen… —you took a breath—. I've been thinking, and I'm going to go to Qatar. I want to see you. I miss you.

There was a small silence on the other end of the line, and although it only lasted a second, you felt it like an eternal heartbeat. Lando seemed surprised, and perhaps even a little nervous.

—Really? —he finally said, his voice sounding incredulous—. Well, yeah, sure… Come on, I'd love for you to be here.

It comforted you to hear it, although in some corner of your mind you felt that the main reason for this trip was not so simple. Despite everything, you wanted to be with him, and the idea of ​​​​cheering him in person while he competed excited you. Lando didn't need too many explanations, and you were grateful for that, because you weren't prepared to give them either.

—Perfect, I’ll see you soon then —you said, smiling through the line. He sighed, and though there was a hint of strangeness in his voice, he seemed genuinely excited.

—Yeah, I can’t wait —he replied, and after a few more words, you hung up the call.

You wasted no time. As soon as you got off the call with Lando, you sprang into action. You moved around the apartment almost mindlessly, gathering the things you would need for the trip. Fresh clothes for the scorching Qatar weather, something fancy for whatever evening event was coming up, and, of course, your race tickets. The excitement began to grow with each item of clothing you folded and packed into your suitcase.

When you went in to check the flights, you found that there was only one that would fit in to get you to the first practice the next day on time. It left at 3 in the morning, which meant you would barely get any sleep, but the thought of getting there early and surprising Lando at the track gave you the motivation you needed. You bought the ticket without hesitation.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of preparations. You tried to go to bed early, but with every passing second, your thoughts became intertwined: the idea of ​​meeting up with Lando again and, deep down, the tingle of knowing that Max would be there too.

At 2:00 am, you grabbed your suitcase and left the house, feeling the mix of tiredness and excitement coming in waves. You arrived at the airport just in time and, while waiting to board, you checked your phone one last time. There was a notification from Max.

“On my way?” the message read, simple and direct. He knew you weren’t going to be able to resist going.

You pressed your lips together, debating whether to answer or ignore him again. But finally, with a sigh, you decided to put your phone away. If he wanted to know, he could just keep wondering.

You got on the plane and, although you tried to sleep, your thoughts wouldn’t let you rest. With each passing hour, you felt the mix of emotions increase: the anticipation of seeing Lando, and the intrigue of how you would feel when you saw Max in person, after that series of messages that had stirred you so much.

At 11:00 am, you landed in the hot climate of Qatar. You got off the plane and, while you waited for your bags, you wondered what would come next.

After collecting your bags, you quickly headed to the exit and raised your hand to call a taxi. You barely gave the driver the address of your hotel, you leaned back in the seat and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to calm the mix of emotions that invaded you. The ride was short, and soon you found yourself in the lobby of an elegant hotel, just a few blocks from where you knew Lando was staying.

Once you were in your room and put your suitcase aside, you took out your phone to send him a message. “I arrived. “I’m at the hotel I mentioned. Let me know when you’re free.” You took a few seconds before texting him the exact location, wanting to surprise him a little more. It wasn’t long before Lando responded.

“You’re here! That’s great. I’m pretty busy today, but I’m trying to make time to see you. I’m glad you got here safely.”

You smiled as you read the message, but you had barely finished reading when another notification popped up on your screen. It was from Max.

“So you’re here already?” his message read. “I’m right next to Lando, you know? I saw him checking his phone and I knew right away it was you. I’m coming to see you as soon as I can.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the rapid pace of your heartbeat. Even though you couldn’t see his expression, you could perfectly imagine the satisfied smile on his face when he knew you were in Qatar. He knew he was going to make it so you were there, which was part of what motivated him.

You decided not to respond right away and just let him wait. You left your phone on the bed, and went to take a quick shower, trying to cool off and clear your mind. But even the water didn’t seem to dispel the mix of emotions that were brewing inside you.

When you returned to your phone, you saw that there were no more messages from Lando, but Max had left another, short and to the point: “See you soon.”

The next day, the atmosphere at the track was charged with excitement and tension. It was qualifying day, and all the teams seemed to have the same goal in mind: pole position. You knew that this day was crucial for Lando, who had prepared every detail, every corner, every braking with precision. You had only received a couple of quick messages from him since you arrived, which was not unusual. You knew that when it came to racing, Lando completely immersed himself in his world, seeking perfection on every lap. You didn't want to disturb him or interrupt his concentration, so you decided to support him in silence.

Arriving at the McLaren paddock, you greeted some members of the team and took a place near the screens where you could watch the live broadcast and the times of each driver. Nerves invaded you as you watched the cars preparing to go out on the track, the roar of the engines increasing the adrenaline in the air.

Even though you had gone there to support Lando, a part of you couldn't help but think of Max. You knew he was also going for that pole with the same intensity, maybe even more, and you found yourself in a strange dilemma, unable to define if your expectation was for Lando, for Max, or for the confrontation between the two.

Qualifying began, and on the screen you saw the times go by quickly. Lando's car was fast, his times were among the best in each sector, and you felt the excitement and pride of his performance. You knew how much it meant to him to get that pole, and watching him fight for every tenth kept you on the edge of your seat.

But then, the screen showed Max's times. Impeccable, calculated and fast. He seemed to push the limits with every lap, and his name went up and down the scoreboard in a constant battle with Lando. You couldn't help but hold your breath every time their names changed positions.

Qualifying moved quickly. Q1 began and from the start Max made it clear that he was going to be hard to beat. On every lap, in every sector, his times stood out above the rest, marking a solid lead that everyone in the paddock noticed. Every time his name appeared at the top of the screen, you felt a mixture of pride and a strange uneasiness, as if you were witnessing something inevitable.

Lando was also doing an excellent job. His times kept him in the lead, securing his passage to the next round, but he couldn't get past Max. It was as if the track belonged solely to the Dutchman at that point.

Q2 came, and the competition intensified. The top drivers brought out the best in their abilities, and the times became tighter. Despite the pressure, Max continued to lead each lap with almost insulting ease. Lando, for his part, held firm, striving to close the gap.

The time came for Q3, the final round. The teams made their adjustments, and the tension in the air was almost tangible. This was all or nothing, and both Max and Lando looked ready to leave it all on the track. You watched intently as the first out was Max. His lap was flawless, every corner taken with precision, every braking at just the right point. The time he set was impressive, setting a pace that few, if any, could match.

Lando left shortly after, and the McLaren team held their breath as he completed his lap. The times were very close, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Max kept his place at the top of the leaderboard, securing pole, and Lando was right behind him in second.

As the clock ticked down to the end of Q3, the result was final: Max would start the race from pole, with Lando beside him on the front row. All around you, the excitement in the McLaren paddock was palpable, but there was also a mix of frustration. You knew the team had gambled everything to get pole, and that Lando had given it his all. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement at seeing Max there, dominant, certain that he had achieved his goal.

As the teams began to pull out and the drivers prepared for interviews, you received a notification on your phone. It was a text from Max.

Max: “Are you going to be there tomorrow?” It would be a shame if you missed it.”

You read the message and couldn’t help but smile, although you refused to let him know the effect his words had on you.

After qualifying Lando wasn’t in the best mood at the end of the day. Although he had the satisfaction of starting in the front row, you knew that second place wasn’t what he really wanted. But while he was immersed in strategy and mental preparation, you felt that you needed a break too.

Back at your hotel, you tried to relax to clear your mind and prepare for what would be an intense day. You lay back on the bed, letting yourself be carried away by the soft tranquility of the room, when your phone vibrated. Unlocking it, you saw Max’s name on the screen. He had been the one to start the conversation that morning, and since then the messages hadn’t stopped.

“Everything ready for tomorrow?” he had written, with that confident tone that always seemed to surround him.

“That depends on who you ask,” you replied, keeping the conversation on safe ground.

“And you? Ready to see me win the championship?” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Max seemed so sure of his victory that, for a moment, you found yourself believing it too.

“So you’re that confident already?” you typed back, trying to downplay it.

“Of course,” he replied quickly. “I’m going to win, and the best part is that you’re going to be there to see it.”

A tingle ran down your spine, a mix of anticipation and the strange energy that only he seemed to bring out in you. You tried to hide your excitement, but his answer came before you could even type anything else.

“And I want you at the celebration, huh? No hiding. You’re going to party with me.”

You checked the message, trying to decipher the tone behind his words.

“I wouldn’t be so sure yet,” you finally typed, trying to regain control of the conversation. “The race can take many turns, you know?”

“You’ll realize,” Max replied. “Tomorrow, when I’m holding up the trophy, you’ll know I was right.”

For the rest of the day you spent in complete isolation, with those messages in mind, feeling their words repeating themselves in your head. With nothing urgent to do, you ordered room service and decided to stay in the room, in an attempt to clear your thoughts before the big day.

When the day of the race dawned, you prepared yourself with special dedication. You knew that the paddock would be full of stares and cameras, and you wanted to rise to the occasion. You chose a fitted white dress that highlighted your figure, with delicate gold details that sparkled in the sunlight. You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror, giving yourself courage to face what would be a long and intense day.

Arriving at the track with Lando, the excitement in the air was palpable. The energy and expectations made each step more exciting than the last. While he headed to a meeting with the team, you decided to take a stroll through the paddock, admiring the hustle and bustle and feeling the adrenaline that always filled you when you were surrounded by the cars and drivers. You had done this many times, and you always enjoyed exploring every corner of the place.

It was in one of those hallways that you saw him: Max was there, standing, talking to a woman you recognized immediately. Kelly. The same Kelly that there had been rumors that he was dating for months. The surprise was immediate, and before you could contain yourself, you stood watching them. Max and her were chatting away, and he, aware of your presence, barely turned his head and looked at you with a half smile. The spark of defiance in his gaze infuriated you even more.

You couldn’t contain the urge to look at him defiantly, letting him see in your eyes that you weren’t the least bit impressed. Or at least, that was what you wanted to convey. However, the mix of anger and jealousy was becoming more and more evident, so, before you let yourself be affected, you turned around and walked away quickly, feeling the heat on your cheeks. Max knew perfectly well what he was doing, and it bothered you to realize that he understood how you felt.

It wasn’t long before your phone vibrated in your hand. It was Max.

“Jealous?” the text said, with that mocking tone that you perfectly imagined.

You rolled your eyes, not intending to fall for his game, but your fingers moved quickly over the screen. “Please. I have better things to do than worry about that.”

“That’s what all jealous people say.” His response came in seconds, with a wink in the text that made you press your lips together, annoyed. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”

“You’re hallucinating, Max,” you replied, feeling your patience slipping away.

“I don’t think so,” he replied bluntly. “Because at the end of this, I’m going to have you, regardless of your little boyfriend.”

You stared at the message, unsure of how to respond to such a direct statement. It was almost as if he had already decided the outcome and was just waiting for the right moment to make it happen. The confidence with which Max spoke made your hands shake, and deep down, even though you refused to admit it, a part of you was tempted by his words.

You swallowed deeply, closing the conversation without answering, trying to focus on the real purpose of being there: supporting Lando.

When night fell on the circuit, transforming the track into a spectacle of light and shadow. The excitement of a night race in Qatar filled the air, and as you walked towards the paddock, you felt the energy of the place resonate in your chest. Everything was ready for the big moment; The cars had been checked, the teams were in position, and the atmosphere was so electric that you could barely contain your excitement.

As you reached the McLaren area, you noticed that the entire team was focused on their screens and communications.

From your spot in the paddock, you could see the starting grid. The cars lined up under the bright lighting of the circuit, reflecting the glare of the spotlights and cameras that captured every detail.

Time seemed to stand still as the traffic lights came on, one by one, until, finally, they went out, and the deafening roar of the engines filled the air. The cars launched themselves towards the first corner, and from the start, the fight between Max and Lando was fierce. Lando had had an excellent start, almost at the same level as Max, and in the first laps he stayed close to his rival, pushing whenever he could, looking for the perfect gap to overtake him.

In the tight corners, both drove to the limit, taking advantage of every millimeter of the track. Max did not give up ground, defending himself with precision and blocking each attempt by Lando. Every time Max closed the line, it was as if he was issuing a silent challenge, telling him without words that he wasn't going to give in. From the paddock, you could barely breathe, following every move with your heart in your mouth.

The tension mounted lap after lap. Max and Lando's cars seemed to dance on the track, in an almost choreographed showdown in which neither of them allowed the slightest error. As the race progressed, Lando tried several times to find an overtaking line, but Max anticipated every maneuver, frustrating all his efforts.

As they reached the halfway point of the race, Lando finally found a small opportunity. Taking advantage of a stretch of the main straight, he attempted an inside pass, going wheel-to-wheel with Max. From where you were, it looked like he would succeed; however, Max responded immediately, braking at the last second and forcing him to take a wider line into the next corner. The crowd held their breath as the cars nearly touched each other, and you felt the adrenaline keep you on the edge of your seat.

You knew this was the kind of rivalry that defined championships. Max and Lando weren't just competing for points; each was fighting to prove their worth, to prove who was the true leader on the track that night. And even though you were there to support Lando, you couldn't help but feel the same thrill every time you saw Max hold his own with that mastery of his. It was a combination of talent and confidence that was almost hypnotic.

In the final laps, the intensity reached its peak. The two drivers pulled away from the rest of the field, and every corner, every straight, was a battle of nerves. Lando stayed glued to Max, looking for any opportunity to snatch the lead. But Max, with the calm of someone who knows victory is within reach, continued to maintain his lead, showing why he was on the cusp of securing the championship.

Finally, the final lap arrived. Lando made one last desperate attempt to overtake him in one of the final corners, but Max, with an impeccable move, held the line and blocked the way. The cars crossed the finish line, and Max’s name appeared at the top of the screen as the winner of the race… and the new world champion.

The roar of the crowd filled the air as Max pumped his fist from the cockpit, celebrating his victory. Lando had driven a spectacular race, coming so close to victory, but the result was clear. You looked over at the Red Bull area, where Max's team was celebrating euphorically, and you were surprised to see yourself smiling, despite everything. You had witnessed an unforgettable race, one that would go down in history.

After crossing the finish line, Max's celebration was immediate. As soon as he got out of his car, he threw himself into the arms of his team, surrounded by applause and cheers. The members of Red Bull greeted him with hugs and pats on the back, some even with tears of emotion. The image was shocking; Max, with his helmet still on and his arm raised, had become champion once again, and the whole world was there to see it.

Meanwhile, you remained in the McLaren paddock, waiting for the trophy ceremony with the engineers and other members of the team. Although second place was not what Lando had dreamed of, you were proud of him. His effort on the track had been spectacular.

From your position, you could see Max take off his helmet and raise his arms towards the crowd, who responded with cheers and shouts. The smile on his face was radiant, filled with a satisfaction that he couldn't hide, and seeing him like that, it was impossible not to feel a mix of admiration and... something more. You shook your head, trying to erase those thoughts, focusing on the moment that was unfolding on the track.

The national anthems echoed throughout the circuit. First, the anthem of Max's country, which he listened to with an expression of almost solemn pride, looking towards the horizon. In that instant, everything seemed to stop; the whole world was focused on him. Then, the Red Bull anthem, as the team members cheered and applauded from below. Lando, seeing the presentation of the trophies and the cheers of the fans, smiled sideways, and although frustration was evident in his eyes, he was also grateful for the opportunity and the recognition of his great career.

You silently watched every moment, every emotion captured on their faces. When Lando received his second place trophy, he turned slightly to where you knew you were, giving you a quick glance that seemed to say, “I tried.” You smiled at him, your heart full of pride, giving him a small gesture of encouragement to let him know you were there for him.

The most anticipated moment came at the end, when Max raised his championship trophy, and a shower of champagne began to fall on the podium. The drivers opened their bottles, spraying each other and celebrating in their own way, while the audience continued to cheer. The emotion was indescribable; the lights, the sound, the applause, everything combined in an explosion of joy. Max glanced down, and although he was surrounded by his own teammates, you noticed that his gaze went directly to you, as if he were looking for you in the crowd. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips when his eyes met yours, and you raised an eyebrow, letting him notice that, despite everything, you were impressed.

The applause continued as the drivers left the podium, and you stayed there for a moment longer, taking in the mix of emotions that the race had left behind.

As soon as they stepped off the podium, the festive atmosphere became tense. Max, still in a state of euphoria over his victory, walked through the corridors of the paddock surrounded by his team. Lando, for his part, had taken his second place with the greatest possible dignity in front of the cameras, but there was palpable frustration in his gestures.

The two drivers met on the way to the locker room, and although their teams tried to distance them, friction was inevitable. Max, noticing the expression on Lando's face, gave him a provocative smile.

“Nice try. “You know there’s only one champion, though,” Max said, in that arrogant tone you’d heard so many times and that inflamed his rivals so much.

Lando stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes flashing with contained fury. He couldn’t stand the brazenness with which Max was trying to provoke him after all the fighting on the track. The teams around them began to notice something was brewing, and some came closer in an attempt to intervene before things got out of hand.

“Yeah, Max, congratulations,” Lando replied, his voice controlled but full of sarcasm. “Some only care about glory and winning at all costs, even if they don’t have anyone to celebrate with them, right?”

Lando’s words made Max’s smile freeze for a moment. You knew how direct Lando could be when something irritated him, and this time he had struck a chord. Max took a step forward, his expression changing from amused to defiant.

“Don’t talk to me about celebrations, Norris. I don’t need company to be the best. Some are just here because they want an excuse to impress, but they don’t have what it takes to do it.”

Lando narrowed his eyes, the tension in his body evident. His team tried to place a hand on his shoulder to stop him, but he pushed it away without looking.

“Next year I’m going to fight you to the end, and I won’t need your cocky attitude to prove it.”

The words fell like a challenge, and at that moment, Max took a step towards Lando, her face just a few inches from his. Their gazes met, two pairs of eyes filled with pride and ambition that weren’t willing to budge.

“Whenever you want to try, Norris. But in the meantime, enjoy being second,” Max whispered in an icy tone, still staring at him.

The tension was palpable, and right then, it seemed like the situation was going to escalate even further. However, members of both teams quickly intervened, pulling them aside before either of them took another step. They were led in opposite directions, though both continued to glare at each other defiantly, not giving in one bit of their pride.

Meanwhile, you had witnessed the entire scene from a distance, watching as the rivalry that had begun on the track continued in every gesture and word.

After that little argument, as the hubbub filled the place, the idea of ​​the party seemed increasingly distant for Lando. As soon as they returned to the hotel, you noticed that his silence became dense, almost sharp, as he avoided your gaze and his steps were heavy. You, trying to be understanding and wanting to ease the tension, tried to speak to him softly as the two of you went up in the elevator to his suite.

When you got to the room, Lando dropped his bag in the corner and collapsed onto the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh. You kept your eyes on him, knowing something was wrong. His gaze, lost somewhere on the floor, finally met yours, and his eyes reflected a mix of disappointment and something else that was harder to decipher.

“I’m not going to that party. I have nothing to celebrate today,” he said at last, his tone low and dry.

“Lando, you did amazing today. It was a hell of a race. Everyone knows you gave it your all,” you told him, trying to comfort him.

But your words didn’t seem to calm him down. On the contrary, he frowned and shook his head, frustrated. “And for what? I finished second, behind him again,” he muttered, full of resentment. You knew that “he” was none other than Max, and in that moment, you understood that their rivalry was affecting him much more than it seemed.

You tried to move closer to sit next to him, wanting to put a hand on his shoulder, but Lando pulled away, standing up and walking a few steps away. He looked nervous, and something inside you told you that this wasn’t just frustration from the race. There was something else, something that seemed to be building up between you for a while now.

“Lando, I know today was tough, but there are more opportunities. You’re an amazing driver, and second place is something you should be proud of…” you began to say, searching his eyes.

But he didn’t seem to want to listen. “Proud? Are you serious?” he interrupted you, his voice rising slightly. “Why are you telling me this as if you care so much? Sometimes it seems like you’re not here for me, but for… someone else.” His gaze was accusatory, and his words began to make your heart beat faster, in a mix of discomfort and a little fear.

“What are you implying?” you asked, not wanting to believe what you were hearing.

“I think you know exactly what I'm talking about,” he replied, crossing his arms and staring at you. “Every time he's around… every time Max shows up, it's like you tune out everything else. Even today, I saw you staring at him from the paddock. Why? What happens to you when he's around?”

His gaze was hard, full of reproach, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you realized that you couldn't hide anything from him. You hadn't been entirely fair to him, you knew that. But you also didn't want him to throw feelings in your face that you hadn't even been able to fully understand.

“Lando, you're overreacting,” you said, trying to sound calm even though your voice was shaking. “I have been here with you, always supporting you. I came to Qatar to be with you in this race, to show you that I am on your side.”

“Really?” he replied, with a sarcastic laugh you had never heard from him before. “Because it doesn’t seem like you’re here just for me, to be honest. It seems like you stayed because you had something unfinished with Max, or am I wrong?”

His words hurt you, more than you wanted to admit. The tension between you had grown in the last while, and now it seemed like that bubble was finally bursting, revealing truths that you both tried to avoid.

“What do you want me to say? I can’t ignore that Max is here, I can’t pretend that he doesn’t exist, and you can’t demand that of me either,” you said, trying to keep your voice controlled. But Lando was too hurt to listen.

“I can’t go on like this. I need someone who is here for me, completely. I don’t want to be questioning whether my victories, my defeats, or even my own feelings, are being compared to someone else’s. If that’s what you feel, you better leave,” he said finally, pointing to the door.

The intensity of his words paralyzed you. He wanted you to leave. His eyes were filled with pain, and even though deep down you knew it hurt you too, you felt a deep injustice in how he was blaming you. But, after all, something in his pain was understandable.

Without answering, you took a deep breath, and turned around, moving towards the door. You felt the weight of each step, the rage contained in your chest, and also the pain of knowing that you had hurt someone you really cared about.

As you left Lando's room, a mix of frustration and pain accompanied you to the exit of the hotel. The argument still hovered in your mind, his words still echoing in every corner of your thoughts. You walked aimlessly, absorbed, until you finally took a taxi to your own hotel. You arrived, exhausted, but unable to relax. You dropped your bag on the floor and sat on the bed, staring out the window as the city vibrated with the night lights.

Almost instantly, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. It was a text from Max, asking if you were going to the party, as if everything between you was okay. His texts seemed harmless, but the situation with Lando was still too fresh and you weren't in the mood to deal with anyone else right now.

"I'm not in the mood, Max. I don't want to be disturbed tonight," you texted, trying to stay distant.

This time, Max didn't respond right away. You stared at the phone screen for a moment, waiting for a prodding that, for some reason, seemed inevitable. But there were no more messages. His silence was a kind of relief that allowed you to lie back on the bed, close your eyes, and try to relax.

Hours passed in a state of light sleep, with thoughts going back and forth between Lando and Max, between your feelings of guilt and what had just happened.

At 3 a.m., the phone vibrated again, and Max's name lit up the screen. You were surprised, and a mix of emotions washed over you when you saw the message.

Max: “Are you still awake? I want to go see you.”

You took a deep breath, and a part of you resisted answering. You didn’t want to see him; you felt like things were too tense and confusing, and the last thing you needed was to add to the complications. But, almost without being able to help yourself, you answered.

“No, Max. I don’t want to see you. It’s not the time,” you wrote firmly, hoping he would understand.

However, as always, Max insisted. The next message came quickly, almost as if he had already written it before you responded.

Max: “You know I want to see you, and I know you want that too. Come on, you have nothing to lose.”

You let out a sigh and, in the end, you let go of the resistance. Maybe the exhaustion of the whole situation was taking its toll on you, or maybe, deep down, you wanted his company. Without thinking too much, you sent him your location.

The message went through and, almost instantly, a sort of anticipation began to build in your chest. You knew that with Max, things were never simple, and that agreeing to see him right now, alone, at 3 a.m., would only add more complexity. But at that moment, logic seemed like a weak obstacle.

When Max arrived, the atmosphere was charged with a tension that you both understood all too well, but that neither seemed willing to fully cross. You shared a few intense kisses, with that contained urgency that had floated between you for so long. But every time Max tried to take things a little further, you stopped him. It wasn't the time; you still felt a mix of anger and confusion about what had happened with Lando. Despite his obvious frustration, Max respected your boundaries, settling for holding you while you fell asleep in his arms, feeling an unexpected comfort in his closeness.

The next morning, the light coming through the window gently woke you up. You opened your eyes and looked around, finding Max still asleep next to you. For a moment, calm seemed to fill you, as if the outside world didn't exist, as if everything was simpler than it really was. With a sigh, you reached for your phone to check the time, only to be met with a series of notifications that almost made you drop it.

There were dozens of messages and photos that your acquaintances had sent you. You opened the notifications one after another, and your shock and anger increased with each one. The images showed Lando with an unknown woman in his hotel, in a scene that left no room for interpretation. There were even several messages from him, written in a hurry and with a sense of panic that made your blood boil.

The impulse of frustration was so strong that, without thinking, you threw the glass on the nightstand against the wall, jolting Max awake. The sound of breaking glass echoed in the room, and he sat up quickly, looking at you in surprise and then with a sly smile.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing his eyes as he looked at the broken glass.

Without saying anything, you handed him your phone, showing him the photos and messages from Lando. Max stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds, and then let out a dry, carefree laugh, as if it all seemed ridiculously convenient.

“Perfect,” he said, his expression a mix of amusement and satisfaction. “Now we can both get out of here without any problems. You see, I was doing you a favor.”

The indifference in his voice made you furious. You pushed the phone away and looked at him with a cold expression.

“No, Max. This isn’t a favor, and I’m not going to take advantage of it. This could ruin us both, and I don’t want to be a part of that story.”

He raised an eyebrow, still with that spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Really? Because, frankly, it doesn’t seem like Lando is doing anything very different from you, am I wrong?” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Why are you so angry? He just did you a favor… He freed you from continuing to pretend that things were fine between you.”

You looked at him, feeling like every word was a blow. He was right, at least in part. It hurt you to admit it, but the difference lay in the feelings. Despite the tension between you and Max, the connection you had felt was something real and deep, something that, for some reason, felt authentic.

“It’s not the same, Max,” you said quietly. “Cause with you… with you, things are different. The difference is that I do like you, and he… he went and got himself someone.”

Max fell silent, his smile fading as he watched you. For the first time, he seemed to have understood the seriousness of what you felt, and his expression softened.

“So why are you still here?” he asked quietly, no trace of mockery. “Why stay with him if you know it’s not the same? Why stay with someone who doesn’t give you what you need?”

You fell silent, fighting your own thoughts. You knew there was truth in what Max said, but it all seemed too complicated. You were caught between what you felt and what you believed was right, in a situation where neither path seemed easy.

Without saying anything else, Max approached and took your hand, looking at you with a seriousness he rarely showed.

“I’m not going to pressure you,” he said softly, “but I want you to know that I’m here, if you decide that this,” he pointed to the space between you. “Is something worthwhile. It’s up to you.”

The intensity in his gaze made you feel a mix of emotions. You knew you had to make a decision, but at that moment, the only thing that was clear was that things would never be the same again.

[edensxgarden]

Riding oscar and he's all blushy and whimpering beneath you 😳😳

After winning the Qatar sprint race, Oscar Piastri was on top of the world. After suffering with a shitty car for the entire year, he finally got a chance to prove himself and surpass even his own expectations for his rookie year.

However, after his win, he felt like everything was going downhill. After a DNF in Austin and placing P14 in Mexico, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe Qatar was just luck. Maybe he wasn't as good as everyone thought he was.

The triple header was exauhsting, as was every race, but Oscar felt specifically exauhsted after the end of the seemingly never-ending 3 weeks. The only motivation through the end of the draining races was to complete Andrea's goal of having Oscar single-handedly surpass Alpine in race points. But after his finish outside of the points, once again in Brazil, it seemed nearly impossible.

After all his media duties and all the tedious tasks he had to complete were done, he boarded a flight as soon as he possibly could. The entire flight, he restlessly stared out the window, his heart aching and his mind racing. He was always an overthinker; he'd get stuck in an overwhelming flurry of thoughts until he fell into a hole of self-loathing.

As the plane ascended to the ground, he felt the pit in his stomach grow heavy. He longed to feel the presence of his lovely girlfriend, but he couldn't shake the overshadowing feeling of disappointment he felt. He felt as if he let everyone down and, most importantly, let you down.

He drove home with shakey hands and a stubborn lump in his throat. Usually when he'd drive, even if you weren't there with him, he'd have your music blaring in his echoey car to make it feel as if you were sitting alongside him, singing with the girly pop and flashing him happy smiles as he drove. However, tonight, he let himself drown in the silence of the car, fighting back tears that threatened to hinder his vision of the road. 

As he approached your shared house, he begrudgingly opened the door, trembling fingers gripping the door handle. Whenever he got home, he'd always be praying you were awake so he could spend some time with you, but tonight he was wishing on every star in the sky that you were asleep so he didn't have to face you in this state.

However, his prayers were not answered as you ran to him, encapsulating him with a tight hug before he could even get the door closed. He sighed for a moment before composing himself and returning the affection, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush to his toned chest. 

You hummed softly when he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but as you pulled away for a moment and caught sight of his face, you knew something was wrong. You cupped his pale cheeks in your hands, looking into his watery eyes, before whispering, "What's wrong, baby?"

In his exhausted state, Oscar couldn't find the strength to even attempt to lie to you. He knew you could see right through him, and it would be useless anyway, so with a sigh, he poured his heart out. He rambled all his woes about how he feels like a disappointment. He expressed how he felt he wasn't good enough. He let his tears pour while he mumbled and weeped, letting his insecurities air out and letting the weight on his heart lighten, if even just a little. 

Your heart broke listening to his words. Watching your usually nonchalant boyfriend crumble in front of you made your gut wrench and your lungs feel as if they were closing. It hurt so bad seeing him like this. You brought him over to the couch and sat on his lap, and you began pressing sweet kisses to his cheeks. You covered his weepy eyes and wet cheeks with pretty lipgloss stains as you mumbled little praises to him.

You held him close and ran your fingers through his hair as you told him how incredible you thought he was. "Of course you're not a disappointment, baby. You're one of the greatest rookies ever. You already got your first win. You're a future world champion. You're my favorite driver. I love you." You punctuated each little compliment with a heartfelt kiss as you watched Oscar slowly regain his composure and saw the tears stop rolling down his cheeks. 

Once you gave him a small smile, though, his cheeks began to flush for a far different reason. With all this love and attention you had been showering him with, Oscar found himself growing hard in his trousers. You hadn't thought your innocent cheering up would turn him on, but you certainly weren't complaining.

You hadn't expected this tonight, but in his vulnerable state, you couldn't help but want to give Oscar every little thing he wanted. You'd go to the ends of the earth to make him happy again if that's what it called for. And to be fully honest, his hazy eyes and glossy lips made him look even more beautiful than he already was, and you couldn't help yourself from him if you tried. 

So slowly, you began to take off the gray sweats he wore for comfort on the plane ride home and freed his cock from his boxers. It was aching and leaky and so desperately begged for the same attention you'd been giving Oscar just before, so you instantly pressed a wet kiss to his pretty pink tip before taking it in your hands and stroking him softly. 

He was sobby and helpless under you, allowing soft moans and whimpers to slip out of his lips. Sex with Oscar was always amazing; it was always hard and rough, with Oscar very clearly in control. He'd let his apathetic personality shatter away from him, letting himself spout filth at you as he pounded into your cunt until you were seeing stars.

But this was different. It was slow and passionate, and with every stroke of his cock and every sweet sound he made, there was a silent confession of love. This wasn't just sex; this was a promise that you were proud of Oscar no matter what and that he never had to come home and worry about you being disappointed.

Oscar let his head loll back, eyes fluttering closed as his needy sounds grew as they echoed through your living room. You wanted nothing more than to see Oscar come undone under you, but as much as it pained you, you couldn't give him that just yet. So you pulled your hands away, forcing his body to jolt back to attention. 

You calmed his frantic whimpers with small shushing noises before getting up for a moment to pull off your sleep shorts and underwear, throwing the soaked material somewhere in the living room, and climbing back on top of your needy boyfriend. 

You took his cock in your hands once more, a plethora of moans slipping through your lips as you brushed it over your aching clit. In a swift movement, you aligned him with your hole and sank down onto his cock, causing a harmony of yours and his moans to reverberate throughout the living room.

You kissed him softly, leaving a small shimmer of your gloss on his lips before you began bouncing on his cock, the angle hitting just right inside of you. You hid your head in the crook of his neck, sucking onto it, nothing that would leave a mark, more of just a reminder of 'it's ok, I'm here.'

Your insides twisted at how vocal your boyfriend was being. His desperate moans and whimpers flooded your ears as you continued fucking yourself on his sensitive cock. You pulled yourself away from his neck, and the image you were met with would stay with you for the rest of your life.

Oscar's eyes were glassy and watery, nearly threatening to spill over with tears of pure pleasure. His mouth was frozen open in a small 'o' shape, forcing the needy sounds out of it. His arms were flexed, gripping onto you with such pressure that it was sure to leave a mark, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you, a wordless signal that he was close. You reached down between your bodies to your sensitive clit and rubbed small figure eights onto it, the slight push you needed to fall over the edge. You clenched tightly around Oscar's cock as you came, letting your head rest on his shoulder as your body twitched and jolted in pleasure, your legs giving out and forcing Oscar to help your movements on his cock. 

Your drawn out orgasm forced Oscar off the edge, a near pornographic moan coming from him as he emptied his heavy balls inside of you, cumming hot white ropes until it was leaking back onto his legs. 

He held you close to him, pulling you off his softening cock and returning your attack of kisses from earlier. You giggled softly at the turn this night took before whispering lovingly into his ear, "You're perfect, Oscar; don't let anything or anyone ever make you think differently."

He sighed contently, letting his eyes flutter shut with you in his arms, wondering how he ever had a doubt in his mind that you couldn't make him feel better, even on his worst nights.

A/N: I began this like a week ago but Tumblr deleted my draft and i lost all my motivation 😭. Its finally out though and I hope you all enjoy!! <3

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

You might have seen me mentioning before the Palestinian Authority's "Pay for Slay" policy, where they pay Palestinian terrorists based on how deadly their attacks have been. Let me share something even worse: based on the Oslo peace accords from the 1990's, Israel collects the Palestinian tax money, and then passes it along to the PA. Which means, when Israel became aware of the "Pay for Slay" law (yes, turns out that it's a LAW, not just a program, that the Palestinian Authority pays terrorists... the same PA that now has the audacity to claim at the International court in Hague that Israel is committing a genocide, meaning the intentional destruction of, or a part of, a nation... I think a LAW that financially incentivizes terrorists to kill members of the Israeli nation fits), it also realized that Israeli authorities, paying with Israeli tax payer money for the work done by Israeli clerks tasked with doing this, has been collecting and passing along money that goes to pay Palestinian terrorists for having attacked, injured and murdered Israelis. In what world is that right? In what world is it moral to make a victim, through a "peace accord" participate in the payment to its victimizer? As part of the money collected by Israel and given to the PA, an annual 278 million dollars (!) are then passed by it to Palestinian terrorists for hurting and killing Israelis. The PA has already added Oct 7 terrorists, most of them Hamas members, to the list of those being paid thanks to the "Pay for Slay" law.

The annual payment was revealed thanks to a lawsuit by the parents of 26 years old Dalia Lemkus, who was stabbed to death in Nov 2014 by a Palestinian terrorist (he also injured 2 others. Dalia herself had survived a previous terrorist attack in 2006. On the day she was murdered, another Israeli was killed in a separate terrorist attack. I don't think most people realize just how intense Palestinian terrorism is). The lawsuit was filed against the PA, which has been paying him 3,300 dollars a month. This is Dalia, may her memory be a blessing:

I'm not gonna lie, I'm thinking about the fact that coincidentally, I've been at our Holocaust museum and education center since Nov 2014, with the purpose of helping to educate against antisemitism, racism, homophobia, every other type of generalized hatred that humans are capable of, and against genocide, which is the possible consequence of that type of hate. And a part of what's wrong with this world, is that even with me being a "veteran," I get paid less money a month than that Palestinian terrorist does for having murdered a Jewish woman based on that kind of generalized hatred. My income depends on how many tours, lectures or workshops I did that month, but in almost 10 years of working there, I have never had a month where I got a salary of 3,300 dollars, most months I don't make it to half of that, and I have had many months where my salary was zero (during Covid, and whenever the security situation is bad enough that no one comes to our museum). Don't get me wrong, I consciously made a choice to do this work, where my salary would be very low, because I wanted to do something meaningful, I'm not complaining, but I can't help thinking about the fact that a part of why antisemitism thrives, is because it IS socially and financially rewarded, clearly more so than fighting it. That was true before and during the Holocaust, and sadly has been true since as well.

I would love to understand how the evacuation of civilian Gazans out of the war zone is described as "ethnic cleansing" or worse, but not the evacuation of Ukrainian civilians out of those war zones, and not the evacuation of a Hamas-affiliated Al Jazeera "journalist" (who documented himself in southern Israel during Hamas' massacre), taken out of Gaza to Egypt, to be flown from there to Qatar, one of the two great financiers of Hamas (along with Iran). Qatar has not opened up its gates to wounded Gazan civilians. It's clear Ismail Abu Omar was given this special treatment precisely because he is a Hamas terrorist. What's scary about this possibility is that the IDF didn't know he was smuggled out of Gaza, begging the question, who else is Hamas smuggling out? Also, this is Hamas' middle finger to anyone claiming Gaza is closed off, and an open air prison or concentration camp...

Speaking of Qatar, it is currently hosting the swimming world championship. Israeli swimmer Anastasia Gorbenko won a silver medal, a huge Israeli achievement, but she got repeatedly booed by the crowd, including during the medals ceremony. Anastasia has a childhood classmate who is currently held hostage in Gaza. She dedicated her medal to him.

A TV report by an Israeli journalist (source in Hebrew) is about a Hamas document dated May 2023, which the IDF found, the summary of a Hamas leaders meeting. It details some of the considerations for the timing of "the big project," listing 4 Jewish holidays as possibilities for the massacre (including Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish year, and Simchat Torah, when the massacre actually took place), so it's clear Hamas was always going to use our holy days against us. Another thing mentioned is that Hamas must strike before Israel deploys Magen Or (literally: shield of light, but most publications in English refer to it as Iron Beam), the laser-based defense system meant to complement Iron Dome. The system has been making a lot of progress, enough that by Oct 2023 there have been reports on it becoming operational soon. The document mentions making Israel used to Hamas conducting large scale exercises close to the border, so that the commotion ahead of the massacre wouldn't look abnormal, and it also mentions making use of Palestinian Islamic Jihad, the second biggest Palestinian terrorist organization in Gaza. It wasn't included in the plans, but was being relied on. In recent years, all of Israel's operations in Gaza have been against PIJ, and Hamas chose not to join them, the document indicates that this was done in order to reinforce the idea in Israel that Hamas is more interested in the wellfare of Gazans, than in killing Israelis. At the same time, the document warns not to let PIJ fuck up Hamas' planned operation.

I did not write about the private initiative of family members to send medications through international mediators to Hamas, meant for the hostages, for the simple reason that I did not for a second believe Hamas would give the hostages these meds. I didn't wanna get my hopes up, when logically, I was sure such initiatives were futile. Now, thanks to the IDF's operation in the Nasser hospital in Khan Younis, we have confirmation that these meds were found in its pharmacy, with the names of the hostages on the unopened boxes, meaning the kidnapped Israelis never got them. We can assume the meds were kept in the hospital pharmacy, either to serve Hamas terrorists, or to be sold, with the money going to Hamas.

This is Matan ben Ari, the last Israeli injured on Oct 7 (out of thousands) to be discharged from the hospital on Dec 1, almost two full months after Hamas' massacre. People spontaneously gathered around to applaud him as he was making his way out:

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[gulasdenforbreakdowns]

Attention Attention we have a photo of the official seating at the drivers dinner and I need to analyse it so under the cut the photo and my analysis:

Drivers dinner 2024 colorised

And here is my very expert opinion (yapping) on the sitting chart, my credentials are that one time that I did the sitting chart for Christmas to maximise the drama:

Starting from the fact that I'm 100% sure that the sitting chart was redone several times and there was a mad dash at the last minute to have Max and George as far as possible ( the first charts were done by George, the last one was absolutely done by Oscar hence the position) we have Oscar lando and Liam at the head of the table because 1 babies and 2 perfect for surveillance of the whole table, we do not want to lose any juicy tidbit, and to gossip without too much trouble of being overheard.

Then, on the right side, we have chair side or what I like to call the " you can freely get up without inconveniencing anyone" side where we have Yuki, needs to do his trip to the kitchen to scoop up some recipy, Ganyu, there fore the vibes and strategically in the center to try and keep the peace ( intercepting any flying utensil), Alex, there for the vibes pt.2 but for veeeeeery different reasons ( he is the to distract George and obviously doing a good fucking job), Valteri, he is just there him and Zhou were separated to ease them in the separation of not being teamates anymore and to calm Alex when he is too enthusiastic, and honestly I can't figure out if the last person before Charles is Pierre, likely place for him to be, or who he is so pls help.

On the left side of the table, or as I like to call it the " you are not going to get up for the entirety of this lunch/dinner so prepare your bladder because it's that or doing the shimmy of shame" we have in pole (eh eh see what I did ) Max, positioned near lando to try and distract him and if he is going to strangle someone at least it's a person that he shouldn't want to shunt in a wall next race, Colapinto, the sacrificial lamb that is between Max and the people he wants to throttle and person n.2 that he shouldn't want to shunt into next year, Esteban, there for moral support really, Hulk, moral support pt.2 and vibing with ceco and Zhou, ceco, vibing and trying desperately to not look George or Max in the eyes, Carlos, originally he was near Lewis to complete the Ferrari comari group but after las vegas he was changed to not be near Charles then changed again because they made up and now changed again so that George and Max cannot kill each other (he is tasked with been one of the screens in the case either of them is attempting to make eye contact with the other), and at the end of the table is George, foaming at the mouth because the seating chart was perfect ( he obviously was at the head of the table) but now he is relegated near Lewis and under the watchfull eye of Carlos.

At the end of the table we have Lewis, strategically placed there to try in sucking George attention by depressing him that next year he will be in Ferrari, and Charles, even more strategically placed there because my angel is a menace to society when gossip is involved (see Qatar interview) and he needs to be as far from Max as possible.

This is my totally real totally not made up analysis on the sitting chart! ( for legal reasons this is all a joke)

[umlewis]

Hamilton Says Ralf Schumacher's Coming-Out Sends "Positive Message"

Lewis Hamilton says Ralf Schumacher's revelation that he is in a same-sex relationship is a "positive message" for Formula 1, but feels more has to be done to promote inclusivity. Six-time F1 race winner Schumacher made the announcement on social media this week, posting an image of himself and his business manager, Étienne, with the words: "The most beautiful thing in life is when you have the right partner by your side with whom you can share everything." Schumacher posted another photo of himself with his partner a day later, saying: "Many thanks for the many congratulations and comments. We are very happy and thank you all." The younger brother of seven-time world champion Michael Schumacher is the fourth driver to come out in F1's history, and the first to do so having competed in the 21st Century. It follows Mike Beuttler, who drove privately-entered Marches in F1 between 1971 and 1973; Lella Lombardi, the first female driver to score a point, in 1975; and Mario de Araujo Cabral, who came out almost fifty years after the last of his five F1 race starts in 1964.

F1 drivers were asked in Hungary for their thoughts on Schumacher's decision and were full of support for the ex-Jordan, Williams, and Toyota driver, who made 180 starts between 1997 and 2007. Hamilton, who has championed LGBTQ+ rights and raced with the six-colored pride flag painted on his helmet in races staged in nations where homosexuality is illegal, said: "I think within sports it still has a long way to go. It's one thing saying that it's accepted, but it's another thing to make sure that people feel comfortable in the environment. This is a male-dominated space and, as far as I know, he is one of the first to publicly be open. I think we are very inclusive within our team, but I think the sport does need to continue to do more to help people feel more comfortable; to help women more welcomed in this space. I know there is a lot more to do." When pressed whether Schumacher's decision showed a change in attitude, Hamilton pointed to his and Sebastian Vettel's decision to support the LGBTQ+ community at the 2021 Hungarian Grand Prix, against a backdrop where the nation's government was looking to pass laws banning the teachings of LGBTQ+ issues to under-18s.

The Mercedes driver added: "I don't know if he felt he wasn't able to say it in the past, but I think it just shows that we are at a time when finally we can take that step and don't have to fear. So far it's got positive feedback from people, but it's a different time and it's changed who we are, and it's all started from Seb and I standing on the grid here, fighting against all the governments that are here, and in Saudi Arabia, and Qatar. And if Ralf felt that he was going to be able to do those things perhaps today, it may have shifted his mind, and even him taking that step sent such a positive message. And race drivers have got to do the same, and we need more of these people to be able to do that." When asked what more F1 could do, Hamilton added: "It's a good question. I don't know if I can come up with a solution off the top of my head, but I do know, more often than not, it's about conversation, it's about dialogue with key stakeholders. It's about how we're analysing how the accessibility is. It's getting information from people who do or don't feel included. It's engaging the community. It's easy to do. You could do a questionnaire for every single person that's here, and just have a few questions and just ask them honestly how they feel and what they feel could be done. There's a lot that you could do. But it's firstly speaking about it, rather than ignoring that it's an issue, and having a lot more of the priorities to bring it up and actually set some people a task and going about how can we make people feel."

[sleepyverstappens]

Race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase about bond with Max Verstappen: 'Never again with anyone else'

Although Gianpiero Lambiase is a nice person to be around and also an easy talker, he rarely or never gives interviews. But the down-to-earth Brit is also a man of his word and honors the agreement made at the beginning of this year. The delay makes it extra clear that he does not necessarily have to come to the fore and his extensive range of tasks during a racing weekend logically takes priority. Now that both championships have been won, Lambiase joins me. Who is behind that voice that can be heard so often during Grand Prix? The man who always sounds so calm. Except for that one time, after the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2021. So much so that many people still think that it is not Lambiase who is blaring on the radio, but the then reserve driver Alex Albon. Which is not the case.

Not a partygoer

The calm he so often radiates is one of his great qualities. “I think it is very important to be able to keep a driver calm in the heat of the moment,” said Lambiase. “That's just how I am, that's my character. What also plays a role is that – and I don't want to sound arrogant – I set the bar and my own expectations extremely high. Maybe too high. I want everything to go perfectly and I know full well that that's not possible. But it allows me to quickly rationalize and learn from disappointments. While maybe I don't celebrate the highlights as I could or should. Colleagues here will say that I am not a party goer, but that is just how I am.”

An example of this is the celebration, just hours after Verstappen won his third world title in Qatar. While he (Max) is once again lifted on the shoulders by his mechanics in the Red Bull garage, Lambiase walks with his hands in his pockets and casually walking to the start of the pit lane for the team's next photo opportunity. Another moment, last week in Mexico: when a fan has his picture taken with Lambiase, the local asks the engineer if everything is okay between him and Verstappen. It won't be the first and won't be the last time he hears that. Things sometimes get heated between the two, for example recently in Austin.

“But we never argue. Sometimes it takes more than one or two hours after a race to come together again. We both have adrenaline in our bodies, sometimes you need to have some time for yourself before you say things you will regret. And there are also moments when I think: I could have conveyed that better. Max will have that too. We may have different opinions, but in the evening or the next day it is always okay.”

Honesty underestimated Lambiase has been working at Red Bull since 2015 and has been active as a race engineer for fourteen years, so he knows better than anyone how good the mutual bond should be. “You know what is hugely underestimated? How important a part honesty plays in the relationship between a racing engineer and driver. Being yourself is crucial to working productively and efficiently. The moment you start thinking 'I don't know if I should say that, because he might get angry', you are on a lost cause."

So he is not afraid to push back from the pit wall. “I don't think Max would want it any other way either. He's not someone who wants to walk all over you. He is clear, to the point. That's how he was raised. His father Jos trained him wonderfully. I take over that task to a very small extent on the circuit, through my responsibilities as an engineer. That dynamic seems to work well. I'm not an expert in sports psychology at all, but you have to feel the character of a driver to achieve the optimal. That is something fundamental in my work: being able to trust each other blindly, but also having an eye for the emotional side. Especially nowadays, the mental aspect is increasingly important. It's not just about talent or the car, but how someone can deal with that talent and their emotions.”

In that respect, Verstappen seems to be doing well. And the Limburger has also been working with Lambiase to his full satisfaction since his first day at Red Bull's flagship. In fact, after winning his first world title, he even said that he would quit immediately if his race engineer gave up.

“But I can see through that. First of all, no one is irreplaceable. And secondly: there is no way that when I walk out that door tomorrow, Max's Formula 1 career will be over. It is nice that he says that and it shows how well we treat each other,” says GP, who now also reveals that there is an exclusive collaboration. “The day that Max and I no longer work together in this setting will be the day that I would like to take on a different challenge. I don't think it's fair to any other driver if we try to emulate what I've done with Max since May 2016. I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again. So I hope that we will continue in this way until 2028 ( Verstappen's current contract runs til 2028, ed.). Unless he or the team decides otherwise of course…”

Important sensor At the pit wall, Lambiase is overloaded with information and data, but he emphasizes how crucial the input from the driver himself is. A regular occurrence during a race, for example, is the Englishman asking his Dutch companion whether he would like a different adjustment of the front wing during the next pit stop.

“We indeed receive a lot of information about the balance of the car and the condition of the tires. But the most important sensor is Max himself. We can make all kinds of assumptions, but these are such small margins. The feedback from a driver is very important.”

Since last year, Lambiase has also been the Head of Race Engineering at Red Bull Racing. As a race engineer, he has previously worked with Vitantonio Liuzzi, Paul di Resta, Verstappen's current teammate Sergio Pérez and his predecessor Daniil Kvyat. But what makes Verstappen so good? Hardly anyone can estimate this better than Lambiase. “In my opinion, he has learned a lot from the difficult moments that occurred in 2017 and 2018. He has developed a racing style that not many drivers have. In recent years he has also proven to be very skilled in risk management. In 2021 he understood that he had to finish every race and could not afford DNFs. That year was so incredibly important for his growth. With that title in his pocket and a competitive car in recent years, he can estimate very well how much risk he has to take on Sunday. And also during the qualifying sessions he knows that he does not always have to show his balls or be the 105 percent version of Max Verstappen.”

"I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again."

Just as Lambiase says he learned a lot in his twenties during his early years in the world, with teams such as Jordan, Midland and Spyker. “I opened myself up to learning things from the smart people around me. Since then I have gained a lot of experience, also through all the technical and sporting changes in the regulations that have occurred. When Max was promoted to Red Bull in 2016, the days leading up to that first race in Barcelona were very hectic and tense. The expectations were sky-high and as a driver you have the feeling after such an intervention that you cannot disappoint the bosses. Of course, he already had a reputation and we quickly saw that he was an exceptional talent. I knew I was in it for the long haul with Max. That has also proven to be the case.”

Despite the many races and the associated travel, Lambiase is far from tired of his work. “This industry is so dynamic. The goalposts never stand still and we always strive for perfection. The excitement that comes with it is what challenges me. It may seem that way to people, but it is not easy to win even one Formula 1 race. Everything has to be right. You've seen this year in Singapore that when you do it wrong, you have a problem. The fact that Max has now won sixteen of the nineteen races is not just because the car is good. That is mainly because of him, and because we make the right decisions as a team.”

What does a race engineer do?

Four minutes. That's how long it takes Gianpiero Lambiase to briefly and concisely describe his many tasks as a race engineer. This goes much further than just talking to the driver during sessions on the asphalt. “Sometimes I wish that were the case,” he says, smiling. “As a race engineer at Red Bull, I am actually responsible for the entire operation of the car on the track. And I work together with all our specialists in the field of aerodynamics, simulations, the engine, you name it. Everything to try to have the best and efficient package on the track as possible.”

It doesn't stop there. “As is known, most of the development of the car takes place in the factory in England. But we as engineers at the circuit itself have the task of testing these new parts and thus drawing the right conclusions. Sometimes this is for the short term, to benefit from it during the race weekend. But sometimes also for the long term for the design of the car, for example for the following year.”

Of course, the car's setup often involves a lot of tinkering during the weekend itself. “Then it is important that the set-up and balance of the car are to Max's liking. That it doesn't have too much understeer or oversteer. There are hundreds of things we can change mechanically or aerodynamically, based on simulations, but also what we invented ourselves on the track during training. I also think I have an important voice in the strategy. As a race engineer you have a fairly large overview and you are in fact the person between the driver and the team. The driver's feeling is evident. In addition, our feedback to the factory must be good, for example what are the things that Max encounters. That in turn helps them to further develop the car.”

​

[strwbrryfire]

Op. 71 Act 1, Scene 1: Regali Teneri: winter warmers day 003

✶ prompts: dildo | holding hands

✶ ship: pierresteban

✶ words: 1,593

+ a little song

Charlie

[Voice Message—0:35]

Transcript: 

“Cheri! Uh, was wondering if you and Este would want to join Max and I at the symphony this evening? Or is it the ballet?”

Max sounds grumpy as he supplies, “Ballet. The Nutcracker.”

“Yeah! What it is the, um, rat king and all that. The one with—” Charles starts singing the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, horribly off key. 

“Please say yes, Pierre, or else I’ll be stuck next to the FIA dick sucker—” “That’s rude, Maxie, he is only doing his job—” “I do not care he is of course a cunt who pushes bullshit—”

Pierre snorts as the bickering gets cut off, and even if he does ponder on it for a split second, his reply gets typed out faster.

pierre 

I’m sorry, mon amie, but I’ve got sim training to do. Surely you can just put Max on the end so he doesn’t even have to look at George? 

As he goes to lock his phone and continue with the monotonous task of cutting up lettuce for his salad, Charles’ contact shows up on a screen. With a reluctant sigh, Pierre shoves his phone in between his ear and shoulder, then answers with a tsk. 

“Charles, as I said I am busy. I cannot magically move around my schedule.” 

He can practically hear Charles pouting, “Oh, you are such a liar. We are all in London, non? So, it will be a lovely double date!” 

“Date?” Pierre sputters, narrowly slicing his finger, “Non, ce ne sera pas un rendez-vous. For me, at least.”

Charles sounds so confused, even Max has to chime in, “Este talked to me about you for so long in Qatar. Everything is good now, right? So I do not see the issue.” 

Pierre thinks he must have cut something somewhere and died from blood loss, then woke up in a world where everyone thought he was back to being in love with his ex teammate-best friend-boyfriend-whatever. All because of a 2-3 that really was just gifted to them. Utter nonsense. 

“Mon amie? S’il te plaǐt? I can video call you and plead with puppy eyes if you are not swayed!” 

“Jesus,” Pierre mumbles and rubs a hand down his face, “Sure, fine. Merveilleux. Just text me the address, d’accord?”

Charles giggles, all proud of himself, “Wonderful! I’ll see you at eight!” 

—

It wasn’t hard. It wasn’t like—equivalent to shunting it on a formation lap or equal to whatever Esteban must have felt when he was thrown out before Abu Dhabi or when he got the call from his ex about—it wasn’t a soul crushing thing to do. To open up the short string of blue and grey code between him and the person stuck firmly in whatever invisible string held Pierre’s life.

Pierre 

Hey man!

No. Too informal. This is a date, gotta make him think it actually is, right? That seems to be the best course of action; think of it as revenge given too late.

Pierre

Hi copain! Max and Charles have two extra spots for the Nutcracker tonight. 

Pierre thinks he might bite down through to the bone before he lets his thumb press onto another letter. It’s fine. Deep breath, it’s not hard, this isn’t hard. 

Pierre

Hi copain! Max and Charles have two extra spots for the Nutcracker tonight, at 8:30. Would you want to tag along with us? Max would appreciate it, since the other option is George and Carmen.

Delivered.  

He winces as he bites down on an olive with its pit still intact, and nearly chokes when Esteban’s reply comes through almost instantly. 

Esteban

That sounds wonderful! Is 7:30 a good time to come pick you up, chéri? 

Read 2:15pm

God. Jesus. Fuck. Pierre stabs the remaining sad pieces of lettuce with his fork and screams into his hands. He thinks about wishing he had choked on the olive pit. 

Pierre

Sounds good. Charles said to dress nice!

Delivered

“No, he fucking didn’t! What am I, sixteen again?” Pierre wallows to the open air of his flat, and flings his head against the back of the couch. Who was he, wanting Esteban to dress nice because, yeah, so what, he looks really fucking good in a suit. Pierre hopes a blizzard blows in and freezes him to death so that he never has to even think of doing something like this again.

Esteban

I’ll put on my very best for you, calamar ;)

Read 2:20pm 

Pierre grinds his teeth together and takes another deep breath to suppress another frustrated, throat scratching groan. He glances at the clock and does it anyway. Five and half hours. He’ll make it.

 —

He barely drags himself out into the front lobby.

His hands are stuffed into his Burberry coat as he waits, grateful Charles wasn’t forcing them into going to Covent Garden or something ridiculously unfun—sure, the ballet was equally miserable to Pierre, but at least there wouldn’t be a sea of tourists to push through just for a dried up overpriced mince pie. 

“Ah, there he is,” and Pierre swears he must have fallen into the fire, with how his face heats up at the sight of Esteban—a neatly pressed dark burgundy velvet suit, an obnoxiously adorable bow tie, and his perfectly fit black coat. Merde, “I was worried I overdid it with the festivity.”

Pierre clears his throat and opts to set his gaze on the Christmas tree that’s illuminating the halo of Esteban’s slicked back hair, “Surely Max will make us all look overdressed. As long as there is wine, I will be happy anyway.”

There’s a few moments of ungodly awkward silence before Pierre steps forward a little, “Before we go, I am…” He digs his nails into his palms and his shoulders feel like they’re about to snap with how tense they are, “I am sorry. I wish you had more time, to make a proper goodbye and all.  C'est injuste.”

And the guilt washes in the second Pierre sees the genuine hurt flash in Esteban’s expression, how he sadly smiles with those stupidly fucking adorable teeth, “What does Charles say? It is like this. At least I did not end up in Daniel’s boat. Que sera, sera,” he opens up the lobby door and gestures for Pierre to go first, “Prettiest out first.”

“Ever the charmer,” Pierre rolls his eyes and buries himself into his scarf, willing it will hide the blush that hasn’t left under his eyes. Once Esteban is distracted by fiddling for his keys, he mumbles, “You look really good.”

Esteban’s eyebrows fly up and he doesn’t even try to hide his grin, “Hm? What was that, again?”

“Oh, s'il te plaît arrête, you heard me!” 

“Still so small and angry, calamar,” Esteban laughs, leading them down the snow covered sidewalk to his car, “It is wonderful how so much but so little changes.”

Pierre doesn’t question the sudden philosophical ramblings, too busy mulling over every decision he’s ever made that landed him in this situation.  He thinks about feigning a migraine, or a fever, or near death—anything to avoid being in such close proximity to Esteban for any longer than he has to. Pierre had finally gotten rid of him; he was Ollie’s problem now. 

Fine. It’s fine. He can handle a few more hours. And if he wishes those hours were more plentiful, absolutely no one has to know. 

And the car ride, it’s short, it’s fine, it’s tolerable. Up until they park, Pierre unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door handle—Esteban loudly protests, “Nuh uh! Getting the door is my job, mon chou.”

“Aie pitié de moi, I am not a child,” Pierre sighs into his hands and waits impatiently as Esteban comes around the side to let him out. It would be something to write away into a box to be burnt, until Esteban shuts said door, locks said car and then he’s—he’s. 

His gloved fingers are intertwining with Pierre’s like it’s as easy as breathing, “Bonsoir, Charles, Max!” Esteban calls to the couple huddled beside a space heater, all along dragging a stunned Pierre behind him.

His brain has been reduced to static and the soul crushing nostalgic feeling that the warmth of Esteban’s hand is giving him. It’s perfect, how they fit together. It’s like going home and sliding into the car for the first time pre-season and slipping on a favorite hoodie that smells like asphalt and expensive cologne. Which, Esteban is certainly wearing his nicest–all smoke and earthy leather. 

Pierre didn’t even realize he was aching for that missing piece—Esteban’s arm pressed up against his as they sit in their rented out box seats. The way he laughs at Max’s horrible jokes and the way his eyes crinkle at the photos of Leo he gets shown. Through every instance of small talk, his grasp at Pierre’s hand never falters. Esteban rubs his thumbs in circles, squeezes absentmindedly. Like they never stopped doing this. Like no binds had ever been severed and Évreux was just outside the back door. 

Once the lights dim and the ballet begins, Pierre finally looks over at Esteban, who is staring right back. All childhood wonder and glimmering hope—they’re teenagers again, they’re screaming in a hotel room, they’re crying in Pierre’s driver's room in Brazil. The first note plays and Pierre decides to swallow down the lump in his throat, in favor of squeezing Esteban’s hand back as tight as he can. To convey something. To keep him there, long after the curtains fall.

[chussyracing]

Learning F1 Race Strategy from Former Ferrari, Haas and Alfa Romeo Strategist Ruth Buscombe! – a summary

i love Ruth so i finally made time to watch this interview (she absolutely floored those guys) and made notes for anyone who doesn't have 2 hours of their day to spend on this

she got Seb his first win for Ferrari

she loves Netflix

she uses racing language in her life since her partner is in F1 too

she only ever worked in F1 (started in Ferrari)

she liked sports as a kid, played soccer but probably wasn't too good

her dad was a big McLaren fan

she liked maths at school and was a strange kid and got bullied for it

did masters thesis in collab with FIA focused on DRS because she specialised on thermal and aerospace

she believes she was the only person who got skinny after moving to italy because she has moving sickness, so she threw up basically every day

got headhunted by Ferrari after school

she was excited about porpoising coming back to f1 in 2022 with the new regs, because she did a project on it

she was a McLaren fan, always wanted to get hired by McLaren, got into Ferrari by accident, went to the interview only as a free trip to Ferrari and took it as practice for her McLaren interview

they took her out for dinner afterwards and carbs are way to her heart, everything was so fancy ("even the soap at the bathroom")

McLaren wasn’t cool, just old and grey

didn’t even tell her father she went to Ferrari at first because she was afraid

Ferrari was her home and also a benchmark that she compares everything to now

in 2016 she joined Sauber and the finances were handled completely differently

as a strategist, they have points when they know if they have time to make a decision, they can check with others, sometimes they can make decisions on their own under time pressure (so if they are in s1 and pit entry is in s3 they know they have time to check with everyone first for example)

she worked with Fred for years in Sauber, if they made a mistake, they explained after, but Fred is very expressive facially so they knew immediately

Fred doesn’t add fuel to the pitwall, he doesn’t get in their way at all

she worked with wide range of drivers that operated differently (some like info before the race, some in the middle, Kimi didn’t like too much radio)

with Charles in his debut year 2018, he did a little reminders where she told him which plan and he repeated what the plan means

in her strategy team, she would have Seb (knows a lot), Max (does a lot with tyres), Lando (gamer, can do typing quickly) and Fernando (can find grey areas in rules)

her fave strategy is plan C in Monaco which is rainy strategy going from wets to slicks and they scored points (as the only car going from outside of points into points) with Valtteri this year (or was it last?)

sometimes you also come up with wacky strategy

best in in laps/outlaps is Lewis for her

este takes blue flags the worst, marcus ericsson is the blue flag champion, valtteri had to practice blue flags since he came from a top team and almost didn't see any

played a lot of poker since there is some maths in it

she is a sore loser and very competitive, she cannot have fun when playing board games, everyone hates her when she plays so she is banned from it

she goes to gym every day so she has to do laundry often

on her to do list she likes to cross out the hard tasks first, then the easy ones

if your pitwall is near the pit exit, there is a lot of dust on your skin by the end of the day so sometimes you shower twice a day

under stress your heartbeat goes higher so she does training to tackle this and learn not to make decisions under stress

a lot of people fainted around qatar, she didn’t and was very proud

her job is about 50% maths and 50% communication

she wanted vegas gp since 2013, next she would like Long Beach

she would change safety car delta to make the pitting decision 50/50 worth of risk or reward whereas now everyone pits

if a strategist loses a race by being undercut one race, there is a big chance they will get overcut the next one

ther is a group of people in the strategy department because you could be too predictable as a person (for example you could use the same strategy for the same track every year)

[stripedstarsblueflags]

Heatstroke (blueflags’ version)

around the qatar gp, we hear a lot of heat stroke symptom terminology thrown around like a bulleted list, spoken with a completely casual air like it’s something to no worse than jet lag. here’s a bit of translation from someone who’s actually experienced it:

headache: it’s more like pressure. you’re not even fully aware of the pain, it’s more like that ear-pop feeling you get on an airplane but all around your head. it makes sounds seem kind of muffled, too.

nausea: less so in your stomach, kind of more at the base of your chest and in the back of your throat. you feel like your throat is closing up, not in a choking way more like your gag reflex is being triggered seemingly by your own body. pressure on your throat and pain in the middle/based of your chest where your rib cage splits, that constant constriction in your throat, tingling in your jaw and mouth like you’re salivating more than you mean to even if your mouth is super dry.

dizziness: not literal, just-got-off-a-fairground, vision-swirling dizziness. it’s less about your vision and more about not feeling like you can find a vestibular rhythm. it’s as if there’s not enough blood in your feet or legs for you to feel the ground, or how far below it is for you to step. ever walked off a curb and it’s way shorter than you think so you kind of jarringly stomp on the ground instead? or the opposite, it’s deeper than you expected and you put all your weight down while your foot’s still in midair? imagine that but every step.

lightheadedness: this but in the entire upper half of your body. you feel like you’re so heavy that you’re sinking to the bottom of the ocean, or so light that you’re floating up into the atmosphere, at the same time. you’re surrounded by pressure and out of control.

lack of focus/cognitive skills decreasing: THIS. not the most unpleasant but by FAR the most dangerous to someone operating a race car. they make it sound like it’s just the kind of spacing-out you do when you’re really sleep deprived, or coming down from a bong rip. it’s a lot worse. the best way i can describe it is like everything is a dream; you’re sleeping awake.

you ever been in a dream and something about the plot requires you to remember what happened earlier in the dream itself? when you wake up, you can piece everything together, but your dreaming self can’t do that. you’re operating on whatever knowledge is in your head at that very second, and as each minute passes it’s like your own memory throws itself away. you’re not 100% sure of what you just did or said. the memory has that fuzzy, ephemeral quality of a dream upon waking, where it could have happened but it feels so much more like a guess than a fact.

and sometimes you think you’re fine but then all of the sudden you startle back into your own body and realize you can’t remember how you got where you are, or what the person in front of you said, or why you’re holding a certain thing (or how you just drove for the last three hundred meters, perhaps?). your short-term memory starts disappearing like condensation on a window. and that’s fucking scary enough when you’re not putting your own and nineteen others’ lives in your hands for ninety minutes.

you also get that one-track mind thing you do when you’re high, where one thing seems to take up far too much importance in your head for far too long. you freak out over that one memory you can’t quite place, or this one task you can’t quite get right on the first time, whether or not it matters and whether or not you’re supposed to be doing something else.

“i need some encouragement, mate.” encouragement in this case doesn’t mean “i need some feel-good motivation! i need a happy face sticker!” it’s more like i need an outside source to ground me in this reality because i can’t focus on anything outside of what’s going on in my head, and what’s going on in my head makes no sense, and i’m scared.

that’s probably the worst symptom in the context of motor racing. except probably

blacking out: i’m not a doctor so PLEASE take this with as many grains of salt as you please. but in the context of heatstroke, blacking out is similar to what might happen during a fever, in which your body is literally so hot that your brain is starting to take the damage. that’s why fevers alone can be so dangerous, sometimes even more so than whatever they’re caused by, because parts of your brain begin shutting down like an overheating laptop. everything’s struggling, so your body starts redirecting any and all blood flow it can spare to the important parts; that’s what blacking out is. it’s more important for your body to keep itself functioning than to keep itself awake. if it’s because of something like a blood sugar crisis or anemia, those conditions can have pretty quick short-term solutions. but the desert isn’t just gonna turn on the AC. the heat crisis continues even as the body attempts to protect itself. remember lance collapsing at the end of last year and the mechanic immediately rushing with the cooling fan? if that temperature doesn’t start lowering immediately, it’s a race against the clock.

also, if you black out at 200 mph… well. i don’t need to spell that out.

THIS HAS BEEN A HEATSTROKE PSA.

[eretzyisrael]

by Amelie Botbol

Pretoria serves as a “crucial base of operations” for Islamic terror groups, according to a soon-to-be released report by the Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism and Policy.

The report’s publication comes in the wake of the International Court of Justice’s latest ruling against Israel’s military offensive in Rafah, in a case brought before the court by South Africa.

On Friday, the court ruled by 13 to 2 that the Jewish state must “immediately halt its military offensive, and any other action in the Rafah Governorate, which may inflict on the Palestinian group in Gaza conditions of life that could bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part.”

“The ICJ’s ruling is a stark reminder that South Africa has become a hub for extremist activities across the African continent,” said ISGAP Executive Director Charles Asher Small. 

“South Africa embraces antisemitic ideologies, supports state-sponsored terror, maintains close ties with and acts on behalf of Iran, Qatar and Hamas,” he added. 

According to ISGAP’s report, Pretoria serves as a “crucial base of operations for Islamic terror groups, facilitating connections with networks throughout Africa.”

The report states that “despite long-standing U.S. sanctions, international Islamist entities with terror links continue to operate freely within South Africa, evading global scrutiny.” 

It argues that the “Financial Action Task Force (FATF) [which leads global action to tackle money laundering, terrorist and proliferation financing] noted South Africa’s failure to effectively identify, investigate, or prosecute terrorist financiers, revealing critical gaps in its anti-terrorism financing measures.”

Addressing Pretoria’s governing party, the report claims that “the African National Congress (ANC) maintains close relationships with Qatar, Iran and terror groups like Hamas.”

The report also highlights “the possibility that Iran funded South Africa’s ANC party in exchange for favorable outcomes in ICJ cases, especially since the ANC’s sudden financial stabilization in early January 2024, after years teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, remains shrouded in mystery and devoid of any detailed explanation.”

According to Small, “South Africa has become a leading voice for terror. By bringing this case against Israel and in favor of Hamas, South Africa further positions itself as a bad actor on the global stage.”

The time has come for the international community “to recognize and address South Africa’s alarming connections with terror-supporting states and entities,” he added.

ISGAP is an international organization that works on mapping, decoding and combatting contemporary antisemitism. 

Earlier this year, Small told JNS that the South African government was acting in complete opposition with South Africa’s freedom charter and  Nelson Mandela’s vision of democracy by embracing the Iranian revolutionary regime, Qatar and Hamas.

“For the ANC and the South African government of 2024, which inherited the work of Nelson Mandela, Oliver Tambo and Walter Sisulu among others who sacrificed their lives for social democracy, to be in bed with Hamas, the Iranian revolutionary regime and the Qatari Muslim Brotherhood regime is an affront to the South African people,” he said. 

“For Pretoria’s ruling party, the corrupt party of 2024, to be in bed with the disciples of true apartheid, true Nazism and true racism, to invite Hamas after they committed a racist massacre based on the ideology of Nazism and Fascism of Europe, is an affront to what the ANC is supposed to represent,” he added. 

[bopinion]

2024 / 05

Aperçu of the week:

"Remember, democracy never lasts. It soon wastes, exhausts and kills itself. There never was a democracy that did not commit suicide."

(John Adams, one of the founding fathers of the United States of America and its second president from 1797 to 1801)

Bad news of the week:

The war in Gaza threatens to escalate. In response to a drone attack on a US base, the US has bombed pro-Iranian militia positions in Syria and Iraq. More than 85 targets were hit, according to the US military. And Joe Biden made it clear that more military action would follow. It will not be long before Iran retaliates.

The attacks by Yemen's Houthi rebels on merchant ships in the Red Sea will not stop either. Nor will Israel's military actions against Hezbollah in Lebanon. So will there be the feared conflagration in the region? That will depend on the Pentagon and the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. Between these two powers are the oppressed peoples of Syria and Iraq. They are as innocent of escalation as the absolute majority of Palestinians.

Meanwhile, the situation of the civilian population in Gaza continues to deteriorate. Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant has announced that the Israeli offensive will reach Rafah in the south of the Gaza Strip. What the million of internally displaced people thought was a safe zone. And which, as German Foreign Minister Baerbock aptly put it, "cannot disappear into thin air". For Egypt will continue to keep its border closed.

The parallel negotiations for a cease-fire and the release of the hostages, in which Israel and Egypt as well as Qatar - the seat of the political leadership of Hamas - and the USA are involved, have also come to a standstill. According to media reports, there is no compromise in sight. The majority of Western politicians tirelessly remind us that only a two-state solution can permanently ensure the peaceful coexistence of Israel and Palestine. Rarely has a theory been so far from its practical implementation.

Good news of the week:

While hundreds of thousands of citizens continue to take to the streets against the right and for democracy, the party landscape is also arming itself against the shift to the right. The last general debate in the Bundestag was hardly about the actual item on the agenda, the 2024 budget, but about clearly distancing themselves from the AfD (Alternative für Deutschland / Alternative for Germany) - in rare unity among the so-called established parties across the political spectrum.

These parties are also preparing for the right-wing to remain present in parliament - like the Rassemblement National in France, for example. Currently, the aim is to strengthen the protection of the Federal Constitutional Court. The governing traffic light coalition of Social Democrats, Greens and Liberals wants to protect the guardians of the constitution more strongly against possible attempts to remove their power.

Following the experiences of the Weimar Republic and National Socialism in the Third Reich, the authors of the Basic Law built various safeguards into the constitution. These include the "eternity clause", which states that the supporting pillars of the constitution (human dignity, democracy, constitutional state, federal state) may not be changed at all.

The Federal Constitutional Court was also created as a new supervisory body. If the powers of this supervisory body were to be curtailed, the fundamental guarantees could be undermined. The examples of Hungary, Poland and Israel show that right-wing populist governments in particular are trying to disempower the constitutional courts. In order to remove their political actions from any control.

In concrete terms, the core tasks of the Constitutional Court - such as deciding on constitutional complaints or mediating between state bodies - cannot be changed by a simple majority, but many organizational issues can. Since, for example, the election of judges is not regulated in the Basic Law (under the protection of the two-thirds majority), but "only" in a simple law, the legislature could also change key parameters in its favor with a simple majority.

No majority government in the history of the Federal Republic of Germany has ever dared to do this. Because all parties have always felt committed to democratic principles. Until now. It has already been shown several times in the USA that the appointment of judges can be misused for partisan political purposes. A blocking minority would also suffice for a complete blockade here. And the increasing likelihood of this is no longer a dystopia. In this respect, it is a good sign that the largest parliamentary group in the Bundestag - the current opposition conservatives - have also shown themselves to be open to strengthening the independence of the Constitutional Court.

Personal happy moment of the week:

I cleaned the windows. Which I rarely do. And I still prefer to do it myself, because nobody can please me anyway. It's not just the result that makes me happy, but also the positive reactions - from my wife and yes: even from neighbors. Let's see if I learn from it this time and do it more often in the future. After all, I like to be praised from time to time.

I couldn't care less...

...that Punxsutawney Phil predicted an early, mild spring on Groundhog Day. His accuracy is statistically just 40%. I can do the same when I flip a coin. My result: Phil is right. Let's see.

It's fine with me...

...that Taylor Swift's otherwise elusive socio-cultural impact could have a positive effect. According to a Newsweek poll, 30% of 18- to 35-year-olds in the US would follow a proposition from Swift in this November's presidential election - that's more than 13 million votes. No wonder the Republicans are already outdoing each other with conspiracy theories of her being a "Democratic secret weapon". After all, the pop star has already shown a tendency towards Joe Biden in the past, but above all against Donald Trump.

As I write this...

...I am already waiting for next weekend. A little anxious, as the two main sporting events will probably pass by me. Firstly, the top match in the German Bundesliga. Between "my" Munich-based FC Bayern, who strangely enough is only in second place at the moment, and Bayer 04 Leverkusen (Bayer who? Exactly!), who are unbeaten at the top so far this season. And it's only on pay TV, for which I would first have to find a suitably equipped sports bar nearby. Secondly, Superbowl LVIII in Las Vegas between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Philadelphia Eagles. This will be broadcast on German free TV, but in the middle of the night in our time zone. From Sunday to Monday. I'm just too old for that. And I console myself with the fact that, in my opinion, Usher lacks the format for the halftime show. Which I will of course still watch on YouTube.

Post Scriptum

It's the fourth anniversary of Brexit. At the end of the last decade, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland left the European Union. Former Prime Minister David Cameron had actually wanted to get backing for Europe through a referendum. The shot backfired and the rest is history: "taking back control" did not work out as the Brexiteers around Boris Johnson and Nigel Farage had hoped. Since then, the island kingdom has been in a political and economic crisis. Without gloating, it can be said that liberal cooperation works obviously better than protectionist isolation.

[stingraystudiess]

Greetings from India

⬆️ National museum of Qatar

Hello everyone! I have not been on here in a very long time. My holidays have flown by so quickly and it’s bittersweet.

I think it is common, for me at least, to make big plans and expectations from the summer. In reality it is highly unlikely that they will work out the exact way you want them to. If you relate to this, I have a deep and profound sympathy and empathy for you as this is something that is so common.

So for the next few weeks I’m doing a self inflicted challenge to ramp up in time for school on the 28th of August!

I’m gonna call this 27 days of excellence

Here are the conditions:

Wake up before 10

Drink 2 bottles of water

30 min of reading

Balanced meals (no unnecessary means)

Keeping in touch with family

Journal entry whenever possible

Planning in diary

Planning for the day ahead

Sticking to subject tasks planned daily

Staying consistent

No video games

3 hrs max screen time

Now that I have set these rules, I will hold myself accountable for them daily. This practically forces me to post!

Thank you for reading

Signing off~

StingrayStudies

[thoughtlessarse]

Pro-Kremlin media outlets claim that US and Ukrainian forces were instrumental in toppling al-Assad,  the EU East Stratcom Task Force reported on Thursday morning. The task force was set up by the EU in 2015 as part of the European External Action Service (EEAS). Its flagship project is a database of articles on fake news. From the start of the war in Ukraine, it has been publishing weekly news about Russia’s disinformation and information manipulation. While the Syrian people and most of the world celebrated the ending of the Assad family’s 54-year-long dictatorship, Moscow saw it differently. At the Doha Forum in Qatar on 7 December, a day before the fall of the regime and Assad’s escape to Russia, Foreign Minister Lavrov was quick to blame the US and its NATO allies for a global plot. Given the Kremlin’s backing of the dictatorship during the civil war in Syria, the official Russian line deployed on all main state outlets was not to give it prominent coverage. In coverage of the topic, the line was to stick with the usual practice of blaming the US as the mastermind behind the events. Russian media also claimed that Ukraine had supported terrorist groups in Syria and that Israel could be behind them. The Assad regime collapsed after a surprise military offensive by the Islamist militia Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS). Encouraged by Turkey, the rebels took advantage of the opportunity when Assad’s allies Iran and Hezbollah had been weakened in the war with Israel and agreed to a ceasefire in Lebanon. Russia was unable to divert troops and intervene because of its war of aggression against Ukraine. Up until the fall of the Assad regime, Russia insisted on the so-called "Astana format" of negotiations (Russia, Iran, Turkey) to manage developments in Syria and bring about a political solution. This format is now recognized by Kremlin as lost. Both Russia and Iran, who supported the regime, have been forced to leave Syria and lost their military assets there.

continue reading

[iravaid]

💭💯🎄💔🍰 for biker pls

Hi Gen hi!!!! Biker questions, hell yeag

💭THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)?

I took the MBTI test in character and it says Biker is an ESTP: the entrepeneur, which claims they're a 'bold and energetic individual who thrives on action and excitement. Your natural charm and quick wit make you a magnetic presence in any social situation...', which feels accurate!

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

Biker's mother was a famous Italian novellist, who was known for her gothic styles and graphic gore. Physically, they look almost identical to her.

Biker doesn't like reading in general, and they think the entire genre of poetry insists upon itself. But, contradictively, Biker regardless has memorised three specific poems.

Biker has an incredible sense of direction and rarely, if ever, gets lost. This makes them a valuable navigator, especially when surveying along abandoned highways and roads in the post-apocalypse

🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday?

New Year's Eve! It's less about the symbolicism of a new year and new opportunities, and more the massive parties they used to crash in NYC: they got to drink/snort/lick/taste whatever, fuck whoever, and the consequences for letting loose was far more relaxed, because it's NYE, babey!

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

Oh god. They're an extremely vindictive and prideful person, so I think this, as a negative trait, conglomerates into overwhelming (and at times overblown) wrath. This all stems from their insane prey animl anxiety, which while not a negative trait on its own, leads Biker to act on violent impulse in order to protect themself.

They're also, on average, very apathetic towards others, and struggles to put themself in someone else's shoes in order to consider their side (especially in arguments). Biker thinks it's a pretty silly task and they believe their intuition/instinct is better than most, so they tend to make choices For others that should've been left well enough alone.

Biker is a burning the candle on both ends kind of person. They will push themself to their known limits and then some. If they stop for long enough, all the shit that's happened too them just might catch up. And Biker refuses to linger. They will live in the moment and that is It. They're too fast and too much and too overindulgent and too mean and too loud. They're more than an acquired taste, they require immunisation

🍰 SHORTCAKE — what is/are your oc's favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)?

Hm!! Biker is less of a dessert person and more of a 'godawful, high sucrose content cheap gas station candy' kind of connoisseur (although they have a soft spot for a basbousa they tried in Qatar, during their racing days), and their favourite sweet things include: Fun Dip but ONLY the grape powder stuff (they just jam their gross fucking hand in the powder and licks it off.), sweet, neon pink bubbleum (they like chewing something for ages, it's like having something to fidget with), and sour apple Dragon Soop. what a catch

[ego-sum-id-quod-cantum-ludere]

Y'all have no idea how good this news channel is. They fucking got an American psyop member to be like "yeah we make disinformation campaigns and propaganda and I'm not quite proud of that". These campaigns range from Covid-19 vaccines to the genocide. It is incredible how open the psyop member is, and terrifying om how the "products", as they call them, are being made. The video is probably not going to play within the embedded link because of course not, so I'll provide a transcription here (buckle up).

From 20:42 into the video:

If we were an actually good news team, we'd somehow get in contact with a member of a US psyop regimen and ask them a whole number of questions about [the social media campaign against Covid-19 vaccines from China in 2021]. Luckily we *are* a good news team, but for obvious reasons this person didn't want their identity shared. For now, we'll just call them... John Psyop.

When asked about the global psychological operations as a whole, he would reply, "The goal of psyops changes based on the situation. For instance, every hurricane season there are teams on standby to provide support through information dissemination... We exist to serve the goals of whatever the highest-ranking officer wants... I would say the goal of psyops is to sow discord and create chaos for the benefit of the US government... the government wants power and wealth and will use psyops to attain it."

When asked whether John has any moral reservations about his work or if they're required to follow any ethical guidelines, he would also respond, "I have reservations all the time. I can't think of a good reason to make propaganda and I know the US government is certainly not one to trust in that aspect. We do have rules when making products, photos taken by AV teams cannot be altered in any way, but they can be staged... The ethical guidelines for product creation are defined, but can have slight variations for each product as some products are made to enrage with or disturb the audience, and it is not always done in ways I [would] consider ethical. There were psyop personnel deployed in Qatar when the attack on Gaza began. I can't say what products have been made [or] for what side, but you know where the US stands in the conflict. From people I have spoken to, there have been some horrific drafts and requests made for products stemming from the genocide."

Moving on, we wanted to ask if John had specifically heard about this recently-uncovered campaign against Chinese Covid assistance. They would respond, "I was not in psyops when this happened, but I have spoken about it with other soldiers in the organization. From my understanding, the government saw that China's vaccine gave China power, and the US didn't like that, so they used psyops and social media to try and harm the distribution of China's vaccines. It is incredibly common for social media to be used as the medium to spread propaganda, but I don't know for what purposes, as I do not have a need-to-know for clearance."

As a follow-up, we also wanted to ask why on earth Joe Biden, as a sitting president, would've been kept out of the loop to such an operation. To this, they would say, "To start, I want to say that the army is a bureaucratic nightmare; a common practice to save time and take action is to circumvent the regulations, complete the task, and shut up about it. 'They don't need to know' is a common phrase in the military because if the job gets done and there are no consequences, they don't need to know. This is what I speculate happened with the change of administration in the white house. It was likely that there were more pressing matters to brief the incoming [commander-in-chief] on, and they let this one slide in the interest of saving time. Or, possibly because they thought that it wouldn't be allowed to continue, a sentiment that was confirmed when the operation was discontinued."

When simply asked for [their] general opinion on the operation, John would comment, "I was shocked, but also unsurprised when I heard about the connection between psyops and the operation. I don't have a great opinion of the US government. I think it was evil and reprehensible to take advantage of how easily misinformation spreads on social media. To make matters worse, the operation targeted Muslims. Just leave it to the US to be islamophobic at every chance. It's bad enough that they saw China giving out vaccines, a perfectly good and reasonable thing to do, and immediately went on the offensive, but to specifically target Muslims from being vaccinated [by claiming the vaccine contained pork gelatin]? Also, a side note: the one tweet in Arabic congratulating the US for being 'generous', and in the same breath saying that Russia and China are only doing it for influence and profit, is so obviously propaganda it's funny."

At this point, it also occurred to us that if we're going to interview a member of a US psyop regimen, we might as welp ask them everything we can. 😈 With this in mind, when we asked John on whether he saw the US military's use of weaponized e-girls as an effective recruitment strategy (and no, we're not taking the piss, it's a very real thing), John would respond, "Funnily enough, the strategy was effective for a few guys I know, and we all make fun of them for it. It works enough to be used as one strategy, but it won't be solving the current recruiting crisis. As always, the best strategy is to give out bigger and bigger bags of money until someone sells their soul to the government. It's not like the military is short on money."

The last question is a joke, so I'm leaving that one out. But yeah. Yikes.

[mariacallous]

In the early hours of Dec. 8, the Assad dynasty’s more than half a century of brutal rule in Syria came to an end.

With Bashar al-Assad fleeing the country, not only did Syria’s domestic political order change overnight—so too did its geopolitical identity. It is no longer part of Iran’s “axis of resistance” or one of Russia’s longest-lasting allies in the Arab world, where Moscow had its most profound strategic footprint in the form of both air and naval bases.

Many are busy declaring winners and losers of this pivotal moment. Drawing a list of losers at this stage is relatively easy. The regime itself, Iran, Russia, and Hezbollah are among them. However, drawing a list of winners is not as straightforward. Although Assad’s fall has significantly boosted Turkey’s influence and stature in Syria and in broader regional geopolitics, HTS—Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, the rebel faction that led the offensive that toppled him—is not a Turkish proxy. That said, Ankara remained committed to the Syrian opposition groups during difficult times and now has significant influence over HTS and the ability to affect its actions and decisions.

That commitment ultimately bore fruit with the removal of Assad, marking a pivotal shift in the regional landscape. In northern Syria, opposition forces—bolstered by years of military and administrative experience and assistance from Turkey—emerged with enhanced governance capabilities.

This transformation became evident not only in the group’s cohesive execution of the operation that led to Assad’s downfall, but also in the disciplined and methodical approach that it adopted in the aftermath. These developments signal a substantive evolution in the Syrian opposition’s capacity to govern, reflecting both the dividends of sustained external support and the intrinsic adaptability of these actors in navigating Syria’s fraught and ever-shifting political terrain.

However, HTS and other rebel groups may soon discover that building a new Syria might prove more cumbersome and challenging than bringing it down. We know what collapsed in Syria, but we do not know what awaits it. A concerted effort by Syrian, regional, and international actors is needed to prevent further bloodshed, fragmentation, and proxy wars in the country.

That effort must begin with a nonsectarian interim government in Damascus and a new regional and international bloc to help with the political process, reconstruction, and rebuilding—a bloc that replaces the old pro-Assad power brokers in Moscow and Tehran with a group including Turkey, Syria’s Arab neighbors, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia—as well as the European Union and the United States.

Within Syria, one of the gravest dangers would be if regime collapse turns into a state collapse, as was the case in Libya. Such a collapse would only lead to more chaos and a bleak future for the country. Therefore, the Syrian state’s institutions and mechanisms need to be maintained.

Political transition and government formation are interlinked, but they can be separated. The political transition is an arduous and time-consuming process. Yet a new interim government is needed immediately to provide essential services, preserve state institutions and functions, and prevent a power vacuum and chaos from emerging.

In this respect, the recent decision by HTS to convene its first joint cabinet meeting with ministers from the Assad era suggests a commitment to a transition process and can be interpreted as a promising development. The attainment of stability in Syria is not merely a local imperative but a regional one as well.

Appointing a caretaker prime minister tasked with putting an interim government in place just one day after the fall of Damascus was a step in the right direction. As the group that led the march on the capital, HTS will have a significant say in the political transition and government formation. Yet, to gain societal legitimacy and international acceptance, this new government should be inclusive and reflect the country’s diversity. It cannot be HTS’s previously Idlib-based “salvation government” writ large.

Similarly, in a conflict context, grievances usually produce militias, violence, and radicalism—not least if these grievances are identity-based. Syria’s next-door neighbor, Iraq, is a textbook case of this. The toppling of Saddam Hussein’s Sunni regime in 2003 led to the emergence of a new power configuration in Baghdad that was led by Shiites and Kurds. Such exclusion and grudges toward the broader Sunni community fueled waves of extremism in Iraq and beyond, from the emergence of al Qaeda in Iraq to the Islamic State.

To fend off such a prospect in Syria, there must be no marginalization or criminalization of the Alawite or Shiite communities. Preventing communal grudges is not only crucial for an orderly political transition and more legitimate government in Damascus, but also crucial to curb Iran’s influence and communal networks in Syria.

At the regional and international levels, rather than the U.N.-led and Western-supported Geneva process, the Astana process—launched in the closing days of 2016 and led by Turkey, Russia, and Iran—has mainly charted the course of the conflict in Syria. The Astana format was effectively about freezing the conflict, not facilitating a political transition, while helping Ankara, Moscow, and Tehran manage their interests in Syria.

However, the Astana process has now run its course—not least because two of its major members backed a regime that no longer exists, and their presence in the country is now dramatically reduced. In other words, Moscow and Tehran no longer have the clout—or the legitimacy—to play a major role in Syria’s future. In the short term, Russia may maintain a degree of influence over developments in Syria. However, this influence will be on shaky ground. Iran’s position is even more precarious.

For some time, the Astana trio might want to maintain this platform not only for convenience, but also for Turkey to partially manage the discontent of Tehran and Moscow over the toppling of Assad. However, this platform is unsuitable for discussion and consensus on the internal political transition and process.

A political transition will require a different set of actors around the table. The new platform needs to include Syria’s key neighbors and have Arab ownership. Iraq, Jordan, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia are well-placed to join this bloc.

Their inclusion is vital for two reasons. First, the Astana trio was made up of non-Arab states. Since Syria is an Arab-majority state, the new format must have Arab ownership and agency. Second, as they watch what is unfolding in Syria, regional Arab autocrats are probably terrified. Despite the contextual differences, they see the two main features of the Arab uprisings being present in Syria: the regime being toppled and the main protagonists being Islamists. This will trigger paranoia and fear in these states about their own regime security.

Turkey and the Syrian opposition groups should aim to alleviate these leaders’ concerns and push them to cooperate more for an orderly political transition in Damascus by making them part of such an inclusive regional platform. Similarly, the EU and the United States should nudge Arab states to be cooperative, rather than disruptive, during this political transition.

Without a regional consensus, we are likely to see the emergence of a broad coalition of Arab states that will try to undermine any sort of democratic political transition—as was the case after the Arab Spring uprisings in the early 2010s—the Gulf-engineered coup in Egypt being a case in point. Unless well-managed, it would be no surprise to see Iran and many Arab states similarly opposing the new order in Damascus.

Syria could become a test for the regional normalization process that has unfolded in recent years, including between Turkey and the Arab states as well as Iran and the Gulf states. The Syrian transition should underpin rather than undermine the ongoing process of regional normalization.

Finally, the EU should not remain a bystander—as it has been—or indifferent to the transformation of Syria. Early engagement with HTS; rebel groups; and key regional actors, starting with Turkey, is essential to help the transition process. It should incentivize an orderly transition through different aid and reconstruction packages. To do this, Turkey, the EU, the United States, and key Arab states should hold regular and structured dialogue on the political transition, reconstruction, and rebuilding of Syria.

Most of the time, what many call the “new reality” is merely a snapshot of a moment in time. The dramatic scenes in Damascus could lead to a more chaotic situation—or they could create a new government that enjoys genuine legitimacy in Damascus. Close cooperation between Syria, Arab states, and international powers is essential to prevent a chaotic outcome and allow for the construction of a new, legitimate government in Damascus.

This is a watershed moment. The U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003 broke the old Middle East, after which Iran and its regional axis were ascendant and the Arab powers were in retreat. The Arab Spring uprisings of 2011 further eviscerated this erstwhile regional order. In contrast, after the start of the Israel-Hamas war and Assad’s fall, Iran and its regional network are in decline, and the balance of power is shifting significantly.

Forging a consensus around Syria could serve as the foundation for a new regional order.