#they will be in three different factory teams next year

[kwisatzworld]

The academy boys suddenly showed up when Valentino Rossi was being interviewed.

[vitalverstappen]

Cassandra - C. Leclerc

summary: when everyone believes you, what's that like?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x platonic teammate! reader

warnings: Mattia Binotto, swearing, some sexist comments

word count: 3k

a/n: in honor of max winning the WDC, i figured i'd post something. in honor of charles finally losing his shit on the team radio, i figured i'd post this. also it takes place during the 2022 season

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

2022 was supposed to be your year. You broke onto the F1 scene in 2020 with Haas after working your way up through F3 and F2, championing both levels of racing with ease. You proved yourself time and time again by consistently placing within the points in a less than superior car. 

That’s how you got the attention of Ferrari. They offered you a one year deal, and you couldn’t turn it down. You were okay with being the second driver, because you were racing for the most historic team in F1. 

Things started out great. The car was a major upgrade from the tractor you were driving with Haas, and the team actively listened to your input and took having a woman in the car seriously.

You and Charles also clicked instantly, which led to some amazing content for the social teams. 

“Anything you need, or feel needs changed, let us know. We’re a family here” Mattia said as he gave you the tour of the Ferrari factory.

You couldn’t have drawn up the first two races any better. Both you and Charles were on the podium and it looked like you two were going to give Max and Red Bull a run for their money in the championship races. 

The downward spiral started in Australia. From the moment you hit the track for the first time, something felt off. The car was sluggish, it took all of your strength to accelerate and brake properly. 

“There’s something wrong with the car.” you told the team, your frustration mounting. “It takes forever to accelerate and then when I do, I can’t break”

“Have you tried leg day?” Mattia asked, a smirk forming on his face, causing you to storm away and find your mechanics. 

The Australian Grand Prix ended up being a disaster. You struggled through the laps, barely able to keep up with the field. The car was just too much of a handful. Thirteen laps in, you hand no choice but to retire from the race. The speed was gone, and your confidence was shot. 

“I cannot believe he looked me in the eyes and said ‘try leg day’” You fumed as you barged into Charles’ driver room. The frustration was evident in every word, your anger still fresh from the weekend’s events. 

Charles looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at your entrance. “Well hello to you too” he said with a small chuckle. “What’s going on?” 

You let out a deep sigh and recounted the car troubles and the interaction with Mattia. “He actually said ‘try leg day’ to me, like it’s some kind of joke. What happened to ‘if you need anything, let me know’?”

Charles listened intently, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Hopefully it was just an assembly issue” he said, trying to ease your frustration. ”Imola should go smoothly for the two of us. We both know you’re a hell of a driver.” 

Imola was next, and that was somehow even worse than Australia. Instead of acceleration and braking problems, the new issue was the engine. It had to be replaced between practice 3 and qualifying, only for the new one to fail during the race in Imola. 

“I have the utmost trust in my team.” You said during your press interviews “We’ve tried upgrades, but they’ve fallen flat. Hopefully Miami provides some better results” 

For Miami, the team had reverted your car back to the original set up, the one it had when the season started. The difference was night and day. The car felt responsive, alive in ways it hadn’t in the past few races. As you flew through all three practice sessions and qualifynig, you could feel the weight lift from your shoulders. You had been pushing the limits all weekend, and it had paid off - P2, only behind Charles. Things were looking up. 

The problem now was the strategy. As the number two driver, you knew your strategies were mostly going to be defend defend defend but you didn’t realize how badly Ferrari’s lack of adaptability would come into play 

The race was shaping up to be intense. Charles had led most of it, with Max behind him. You were right behind Max, keeping a steady pace, but always aware of the massive pressure from the drivers behind. Then, when Charles pitted, you thought, for sure, you’d get the green light to battle Max for the lead. After all, you were right there, in prime position.

Instead, the radio crackled to life. 

“Y/n keep defending. Leclerc will be back up there in no time.” Your engineer said

You blinked, incredulous. “I’m sorry what?” You couldn’t believe what you just heard. 

“Defend Max. Charles will be back up there to take over. Hold your position” he repeated as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious?” you barked back, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. “I can overtake him for the lead and you want me to defend?!” 

Before your engineer could respond, Mattia’s voice boomed over your radio “Defend y/n. Team orders.” 

You could feel your irritation building, but there was no choice. Ferrari had spoken. You stayed behind Max, holding position, and waiting for Charles to catch up. Sure enough, Charles had soon found his way back to you, but by that point, Max was far enough ahead that any shot at victory was all but lost. 

Later, in the media pen, you stood with the press surrounding you, microphones, shoved in your face. They asked you the usual questions, but you were still stewing over what had happened. 

“Yeah, I mean the car felt great” You started, trying to keep your tone even. “We reverted back to the original, pre-upgrades and the car showed it’s worth”

The reporter pressed further. “Now even though the car was great, why do you think you couldn’t pull off the win? You were less than a second behind Max, and chose to defend your position instead of attacking.”

A disappointed sigh escaped your lips. You were tired of repeating the same frustrations. “If it was up to me, I would have attacked. I know we would’ve gotten a different result on the podium today. If we had a different strategy, then we would have gotten many more points.” 

“How do you think this result is going to impact the championships?” another reporter asked 

You paused, considering the question. “It could make or break it. There’s a large jump of points between one, two and three, and one thrown away strategy can make or break a shot at either championship. I’m just hoping they don’t mess up Charles’ strategies like they have mine.” 

As you finished your media duties, you made your way back to the garage, expecting to be alone with your thoughts. But to your surprise, Charles was waiting for you.  

“What are you doing here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached

“I, uh, wanted to congratulate you on P3. You had a good race out there” He said sheepishly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

You shrugged, the weight of the day still on you. “I could have won if my strategy wasn’t total shit.” you muttered, your tone flat.

Charles let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it. P1 and P2 would have been great, but strategy isn’t Ferrari’s strong suit” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a shared understanding.

“So I’ve learned.” you replied dryly. “I just hope it isn’t bad enough to fuck up winning either championship” 

He nodded, a look of quiet concern in his eyes. “So do I. I’m terrified my shot at a driver’s championship is gonna slip away” 

Before you knew it, your interview was trending all over social media. Clips of you talking about the strategy missteps were circulating, and the Tifosi and general F1 fans alike were all over it. They didn’t believe you. They thought you were complaining, too bitter about the loss, and some even accused you of undermining the team. The backlash was stiff.

User1: there’s no way they’re going to mess up the golden boy’s strategy. Mattia cares too much about winning to do that

User2: y/n doesn’t know racing. She’s obviously going to get the shit strategy - she’s not charles 

User3: Ferrari needs to get rid of her. She doesn’t belong here #burnthebitch

Before media day in Spain, you got called into Mattia’s office. 

“Thank you for joining me on such quick notice y/n” Mattia said with a smile as you walked in 

You gave him a polite smile as you sat across from his desk “Of course. Why did you call me in?” 

The smile on his face instantly hardened “We need to talk about how you approach the media. You embarrassed myself, along with the rest of the Ferrari staff during Miami.” 

You found yourself fixing your posture and dropping the smile you had previously, prepared to go toe to toe with your principal. “I would say I told the truth on how the race was handled. We could have left Miami with eleven more points, had we gone P1 and P2”

Mattia sighed “That may be true, but we know you couldn’t have battled Max safely. Regardless, that was two weeks ago. We need to focus on Spain now.” 

“Whatever” You mutter “ If we provide sufficient results, I’ll give you praise. If we don’t, I’ll keep mentioning what needs to be done better. Simple as that” 

Spain turned out better for you than it did for Charles. You had finished P4, while Charles was forced to retire. Another blow for Ferrari. 

Both of you managed to score points in Monaco. The car felt good and it seemed like the team was back to how they were at the start of the season. That is until Baku. 

The start of the race seemed like it was going well. The practices and qualifying went well. Charles was on pole and you were not far behind him at P4. But that’s when the good luck ended. Just like the Australian Grand Prix, your brakes were faulty, and this time your clutch wasn’t working. 

“Check the hydraulics - brakes aren’t working again and clutch is out.” You voiced over the radio, concern filling your words 

After a few moments of silence, your engineer’s voice filled your ears. “Seems we have a uh hydraulic problem. You need to retire the car.” 

You muttered a curse as you found a spot to pull your car off. If it wasn’t a strategy issue, it was the car. If it wasn’t the car, it was something else. Something always had to go wrong. 

It was only lap eight and Charles was still driving. You had some hope he could get points for the team and for his championship. 

Throwing on a spare headset in the Ferrari garage, you watched as Charles battled through the streets of Baku. Just as quick as he was driving, the problems with his car also began to show. He had to retire only a handful of laps later with a power problem. 

While Ferrari’s golden boy wouldn’t have a negative thing to say about them during the pressers, you had much less of a filter. 

“You can mark my words that we aren’t winning a championship this year. As much as I want to put faith into our team and our strategies, we’ve shown time and time again we come up short.” 

Instead of your remarks being pushed aside by everyone, you found yourself in the spotlight. All eyes were on you as you walked into the paddock for the British Grand Prix. You acknowledged your team out of respect, and they greeted you back, but you could tell there was tension. 

“Mattia wanted me to tell you that the strategy for today is the same as usual: protect Charles.” Your engineer told you as the two of you sat down for lunch

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why couldn’t Mattia tell me that himself?” 

“He doesn’t think you deserve his time and energy” He said, rolling his eyes 

A scoff left your lips “That’s ridiculous. We’re both adults. He needs to act like it.” 

“You’re telling me” Your engineer muttered 

Before you knew it, it was lights out at Silverstone. The race was a disaster for everyone. While a scary crash had been cleaned up, leading to a restart, another safety car was put out for a stopped car. 

“Y/n box box” Your engineer spoke through your earbuds 

Under the safety car, you were able to pit and get fresh soft tires. When the race resumed, you quickly found yourself behind Charles. 

“Am I defending again?” You asked 

“You are free to overtake, but you must give up the position once Charles gets back up after pitting” 

“You mean Charles didn’t box under the safety car?” 

“Correct.” 

“Fucking idiots” You sighed, but did as you were told. 

Charles easily gave up the front position to you as he headed to the pit lane. You expected him to make a quick comeback in the next few laps, but as the laps ticked by, the gap remained. The radio crackled with instructions from your engineer, and you kept your focus, pushing through. 

And just like that, you crossed the finish line. Your first Grand Prix victory. 

The celebrations were a blur - the podium, the champagne, the flashing cameras. As the trophy was handed to you, you felt a surge of pride, but the weight of the race still hung in the air. Charles had been a force throughout the race, and even though you had won, it felt wrong that he hadn’t been able to capitalize on his pace. 

After the post-race formalities wrapped up, you found yourself in Charles’ room, finally able to breathe. He greeted you with a grin, the kind that only someone who experienced a dramatic race could wear.

“Congratulations! First win!” Charles said, his voice full of enthusiasm 

“You should have fucking won that and we both know it.” You said as you tossed him a Gatorade 

Charles caught the bottle with a small chuckle, cracking it open “You’re fucking telling me.” he said, taking a long swing. “At least Mattia didn’t chastise you on national TV.” 

You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed. “Maybe we’ll both be off speaking terms with him by the end of the season,” you joked, but there was no humor in the situation. “But seriously, what did he say?” 

Charles groaned, clearly not looking forward to recounting the conversation “Basically that I needed to listen to team orders. He was pissed that I was pissed that I didn’t win the thing. Said I needed to trust that the team knows what they’re doing.”

“They know what they’re doing?” You raised an eyebrow “Because the last time I checked, they’ve messed up both of our races this season” 

“Tell me about it” His tone shifted, frustration building, “I need him out.” 

A small grin tugged at the corner of your mouth “Twenty bucks he’s out of his job by the end of the season” 

Charles hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand “Deal” 

The rest of the season trudged along, with highs and lows in the car, the strategy, and the relationship between Mattia and his drivers. There were some days he would be all over their radios encouraging them, while others he would avoid them like the plague. 

And sure enough, once Abu Dhabi came, Charles and Ferrari were so far behind Max and Red Bull that it was impossible to catch up to them in either championship. Mattia announced that he would be stepping down at the end of the season, and you had repaired your rocky relationship with your team, allowing you to renew your contract with Ferrari. 

It was the final time in the media pen this season, and it felt much different. The usual questions about the ups and downs of the season were there, but now they came with a certain respect - respect for the struggles you had endured and for the candidness with which you handled it all. Your honest take on Ferrari’s performance had earned its fair share of criticism, but it had also sparked conversations, both within the paddock and among fans. 

The final question from the reporter hit differently. The interviewer’s tone wasn’t mocking, but rather filled with a certain curiosity. “How does it feel to know that you had called it earlier in the season, that Ferrari weren’t going to win either championship this year?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as you processed it. The emotions of the entire season flashed through your mind: the excitement of the podiums early on, the disappointment after races like Miami and Baku, the frustrations with the strategies, and the battles you fought on and off the track. It had been a rollercoaster, and while it hadn’t turned out the way you had hoped, you were still standing. 

You cracked a smile as you spoke, a mix of pride and exhaustion “Oh, so you guys believe me now?” you said, your voice light but laced with the weight of everything that had happened. “Have a good winter break. I’ll see you in Bahrain” 

It was the moment of closure you needed. The reporter thanked you for your time, before wishing you a good break as well. As you walked away from the media pen with Charles by your side, the season’s tension finally seemed to release, at least for a moment. 

Charles, sensing the mood, nudged you. “That was… honestly, impressive. You know, calling it before anyone else.” 

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess I had a feeling.” you said, shrugging. “At least I wasn’t wrong.”

Charles smirked, clearly tired but also relieved that the season was over. “Let’s just hope next year’s a little less… chaotic, yeah?”

“Agreed.”

[adventuringblind]

Hello darling🫶🏼 I hope everything is okay🥹 I love the way you write, it’s sooo feel so real!

I have a request Lando x fem!reader, were she is Italian and she’s working for another team. So they live this relationship for so long distant, and she can’t go at every race as a McLaren supporter, but , and that’s situation make the things between them very difficult. So at some point, when everything looks like an end, he decide to ask her to live with him in Monaco.

Idk I feel this a little bit angst but happy in the end.🥺🥺

Thanks for all of your works, are amazing😍

Monaco Bound

Lando Norris x Ferrari Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Summary: Lando is lonely, and Refer thinks he doesn't want her around. Turns out Lando just doesn't know how to ask. Featuring Max being blunt and the Ferrari boys trying to be emotional support.

Warnings: miscommunication, Lando is anxious, reader is so confused

Notes: Just so you are all aware, I am getting to requests! I've been working on the series more, as well as my works on AO3. Sorry it's taking so long, everyone!

Masterlist

Everyone says long distance is difficult. And when your partner needs physical contact and quality time, they really aren't joking.

Her and Lando had been making long-distance work for the last year and a half. Her living in Italy for work and Lando living in Monaco. Sure, they see each other in at races, but working for different teams really doesn't help anything.

Hope came in the form of teleworking. Finally, they'd managed to make it so she could do work from home, working remotely from the factory.

Did she tell Lando? Yes. Was she hoping to move to Monaco with him? Also, yes. But she also didn't want to just straight up ask him. That could make him uncomfortable, and then it would be awkward. Instead, she leaves it alone. Patiently waiting for Lando to maybe ask her.

On the other side of things, Lando could not decide whether his girlfriend simply isn't into him anymore, he had done something wrong, or she's just shy. He wants her to come live with him. To the point where he has broken down over in when he's alone in bed at night.

The next race weekend, he caught her talking with Charles and Carlos. Knawing insecurities creeping their way up his throat. He avoided all three for the rest of the day.

No phone calls were answered. No texts responded to. Always going to opposite direction. Was he being petty? Possibly, but he needed to think this through.

That night, he's shocked when Max comes knocking at his door. Lando opens the door and greets his friend cheerfully. Max though, looks solem.

"Wanna talk about why your girlfriend is acting like she's killed you?"

Lando's face dropped. "What?"

Max shoves past him and takes a seat in one of the chairs at the small table. "Carlos and Charles are worried also. They tried consoling her, but she's hysterical mate. Thinks you don't love her or something."

Again, Lando's face drops. She thinks he doesn't love her? She believes she did something wrong? He's misread this situation entirely.

"I- I thought that - that she was falling out of love." He admits. His face turns away from Max to the floor.

"She was raving to Carlos and Charles that she's finally able to work from home and wants to live in Monaco with you, but you hadn't asked."

"Why didn't she ask to live with me?"

"Maybe she didn't want to seem rude?"

And suddenly Lando is running out the door. Sprinting to his car to get to the hotel he knows she's staying at. With the room number she'd given late last night when she arrived.

It's a blur, really, the trip from point A to point B. He doesn't come back to reality until he's staring at her door. He can hear the muffled sobs on the other side.

He knocks. She opens. They collapse into each other.

"I thought you didn't want to come live with me."

"You idiot. Of course I want to live with you! I love you!"

"I'm your idiot."

Does she move to Monaco? Yes. Is Lando like a koala bear clinging to her every second of the day? Absolutely.

But she wouldn't trade it for the world.

[nordschleifes]

chapter one — likes y cicatrices

➝ 2024 looks to be charlie's year, both on and off the track. hoping for an even better season than the previous one, she is certain that fernando's third title is within reach. however, it also brings thoughts about which future she wants with her boyfriend.

➝ word count: 3,4k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author's note: finally, the second part of charlie and fernando's story is now available for you all. updates will be released regularly, with the next one expected in november, as i’ll be at Interlagos at the end of this month. i hope you enjoy it, and by the way, happy birthday, charlie!

As she stood in the entranceway to the Aston Martin F1 factory, Charlie Whitlam couldn’t shake the strange feeling she had — it almost felt like her first day there. She flexed her fingers, hands jammed into the pockets of her black coat, trying to keep warm in the January breeze filtering into the building’s vestibule. She bit her lip nervously, trying to tell herself there was no reason to be so nervous — she’d been with the team for three years now, that was just another day in the office. 

But she was, mostly because of the man next to her, typing something quickly on his phone before putting it in the pocket of his green jacket

— They're coming — Jimmy said, as he picked up the camera hanging around his neck — You remember what you need to do, right? ?

— Greet Fernando and walk down the corridor next to him, right? — Charlie replied flatly, her eyes glued to the factory's entrance door.

— Well, yeah, but try to make it look natural. People will notice if it looks too staged, you know? 

— I'll greet him the way I always do.

— By kissing him on the mouth?  — Jimmy said, making her snort.

After the two weeks she had spent in Oviedo with Fernando, Charlie returned to the factory only to discover that her and Fernando’s relationship had become the topic of most of the workplace gossip. Articles in tabloids and on F1-related news blogs about her and Fernando,, as well as the picture that Fernando had posted of her on Instagram, graced the screens of almost every computer and smartphone at the Technology Center. 

When she returned to work following the Christmas holiday, she noticed that her colleagues treated her in a markedly different way, especially when talking to her one-on-one, almost as if they were trying to hold back asking her about her and Fernando’s relationship.  

It was irritating, to say the least.

— What, you really think I would kiss a driver on the mouth?

— You already do, don't you? — Jimmy retorted, cocking an eyebrow.

— I mean, sure, but not in a PR video. 

—  It’s not like it would be that weird. We all knew.

Charlie shot the team’s art director a glare.

— What do you mean, ‘we all knew’?

The man smiled. 

— Okay, at least the marketing department knew.

— How on Earth would you have known? 

— Because we saw all the photos I took of the two of you  last year. In fact, I saved some really great ones for TikTok…

— You’re not going to turn my relationship into material for a TikTok, or whatever. — Charlie said, bluntly — I'm here to win races, not to be the subject of some F1 romance story… I’m not some lovelorn idiot. 

— Sorry, I just see what the camera sees, Charlie — he said, causing Charlie to glare at him  — And there's no point in looking at me like that, it's true! You two look like two idiots in love…

Charlie clenched her jaw and turned her attention back to the door, feeling a bit uncomfortable. It wasn't like she wasn’t in love with Fernando — it was quite the opposite — but the way her coworkers’ view of her had shifted made her uncomfortable.  It was as if the person she was — the professional, the engineer — before her and Fernando’s relationship went public had been erased, leaving only Fernando Alonso’s Girlfriend in her place..

Simply being known as someone else’s girlfriend wasn’t in her plans.

— They’re here — Jimmy said, as a green Aston Martin DBX707 pulled into the drive at the entrance. He fiddled with one of the settings on his camera — Remember, make it look natural, okay?  

As she watched the passenger-side door of the SUV open, Charlie felt her stomach jump when she saw Fernando climb out. He said something to the driver as he got out, and had a bright smile on his face. It was the same smile he had before he kissed her that morning as they woke up in bed together at her flat.

As he passed into the entryway, Fernando walked towards her as if there was a gravitational pull between them. Charlie took her hands out of her pockets, preparing to greet him professionally, yet casually, as Jimmy instructed, but as he drew closer, Charlie felt like she was suddenly stuck, her mind blanking on what she was supposed to do. It was clear the driver felt the same way.

— Hi — Fernando said softly, after a few seconds.

— Hey.

There were a few more beats of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite. It was familiar, almost as if they were alone, her eyes saying everything her mouth couldn't say.

"You look stunning today".

“I wish I could have stayed with you in bed longer this morning.”

"I love you".

— That’s it? — Jimmy asked.

They both glanced at him, clearly confused.

— What do you mean? — Fernando asked

— Is this the way you greet each other?

Charlie looked at Fernando hesitantly. It was obvious they didn't greet each other like that, especially when they were alone. When Fernando arrived in England two days earlier, after nearly three weeks away from her, she had given him a… Much warmer welcome.

— Well, no — Fernando admitted — Last time, she was wearing something much more… Interesting.

Charlie’s eyes widened, and she playfully punched him in the arm.

— Fer!

— What? I didn’t lie.

— Jimmy doesn't need to know that…

— Not even that we didn’t go to the bedroom…

— No — Charlie said abruptly — That’s something else he doesn't need to know.

Jimmy couldn’t hold in his giggling, which made her a little uncomfortable. Charlie hated being seen as a joke. She didn’t mind joking around with her coworkers, but she’d always been a bit sensitive to being the butt of the joke at work, given that she was almost always the only woman on her team.

However, she swallowed down her discomfort. There was no sense in making a fuss, not right now.

— Okay, if we can't greet each other the usual way, how do you prefer, Jimmy? — Fernando asked, as he took Charlie’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, as if he sensed that she could use some support. 

— Well, certainly not the way you just did — he said, looking at his camera . Then, he looked up at the two of them — Seriously, that was weird. I can’t use any of that. 

— Are you sure? — Charlie asked

— Absolutely. Now let's try this again and, please, try to be natural.

It took three more takes to get something that was convincing without being too wooden.  During the second take, Charlie stretched her hand towards Fernando, intending to shake his hand, but instead, he proceeded to envelop her in a hug. When Jimmy finally declared that he was satisfied with the footage he’d gotten, Fernando couldn’t resist the urge to give Charlie a kiss to her temple.

They walked side-by-side through the corridors of the factory toward Charlie’s office in Engineering. Mercifully, Fernando’s presence caused a bit of a buzz in the office, as her coworkers gathered around to talk to him, having not seen the driver in a few months.  

 Charlie, grateful for the distraction, sat in her cubicle, not paying attention to Fernando or the interested questions from her coworkers. She still had a job to do, after all.

She was still lost in her own thoughts as sat at her desk, her eyes eventually finding the photo of her with her grandfather, Jamie, both of them smiling with the disassembled engine on the kitchen table. Charlie had always loved that photo, because of how neatly it summed her up as a person. She loved cars and engines, a love given to her by one of her grandparents, who both treated her as someone worthy of love and affection, not a mistake or a burden.

— Oh, there’s nothing in here with me — Fernando said, jolting her thoughts back to the present.

— What?

— There’s no photos of us.. Not even on your computer.

Charlie felt her cheeks heat up as she realized that the picture of the car on her computer’s desktop wallpaper was the AMR-22, with the number 5 on its nose. She hadn't even thought about changing it, which was all the better, given that she would like to keep her relationship as private as possible.

— I didn't want to give the others a reason to talk — she murmured.

— Well, now that they're talking anyway, I think we can leave discretion aside, yes? — Fernando said, taking a pen and a green Post-It pad from her desk. He smiled as he scribbled a message on the top sheet, before peeling it up and sticking it next to the photo of her and Jamie.

The handwriting was clumsy, a little slanted, but the words were clear, the meaning filling Charlie's chest with something warm and overwhelming.

“Te quiero, tu Fer”.

— Better this way, right? — he asked, with a small smile.

— Much better — Charlie replied.

They chatted a little more before Fernando announced that he was going to the simulator.

— Good. Once you get to grips with the new car, we need all the feedback you can give us.

— Do you want a full essay, or just a summary? — he asked, sarcastically

— On a Power Point — Charlie replied. It made him laugh, which made her heart feel quivery.

— Do you think I'm George, to do that?

— Well, you two are close, I wouldn’t be surprised if he taught you how to make them — she said, grinning.

Fernando playfully squeezed her shoulder in response.

— Unfortunately, I haven't had my class with him yet.

— What a shame…

— But I'll make something, if that's what you want.

— Perfect — Charlie said, as Fernando gave her a delicate kiss on the forehead before he turned and headed towards the hallway that led to the simulator, Jimmy following diligently behind.

Not for the first time, she wondered how Fernando — or any of the drivers, really — managed to put up with the madness of having attention on them constantly. Even at their office there was a microphone or camera trained on him at all times.  Charlie had asked him about it once, mostly wondering how she would deal with the reflected limelight she would get, but he simply said that “he was already used to it” and that she “shouldn’t worry about it”.

“Why shouldn’t I worry, Fer?”, she thought, clenching her jaw. 

The first time that Charlie got an idea of what Fernando’s day to day life was like was  shortly after he posted the first photo of them on his Instagram. In the comments of the post,he saw hundreds of comments saying that she wasn't as pretty as the other women he had dated, that she was just an “amigaALO” or worse, that they should have a “mini Nano” soon. 

The idea sent a shiver through her body.

She was thankful for the foresight she had to make her profile private, and that would not be changing any time soon.

— So, it looks like you didn’t die? — someone asked, the tone of their voice joking and light. Turning her head, Charlie found Raúl looking at her, leaning against her desk.

— Not yet, if that was your expectation.

— Maybe not an expectation, but I thought there might be a chance — the performance engineer said, crossing his arms — See, with you out of the picture, I might be able to step into race engineering.

— I'm sorry to frustrate your plans — she said, giggling.

— Although, if there's anyone who can deal with Fernando, it's you — Raúl smiled.

— You think so?

— Definitely, especially now that you've become Mrs. Alonso...

Charlie rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

— Not Mrs. Alonso…

— Not yet, Charlie — Raúl said — But it's a matter of time...

— If you say so — she said, turning her attention to her computer screen to glance at her email inbox. Then, Charlie looked back at her colleague — Now, can we talk about work?

— Of course… Mrs. Alonso.

The rest of the day was dedicated to correlating all of the data from aerodynamics and from simulator sessions done by Felipe and Stoffel earlier on in the break. It wasn't a simple task, especially when Fernando was starting to adapt to the new car, with a long simulator session that afternoon. The data was all over the place, and everything was still very unpredictable. 

It was already dark outside in Silverstone by the time Charlie decided she couldn’t focus any more and it was time to go home for the evening. . She thought about asking Fernando if he wanted to go with her, but spotted him recording something on his phone next to Jimmy, so she decided to let him know via WhatsApp that she would be waiting for him back at home.

The drive to Northampton was uneventful, with traffic much calmer than at other times of the year. However, unlike the motorway, Charlie felt like there was a miles-long traffic jam in her mind, complete with cars honking and drivers shouting things at each other, all because of what Raúl said. The Instagram comments were one thing - she didn’t know those people, after all, but she worked with Raúl's every day.

Charlie expected it when she and Fernando decided to start dating, as suddenly as all of it came along — she had anticipated being the subject of scrutiny from people around the world, across news sites and social media, but knowing that she was under similar scrutiny from the people she saw every day was worse. 

She knew Raúl probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying — that there were so many people watching them, full of expectations, wondering if she would be the woman that would finally make Fernando Alonso settle down and put a ring back on his finger, if he would finally trade his steering wheel for pushing a stroller. It was even deeper than that, she’d seen the news articles about him and his former relationships — soon, she’d see questions about whether or not she would be the one to give Spain the next Alonso to stand on the top step of a Formula 1 podium. 

“Is this how Diana felt?”, wondered.

As she stepped into her flat, Charlie kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag haphazardly on the sideboard in the entryway, sinking into her sofa with a sigh.

The funny thing about thinking about all that was that Fernando had never talked about marriage or children, not even before they started dating. It probably wasn't even something he was considering at that moment or in the near future or even with her. 

Charlie had long decided that she was not fit to be a wife or mother, especially given her history with her own mother. She never had any desire to have children. She was sure it would eventually come up and she and Fernando would have to talk about it, but she didn’t know how he would react. He’d made comments to the media in the past about being a father, and he was married a long time ago, but… Perhaps keeping those ideas away from them would have taken the driver a while to realize that she wasn't the person his fans expected her to be.

Maybe keeping those ideas away would keep the end at bay.

Charlie smiled into the darkness of her sitting room as she felt a lone tear run down her face. She felt pathetic, crying over possibilities and scenarios that only existed inside of her head, even more so to get upset about what Fernando’s fans would think of her. After all, Fernando was not in a relationship with his fans, and it shouldn’t matter what they think. But, at that moment, she felt crushed by expectations that were both known and unknown to her.

Running a hand over her cheek, she took a deep breath, trying to push down the lump that was tightening in her throat. Inside her own head, Charlie could hear Hannah, her therapist, telling her that she needed to keep her focus on what was real in the here and now, not on some imaginary ring or a baby in her arms. What was real was that they loved each other.

“And that’s enough for me”, Charlie thought to herself.

She was putting the finishing touches on dinner when Fernando finally arrived at her flat.

— Nena? — he called from the doorway.

— Kitchen.

A few seconds later, he appeared at the kitchen doorway a wide smile on his face, kissing Charlie on the cheek as he approached. 

— Good evening to you too — she laughed, as she felt his arms wrap around her waist.

— How are you? — Fernando whispered in her ear. She felt the bristles of his beard brush the shell of her ear, sending electric chills down her spine.

— Good, and you?

— Better now with you here.

The sentence filled her belly with butterflies.

— How was it in the simulator? — Charlie asked, trying to ignore the way his beard scratched her skin as he placed delicate kisses on the crook of her neck.

— Very good. I think we have a car to compete for the championship.

She dropped the spoon she was holding in the sink, turning to Fernando. 

— Really? You think the car is competitive? I spent all day working with the data and it felt like it was all over the place… Do you really think we can compete?

— I do. And we will win, nena.

She grinned, feeling like she was much more at ease as she plated up the pasta she was making. She asked Fernando if he wanted dinner, and he accepted, following her out to the dining table. 

However, as she went to put the plate down, she frowned, spotting a large black bag with a red-and-white Bell logo on it. The size and shape indicated that there was a helmet inside. 

— Fernando, how many times do I need to tell you that you can't keep putting your things on the dinner table? — she asked, as she turned toward the kitchen, where he was rummaging through a shelf for parmesan cheese. 

However, upon seeing the source of her irritation, he simply responded with a grin.

— I put it there because I didn't want to forget to show you — Fernando replied, leaving the cabinet open and walking to the table.

— Show me what?

— This — he said as he unzipped the bag theatrically presenting its contents to her. 

The helmet was the same design that he had almost always had, with red, yellow, and blue stripes — the colors of Spain’s flag and the blue of the Asturian flag — the sponsors' names followed the lines, forming a cohesive design. 

— Your helmet?

— The new one, yes — Fernando smiled — I asked them to leave it at the factory for the photo shoots, but I wanted to show it to you first.

She glanced at it for a few seconds, puzzled.

— But it’s the same as last year.

Fernando looked surprised, but his expression gave way to an almost sheepish blush

— Well, yeah, much of the design remains the same, but I added an important detail.

— You did?

He took the helmet from her, turning it over in his hands so that the right side was facing Charlie. She noticed the new addition right away, next to the attachment point for his HANS device. The spot normally occupied by a small cross now had a familiar-looking red rose.

— A heraldic rose? — she stammered.

— The rose of Lancaster, more specifically. It's on the coat of arms of Northamptonshire, in the same way that the Cruz de la Victoria is on the coat of arms of Asturias.

— Why?

— Because I wanted to have something of yours with me in the car at all times. And you know that you are my rose, don’t you?

— Full of thorns?

— Beautiful, Charlie — he corrected her — And with some thorns, but it's not like I'm afraid of them.

The feeling growing inside her was confusing and overwhelming. It was stronger and scarier than anything she had ever experienced in her life, but at the same time, it felt good. So good that she hugged him tightly, ignoring the helmet that had been left between them.

— Thank you, my dear — she whispered.

— I have to thank you, baby.

— For what?

— For making me dream again when I thought I didn’t need to anymore  — Fernando replied.

— Does that mean you dream now?

— Yes. And my biggest dream now is to have you with me forever, Charlie.

Even though she smiled at him, the sentence left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Forever is too long, Fer”, she thought.

[bad268]

18

Breaking News (Part 4)

(Max Verstappen X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope (I had an idea, Mr. Krabs)

Warnings: Language, toxic parents, getting kicked out, Jos Verstappen, song referenced at the end belongs to One Direction

Pronouns: They/them (Third POV)

W.C. 1359

Chapter Summary: A snapshot through three big moments between Y/n and Max's friendship.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

(^Came from 2 pics on Pinterest)

<- Previous Part

June 2003

The Monaco Grand Prix. The best of the best. The pinnacle of motorsport, everyone calls it. Except for one person, in particular, who didn't understand the hype. Y/n L/n, the child of two of the McLaren engineers. The five-year-old did not know what the point of driving in circles was nor did they want to find out. They were never interested in the cars their parents worked on. The McLaren cars were black and silver, not really appealing to a child’s eyes, unlike the bright, shiny Ferraris in the garage next to them.

The family had moved from the Netherlands to England, and this season, they traveled with the team as the parents were moved from factory and design to pitstop crew. Thus, they had to bring the child to every race.

They had just gotten to the track and were walking through the garages. The parents stopped to talk to a fellow group of engineers, catching up, but the child’s eyes caught the red car. Their eyes widened in awe at the size of the car, and they wanted to look closer at it. They raised their hand to tug on their parent’s hand, but the engineer just shrugged them off before going back to their conversation, completely disregarding the child. They huffed in disappointment at the denial of attention and walked over to the car anyway. 

The child walked straight up to the car, reaching out to touch it, but stopping short as they noticed their reflection in the shiny paint. They did not want to mess up the shine, so they dropped their hand into the pocket of the hoodie their parents made them wear. They walked around the car in fascination with everything. The color, the size, the tyres, everything. It’s different from the cars their parents work with, the child thinks; this one looks cooler.

“Wie ben je (Who are you)?” Another child asks the random child in his garage. He did not expect to see another child when he walked out of his father’s driver's room, so he was confused, to say the least.

“Mijn naam is (My name is) Y/n,” they responded as they walked up to the other child who was around their age. “De auto is mooi (The car is pretty).”

“Het is de auto van mijn oom (It’s my uncle’s car),” The child laughed. “Mijin naam is (My name is) Max. Ben Je Nederlands (Are you Dutch)?”

“Nee, maar ik woonde in Nederland (No, but I lived in the Netherlands).” 

~~

January 2014

It started as a minor disagreement between the McLaren engineers and their 15-year-old. The teen was struggling in school. Of all of the subjects they could fail, it was maths, and they were upset that the child was disrespecting their family name. The engineers did not go through all those years of college to have a child ruin their reputation like this.

“What do you mean you don’t understand quadratics and their formulas? What are you? Stupid?” One of them shouted at the teen.

“I’m trying my best, but the teacher doesn’t teach and the examples don’t make sense,” They explained weakly, already predicting how the parents will respond.

“I don’t give a shit!” The other parent yelled, slamming their hands on the table causing the teen to flinch and blink away tears that stung their eyes. “It is your responsibility to know the material. Why didn’t you ask for help before going and failing the fucking final?”

“I did ask for help,” They whispered, “You both said you were busy.”

“Get out,” One of the parents said, shockingly calm as they pointed to the front door. “Get out of our house. No child of ours would ever disrespect our name like this.”

“What?” The teen quickly rose their head, shooting between both of the adults, “But it’s January, and there's a storm! I’ll freeze to death out there!”

“Don’t care,” They responded coldly, turning their back on their child. “Leave before we call the police.”

That’s how Y/n found themself knocking on Max’s window at three in the morning with nothing but a small backpack of clothes on their back. It took a few minutes to wake him up, but once Max saw them on the ledge, he immediately sprung into action, pulling them into his room. Immediately, he noticed the redness of their face and neck. 

He took them over to his closet to give them a hoodie of his, helping them put it on as he saw that they couldn’t grasp the fabric. Their hands were bright red from the cold and Y/n could not close their fists enough to put the jacket on. Even if they could have, they were shaking too much, retreating into themself too much to put their arms above their head.

Max took it upon himself to wrap them up in his hoodie, not pulling their arms through just yet. He also grabbed the blanket he had been wrapped in before letting them in and wrapped it around their shoulders as well. Thinking that was enough, he pulled Y/n into his chest and continuously rubbed up and down their arm, attempting to generate as much heat into them as possible.

No words needed to be said for them to understand the situation. Max knew just as much about Y/n’s parents and Y/n knew of his. Something probably triggered them, and they kicked their child out again, he thought. He just wished they didn’t have to go through this every couple of months. They didn’t deserve it.

~~

May 2016

The Spanish Grand Prix was going to be chaotic, everyone knew this before it even started. Max had been switched with Daniil Kvyat from Toro Rosso to Red Bull, and it was very controversial. Despite the pressure he was facing, he took it in stride and scored not only his first podium but his first win as well. As if he could make a greater impression, he also because the youngest grand prix winner, taking the title from Sebastian Vettel.

“Maxie!” Y/n shouted, running into the garage to congratulate the youngest Formula 1 driver. “That was master class! Bravo!”

“Y/n, don’t you have someone else to bother?” Jos snapped when the teen walked up to Max after the podium. “We need to debrief.”

“I won’t listen,” They laughed, moving past Jos to take a seat behind Max as a form of support and dissuasion for Jos to insult Max’s performance. Just before taking their seat, they stopped to give Max a tight hug, whispering, “Je deed het geweldig (You did great), Maxie.”

Max nods silently as a thank you before turning his full attention to his fuming father as Y/n sits on the couch, turning their attention to their phone. However, the oldest of the group still refused to discuss while the distraction, as he viewed Y/n, was in the vicinity.

“Y/n, this is his job. Leave,” Jos pressed, snapping toward them and pointing toward the door.

“If you’re going to berate him like you do every race, you can do so with me here. Just know that I will be here to comfort and celebrate your son afterward because, newsflash, he’s better than you!” They chuckled, moving to stand in front of Jos. “Max won a race. You didn’t. Don’t come to me trying to criticize his performance when you couldn’t even dream of the things he’s accomplishing. He’s already more than you could ever be, and he’s only 18! You can admit that you’re jealous of your own son; we already know.”

Max and Jos were both speechless, something that didn’t happen often. Y/n smirked to themself as they decided to nail in the coffin. 

“Max Verstappen is a name now. Not Jos Verstappen’s son. He is Max Emilian Verstappen,” They said with a spiteful smile before adding, “You’re just upset that you will never be anything more than Michael Schumacher’s teammate.”

It was at that moment that Max knew he was in love with them, and he was going to marry them.

~~

April 2024

~~~

Next Part ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[batsplat]

I know need to know what the fuck was the honda three rider team about. Bc that sounds made up as fuck

historical silly season: 2010 edition!

in early 2010, casey had very much had enough of ducati

rumours are that he'd already been looking to break his contract for the 2010 season after how ducati had handled the whole mystery illness 2009 saga... releasing inaccurate statements about his condition to the press without his consent, implying his diet was to blame - as well as offering jorge a shit ton of money to come ride for them. crucially more than they were paying casey

this was from mid 2009 and the vibes were already BAD back then... it's hard to know how seriously to take retirement rumours from the time given casey just wasn't. really... talking to the press, so a lot of the times the media was relying on other sources from inside his camp or just wildly speculating

anyway, casey did see out the 2010 season with ducati, but at the start of the year he essentially gave them an ultimatum - he wanted them to rip up his proposed contract and have them show him how much he was worth to them. they did not do so

according to casey, he already signed a contract at the second round of the season in jerez, which gives you a sense of how done he was with all things ducati - but it was only announced after the seventh round in july. the move was made smoother by casey's existing close relationship with livio suppo, who had himself recently made the switch from ducati to honda

very much the right time to make the move for sure. at the time, there was speculation that casey's poor results in the first half of the season was due to decreased motivation, which of course he strongly denied. really, it was the fault of the bike and team - and casey would show as much the following year at honda

one little problem. honda already had two factory contracted riders for 2011: dani and dovi. now, dani had been honda's wunderkind since forever, and after their last world champ nicky hayden - who was not on particularly warm terms with dani's camp, it has to be said - departed the team, dovi had been the chosen replacement. dovi was a long time honda loyalist, even when he was riding their underpowered bikes to championship runner up positions against jorge in 250cc, and he'd also had a highly impressive rookie season

2009 had not been a particularly great year for either factory honda rider, partly due to bike performance partly due to injuries partly due to... rider performance. it was a rough year for dovi in particular, despite his win in tricky conditions at donington (all four aliens deliver quite funny performances at that race in different ways. not exactly the finest of hours for any of them)

when casey's signing was announced, honda initially went 'okay three factory blokes but maybe we'll have two in the real team and then one in a fake team'

the problem, right, is that it costs a lot of money to field a three man team - this is why honda was so keen on the red bull option, because then they could pay for the seat

honda confirmed its intention to have four factory honda riders in 2011, those three and sic, in mid-september. but they still needed to figure out where to put them. they didn't manage to get the funds to put casey in a separate team, and then they tried to put dovi on the satellite squad:

now, dovi was on a 2+1 contract, with 2009-10 guaranteed and an option to extend for another year. the contract included a performance clause - and dovi was having a more successful 2010 season, so hrc was having some trouble forcing dovi to accept the move:

so yeah, obviously not exactly great behaviour to sign a third rider when your team is already essentially full... and then immediately spend the next few months trying to get rid of one of your existing riders who is still entitled to that seat

some more details:

for a while, dovi looked like he might be leaning towards accepting it, and was certainly keen to stress that he wasn't rejecting gresini due to his interpersonal issues with some of the team's personnel. this from september:

eventually, repsol agreed to fund the whole thing so that honda could honour their commitments to all three riders:

so, one team for all of them, if still a wee bit of healthy internal separation

and by november the whole thing was sorted

honda did have some internal precedent for this! in 1997, they fielded three factory riders: doohan, criville and okada

also back in the day they did just create shell teams organised around one rider, which is of course where valentino spent his first two years in the premier class

and here's the updated version from 2011!

anyway, it was only something honda was willing to do for one year, and in the end dovi decided to jump ship to yamaha rather than accept internal demotion. the fight for p3 in the championship went right down to the final race in valencia - and it must have been incredibly satisfying for dovi to snatch it from dani there

after this... look, basically they changed the rules to make it two entries at most per team, then they changed it back for like? two years? so that four riders were technically allowed. and then they changed their mind again. now it's just two - obviously teams are allowed wildcards, but they couldn't do this three man team thing anymore nowadays

teams generally wouldn't even want to do this because it's a lot of hassle and, most importantly, money. so yeah, unlikely to make a comeback. very much a quirky curio that won't be replicated... could be funny though. if they want to change the rules again

[generic-sonic-fan]

Team Dark Week: Control

Summary: Team Dark has an encounter with Sage. For @teamdarkweek.

1587 words, mild warning for Omega-typical gory threats

---

“Take it easy on Sage,” Sonic had said. “She’s a good kid. She just likes her dad too much.”

Shadow scoffed at the memory as he dodged the incoming lasers and the flurry of stingers. After the wasp Badniks completed their bombing run, they disappeared back behind the crest of a hill- a tactic much smarter than Shadow was used to seeing from them. The fizzle of red-black pixels in the air suggested the reason behind their improved cognition. 

Omega charged up the hill after them, swapping from his miniguns to his flamethrowers in anticipation of meeting them over the crest. Rouge flew ahead of him, bomb armed in her hand.

“Omega, back off!” She called out as she peeked over the ridgeline. 

Shadow huffed as, predictably, Omega did not listen. Just before he reached the top, a stampede of motobugs flooded towards him, knocking him over and carrying him along on their backs. 

Shadow skated after them. He blasted chaos spears into the pack, but he couldn’t thin their numbers fast enough to give Omega a chance to right himself. The static of red and black intensified in the air around him, making it more difficult for Shadow to aim his next spears. 

Suddenly, the crowd dissipated, and Shadow nearly collided with Omega as he fell down. After steadying himself, Shadow offered a hand to pull him upright, but the Ex-Badnik didn’t respond. 

“Omega?”

“Hey, what’s wrong? Where’d everybody go?” Rouge called out to him. 

Omega’s optics flickered. Once. Twice. The red-black particle effect still hung in the air. Shadow stepped back. 

Omega rose from the ground as if he’d just stepped off the Badnik production line. 

“Back off!” Shadow waved Rouge off.

Omega’s voice box let out a static shrill, before a different voice emerged from his frame. “Unnecessary.” 

Sage’s hologram emerged from Omega’s chest. 

Shadow’s blood boiled. 

“What you’ve done with this E-100 series unit is quite strange.” Sage stated, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “Its processor is extremely disorganized. A factory reset may be necessary for it to regain its efficiency.”

“Let him go.” Shadow snarled. 

“You refer to this Badnik with he/him pronouns. Is this of its own determination?”

“Let him go!” 

“I shall update the database to reflect this.” 

Shadow glanced at Rouge, who nodded and took out her scanner. Wherever Sage was, the drone allowing her to project her hologram and exert her control this far away from the Eggnet couldn’t be far. But before she could get a reading, Sage snapped her attention to her. Omega’s arm raised from his side and reconfigured into his minigun. 

“Land immediately or I will fire.” Sage commanded. 

Rouge dropped to the ground, landing in a kneeling position beneath the tall grass.

“Well, well, what’s this? Some new trick of yours?” She stood with a smile. The scanner was nowhere to be seen. 

“Negative. I can exert control over all Robotnik hardware.” Sage replied. “You have seen me exhibit this ability numerous times. This should not surprise you.”

“Okay, let’s talk.” Rouge put her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do with Omega?”

“Unit E-123 Omega has been logged as missing in the database for three years. All units are instructed to destroy Unit E-123 Omega as long as doing so does not conflict with any other given orders.” With a flick of her hand, Sage made Omega put away his weapons. “Father did not elaborate beyond that when I inquired on the subject. I was unaware that Unit E-123 Omega made such frequent alliance with you and Shadow. I shall update the database to reflect this.”

“You’re not going to destroy him. I won't let you.” Shadow replied. 

“I only intend to capture Unit E-123 Omega. I will bring him back to father to be repaired.”

“Like hell you are!” 

“Phrasing not recognized. Are you expressing disbelief?”

“Listen, sweetheart. Here’s how this is going to go.” Rouge snapped. “You’re going to let Omega go, or I’m going to go pay your daddy a very unfortunate visit. You got that?”

“The only one who your visit will be unfortunate for is yourself. By forewarning your intent to sneak into his current base of residence, I am able to lock down all feasible methods of entry, including the ventilation system.” Sage floated closer. 

Omega’s frame shuddered. Sage flipped around and clenched her fist. More particles came off her. 

“His processor is in absolutely disarray. It is imperative that I bring him back to father to be repaired.” Her voice shook.

Omega’s frame went still again. His arms were raised from his sides, bearing his miniguns, with one pointed at each of them. 

“Please do not resist. I am sure you will see him again.” Sage said before disappearing.

Shadow spin-dashed into Omega’s frame. 

The impact knocked a swarm of red-black particles from his processor. At this, Omega’s optics regained their signature flare. He put away his miniguns and, with his own fist, he punched his head plating. 

“Where is she?” Shadow yelled to Rouge.

“I got her!” Rouge plucked the scanner from where she’d hidden it and took off in the direction of a line of trees. 

Omega’s next swing at his own head was stopped just inches away from his plating. He charged Shadow with claws extended. With a whispered “chaos control”, Shadow disappeared and delivered a kick to the back of Omega’s head. 

Another shudder. It was working.

“You are damaging Unit E-123’s processor with your attacks. Cease your hostile actions immediately to prevent further damage.” Sage said through his vocalizer. 

“Let him go!”

Shadow launched a bolt of chaos energy into Omega’s back before Sage could turn him around. The explosion knocked him forwards and he slid across the grass, which wedged stalks into every crevice of his plating. For a moment, Shadow pictured his spread of parts littered throughout the grass, rusted and forgotten. He screamed in rage. 

“It is clear this is causing you distress. Why do you continue?” Sage asked.

Shadow ran towards Omega as he tried to stand and slammed him back against the ground. 

“Stop. Stop!” Sage cried. “You are acting illogically. He is your ally, yet you are destroying him. Explain why you are acting this way!”

“Ask him, if you care!” Shadow replied, before charging another chaos spear in his palm.

“Very well.”

Omega went still. Shadow dissipated his spear. Sage’s hologram appeared once more, this time sitting on top of Omega’s back.

“He is refusing to answer my queries.”

“Then let me ask him!”

With a gesture from her hand, Omega’s voice box crackled online. 

“-WILL TEAR YOUR MAINFRAME TO PIECES AND INFECT IT WITH ORGANIC WASTE MATERIAL!” Omega screamed. “I WILL LOAD YOU INTO A KITCHEN BOT AND FORCE YOU TO WATCH AS I FEED EGGMAN HIS OWN ENTRAILS!”

“Omega, tell Sage why-.”

“I WILL SOONER DEACTIVATE THAN BECOME EGGMAN’S SLAVE!”

“You would not be a slave.” Sage replied. “Because of your advanced stage of sentience, I would advocate for-”

“You won’t be able to convince him otherwise, so let him go or I’ll be forced to destroy him.” Shadow hissed. 

“It is unfortunate that you both believe that.” Sage made a silencing motion with her hand before Omega could speak another syllable. “Shadow, I would like the opportunity to show you and him that nothing of the sort would happen.”

“Let. Him. Go.” 

“I will defend him from you. He is evidently a long lost brother of mine, and while you are also family, I will not let you destroy him. That is my warning.”

Shadow summoned a chaos spear from the burning in his chest. Its energy buffeted his quills.

“Do not-”

Sage’s hologram flickered out of existence. A cloud of red-black particles spilled from Omega’s frame, dissipating up into the sky. Shadow stepped back, though kept his aim steady.

“DO NOT FIRE.” Omega said, his voice quieter, but otherwise free from static or any other deviation. “HER CONNECTION HAS TERMINATED.”

Shadow shot the bolt into the sky, and its flash blinded them both until it dissipated. 

Rouge came flying from the trees. In her hands she held what remained from Sage’s projector drone. “Come on, boys! Let’s go before she comes back!”

Shadow pulled Omega to his feet and pushed the Ex-Badnik ahead of him. His rocket boosters shuddered, before roaring to life, and Shadow followed. Rouge led the way, although they were not following the path back to base- soon the landscape changed to orange hills and green palm trees. 

Rouge had landed and knocked on the door to the workshop before Shadow and Omega pulled alongside her. Tails opened the door with his welding mask still on his face.

“Oh, hey! Why the- oh.” He went quiet when he saw Omega. “Come on in.”

Omega pushed Rouge aside and stomped over to Tails’ computer. He found a data cable from the nearby tangle of wires and plugged himself in. He stared at Tails.

“Is he. . . feeling okay?” Tails asked Rouge.

“He needs a security update. Now.” Shadow replied. 

“Oh, hey! Didn’t see you guys come in.”

Shadow turned around to see Sonic standing in the door frame. 

“Wow, Omega, you look a little ‘grassy’, if you catch my drift.” Sonic strolled further into the workshop. 

“Take it easy on Sage. She’s a good kid.”

Shadow ignited his skates, grabbed Sonic by the arm, and slammed him against the ground before throwing him against a palm tree outside. 

[bikefuckersoftheworldunite]

Wayne Rainey’s interview with Cycle News, 1997

When I'm watching a race, or when I'm watching qualifying, and I'll see a look on a rider's face, I'm analyzing a situation to what I think it is. I'll watch a corner and I'll say, "That guy's off-line there. Did you see that?" I'll see that stuff. It's all so clear to me how it needs to be done. But most of the people that I have to be around don't see what I see. So sometimes it's frustrating to me that I can't be out there doing it and sometimes I'm pulling that in because, it's just like if you just did it like this the people, riders can't comprehend or understand that. There's a lot to this analyzing that would take all day. It's just that I'm different, I guess.

This is the truth.

This is Wayne Rainey's life the past few years in his own words, what he's been through, how he's coping. Being in a wheelchair hasn't slowed him down as much as it should have. He still puts in 17-hour days and most of those hours are devoted to racing. Making his team better, making his riders better, making himself better. It isn't easy being Wayne Rainey, it never was, it never will be. He possesses that defect in his personality known as perfectionism. It must be viewed as a defect only because he lives in an imper- fect world that he can no longer control as he did when he was winning three 500cc World Championships in a row, and nearly four. "Riding for me is both a blessing and curse," he believes, and he means it. He asks of others what he asked of himself and cannot understand why you would want to give less. "He's the most amazing person I've ever met," says his team manager and good friend Tim O'Sullivan, whose previous vocation involved dealing on a regular basis with brain surgeons. No one ever beat Wayne Rainey by outworking him and they never will.

Every year brings a new challenge. First it was winning championships as a rider. Next it was winning championships as a team owner. He started slowly, but soon found himself in a very high-stakes rivalry with Kenny Roberts, a friend he considers a brother. Now that Roberts has moved on to his own project, Rainey is the standard- bearer for Yamaha and his job is to restore the factory to the glory that he afforded it as a rider. It won't be easy. But for Wayne Rainey, it never is.

Let's start with Marlboro. What happened to the sponsorship?

There's a few different stories I've heard from each different guy, three different Marlboro guys. But the one I think I have to rely on is that there was a budget cut, because that was the most senior guy that told me that. That came on the 20th of January. The 20th was a Mon- day. They said there was a budget cut on Friday.

And they called you up and said...

No, I was just making my weekly call. I usually make one on Monday, one on Wednesday, and one on Friday. And that was my Monday call. And it was like 6 o'clock their time in the evening. I guess they weren't even going to tell me that day either.

When they called, did they tell you at the time that it was a budget thing?

The guy who told me didn't know why. He was just told that there's nothing there for you. And so I called the higherups and asked what happened. They said, "Well, we had a budget cut." "You guys just recently had one?" "Yeah, we're sorry." So I didn't have much time to think about it. I had a team to put together so I was on an airplane the next day to Japan.

What did Yamaha say?

They, officially, I don't think have ever been told by Marlboro that there's been a separation. They were pretty upset about it because I had told them all along that Norick (Abe) looks good and there was never any question about that. That budget for Norick always came from (Phillip Morris) Lausanne (Switzerland). Because that was my (Tetsuya) Harada budget that was there the year before and that budget didn't change, the numbers on that. The only thing that we were trying to put togeth- er was the second rider. And I believe that what Marlboro was trying to do was get the second-rider program sorted out. Kenny (Roberts) and I just didn't know all the way through if we were going to have sponsorship. We were talking weekly too. So they started throwing (Jean-Michel) Bayle's name around with me and a proposal with Bayle at the beginning of January. I didn't like that so much because I thought that was Kenny's only leverage he had to keep his sponsorship. So I refused to speak to Bayle about it. When they made the decision, Kenny didn't know either if he was going to have it or not. I think Yamaha coming on board just shows that they're serious about Grand Prix racing. It was a big push on their part to keep the team going and just get on with it.

Was there any chance that they could have just said, 'No, we can't afford it."

They could have very easily, I think, if they would have had some more teams to choose from. We had never ever geared up for NO from Marlboro. We just kept planning like the Marlboro thing was going to happen. And when it didn't happen they were pretty much in a corner. It was either do it or we have to stay home. Within 15 minutes of me being there they did it.

When did you decide on the second rider?

About half an hour after that meeting. I had told them, being so late, we need a second rider. And they weren't really gung-ho on a second rider. And then I told them the problem that I've been having for the last couple of years is having one rider and not having a back- up for the riders to have some kind of rivalry in the team to push each other. And I said the only guy I'd really want to put in there would be Sete (Gibernau) because of the job he did for us on the 250, and he's a good-size kid and he speaks very good English and we'll bring him on to test. They agreed with that philosophy and so far it works well.

Did your money last year come from Marlboro Italy?

Loris's (Capirossi) money did, not Harada's. Harada's came from Lausanne, which was (Norick) Abe's budget.

What do you think the team has to offer to Marlboro?

The Yamaha factory effort. Abe, myself. It's a good image.

What is it they get by sponsoring you? Do they want to win races or do they want to sell cigarettes?

I don't know. I think when I raced for them they wanted to be on TV. Okay, after my accident they haven't been on TV much and I think that's the philoso- phy behind Phillip Morris, they want to be racing for the top three and that's what we were hoping to do with Abe this year is to get him up on the podium because this is his third year. Abe's a young kid, he's flashy, he's fun to watch, he's exciting. If you look at Mick Doohan, he's not real exciting, but he wins. But you can pretty much write down what he's going to say each time and with these young guys coming up it's exciting and it's a good image for Marlboro to get in behind. You've got the factory effort and you've got my experience and you have these young guys. I think there was quite a lot to offer. I don't know what else you can offer.

Maybe someone who speaks English?

(Abe) does speak English. In Malaysia we did a Marlboro press conference and he spoke English there. I told him if you're going to do this thing, if you want to have a better chance for your career, you have to speak English. He did it. He was nervous. When I asked him, his first comments were in Japanese, then he changed them to English. He's making an effort at it.

There was also a story that Marlboro came back to you at some point.

Well, it wasn't Lausanne, it wasn't Switzerland that came back. They've always been in charge of sponsorship, they've always been the center of the world. It's getting a bit tougher for the Europeans now. The Asian people came back, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Japan. They still wanted to keep the relationship with Yamaha and myself and Norick. So we did a deal with them.

But it wasn't for full sponsorship for this year. Lausanne didn't want to sponsor the whole team for this year and next?

I don't know where Lausanne stood on the whole thing. All I know is that I said no to them because they came to us two weeks before the first race. They made a decision January 20th and I haven't looked back. I've gotten trucks painted, everything's done.

What did they offer you two weeks before the first race?

It was the Asian group that came to us. And they said, 'Hey, we want you.' You guys were involved in the decision.

They were?

That's what I thought. They didn't know about it. Not at all. They still want to keep that going. They're enthusiastic, they want me to work on their Indone- sian program. Right now they like what they're hearing and they like what we're doing.

So that's why they're sponsoring you in Indonesia and Malaysia.

Right.

Any reason why they're not here (at Suzuka)?

Japan is its own market. There's a European branch that does worldwide sponsorship. And so then Malaysia and Indonesia are out of Hong Kong and they wanted that relationship. They didn't say no, they wanted it. And Japan is its own market. It's not part of anything else. It's like a third party.

Let's go back to last year. When the year started it was full of promise. You spent the winter with Loris Capirossi. It didn't work out as well as everyone had hoped. What went wrong?

I think there was a variety of things. One, Loris, he was World Champion in his first two years. He went from being a working man every day to being World Champion status and he missed a few years of labor, what the real world's really like, and the team catered to him before and pretty much took care of everything. Coming to my team, being with me, I was used to doing my own program. I trained my way, I developed a certain way, and it made me really strong. And when he came to my team it all worked really good, he understood the whole thing. But then he had a few accidents. I think he fell off nine times and some weren't his fault, some were. I think when he went home the star status wasn't as strong as it used to be and he started lashing out. I wasn't used to that. I was used to bearing down and reaching inside myself to find a little extra to pull out, but one thing that I've learned since my accident is that I did it my way and nobody else does and I see why I was successful. Most of these young guys come up, they get paid a lot of money and they don't want to work at it. And he had to reach inside to go find out what was wrong, and that's something I'm not going to push. I want a guy that's going to come to the team and wants to work at it. And that's what I've got with my two riders now - I feel that they're working hard. I think Loris just...he was worried about his career. Second or third year not thinking that he was going to be as sought out after as he was before. The beginning of the year was great, everything was on a roll. We had some good results. But in the end you could just see the fire going down. I wasn't used to that. I didn't really know how to respond to that because me being a racer was always wide open or nothing. It was completely different for me to do this.

He wasn't happy with the way the team was run?

I don't know if it was so much the way it was run as what he felt he needed out of the team as far as bike setup. He didn't really lash out at me so much. Every time I was hearing rumors about him being unhappy, he'd say, 'No Wayne, everything is fine.' But he was afraid to confront me, I guess. And then we'd read in the press, especially after he left, that the team didn't do what he wanted. It's hard to get the team to do what you want if you don't tell the guy who can make the changes. So, he wasn't honest with me at all.

What did he want? Anything specific?

All I know is that he wasn't happy with his mechanics. I went over each guy and he said, 'No problem, no problem.' I didn't know at that time that he'd already made a decision to leave. This was a couple of races towards the end of the year. I'd seen that there was a change and I was trying to get out of him what he needed. He had a deal with Aprilia that was a certain amount of money for three years and he wanted to go back to doing it his way, I guess.

Would you do anything differently?

No.

How about with Tetsuya Harada?

With Harada I could sense the frustration in him because of the tire problem. Yamaha didn't push that 250 thing real hard and I saw that. I could understand that, but I didn't understand some of the things he was doing on the race track by just riding around. I've been in those situations and I pushed hard, no matter how bad it was. And there were times that I rode my stuff that it was just impossible. But that's me. I can't expect that out of everybody. Especially the results that I had, from the outside they probably look like Wayne's thing was pretty good most of the time. But a lot of the times on Sunday morning, man, I had to suck it up and go after it.

Do you think that since Harada wasn't in the championship he wasn't willing to try as hard?

I was explaining to Harada, we could have a tire advantage and we could really make Max (Biaggi) upset if we keep pushing that advantage. I said, 'Hey, we're on a tire nobody else has.' But, again, I was thinking that was an ideal situation. I was trying to sell it to him and it worked, it worked for a while. In Indonesia, we won. He just flat out out- rode them. Here (at Suzuka), the Michelin should have been terrible here. He was pole position and he was a second behind and in three corners he caught right up, but Max sucked him in there and he fell off. And as soon as he fell off and he hurt himself a little bit, he was just like, some of the stuff that he was telling me is that "Wayne, I've already been World Champion. I don't need to go out there and prove myself anymore." And I said: "Yeah, you do, you do. When you're World Champion you've got to keep proving to everybody that you're World Champion no matter what situation you're in. If it's bad, you've got to do the best you can. But if you're going to ride around in 18th, I'm not used to that." I said, "All you're doing is hurting your career riding around in 18th."

But the tire choice was a bit controversial. You tested at Shah Alam, back to back, the Dunlops and the Michelins. They tested Dunlop in November and in December they tested Michelin. I wasn't there for that test. He was sold on it. Isn't that a track that favors Michelins over Dunlops, generally?

Probably. It's temperature. But 250s aren't hard on tires. It's more of a profile thing. Dunlop has always been quicker than Michelin in the 250 class, even in Malaysia. So, after the Malaysian test he liked the way the bike turned and he thought that there was a lot of promise there.

And he made the choice?

He didn't have the choice. Yamaha was pushing hard for Michelin. And Marlboro and Yamaha were tired of hearing about tire problems. Put the same tire on as everybody else, and to make everything smooth we went with the 250 tire. But Harada wasn't happy with it, honestly wasn't happy with it. But again, he could have been. The philosophy was working for a while until it threw him off. Then he wasn't willing to work anymore.

What was the final straw that caused him to leave the team?

He never said, "I'm leaving." I said: "Hey, Tetsuya you're riding around. I bring all these guys here and we need you to put the effort in." And he just couldn't do it. And I just said, "Hey, it's okay. Why don't you just stay home and I'll put somebody else on the bike. I know you're not going to push." I said "You've worked hard to get where you're at and we'll put somebody else on it." I think he was quite happy with that.

You knew at Barcelona that he wouldn't be back.

We had Sete (Gibernau) testing at Czecho. His (Harada's) last race was Imola. With Tetsuya there was no effort left. I had to fulfill the contract, but I didn't want a guy out there riding around. Especially when we had done some tests and I was talking to him and I could see that he just gave up and it just wasn't worth it to me to watch all that. I needed to give somebody a chance that was willing to ride it and do the best they could and Sete was the guy.

So the season ends, and you start thinking about this year. When did you make your rider choices?

Abe was always there. Everybody knew that, Marlboro, Yamaha, myself, Kenny knew that, that Abe was coming two, three races from the end of the year. We won the last race, but I knew something was up because Loris was just so distant there. He tested the '97 bike on Monday and I could just tell he maybe needed a break. He just wasn't the same kid; he was real distant. Then I got a fax saying he left the team. That kind of surprised me because Loris and I were pretty good friends and we'd worked good together. He and I never had a problem, but then he left. I had Abe and we were just wondering who the second rider was.

Who else did you talk to?

At that stage, the first people Marlboro had me talking to was Max (Biaggi). But I kind of got in the same position with Marlboro with Max as I did with Mick (Doohan) and Marlboro. With Mick, Kenny had a contract (with Marlboro in 1995). So I was talking to Mick, and Marlboro said we need a letter of intent so I got that. I was talking to Mick in '95 and Kenny had a contract with Marl- boro in '96 already done. It was already done. That's why I chased Mick because I wasn't taking nothing away from Kenny. And Marlboro said you need a letter of intent from Mick because he's done this a lot to us before. I'm thinking, well, that's news to me. So I got a letter of intent signed, everything was done. I did everything that Marlboro had asked.

Then Marlboro went to Kenny at the very next race and said, "You need Mick Doohan." After they had already seen everything that I had done. They knew that I had him. So that's when they were going to give me Loris. And Mick stayed at Honda because it got real cloudy after that and I just said, "Hey I don't want no part of that." It was kind of like what happened with Max. They said talk to Max. And Max was going: "You know Wayne, I hear you talking to me and stuff and Marlboro, they're also telling me to go race a 250. I'd like to ride a 500 but they want to keep me in 250." They had talked for a month. I felt like they were doing the same thing to me with Max. They'd say, talk to Max. As soon as you hang up the phone, they'd say, "No, no, you're going to ride a 250." So I said, "Well, what do you want me to talk to Max for?" That was the thing that was going on that just didn't make sense. And they said Max is not an option, talk to Luca (Cadalora). So at the end of November, beginning of December I was talking to Luca. Through this, Marlboro comes up and Luca wanted a lot of money to ride for Marlboro. He figured that there was a lot of money there for him, but there wasn't. I tried to tell him that.

You were always critical of Luca, both as a teammate and afterward. How could you hire him?

Well, I was talking to him and I was telling him why I was critical, which was pulling in when things weren't right. Or Luca, "What's it going to take for you to beat Mick Doohan?" With Luca, I don't hide that fact at all. I wasn't real high on Luca. I was really excited about Abe. But if it helped to sell sponsorship maybe I could work with Luca. This was all going to be up front with Luca and the stuff I was talking to him about, he knew I was critical of that stuff. I'm not afraid to tell people. The thing is, that I'm a racer still, I can't race no more. When I go to a race track I'm there to race. And I let everybody around me know that we're not here to make money and say hi to the crowd, we're here to win and everyone's got to do their job. And maybe that's where I'm different than other people. Maybe I push hard and stuff, but I don't think I push that hard. But looking back on what I did and how I pushed and how I got the team to do it a certain way, maybe it's a little bit hard on these guys. I don't know.

So how do you change that?

By example I guess. When I fell off at Donington, I had a concussion. I figured out a way to race the race and make something happen. But most people aren't like that. Most people are going to go out there and race and go, "Well, if I get a good start maybe somebody will make a mistake and I'll take advantage of it." That's just the way I thought about racing. It consumed me and there was never any compromise.

But you can't teach that, can you?

No you can't, you can't. It's hard. It's different now. I was never satisfied. I see a lot of young guys coming up and their salaries have to be there. For me to get motivated by money, I don't need it. I enjoy coming to the race track and I enjoy trying to help the riders and com- ing up with possible scenarios that could happen in the race and seeing it pan out. I was just talking to Ralf Waldmann yesterday and he was talking about his hand and stuff. I said, "Hey, Max can make a mistake this year," and he made one the very next day. That's the way you've got to think. With some people you get done talking to them and they say, "What's that Rainey talking about?" I don't know. I just look at it a lot different than everybody, I guess. I've had to tone down some things, and some things I'm not willing to.

Like what?

When I'm watching a race, or when I'm watching qualifying, and I'll see a look on a rider's face, I'm analyzing a situation to what I think it is. I'll watch a corner and I'll say, "That guy's off-line there. Did you see that?" I'll see that stuff. It's all so clear to me how it needs to be done. But most of the people that I have to be around don't see what I see. So sometimes it's frustrating to me that I can't be out there doing it and sometimes I'm pulling that in because, it's just like if you just did it like this the people, riders can't comprehend or understand that. There's a lot to this analyzing that would take all day. It's just that I'm different, I guess.

Can you accept what you have to accept? And for how long?

Yes and no. I accept the way I am now as far as what my life is because this is the way it is and I can accept that. But there are some things that happened in my life that I'll never accept. Some of it's personal and some of it is right here in front of me. Some of it's complicated, some of it's black and white. Sometimes I got to the race track... For instance I was in Phillip Island this year and I got very emotional because I just miss being out there on a motorcycle. I didn't miss the pressure of racing for a championship, that I'm over. But I do miss the physical thrill of riding a 500. I was watching Mick (Doohan) and I thought, "I know exactly what he's doing out there." It was nice to be able to watch Mick and relive that moment again. It was tough to sit in a wheelchair and watch it for sure.

But there are other times when you don't want to be out there.

Yeah, I have to be very, very patient right now, much more than I ever was when I rode because live got to realize that I raced for 28 years, or whatever it was, and how I did it, I was successful doing it all the way until the very end. I've got young guys now that if I tell them to change their line two inches, they're going, "How do you change two inches, Wayne?" I think, yeah, well, that's true. They wouldn't understand two inches because they're riding within 12 inches. I was so precise in what I needed that sometimes I showed up at a race track and I couldn't use the line I wanted until Sunday morning because the track wasn't clean enough yet. And that line I wanted to get to wasn't there until I kept chipping away at it for two days. Most people don't understand that, but that's how I thought about it.

And you haven't been able to find anybody that will go about it the same way?

I thought with Loris I got a guy that's wanting to do it and I was showing him some training stuff and I thought, "Wow, this is great." But, then reality set in and it really came time and he had to dig in on his own without me, it just wasn't there for him. That hurt me a bit because I was kind of trying to live through Loris a bit, and I did for a while. But when it stopped happening it was a real reality check for me that I have to be more patient. It wasn't like I was out there screaming and yelling. I was just like, "You should try that, you should try this." When it came down to it he just didn't understand and most people don't.

There are times that you're not even 100 percent sure that the way you did it was the right way. You didn't know when to back off.

That's true. You can get riders and most guys to a certain level pretty quick. You can show them the basics and they'll excel. But to really go past what I can feel or say they have to be willing to go out and search for it themselves. That's something you can't teach and that's desire. And that was my strong point. Not having it good all the time and trying to make something happen. But when I lined up to go out to race or out to qualifying I knew that I was going to be trying. I just feel that I was at a certain level in my life that consumed me that I can't get right now and it is frustrating, it really is. And I think the only way that I can get that is by riding again. And sometimes I just have to watch and stay back and let it happen and sometimes it's no fun at all.

Is there anyone out there who you see who's as committed as you are?

Mick's (Doohan) the only guy. The only guy I see that I can see is doing it right is Mick. And, I think he's doing a great job staying motivated and having fun and he's the only you can say, "You're doing it right." Because the other guys are just waiting for Mick to make a mistake instead of trying to push him into a mistake.

Do you ever point that out to your riders? Do they know?

I think the general thought when it comes to Mick is that we're racing for second. That includes (Alex) Criville. They're not racing Mick, they're racing everybody else. (My riders) see Mick doing it. He's flicking it a certain way and he's keeping it on line. And my guys say, "Well, I can't keep it on line." I say, "Mick does it right there." They say: "Yeah, but Mick's stronger. He's physically tuned his brain and muscles just to ride that 500." Well, you're not going to get there. You're not strong enough and it's going to take you a few years to get strong enough. They want the result now, they don't look it as a race by race thing. It's like if they don't have it today then we've got to change something else. I don't know what you're going to change.

What about after Mick? When he retires, what happens then?

I think it becomes exciting again. I think with Mick out of there I'd get new life. There's a lot of guys who are a couple of levels away from Mick. Everybody I think just races for second, but with Mick out of there it's exciting for them to talk on TV again and for us to go, "Hey, maybe we've got a chance this weekend." Mick's talking about racing another year. I said, "Why don't you race the 250 class or something?"

That's another change this year. How much different is it being able to concentrate on just one class this year?

It's wonderful. I can sleep in a little more because I don't have to get up. My day starts at 6 and ends at 11 every day. And most of that is just getting prepared to get up and getting prepared to go to bed. That 250 thing was a completely different set of circumstances, problems. The team was completely separate from the 500 team, the engineers, their particular problems, completely different than the 500s. There was no camaraderie between the two teams. And so I'd put on my red hat over here and mess with the 250 team and then I'd go out in the garage and come back in and change teams and go work with the other team. It was a lot of work on my end. You're trying to keep everybody motivated, because that's what it was - it was work. Keeping everybody motivated. And when I rode it wasn't work, it was just, this is the way it is. And, again, it's me understanding how everybody does it.

You've said that Tetsuya and Loris were completely different to deal with. Tetsuya could motivate himself more, at least in the beginning.

Tetsuya is really, really strong mentally when things are right. But when it's not right he's three-quarters throttle. I believe you have to be even more full throttle is when things are off a bit because the rider is going to have make up 70 percent of the deficit that we have. And Loris, he rides all on lap time. If the lap time's good, he's happy. But if it's not, it's like, fix it. I can't do it. If I could fix it, I'd be in my leathers.

Was that 250 Yamaha as bad as it was made out to be?

Yeah. It was electrical failures and seizing up on the warmup lap. I think at the end there Yamaha just gave up on the 250 thing and when they saw the effort Harada was giving they just went: "Hey, he's not trying, we're not going to try." Let's work more on this 500 thing. Kenny beating up on Yamaha in the press was hurting me and my sponsorship thing with Yamaha and Marlboro. I'm trying to do a good job in the 250 class and trying to protect the interest in the 500 class and I think both of my efforts suffered because of the effort Yamaha was giving.

But Kenny's always beat up on Yamaha.

Kenny's always beat up on Yamaha, but we were winning. Kenny said, "You know Wayne, we keep winning on that thing we're not going to get a better bike," and he was right. But I'm the one riding it and I didn't have a choice. And we would get in some huge arguments over there's no way that we can win on this thing and then we'd go out on Sunday and win. Kenny would go, "Wayne, how are we going to get a better bike?" But I didn't have a choice. But, now, the situation that he was in, and I was in, is that we could beat up on Yamaha all we wanted, we weren't going to win. I think Kenny convinced some people that that was the case and I knew all along that we needed the riders, the riders had to suck it up. Because. the Yamaha got so much better because they weren't winning the last couple of years. You can ask Mike Sinclair on Kenny's team about the Yamahas, a good rider could win the World Championship on it. Kenny's own guy would say that.

How's Yamaha's position changed from last year to this as far as development?

The problem we were having with Kenny last year, Yamaha and myself, was Yamaha wanted Kenny to stop all of his development. And there was some friction with Yamaha and Kenny. So then Yamaha was in a delicate position because they had Rainey Marlboro and Roberts Marlboro and if they showed more favoritism to me, they'd say Kenny's got this big team and you need to support him so Yamaha had to hold back. Whatever they give me they didn't want Kenny to have because I think they believed Kenny was doing something else. So, my effort suffered from Yamaha because they were trying to protect their sponsorship with me. It was really difficult with what Kenny was saying with Yamaha and the way things really were.

How does that translate to development?

For instance we showed up at a test and as soon as we started the bike Kenny's guys come over and said: "What's this? Oh, you guys got differ- ent cylinders on it, where's ours?" Kenny'd make a phone call to Marlboro and Marlboro would say: "Hey, what are you guys doing? You're helping Wayne, you're not helping Kenny." That's what I mean. We could develop, but with Kenny in there we couldn't do it.

So this year how's it different?

I tell you, it's been a joy. The way Team Rainey is now with Yamaha is a lot better for me because I don't have any controversy with taking something away from Kenny or Marlboro jumping in with, "How come the bikes are no good?" Now Yamaha has been able to develop stuff on Sete's bike, which is why he came, to develop. And it's really good, really good. Yamaha's putting a lot of money into it so we've got make sure it's right when they build it. We don't want to go off in some direction that's wrong. Right now we've got some new stuff that going to be really good when we get to Jerez.

[moonspirit]

Moon, hello-hello 💚🌿

Hope you're doing well, and sending you some (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～❄️❄️ for the Christmas mood~

So, about the Christmas mood... What are your thoughts on Ambassadors Christmas "party" (in quotes because I don't think they would do as "party-party", you know, but I have no idea how to make it otherwise...) ?

What do you think they would gift each other, how would they spend their time? Knowing this chaotic team, some hilarious stuff would totally happen :D

Anyway, I hope you'll have fun with this, and have wonderful *timezone*, Moon (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з🌖 ⁠)

Hello Anna chan :3 Thank you so much for asking me this because HAHAA I had a complete laughter fit thinking of how fucking WRONG the Ambassador's first Christmas is going to go xD

For starters I'm just going to assume the Paradis boys are new to the concept of Christmas and that they celebrated something different back in Paradis during the winter. So, Santa Claus? Never heard of him but omg, seems like a great guy! How do we sign up for presents?!!!!

(Pieck tells them they have to become members of the Elven Association first and sends them on a wild-goose chase around town to find the Elven Lord for the sole benefit of her entertainment)

Reiner meanwhile, makes the mistake of taking up the role of Local Santa Claus for the kids in the neighbourhoods, and honestly? fair? The dude is LORGE and can do a great HO HO HO. Giving him a pillow-belly and an itchy beard turns out to be the best idea the local government has ever come up with in its 300 year history of failure.

However... it is a mistake. Dude is LORGE, remember? His first delivery and he gets stuck in a chimney.

In the middle of the Christmas market, Annie, hoping to be left alone in undisturbed peace and a chance to try out the sweets in the stalls, accidentally ends up following a cat to an abandoned street where a group of very misunderstood angry kids lurk in conspiratorial conversation, and sensing a sort of sisterhood in her similarly arranged resting bitch face, they convince her into dressing up as Krampus.

Basically this thing, the opposite of Santa Claus. For funsies and to kidnap children.

They have high hopes that Anniepus will be able to terrorize the town on their behalf because Christmas is for the happy and weak.

Unfortunately... Anniepus ends up being a very small Krampus and nobody's frightened of her as she skulks around town searching to put children in her bucket. Not like she really cares tho. She just wants those goddamn sweets 🥲

Update (very late into the night): Reiner is still stuck in the chimney and his itchy beard is starting to give him a rash. Not that anyone can see tho, the chimney is dark!

Update (from somewhere very far away, on a snowy cliff overlooking a big chasm, great snowstorm blowing): three boys, dressed in worn out clothes, holding staffs, squint wistfully into the swirling wind. "Is that him? The Elven Lord's abode?"

(it's a bush)

Update (sometime later and somewhere else): Anniepus is stealing collecting cats from children and putting them in her bucket.

Update (even later into the night): Reiner's sleigh driver is getting tired of waiting for his Santa and incurring heavy parking fees.

Update (from the next continent): Three boys, scruffy and homeless, chase after an ostrich. "Elven Lord, please let us join your association!"

Update: Anniepus starts a cat cafe.

Update: The local government deploys a crane to get Reiner out of the chimney. It is a failure. The crane cannot lift Santa's booba.

Update: The boys are in the South pole. They come across penguins and believe they've arrived at the Elf Factory!

Update: Pieck gets bored of everything and opens a sexy santa-girl strip club <3

[cellythefloshie]

;; Baggage Chapter Two of Cool for the Summer

Table of Contents Chapter One «« 🤍 »» Chapter Three

Summary: Andrei arrives in Winnipeg for what he intends to be a summer of training. That is until he finds himself distracted by the girl next door, Harper. TW: No triggers apply. Word Count: 4k+

This chapter to be read in conjecture with @hockeyboysimagines I Loved You Three Summers Chapter One.

Winnipeg, Manitoba, was one of seven Canadian cities that an NHL team called home. Many players formed their opinions about the city: it was too cold, the hotels and accommodations were often less than satisfactory, and the city was too boring with little to do outside hangout with your teammates in the hotel room or at dinner. And after only a few years in the NHL, Andrei knew that all to be true. The winters were cold. The waters at the hotel had run cold. If it hadn’t been for his brother playing for the Winnipeg Jets, there would have been nothing for him to do during their one-night stay during the regular season. But in the summer, Winnipeg seemed different. 

The golden glow of a golden hour that he had seen as the place descended over acres of farmer’s fields that building by building became the small city still lingered as he loaded one back, and then the next into the trunk of the taxi that was waiting for them at the airport. Andrei followed Seth’s lead, climbing into the back of the cab and watching as the city evolved around him on their way to Seth’s childhood home on the opposite side of the city. 

The airport became factories, factories became shopping centers and apartment buildings that grew in height until they were towering office buildings in the heart of downtown. Hiding between it was, was the arena he had played in, and then it was all left behind as they were driven to the communities on the south side of the city. 

The houses there were stout, humble, and not quite new enough that one was a carbon copy of the next. Each house had character, with sprawling yards in the front, and Andrei was sure more in the back. It was the kind of neighborhood that kids played street hockey in, and mothers grouped together in walking groups with their dogs and babies before going back to the porches for a glass of wine while husbands cooked on the barbeque. The thought made him smile, even if just a little. It wasn’t home, and it was only temporary, but it would do. 

“That’s it, on the left,” Seth pointed out the window towards one of the larger homes on the street, one with two stories and a long driveway that sat side by side with their neighbors. Two vehicles sat fender to bumper, rusty and in desperate need of a replacement, but his eyes only lingered there for a moment as he got out of the car and rounded to the trunk to grab his bags. 

Andrei was much more interested in what was going on next door. Crammed into the narrow driveway was not one white Jeep Wrangler, but two, and they were both blocked in the driveway by a large U-Haul box truck. Its large frame blocked out the hot, setting sun, but the shadows of the two young women that stood at the back of the truck still stretched across the pavement. Both blonde, and both pretty, they seemed to be conversing there as they unloaded the boxes - the taller pointing into the back of the truck while the shorter was gathering something - a box - from inside. The pair exchanged the box, and it gave Andrei a good enough look at them to conclude one thing: they were sisters. They had to be. They looked too alike not to be. 

Before he could ask Seth about them, the taxi door was slamming, sending his gaze snapping back towards the road before a cheery shout of, “Seth’s home!” had his neck snapping back to the truck, but now, the taller of the blonde’s stood alone, with the smaller nowhere to be seen. Putting the box down at her feet, she jogged down the driveway - her blonde ponytail swaying back and forth against her shoulders with each stride - and she didn’t stop until her arms were thrown around Seth’s shoulders. 

And Andrei just stood there, one bag held in his fist while the other sat on the ground at his own feet, and he watched them. At first, if only because of the smile Seth wore as he welcomed her close, Andrei thought that maybe, just maybe, this was a girl Seth had used to date, or at the very least hook up with. But they hugged and spoke like family. 

“Look at you, mister NHL superstar,” her tone was teasing as she drew back, a bit of a hop in her step as she sunk her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. 

“Hardly,” Seth laughed, a single hand reaching up to push through the tangles of his dark hair. He was grinning, but his shoulders slouched - a little embarrassed, maybe. “Where’s Maddie?”

“Uh?” the blonde hummed, her body turning to look back towards the U-Haul and the front door. “I don’t know. She was just right here.”

Andrei’s eyes fixated on her mouth as she spoke, her lips full and caught somewhere between a smile and a frown, as if each corner would downturn the moment he looked away. He shouldn’t have starred, but he was captivated by the complexity of her expression. Her smile spread so widely into the fullness of her cheeks, but there was no light in her eyes. Only a heaviness in the hazel hue that had Andrei’s shoulder slouching and neck craning forward as if he could get a better look at them. As if he were imagining the storm in her eyes that clouded over the radiance of her smile. 

“Ah,” her smile altered, her nose wrinkling as she took a step back, “who’s this?”

Seth brought an arm around, his hand patting up against Andrei’s back firmly as he made the introduction, “my teammate Andrei, he’s going to be staying with me for the summer.”

“Lucky him,” there was an uncertainty in her tone, her eyes looking him up and down once and stopped once their eyes met again. 

“Luckier now,” Andrei spoke after a moment, a hand reaching out into the space between them. He had a tightness in her stomach, one he couldn't shake. He had made her uncomfortable with the staring, he knew it, but he couldn’t look away, not as Seth gave him a nudge and questioned him silently with a thick raised brown. “Seth didn’t mention having a sister-”

“No, no, not my sister,” Seth spoke quickly, raising his hands, almost as if the mere idea offended him, “Harper and Maddie grew up next door. She was my babysitter.”

“I don’t believe it, you look so young” Andrei grinned wide, his words laced with a low laugh. 

“Babysitter, not his mother. I’m not ancient,” Harper countered, her hand reaching out to shake his hand as it waited for her to hold between them. 

Her delicate fingers slid along his, meeting calloused palms and his careful but firm hold. Her touch left him holding his breath, hiding the excitement that sent his heart racing in the depths of his chest behind a calm smile. Andrei shook her hand long and slow, the thought of letting go not once crossing his mind until she leaned him, offered a soft smile and spoke, “you think I could get my hand back now?”

“Yes,” Andrei’s eyes went wide, his hand letting go of Harper’s as if it were now suddenly as hot as flame. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” she spoke, taking a step back, her first step of her accent up the driveway, “I’ll ah-” she hummed, her hand reaching up to rub the back of her neck, and Andrei watched it all still staring, shameless, “I’m going to go check on Maddie, let her know that you’re home. I’m sure she just ran inside to get something-”

Andrei’s eye didn’t leave her once as she stumbled back over her sneakers towards her front door. And he smiled a dopey grin as he took in the full sight of her. Harper wasn’t just a pretty face. She was petite and lean, but not in a fragile, feminine way. Harper was strong. He could see it in her muscles as she picked up the box she had abandoned in the driveway, and in the hop in her step as she jogged towards the house. Then she was gone, lost beyond what waited for her beyond the front door. It was then, with her out of sight, Andrei felt the force of Seth’s hand knocking him against his chest. 

“What was that man?” Seth was grinning as he reached down to grab his own bags and began to lead the way to his own front door. 

“She is very pretty,” Andrei smiled, following in his path, all the while looking back towards the door of Harper’s house. 

“Yeah, well,” Seth pushed open the door, his own words interrupting their conversation as he shouted out, “Mom, Dad? We’re home!”

Seth kicked his shoes off in the doorway, nudging them to the side with the toes of his dirty socks. Andrei did the same, tucking his sneakers to the side on a free space on a cluttered shoe rack before taking quick strides to catch up to Seth who was leading the way to the quest room that Andrei would be calling home until they went back to Carolina in September. 

It was small, with nothing more than a queen sized bed and a dresser for him to pack away his things. It wasn’t much, but it would do - especially with a distraction like Harper next door. He wouldn’t need much else. 

“Well?” Andrei pressed as he threw his bag down at the end of the bed, making himself at home. “Harper…”

“Last time I heard? She’s getting married in August-”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Without a hand to reach back for it, the front door slammed into its frame, leaving Harper to jump away from its firm rattle as it set her on course for her sister’s bedroom. One the way, she abandons what she considered the final box of her moving trip at the top of the basement stairs, and she doesn’t waste her time taking off her shoes - not when she will still need to run boxes to the storage locker she was renting on the outskirts of the city. But first, she needed answers. 

Taking the stairs going up two at a time, Harper hopped onto the landing and called out to her little sister, “Mads?” 

She paused, waiting for her to call back to her. Madison said nothing. 

Brows furrowing, she craned her neck to peer through the door that was left open just a crack. Anyone else would have considered it closed, but to Harper, it was an invitation to let herself inside. Looking one way, Harper looked over an unmade empty bed, and looking at the other, she found her sister seated at her desk, one leg brought up to hug it against her chest, while she appeared occupied. But Harper knew her better than that. Madison was just trying to look busy. 

Harper sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest, her lead leaning to rest against the door frame. If their father was home, she would have walked right in and closed the door, but it was just them in the house and he wouldn’t be back until the early hours in the morning. They would have more than enough time to talk; “What was that all about?”

“What?” Madison didn’t look up from her desk, instead she reached out for something Harper couldn’t quite see, and toyed with it in her fingers. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Madison,” Harper’s tone was firm, caught somewhere between concerned sibling and mother. It was one of the harsh traits and realities of growing up without their mother - and growing up the eldest of two daughters. 

“Harper,” Madison countered, the smile in her voice almost enough to leave Harper groaning. 

Did she really have to be so difficult? Though, was Harper really in the position to push her way back into her sister’s life? She had been living on her own since she was eighteen, and was only now moving home almost a decade later because of her own mistakes. Mistakes Madison had not one clue about. They had grown so far apart there were parts of her life Harper was sure Madison couldn’t even fathom. Maybe that fact went both ways. 

“You can’t hide shit from me, you know that,” Harper reminded. Before, when she was still at home, and they were still close, they told each other everything. And even when they didn’t, they always found out. “I know something’s wrong.”

Pushing off her desk, Madison swiveled in her seat. “You always were the smart one.”

“Smart?” Harper raised a brow as she pushed up from where she propped herself against the doorway and moved to sit at the end of Madison’s bed. “Sure, but that’s got nothing to do with it. I know you, and what happened outside, that’s not normal.”

Seth and Madison, they had been inseparable since they were in diapers. There were pictures on the walls and buried deep in photo albums to prove it. Harper knew that better than anyone - hell, she was the one that was stuck babysitting them both until they were old enough to be trusted alone. Even then, her father - and Seth’s parents - often had her chaperone. She had attended too many middle school dances in her lifetime to admit and even more hockey games. But Harper would do anything or her sister - and Seth, but only if he asked nicely. 

“Fine,” Madison sighed, “Can we keep this between us, though?”

Harper only nodded, scared that saying anything else would leave Madison second guessing her decision to tell her anything. 

“Last summer, things got kind of…” Madison sighed, her head hanging on her shoulders and sending her long blonde bangs into her eyes. A single hand raised to fix them as she spoke. “Weird I guess? We were at this party right before he left for camp-”

Harper’s stomach sunk, her head spiraling with every worst possible outcome, and every protective instinct sent her nerves raw. 

“He was with some girl. It just pissed me off, and we had a fight.”

She shouldn’t have been relieved by what she heard, but Harper was letting out a long sigh of relief all the same. Then, she sat there for a moment, her fingers picking at her own nail beds as she worried that Madison might not like the conclusion she had reached with the little detail she had offered her, “was that fight with Seth because you were jealous.”

“No,” Madison scoffed, “I was just mad he was with another girl?”

Harper’s head cocked and her eyes narrowed. “That’s what jealousy is, Mads.”

Madison blew out a breath and let her gaze fall to her feet. “Whatever, so yeah,” she spoke quickly, “I’m just not ready to see him yet.”

“Holy shit, Mads,” Harper couldn’t stop herself from letting a smile spread over her features, “are you telling me that you like Seth?”

“I think so. I mean, why else would I get upset like that if I didn’t? Right?”

“Right,” Harper nodded, “I baby sat both of you for such a long time, and I would have never guessed it’d come to that. But maybe I’m not as good of a sister as I thought I was…” There were a lot of things Harper wasn’t good at anymore. She wasn’t a good daughter, a good sister, or a friend. Most days, she wasn’t even good at being herself. “Do you think he likes you?”

Madison’s shoulder shrugged, and Harper couldn’t help but to smile. Suddenly, she felt like a teenager again. A teenager just trying to help her little sister through the mundane pressures of middle school and puberty. When the troubles were nothing more than getting a bad grade on a test, what jeans were in fashion and crushes on boys. 

“Last time I checked, the answer was no,” Madison sighed, but was quick to turn the table on Harper. If there was one thing the Alexander sisters were, it was supportive of one another. “And don’t say that. You’re a great sister.”

“That was last summer. Could be different now. He’s had a whole season away, and a lot of time to think about how things ended between the two of you.”

“Maybe-”

“Talking to him might help things, or at the very least put things at ease between the two of you. And if he doesn’t know how you feel, he can’t act on any feelings he might also have. You know?” Harper smiled, but it was quick to waiver. She was the last person that should be giving any kind of relationship advice. “I’m sure you don’t want my advice, though. I’m not exactly a love expert these days.”

Madison’s frown mirrored her own, but for a different reason. “I always want your advice. You’re the smartest person I know, and you’re my big sister. Don’t ever think for one second I don’t value what you say, or want your opinion.” It was the heart to heart they needed, and it was punctuation with a mischievous smile and a playful, “bitch.”

It was the very word they needed to break out into laughter. Harper lay back on her sister’s bed with open arms. She welcomed her sister from her perch on the chair, the two of them laying together in the bed for a moment as Harper stared at the ceiling. Her eyes burned with the emotional acid that were tears. Refusing to look at her own sister was the only way to keep her sister from seeing them. She had missed moments like that. She had missed what it felt like to have someone for support. Harper had missed her sister more than she had realized. 

“You’re smart, kind and beautiful, Mads,” Harper did her best to keep her voice calm, “if a guy can’t see that, then he’s dumb and not worth your time. And that still applies, even if it’s Seth. The guy should know how amazing you are by now.”

“You’re smart, kind and beautiful too,” Madison reminded her, “and someday a guy will see that… Like that hottie in the driveway! WHO was that?”

Nope. Was the first thing to cross Harper’s mind at her sister’s words, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t feel beautiful, kind nor smart, or if it was that she didn’t want to talk about the very awkward encounter with Carolina Hurricanes forward, Andrei Svechnikov, in her driveway. He had stared a little too long, and maybe so had she. His voice was so deep she could feel it in her bones as he spoke, and her hand? She swore she could still feel it wrapped around hers as she flexed it even then, as it was empty. 

He had left her feeling more than she had in the last month, though she wasn’t exactly sure what it was she was feeling. So she settled on being confused, and not saying a damn word about it. “He’s Seth’s teammate, Andrei I think-”

Kissing her sister’s hair, Harper peeled away from the hug and began to move for the door before she could feel her sister’s pressure to divulge any further. What could she divulge? Harper didn’t actually know. Their encounter had been brief, but she had seen enough to support her sister’s question: he was very attractive, albeit young. But she wasn’t going to admit that. Not Maddie, not to anyone. 

Andrei was far too young to have her thinking anything like that. 

“Anyway, I have some boxes I need to unpack,” Harper hummed, her hand grasping at the door frame to whip herself from the room while calling out behind her, “and I’ll be ordering pizza for dinner. My thank you for helping my dumb as move back in!”

Then, before her sister could question her on it, Harper raced down both flights of stairs and was forced to stop in her tracks at the bottom of the second flight. What was once the basement she and her sister performed self-written plays for their father in, and also doubled as a mini-sticks rink was now a collection of piled boxes, and a new IKEA bed built and shoved awkwardly between furniture that has been around since the 90s. This would be her new bedroom. There was still much more to be done. Table to move, her boxes to unpack, and sheets to wash. It all seemed like too much, it all an overwhelming, suffocating feeling on her chest as Harper stood there surrounded by it all. 

Her palms began to sweat, and a hand raised up to pull at the collar of her shirt that was nowhere near her neck. It was the new beginning she needed, even though she hated that it had to come at the ripe age of twenty-seven. This wasn’t where she was supposed to be, living in her father’s basement, but it was where she needed to be. 

Harper had accepted that. 

But Darren hadn’t. 

Her phone vibrated in the tight pocket of her rights. It had been buzzing on and off throughout the evening as she had unpacked the U-Haul, but it was only as she stood surrounded by the mess that was her life that Harper had the time to answer it. Even then, she almost didn’t when she was her ex’s name on the call display, but she wanted to give him the closer he seemed to so desperately need. 

“Hey,” her voice croaked, “what’s up?”

“I just got in. You left your keys on the counter? And I can’t find the-”

Harper’s eyes shut tight, a single hand raising up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. Darren knew this was happening. She didn’t know why he pretended he didn’t. It was only going to make it more difficult for the both of them. 

“I moved out the rest of my stuff today, Darren.” Harper did her best to keep her voice firm. They were over. That needed to be clear.

“Harp-”

“Don’t!” Her grasp tightened around her phone, her heart racing in her chest, and her stomach on the verge of lurching. At first, going back home was just to get space. Harper had spent weeks sleeping on the sofa, trying to work things out, but there was no healing for Harper. Their problems were only solved temporarily, or only seemed to exist for her, not for him. She was tired, living each day in resentment while Darren lived each day, loved and taken care of. 

Harper wanted that same respect. 

Darren promised it. 

It never came. 

“Don’t call me anymore. Goodbye, Darren.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Winnipeg was cold until it wasn’t. Even in the early days of summer, Andrei could feel it. The heavy sweat on his skin that came with the thick humidity in the air. It should have reminded him of Carolina nights, but his place back home had a temperature control that didn’t rely on an old, rickety air conditioning unit that was wedged in his window. It rattled and stalled before roaring to life again when the heat became unbearable. It left Andrei tossing and turning on what would have been a comfortable bed if it weren’t for the heat that surrounded him. 

Blankets were tangled between his legs, shoved to one side of the bed and then the other before joining the pillows on the floor and leaving Andrei laying in nothing but his boxers in the bed. It wasn’t enough. He needed to cool off somehow. 

Groaning, he pushed himself up from the bed and moved quietly into the kitchen. Andrei moved through the cupboards quietly. Opening one after the other until he found a glass and filled it up with tap water when he couldn’t find a pitcher in the fridge. He filled it until it overflowed, drank it dry, and filled it again. It was cold, but wasn’t cold enough. It left him cursing under his breath as he placed the glass down on the countertop. His head hung low on his shoulders, his eyes shutting for a moment as he contemplated messaging his brother to sleep on the couch in his condo for the remainder of the summer. 

But when his eyes opened, they fixated on the blue bin below, and a photograph that was buried among empty beer cans and old pizza boxes. Usually he wouldn’t have looked twice, but there was one face prominent on the glossy image, the pretty neighbor, Harper. 

Crouching down, Andrei pinched the picture between his fingers and pulled it from the recycling bin. He winced as the box tumbled, clamoring as they fell to the ground, but the house remained silent. He was the only one awake. Letting out a heavy sigh, Andrei stood up straight, and held the photo in the moonlight that streamed in through the kitchen window. 

Harper wasn’t alone in the photo. She was embraced by a handsome, apparently older man with his hair cut short and stubble covering his jawline. In elegant cursive it read, you’re invited to the wedding of mr darren fletcher and ms harper alexander. The save the date was for the August long weekend, just under two months away - but when Andrei moved to the large calendar that Mrs. Jarvis hung up on the kitchen wall to keep track of deadlines for the school year Andrei noticed one thing: the wedding date on the calendar was scratched out.

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @mp0625 , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @xciciix , @cixrosie

[coimbrabertone]

Injuries, Job Security, and How MotoGP and Indycar Differ...Or Don't.

In the last two years, two racers I support have been seriously injured. One was Enea Bastianini, rider of the #23 Ducati in MotoGP, and the other was David Malukas, who never actually got to drive the #6 NTT Data Arrow McLaren-Chevrolet Indycar.

So, just to go over what happened to them: Enea Bastianini was injured in the opening sprint race of the 2023 MotoGP season, the Portuguese GP at Portimao. Luca Marini went up his inside into turn five (Torre VIP), lost it, and his bike slid into Enea's bike. Enea broke his collarbone in this crash, wound up missing the opening five races, came back, injured himself again at Catalunya, and missed another three races.

Enea would return for the Indonesian Grand Prix and would then win the Malaysian Grand Prix towards the end of the season. That win, combined with Jorge Martin on the Pramac Ducati failing to beat Francesco Bagnaia for the championship, secured Enea's seat for 2024.

So, while Enea was enjoying a secure offseason, David Malukas was preparing for his switch from Dale Coyne Racing to a frontrunning team in the form of Arrow McLaren...except, he never actually made his debut for the team.

David Malukas was mountain biking in California, riding an easy trail, when, trying to slow himself, pulled the front brake too hard, went up and over the handlebars, and landed on his hands. He would break his left wrist and it was announced he would miss St. Pete and probably Thermal.

St. Pete and probably Thermal soon became St. Pete and definitely Thermal, missing those two races. Callum Ilott would fill in.

Malukas missed Long Beach next, with Theo Pourchaire in the car now.

Then Theo Pourchaire raced Long Beach as well.

Around this time, various rumors started flying about Malukas getting replaced. This only grew as Nathan Brown reported that Malukas had traveled to Panama in order to receive stem cell shots to speed up his recovery, and only then did he get the pins in his wrist removed.

Then, after Barber - the fourth race of the season, Malukas blacked out his twitter page. I was sat in a discord debating what exactly this meant with some other Indycar fans, with news picking up that he had been dropped. With the story pretty much out there, Arrow McLaren made the announcement early in the morning, David Malukas had been released after failing to meet his contractual obligations.

By now, it's been announced that Ilott will do the Indy 500, and then Theo Pourchaire will fill out the rest of the season in the #6. The Malukas at McLaren story ended before it could even begin.

Meanwhile, in MotoGPland, Enea Bastianini continued with the factory Ducati team. However, with Jorge Martin now building up an annoyingly large championship lead and Marc Marquez on the Ducati stealing all the attention, the whole world seems to think it's between the two of them to get the Ducati factory seat for 2025.

For the record, Enea is tied on points with Marquez, just two behind his teammate, and spent this weekend's race - the French Grand Prix at the Le Mans Bugatti Circuit - starting tenth, getting a penalty, recovering to fourth, setting fastest lap, and finishing just 2.2 seconds off the lead.

Enea is an immense talent, he's the rider I chose to support when I decided to become a MotoGP fan ahead of the 2023 season, and it's so rotten to see his career falling apart because of factors outside of his control.

As for Malukas, he's a young, popular kid and has proven so talented on the ovals in a Dale Coyne Racing car. I was so eager to see what he could do with an Arrow McLaren, particularly at tracks like Iowa, Gateway, and Nashville which seemed like they'd suit him. Now, we're not going to get the chance, and it's unclear where he might land if he were to try and return to Indycar.

So, in theory, MotoGP gives more time to injured racers, but no matter what series you're in, motorsports can be a cutthroat business. Bastianini and Malukas certainly aren't the first racers to lose top rides after an injury, and they certainly won't be the last. It's not exactly an industry known for job security.

If I could manifest a happy resolution to both, I'd have Enea Bastianini go to factory Aprilia to join Maverick VInales, while David Malukas could join Meyer Shank Racing (perhaps with Tom Blomqvist returning to IMSA with the same team) to reinforce their oval program the same way Felix Rosenqvist has revitalized that team on the road and street circuits.

For now though, we wait to see what happens to them.

To end on a happier note, Brad Keselowski won the Darlington Goodyear 400 NASCAR race last night running a throwback scheme in honor of the TOM's Castrol Supra. That is an awesome motorsports word randomizer and the fact that it's real is why NASCAR is really cool in 2024.

One day I'll write a blogpost where talking about current NASCAR is actually the point instead of just spending the final paragraph gushing about last weekend's cool race.

[umgeorge]

george russell, p3, during the post-race press conference, abu dhabi - november 26, 2023 (transcription under the cut)

Interviewer: "George, coming to you, can we start by talking about P2 in the constructor's championship? With Lewis coming home ninth, you were Mercedes' main man in that fight. How much pleasure does it give you to come home ahead?" George: "Yeah, it was a great weekend, and really pleased to fnish on this high because it's been a really challenging season; one, as a team, but on the personal side, just not getting the results that we probably deserved. The pace has been really strong on so many occasions, but just results kept on slipping through our fingers, so lady luck may be on our side slightly today with Checho's penalty, but I think that more than made up for the other races this year." Interviewer: "And let's talk about the race. It looked tough for you, both on track and physically." George: "Yeah, I've been really ill the last two weeks, firstly in Vegas with a big fever-couldn't sleep and just feeling awful-and then I've had a horrendous cough that's stayed with me all week, and in the car I was coughing every single lap, but when you're strapped into the car you can't take a deep breath in to get the cough out, so it was just constantly with me and it was pretty miserable, so I was pleased to bring it home when I saw that checkered flag." Interviewer: "Look, final one from me: are there any positives from the W14 that you'd like to see taken into next year, or do you want a fresh start, a completely clean sheet with next year's car?" George: [laughs] "Yeah, I think we'll take a clean slate into next year's car. I think the positive is we're not scratching our heads why we're so far behind Red Bull. We see so many flaws with this car, which gives every single person back at the factory so much motivation and fire to chase after those problems and find those solutions, which we think we'll make a good step into next year, but of course I expect Red Bull to make a step again. But I've got no doubt, come Bahrain, we'll be in a stronger position than we were in, in Bahrain this year." Interviewer: "Alright. Thank you, George. Very well done to you. Get better soon." [time jump] Journalist: "Luke Smith from The Athletic. George, just on how you're feeling right now… Esteban Ocon, he was ill earlier this weekend and he'd said yesterday that the body's not really designed to do 23, 24 races a season. Particularly with the calendar structured as it is, the trip from Vegas to here, how much do you think F1's got to really consider wellbeing for the drivers and everyone in the paddock, moving forward, for how we structure the calendar and approach things? 'Cause it's been a long and testing season for everybody." George: "I think the drivers, we have it best from every single person in this paddock; the way we travel, we're in a very fortunate position. But everybody up and down the paddock… I've got so many mechanics who are ill, people in the engineers' office, just really struggling with the constant time zone shifts. The body not knowing where you are, eating at different times, staying in different hotels, different environments, different climates, yeah, the body's getting confused, so I think there are talks for next year about personnel being regulated that they can't do every single race. I think that would be a good thing. I don't think it's sustainable for 4,000 people, I think it is, to do 24 races a season, especially when you see how, geographically, it still doesn't make a huge amount of sense." [time jump] George: [coughing] Interviewer: "Thank you to all three of you. [laughs] George, get better soon. Guys, thank you very much for all your contributions this year. Thank you."

[totowlff]

chapter thirty-three — take my breath

➝ is there a better birthday present than love?

➝ word count: 5,6k

➝ warnings: smut

➝ author’s notes: it took longer than it should have, but i think there's nothing more appropriate than posting the chapter about liesl's birthday on her birthday. enjoy!

FEBRUARY, 2017

Sitting in the Mercedes C-Class parked in the driveway, Elisabeth was silent, her head resting on the steering wheel. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and did her best to hold back the tears that felt inevitable. 

That day had been shit.

Pre-season had been a real headache. Preparations for the launch of the W08, the car of that season, were in full swing, she hadn't had a day off. To top it all off, the hasty negotiations with Valtteri to take over for Nico, who had decided to retire suddenly, without even letting Toto or Niki know, had taken up her limited time and patience, as Williams were not feeling overly charitable with Mercedes trying to recruit one of their contracted drivers.

They only managed to confirm the Finn just over a month before pre-season testing began. It took a few hours of talking with Sir Frank Williams and his daughter, Claire, for the team to release Valtteri. Elisabeth was sure that the affection they had for Toto, from when he was still an investor in the team, played a big role in the success of the negotiation.

However, solving that problem only brought on more. With a new set of regulations or that year, less than a fifth of the car was the same as the previous year. This meant hours of reviewing accounting, vendor budgets, employee rosters, and wind tunnel hours. By the end of each day, Elisabeth felt completely drained, with only enough strength to crawl into bed and sleep.

That Saturday was no different.

Elisabeth had woken up early, gotten ready, had a cup of espresso, and gone to the factory. As much as she wanted Toto's company, she didn't want to wake him. He was working just as much as she was — probably more. Rare were the nights when he didn't spend a few more hours at his home office, or even at the factory, holding meetings with sponsors. That had been the case from the night before. He’d been up late, talking with Petronas' Malaysia-based technical directors about the new fluids being developed for that year.

She had a busy morning, occupied almost entirely with a meeting to present the logistical plan designed for the season. During the afternoon, Elisabeth spoke with the marketing team about the strategies for the W08 launch. She’d also given a factory tour to Mark McLaughlin, one of Qualcomm's directors. After saying goodbye to the American and returning to her office, Elisabeth found a plate with a small chocolate cupcake, as well as a card that read “Happy Birthday, Elisabeth”, along with a picture of her holding one of the giant silver stars that the team used in celebrations.

It was her birthday.

She’d forgotten her own birthday.

— Fuck — she muttered, lifting her head from the steering wheel. Thinking about the messages she’d gotten earlier and ignored - from her parents, Lukas, and Claire, Elisabeth felt her heart tighten inside her chest. She always spent her birthday with her family in Vienna, having dinner at an Italian restaurant, reminiscing about their time in Modena. But that year, she had been too busy to even think about celebrating one more trip around the sun.

She picked up her cell phone that was lying on top of the passenger seat next to her purse, she stared at the lock screen. It was a picture of Toto, Ben, and Rosi, smiling for the camera as they posed in front of Ben’s birthday cake. Staring into Toto’s face, Elisabeth couldn't help but feel a twinge in her chest. Despite numerous congratulatory messages, there was nothing from him. The only time they had spoken that day, on the phone, was during lunch, when he told her that he would not be going to the factory in the afternoon.

“Did he forget it too?”, she wondered, uncertain. Of all of Toto’s strengths, memory was not one of them, after all. He tended to forget simple things, like dinners and meetings. She was always the one to remind him of those things. Him forgetting her birthday would not be out of the norm, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

In fact, knowing that her birthday was just another day on Toto's calendar made her heart ache even more.

Resigned, Elisabeth took the bag that was on the seat next to her and got out of the car, walking slowly towards the entrance hall, distracted by the notification that had just arrived on her phone. Typing a quick response to a question from Alison, from the Human Resources team, she walked into the living room, pausing to download an attachment from the message.

Until she heard someone clear their throat.

Lifting her head, Elisabeth found Toto standing there, holding a bouquet of lilies and white roses, an anxious smile on her lips. Her eyes flickering between the flowers and his face, she was visibly confused.

— What is this?

He looked at the bouquet, then at her.

— They're flowers, Liesl.

— Why?

Toto blinked.

— Today is your birthday. Or… did I get the date wrong?

Elisabeth gave a shy little smile.

— No, it's today.

— Oh, good — he smiled, approaching her — So, today is your birthday. And a special day like this deserves celebration.

Toto handed the flowers to her, and she felt her eyes fill with tears as she looked at them, noticing that there was a card placed between the roses and the lilies.

— Do you want to see the card? 

— Yes — she whispered.

Removing the envelope nestled in the middle of the bouquet, Toto opened it and withdrew a small note, written in his elegant handwriting.

— Read it to me — he asked.

Elisabeth cleared her throat to read. 

— “You know I don't like birthdays. I believe you deserve to be celebrated everyday. But if there's ever an ideal time to show you how much I appreciate you, it's today. Happy birthday, Liesl. I love you. From... your Toto”.

His name came out as a whisper from her lips, which were trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. Elisabeth often felt unworthy of Toto's love. She saw herself as a difficult person with a lot of complexities. Sometimes, she even felt like she was broken in some way. However, that side of her had never scared him. After all, as Toto himself said, he was also broken, in a way. Even with that negative assessment, Elisabeth had been the one to fix him. He was determined to be the one to fix her, too.

Kissing her forehead, Toto smiled.

— You like it?

— I love it, honey — she replied, wrapping her free arm in a tight hug, her face buried in his chest. Inhaling his scent, Elisabeth felt her body relax. She was home.

A few seconds later, Toto lightly squeezed her waist, as a signal for her to lift her head.

— It's not just that, Liesl.

— What do you mean?

— I prepared the bathtub for you to take a relaxing bath. I put those bath salts you like in the water, the lemongrass-scented ones. Well, that's what I think you like, since every time I get in the tub with you, your skin smells like lemongrass.

Elisabeth smiled.

— Yes, it's lemongrass. But, you know you didn't have to do all of this, right?

— I didn't have to, but I wanted to. Especially after a busy day like today. As soon as you’re done with your bath, we're going to eat the pizzas I ordered from Gino's.

Her eyes sparkled. She loved the pizza from Gino's, a small restaurant in the center of Oxford. They were the closest thing to what she ate as a kid in Modena.

— Americana and Margherita? — Elisabeth asked, feeling her stomach rumble just thinking about the slices full of cheese and spicy salami.

— Of course, as usual. Now go upstairs and relax. I'll call you when they arrive, okay?

She nodded, before receiving a peck and having the flowers removed from her hands., Elisabeth went upstairs to the second floor, going quietly to their room. As she entered the bathroom, she smelled a distinct scent of vanilla in the air. It was soft and sweet, almost cozy. When she got to the bathroom, she discovered the source of the smell — a scented candle that was lit on top of the counter. Staring at the flame for a few seconds, Elisabeth smiled.

“He thought of everything”, she thought, as she undressed and tied up her hair so it wouldn't get wet.

As soon as she sat in the bathtub, with its warm, lemongrass-scented water, Elisabeth felt her body relax. The bathroom was silent, almost as if it were enveloped in a bubble of serenity and peace. It had been a long time since the last time she had felt like this.

Elisabeth's life after joining the Mercedes operation had become complete chaos. Her time was filled with trips, races and engagements. It was a hard, inconsistent and particularly tiring routine, which not only affected her, but also her relationships with friends and family.

But it was during moments like this that she was grateful to have Toto to share the madness with. He was more than just a boyfriend or sexual partner, he was her best friend. The two of them understood, supported, and cared for each other. Each was the other's home, as Toto liked to say. She was sure of it every time she laid down in bed with him, snuggled in his arms, sleeping to the quiet beat of his heart.

With her eyes still closed, Elisabeth heard footsteps coming from the bedroom to the bathroom. She had no idea how long she had been there, but she could stay there for the rest of her life, that bathtub was so good.

— Liesl?

She opened her eyes and looked to the side to find Toto standing beside her, a smile on his lips.

— Yes?

— Is everything okay?

— Yeah, everything is great.

He crouched down beside her, leaning on the edge of the tub.

— Is your bath okay? Would you like anything? 

— I'd love for you to come in with me — she whispered, a small smile on her face. Toto returned the smile, bringing a hand to her cheek and stroking the damp skin.

— I'd like that too, baby, but that would mean letting the pizza get cold downstairs, and if I know you, you wouldn't eat it cold.

— Oh, is dinner here?

— Yes, it’s downstairs, waiting for us. Are you coming?

— Of course — she replied, leaning on the edge of the tub to lift herself out of the water. As soon as Elisabeth stepped onto the rug, Toto handed her a towel to dry off, before leaving the bathroom and asking her what she wanted to wear. A few minutes later, the two of them went downstairs together, hand in hand, with her wearing one of his old T-shirts and baggy pajama pants, towards the kitchen, where the table was meticulously prepared, with the flowers Toto had given her decorating the environment.

Between laughs, sips of wine and stories of other disastrous birthday parties, the two ate a few slices of pizza apiece. However, Elisabeth couldn't help noticing that Toto looked a little uneasy, especially when the two of them were silent. “He's hiding something”, she thought, as he got up to take the dishes to the sink.

With everything organized and the two of them in the living room drinking what was left of the wine in the bottle, she stared at Toto for a few seconds.

— Are you okay, my love?

— Yes, I’m perfect. Why the question?

— You seem… Uneasy. Like you’re anxious.

He looked at her for a few seconds before smiling.

— I'm thinking about your present.

Elisabeth pressed her lips together, serious.

— My present? Toto, you know that…

— I don't need to give you anything, I know — he cut her off — But I want to, Liesl.

— Torger — she muttered seriously.

— Come with me, baby — Toto whispered, getting up from the sofa and placing his glass of wine on the coffee table. Placing her own glass next to his, Elisabeth felt his hand wrap around hers, leading her through the house.

  She just didn't know what to expect from Toto, especially on an occasion when she knew it was no use telling him he didn't need to give her a gift. The team principal always made a point of spoiling her with something of exorbitant value, but that would barely tickle his bank account.

“You deserve the whole world, Liesl”, he always told her, as soon as she asserted that she didn't deserve to be spoiled like that. And Elisabeth knew that Toto would be able to deliver it into her hand if she wanted to. All she had to do was ask.

He led her up the stairs to their bedroom, holding her fingers gently. With her heart racing, she felt the anxiety rising within her. The two entered the suite in silence, hand in hand. Leading her towards the bed, he looked down at her with a smirk.

— Baby, can you sit on the bed for me?

She let go of Toto's hand and walked over to the mattress, settling down on it. However, instead of approaching her, he went to the mirrored closet doors and slid them open, entering the cubicle. In the silence of the room, Elisabeth felt her pulse roaring louder and louder in her ears, tension building in her muscles.

“What the hell is he up to?”, she wondered.

A few moments later, he emerged again with a small white bag in his hand. Slowly approaching her, Toto reached out, handing the package to her. As she looked at it more closely, she noticed that there was a letter ‘F’ printed on the surface, as well as the words ‘Fleur du Mal’. “What kind of store is that?”, Elisabeth wondered, staring at the bag in silence.

— What is it? — she asked, looking up at him.

— Open it — Toto just said.

Tearing off the seal, Elisabeth opened the bag and reached inside, pulling out a long piece of black satin, with something embroidered on it. Running her thumb over the fabric, she looked up.

— A piece of cloth?

Toto smiled.

— Not just any piece of cloth.

— No?

— It's a blindfold.

Elisabeth felt a lurch in her stomach.

— When I was looking for your gift, I happened to come across an article that I thought was interesting…

— An article?

— Yeah. About female pleasure.

She raised an eyebrow, feeling her heart beat harder in her chest.

— Female pleasure — Elisabeth repeated.

— Yes — he continued, taking the blindfold from her hands — I've read that many men don't know when a woman has an orgasm. That they don't know exactly what their partners like in bed. In general, there’s a… gap.

— But you’ve made me come before… so many times  — she replied softly, trying not to blush. 

A smug smile appeared on his face.

— Yes. And I know exactly when you're having an orgasm, so I don't think I'm part of that statistic. But, reading that article, I felt like… I could learn more.

She blinked.

— So I started researching more about how to improve, how to make our intimacy even more — he paused, winding the silken sash around his hand — pleasurable.

— Why? — Elisabeth asked quietly.

He smiled.

— Because your pleasure gives me pleasure, Liesl. In fact, making you come is more pleasurable to me than anything else. Watching you orgasm and knowing I'm the one who made you feel that way is… Wonderful. Hearing the sounds you make, feeling your muscles tense under my hands, the taste of your come… That turns me on more than anything. And I wanted to make it even better for you. And I found that one way to do that is by using… different things.

— You mean… toys? — she asked directly.

— Not necessarily — Toto replied, removing the cloth that had wrapped around his hand — There are many possibilities we can explore aside from that. Although, the idea of watching you squirm in pleasure while I use one on you seems tempting.

Heat rose in Elisabeth's cheeks.

— The point is, your birthday present isn't a thing, or an object. It's an experience. Something good, relaxing — he approached, bringing one of his hands to her cheek — In fact, you're already living that experience. I prepared the environment, bought the flowers, organized dinner and the bath, everything for you to feel like you deserve.

— Like I deserve...

— Good. Relaxed. Happy — he replied in a low voice, his thumb brushing her skin, his eyes locked with hers. She felt like she was being hypnotized — Now I want to make you feel even better. But, I need you to want it.

— Want…

— Do you want it, Elisabeth?

— Want what? — she asked, as if she had just woken up from a trance. Toto leaned in front of her, resting his hands on the mattress beside her thighs. He wasn't even touching her, but it felt like his fingers were burning her skin, the tingling in her belly almost unbearable.

— Do you want your gift?

— My gift?

— Do you want to have the most pleasurable night of your life, Elisabeth?

She swallowed hard.

The offer was tempting.

With the words stuck in her throat, Elisabeth just nodded her head. A shadow of a smile appeared on Toto's face.

— Words, baby. I want to hear from you.

— Yes — she whispered — I do.

A smile crept onto his face as his brown eyes seemed to darken further. Taking one of her hands, Toto lifted his torso and, pulling gently, he got Elisabeth back to her feet, not without difficulty, as her legs felt like they were made of jelly. When she managed to regain her balance, she looked at him, who was watching her curiously.

— For starters, I need you to take off your clothes.

Automatically, she brought her hands up to the shirt she was wearing, pulling it over her head carelessly. Then, she slid her pajama bottoms down her legs. With her clothes  thrown into a corner, Elisabeth put her arms at her sides, the cold air making her skin prickle. Then, she looked up at Toto, who was staring at her with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

— I meant.. all of your clothes, Liesl — he said, his voice low.

Glancing down, she found his finger gliding gently across the elastic of the panties she was wearing. They were just basic white panties, far from the sexiest pair she owned. But Toto didn't care. He had never cared about what she was wearing when they were going to have sex, whether or not she was wearing luxurious lingerie or comfortable cotton panties, as long as when she took them off, her pussy was there, wet and ready for him to do whatever he desired. 

— Take it off for me — Elisabeth whispered.

Toto tilted his head, looking at her.

— I'd love to, Liesl, but tonight I'm in control — he said, in a serious tone — And you are the one taking your panties off.

She pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the heat coursing through her skin.

— As you wish, Mr. Wolff.

Sliding the panties down her legs, Elisabeth stifled a gasp as cool air made contact with the wetness between her thighs. After kicking the garment to the corner along with the T-shirt and pants, she found herself naked in front of Toto. His eyes roamed over her skin with curiosity, which made her desire grow.

However, that wasn’t the only thing exciting her. The stark contrast between the two of them made Elisabeth's anticipation ever more present. He was still fully dressed while she was completely naked. It was a clear game of power and control, and it was all new to her. After all, Toto had never been the dominating type, and she wasn’t very good at being submissive — she just didn’t have the personality for it.

At that moment, naked and at Toto’s disposal to do whatever he wanted with her body, she didn't feel vulnerable or fragile, as Elisabeth thought she would if she was ever in this situation. To her surprise, she felt confident. Powerful. Beautiful.

— Lie on your back for me — Toto finally said, after a few seconds of silence. She obeyed almost immediately, facing the bed. Then Elisabeth felt him approach — Close your eyes, Liesl.

Again she obeyed, feeling the silk of the black cloth he held in his hand slide across her face, stopping right in front of her eyelids, completely obscuring her vision.

— Are you comfortable, Liesl?

— Yes — she replied in a low voice. After answering, she felt Toto's hands land on her waist, their heat causing a wave of excitement to run over Elisabeth's skin. He gently rotated her back to her starting position.

— See anything, baby? — she heard Toto ask from somewhere in front of her.

— No.

— Are you sure?

— Absolutely, Toto.

— Good — he said. She could practically hear his smile in his voice — Now, I'm going to help you to bed, okay?

Elisabeth nodded and felt Toto take her hands and gently push her back, making her take a step, then another, until she was resting the backs of her thighs against the mattress. Elisabeth first sat on the bed, feeling the fabric of the comforter that covered the bed against her skin, the softness of it taking her by surprise. She had never realized how soft the texture was.

After hearing Toto direct her to move further back so that she would be in the middle of the bed, she laid down on the mattress with a sigh, her heart pounding in her chest. Without being able to see anything, every other one of her senses were in overdrive to compensate. Elisabeth could smell the aroma of the vanilla scented candle that had escaped from the bathroom present in the air, and she could hear the sound of Toto's footsteps as he walked around the bed. Imagining him pacing back and forth, scrutinizing her like a feast served just for him made her squeeze her tights together.

— Is there a problem, Elisabeth? — he asked somewhere at her feet, in a serious tone.

— No — she replied.

One of his hands landed on her ankle, fingers gliding lightly over her skin. Elisabeth swallowed hard, her lips pursed and heat coursing through her body in waves. She just couldn't understand how that simple touch had so much power over her.

— None at all?

— No, none.

— You're wondering what I'm doing, aren't you? — he murmured, pulling his fingers away — Imagining what I'm planning to do with you tonight.

Elisabeth didn't answer, too focused on the tingling growing between her legs. Until she felt the bed sink in on her right side, as if he were settling down with her on the mattress, one of his hands resting on her belly, just above her navel.

— Tell me what you're imagining, Liesl — Toto whispered, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin — I want to hear what you're thinking.

— I'm not… thinking about…

— You are, I can tell by the way your cheeks are red. Come on, tell me. Or I'm going to have to leave you like this for the rest of the night.

— You wouldn't do that — Elisabeth said. She couldn’t help but sound a little indignant.

— Don't doubt me, Miss Lauda — he murmured — I'm capable of a lot, especially when it comes to you.

— Oh, yes? What exactly are you capable of?

Toto laughed, pulling his hand away from her body.

— My love, I'm the one asking the questions here. And, you didn't answer the question I asked earlier.

She pressed her lips together, a little annoyed.

— I was thinking about you walking around the bed, looking at me like a feast.

— So you see yourself as a feast, Elisabeth?

— You see me as a feast, Torger — she shot back, making him laugh again.

— Is this your way of telling me to eat you?

Elisabeth didn't answer, too distracted by the image of his face between her legs causing a new wave of heat to run through her skin. And she was sure her own body had betrayed her when she felt a warm breath against her ear.

— Tell me what you want me to do, baby — Toto whispered, his hand caressing her belly again — Tell me what's on your mind.

— I'm thinking about the first time we had sex, in Sochi — Elisabeth said softly — I'm thinking about the way you touched me, asking what I liked. I'm thinking about how you slid your lips down my body, kissing my skin, until you reached my…

In the middle of her explanation, a groan escaped her lips. The hand that was on her stomach slid down as she spoke, his middle finger finding her clit and drawing small circles, slowly. If that was already pleasurable under normal circumstances, now, deprived of her sight, it was much better. 

— You can go on, I'm listening.

— I…I can't — she stammered lightly before letting out a high, high-pitched moan.

— Care for me to stop so you can talk? — Toto asked, his finger stopping to move between her legs.

— No, no, please continue — Elisabeth whimpered, her hips moving in search of more friction. However, he did exactly the opposite of what she had asked.

— I want to hear from you. Finish your thought first, then I'll continue.

Elisabeth let out a frustrated grunt, one hand groping blindly down his arm, trying to get him to move, to no avail.

— Toto...

— Tell me what you were thinking — he said, his tone more like an order than a request. Completely vulnerable in that bed, Elisabeth didn't dare disobey him.

— I was thinking about your mouth on my pussy, sucking and licking me with such passion I felt like I'd just died and gone to heaven. No man had ever fucked me the way you fucked me that night and every other night since. I love your mouth, your tongue and the way you combine every element. 

— Do you want me to use my mouth, then?

Elisabeth just nodded, a whimpering sound escaping her lips. Removing his hand from her pussy, Toto got up from the bed without saying a word. 

— Toto? Are you there?!

Silence. Her heart was pounding in her chest, the adrenaline of pleasure and the anxiety of being possibly alone and completely vulnerable had her reaching for her satin blindfold.

— Don't even think about taking your blindfold off, Elisabeth — Toto said from somewhere at the foot of the bed.

— But…

— I'm here — he said, resting his hands on her ankles, slowly pulling them apart — And I'm not going anywhere.

She felt the mattress sink between her legs, as if Toto was settling into that space. His hands repositioned her feet so they were planted on the bed and her knees bent. Elisabeth was completely exposed to him, anticipation making something in her belly tingle.

— You know, Liesl — he began, a finger idly running down her thigh — I've imagined that night in Sochi many times. I always thought about what it would be like when I finally had you all to myself. I imagined thousands of scenarios. I imagined from the most romantic scenes to the dirtiest. I imagined everything from a simple goodnight kiss after dinner to pulling you into the tire room at the Nurburgring and letting you angry-fuck me for taking you on that lap. In the end, you chose the exact scenario that I had never thought of.

— In a hotel? — she whispered.

— No. With you taking the initiative — Toto replied, planting a kiss on the side of her knee. “He's between my legs”, Elisabeth thought — You always seemed so shy, so delicate. I thought it was going to be up to me to take the first step. And then you showed up in my room, you took off your dress, and I knew you were mine. Finally mine.

His lips slowly slid over her skin, placing kisses along the way to the spot between her legs. When he was getting to where she most wanted him to touch her, Toto stopped and walked back the same way. He was teasing her.

— I didn't even know where to start when I put you in my bed. I wanted to do it all at once. I wanted to feel your taste, your heat, your touch, but I knew that, more important than me at that moment, it was you — he murmured, giving attention to the other leg — So, I decided to start by touching you, getting to know you, finding out what turned you on. Seeing you come for the first time is my favorite memory.

Hearing him say those things while touching her gently made her feel like she was melting under his fingers. 

— Please — she whimpered softly.

— What do you want?

— Please, I need you.

— What do you want me to do for you?

— Anything, just make me come, please.

Elisabeth heard a low, almost devilish giggle.

— As you wish, baby — he replied, taking one long lick to spread her wetness across her pussy, a loud moan escaping her lips as her hands gripped the bed’s comforter. His ministrations were slow and patient, as if he wanted to understand what each movement, each rhythm, each direction provoked in her body and face. It was the kind of delicious torture only he knew how to do, the way it left her legs shaking and her heart racing.

Alternating between soft touches with her tongue and vigorous sucks, Elisabeth began to feel a familiar sensation in her belly, as if it were a balloon being inflated little by little. And she knew that the moment it popped, it would be something breathtaking.

— Toto — she whimpered as she felt him descend, his tongue playing at her entrance, teasing her.

— Want my fingers to help you, baby? — he murmured against her body, the vibration of his voice making her gasp.

— Yes — Elisabeth choked out.

She was so wet that Toto’s fingers slipped inside of her easily, bending to find the right spot inside her. The spot he knew would make her back arch and the dirtiest words leave her lips.

— Fuck — she moaned, bringing a hand to his head, fingers clenching in his hair — This, yes!

The balloon continued to inflate in her abdomen, her hips moving erratically against Toto's face, trying to seek out more friction. Combined with his fingers and tongue, Elisabeth felt every second closer to orgasm.

— Yes, yes, yes, this, yes — she murmured, her breathing labored and the muscles in her body completely tense. She was almost there — Don't stop, please, please, please...

Then, the balloon popped.

Elisabeth let out a moan so loud the neighbors would probably have heard it, her body shaking with the waves of pleasure that ran through her skin. Orgasms in general were great, but Toto's were completely different. There was an extra ingredient in the mix that made them more ravishing.

It was his sweetness, his affection, his dedication to her that made her believe that, contrary to what she thought, she did deserve to be loved the way he loved her. And feeling that love in the small gestures, in the way Toto took care of her and made a point of making her feel good, made her feel filled with something she had never felt before meeting him.

Happiness.

She was still recovering when she felt Toto's lips move up her body, placing kisses on her sensitive skin, until they reached her mouth. Savoring her own pleasure on his tongue, Elisabeth brought her hands to the back of his neck, caressing it. Then he pulled away and, with one hand, removed the blindfold that covered her eyes.

After a few seconds of trying to get used to the brightness of the room, Elisabeth found Toto staring at her with a look of concern.

— Are you okay?

— I'm fine — she replied, her fingers stroking the back of his head — Why?

— You're crying.

Elisabeth blinked, feeling her eyes wet. She hadn't felt the tears run down her skin, perhaps because of the blindfold. But, now that he had spoken, she realized that, in fact, she was crying. But inside her, there was no hint of sadness or anguish.

— I'm fine — Elisabeth repeated, more to herself than Toto.

— Did I hurt you? — he asked softly, almost as if he was feeling guilty for making her orgasm.

— No, no, you didn't hurt me — she said, watching his expression. At that moment, looking at his face brought a new wave of emotion, her eyes filling with more tears. Elisabeth only felt love. Pure, raw and simple.

— Then why are you crying?

— Because I love you — she whispered.

Toto raised an eyebrow.

— You’re crying because you love me?

— I'm crying because you showed me what happiness is. You showed me what it's like to be truly happy. You made me blossom when I thought I was just a barren stump, Torger. And I love you for it.

He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers.

— I love you too, Elisabeth. More than I can put on words.

After a few seconds of silence, Elisabeth brought her hand to his face.

— Can you lay down with me? — she whispered — I wanna feel you close to me.

— Of course, baby — Toto answered, settling down next to her on the bed, placing a kiss on her forehead. Wrapped in her embrace, Toto’s arms resting on her waist, Elisabeth felt completely safe.

She was at home.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

From Mako Shark to Manta Ray: The Evolution of the Most Influential Corvette Concepts

Published: 14 Nov 2022, 16:04 UTC • By: 

During the 1960s, General Motors introduced a trio of stunning show cars that laid the groundwork for the C2 and C3 Corvette. Although many other concepts followed, these three remain the most influential, as they went on to inspire the styling of modern iterations, including the current, mid-engine C8.

Like the Corvette itself, the notion of a concept (or show) car was born in the U.S., under GM’s roof. Dubbed Buick Y-Job and designed by the legendary Harley J. Earl, the drop-top beauty unveiled in 1940 previewed a series of novel features and design cues that influenced the division’s mass-produced models for over a decade.

When GM decided to build a rival for the European sports cars that were flooding the North American market in the post-WWII years, the same Harley J. Earl was selected to draw it up. To build hype around it, the corporation commissioned Earl and the Chevy team to build a show car which was codenamed EX-122. First shown to the public at the 1953 Motorama in New York City, the concept would become known as the Corvette and with a few minor changes, it entered production a few months later.

Contrary to popular belief, the C1 wasn’t the commercial success that GM had envisioned but it did pique the American buyer’s interest in a homebuilt sportscar, so the corporation poured resources into the development of a successor.

Under the supervision of Styling and Design head Bill Mitchell, the new Corvette’s design was ironed out as early as 1961 and, as they did in the past, the team created a show car that would help promote it. Like the upcoming production version, the vehicle was designed by Larry Shinoda, who drew inspiration from the 1959 XP-87 Stingray racer.

Gone was the curvaceous, European-looking theme of the C1, with the ‘Vette’s body now boasting far more aggressive lines that look like the sleek shortfin mako shark. Although it was officially codenamed XP-755, the concept car unveiled at the 1962 International Automobile Show would become known as the Mako Shark due to its unmistakable resemblance to the fast-moving predator.

One aspect that contributed to this was the car’s spectacular paintwork. Legend has it that, upon returning from a fishing trip with a taxidermized shark head (some reports state that it was a complete shark) as a trophy, Bill Mitchell hung it in his office and instructed the design team to replicate its coloring on the show car.

Several attempts to make such an impossible task possible were made but Mitchell was not satisfied. The styling head would put the trophy next to the car and since the paint was not identical, he instructed the team to try again. Annoyed by this, an unnamed member of the team snuck into Mitchell’s office one night, took his beloved trophy, and airbrushed it to look like the car’s latest paint job. In the end, the boss couldn’t tell the difference and, since the car and the shark now looked the same, he finally gave his frustrated team the thumbs up.

The Mako Shark managed to draw enough interest in the C2 as it became a fan favorite at every event where it was showcased. It underwent styling and detail changes over time, gaining front fascia and interior upgrades. The car also lost the distinctive "double-bubble" canopy borrowed from a previous concept and became a pure convertible.

Apart from the unique paint and several flamboyant design cues, its overall styling made it to the mass-produced model. which became the commercial hit that its predecessor never was.

Unlike other GM concepts that were eventually destroyed, the original Shark is still alive and well, residing in the corporation’s Heritage Collection located in Sterling Heights, Michigan.

Just a few years after the debut of the Mako Shark, the Corvette team began work on the third-generation model which would roll out the factory gates in 1967. While the mid-engine format proposed by Zora Arkus-Duntov with his race-bred CERV II concept was considered, Bill Mitchell's conventional front-engine design was deemed more marketable by GM’s top brass.

Under the codename XP-830, the development of a new concept car kicked off in early 1964 with the C2’s existing chassis as the base. For the C3, Mitchell wanted "a narrow, slim, center section and coupe body, a tapered tail, an all-of-a-piece blending of the upper and lower portions of the body through the center (avoiding the look of a roof added to a body), and prominent wheels with their protective fenders distinctly separate from the main body, yet grafted organically to it.”

Turning this vision into reality took about a year to pull off. Mitchell’s designers completed a full-size, non-running version in March 1965, and days later, key members of GM’s management were invited to see it. Everyone was blown away and unanimously decided that it had to go into production as soon as possible.

Finished in a similar paint and carrying the same Mako Shark moniker as the XP-755, the non-functional concept was first shown to the public at the New York International Auto Show just a month later. While its exterior design was praised by everyone, its futuristic interior received a lot of criticism for ergonomically-nightmarish such as the yoke-style steering wheel with its complicated transmission controls.

Behind closed doors, the development team was working on a running model that would address these issues and in October 1965, it made its public debut in France, at the Paris Auto Show. Powered by the highly successful and versatile 427 version of Chevy’s Mark IV big block, the functional Mako Shark II had rear-exiting exhausts -as opposed to the static model’s side-mounted variants – and a conventional steering wheel with column-fitted transmission controls.

Although it’s unquestionably the most influential concept car to ever don Corvette badges, shaping the look of America’s popular sports car for generations to come, the story of the second Shark, in either non-functional or functional form, didn’t have a happy ending. Unlike its predecessor which enjoys retirement on top of a pedestal inside GM’s Heritage Collection, the static version was dismantled while the running model was transformed into another show car.

This leads us to the third most influential Corvette concept. Completed in 1969 it left the Mako Shark name behind (but not the now-iconic paint) and became known as the Manta Ray.

Its front fascia remained largely the same, with the only additions being an extended bumper ring around the vents and a chin spoiler mounted underneath.

On the sides, the Manta Ray featured functional exhausts that were masterfully integrated into rocker panels, but its most distinct upgrade was the profusely elongated, tail. The now-classic four taillights layout was tucked under the rear deck line and a pair of pop-up flaps that reflected light from upward-facing lamps were added. You can see rare footage of them in action below, thanks to the video posted on YouTube by DtRockstar1

The reshaped tail flowed into a sweeping, scooped-out, stinger-style roof that helped accentuate the aggressiveness of the overall design. Speaking of aggressiveness, the car was powered by the newly introduced ZL1 427-ci (7.0-liter) V8, a lightweight, all-aluminum monster that could spit out no less than 430 hp.

Even if the Mako Shark II had to be sacrificed to build it, the Manta Ray was in itself a work of automotive art that captivated the hearts and minds of sports car enthusiasts. Thankfully, after its transformation, GM decided to keep it and it joined the first Shark in the corporation’s Heritage Collection.

Many other concept cars that carried the Corvette nameplate followed in the next five decades, but none were as pure nor as influential as these three. They inspired the look of every mass-produced Corvette generation that followed, including the current and radically different C8. 

[wqintraining]

NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES - SEASON 1, EPISODE 11

We open in the school’s gymnasium, where Dani, Karma, Nightcrawler, Beast, and Northstar are decorating for the school’s winter dance, while Dazzler and her band are getting set up on the stage. The boys are all using their powers to speed things up, while Dani is hanging streamers with her bow and arrows. Karma thinks they’re all just showing off. 

Dani just hopes the kids all have fun tonight. What the kids have been undertaking these past three months has been experimental and so different from when they were students (Northstar quick to butt in and mention he got a REAL education and was never a student here), and it can’t have been an easy adjustment for a lot of them. She knows adjusting to becoming a teacher hasn’t been easy for her. 

Xuan mentions she was already working as a librarian before she got Jean’s call, so it wasn’t too much of a change for her, but the others are inclined to agree. It’s been more fun than they’ve thought though, Kurt and Beast by virtue of having found kids they can share their passions with, Nightcrawler mentioning a girl named Pixie as someone with a great deal of enthusiasm for the thespian arts, while Beast think Ms. Washington has the potential to be the next great Mutant scientist. They turn their attention to Northstar, who just says he’s been happy to help a kid in a way he wasn’t expecting to. 

Dazzler then calls over to them, double-checking how much time they’ll have after the dance’s king and queen are announced. 

Beast gives them an answer, while Xuan and Jean-Paul note how outdated this tradition is. 

NORTHSTAR: “It could be a king and a king.” 

KARMA: “Or a queen and a queen.” 

Dani agrees with them in concept, but come on, they’ve been paying attention to the kids. Are they really gonna act like they don’t already know who’s gonna win? 

The others laugh, unable to argue. 

BEAST: “Well, I suppose they’ll be having a more fun night than everyone else then.” He smiles wistfully. “Oh, to be a boy again.” 

We cut to a little boy sitting in a modest kitchen, wheeling a toy truck back and forth across a table. We then see his mother, a conservatively dressed woman with a cross around her neck, preparing dinner.  

After a few moments of peace, both of them turn in horror as a gun clocks. 

WOMAN: “W…William?” 

Stryker, several years younger than he is in the present, stands before his wife and child with a gun raised, his hands shaking, and his eyes bulging and vomiting tears. 

STRYKER: “Marcy…Jason…God rest your souls.” 

Stryker repeatedly shoots his wife and child, killing them. He drops the gun before he himself drops to his knees. He looks down, away from the site he just made, and screams. 

But eventually, he breaths. 

STRYKER: “Be gone, demons.” 

In the present, Stryker stands tall, entirely cold and composed, dressed in ornate robes as opposed to his usual suit. He has faced many setbacks, but he has persisted. And now, with the new tools God has blessed him with, it is finally time to end his war with the X-Men. 

As we pan out, we see he stands in a massive factory - one packed with Sentinels. 

 In the Institute, Julian, (wearing a fancy shirt with an especially douchey collar) and Sofia are playing ping-pong, using their powers to maneuver their paddles instead of their hands. 

JULIAN: “It’s a shame this school doesn’t have a ping-pong team. You’d kill at it and I’d get to see you moving around in a cute uniform.” 

SOFIA: “Are my leotards and training costume not enough for you?” 

JULIAN: “With you beautiful, enough is never enough.” 

As Sofia blushes, more sheepishly than usual, Julian grabs his paddle with his hand to catch Sofia off guard and score a point. 

SOFIA: “You lousy cheater!” 

JULIAN: “Oh come on, you know I’d never cheat on you.” 

Sofia clenches her fists. 

As Sofia’s winds retrieve the ball, a panicked Brian runs in, shouting that the two of them need to get outside immediately. Something’s happening to Mercury and Dust and he’s not sure what. 

The three rush outside to find Cessily and Sooraya congealed in their liquid and sand forms, stretching out and expanding. Students all around them are watching with concern. 

They’re horrified, with Sofia asking why Brian got them instead of the X-Men. They need real help! 

Julian tells her not to worry, and says he’s got this. He lights up and begins using his telekinesis on the girls…and starts using them to spell out letters, the amorphous blob of the girls not only gaining definition, but becoming beautiful as the metal coasts the sand to create a metallic sand print, as Cessily and Sooraya’s faces appear on them, giggling. As Sofia questions what the Hell’s going on, Julian says they can finish the rest. 

Sofia’s jaw drops as the girls reach their final form, their merged bodies spelling out, “Sofia, will you go to the dance with me?” 

As Sofia stands speechless, Brian rests an arm on Julian’s shoulder as he faces her, and the crowd lets out an echo of “Awww”s. Julian tells her he’s tired of all the flirting. They both obviously like each other, so they should just be together. And the dance is the perfect place to make it official. 

Sofia questions why he’s asking her like THIS. 

JULIAN: “What? Too much? We were talking it over, thinking I should ask you out in a “Mutant” way, and this was what we came up with.” 

Cessily and Sooraya untangle themselves and retake their humanoid forms. Honestly, they just wanted to see if they COULD pull that off. Cessily scratches the back of her head, admitting she was the one who needed Julian’s help, while Soo could do it all on her own. 

Brian then enthusiastically reminds Sofia she still hasn’t answered. 

JULIAN: “Don’t rush her, man. But you will go with me, right?” 

Sofia struggles to answer. Everyone’s faces, especially Julian’s, fall, as Sofia starts tearing up. 

SOFIA: “I’m sorry!” 

Sofia blows her friends away with a single, powerful wind, before flying off. 

Everyone is concerned and, for once in his life, Julian is speechless. 

Cyclops is working in his office when there’s a knock on the door. When he doesn’t respond and just keeps working, Emma walks in anyway. Without even looking up from his computer, Scott tells her this better be about business. 

EMMA: “Actually, I was going to ask you and Jean to skip the dance so your dreariness didn’t bring down the children’s mood, but it seems you’ve already taken it upon yourself to stay preoccupied.” 

Scott ignores her. 

EMMA: “Fine, yes, if you’re going to keep being a baby, I have intel.” 

As Scott may recall, in her less noble days, she and Shaw were two of the main bankrollers of companies producing Sentinels, death machines designed only for killing Mutants. Of course, this is one of her many regrets, but she didn’t burn every bridge she had there. She just received a tip that a Chinese manufacturer recently fulfilled an order for over two dozen Sentinels. And, of course, a quick look into this revealed that Cassandra Nova was the recipient.  

Scott slams his fist down. It's bad enough they’ve let the Purifier situation drag on as long as they have, but for this mad woman to go around thinking she’s Xavier’s twin sister as she’s causing all this pain is just insulting. Emma questions his disbelief regarding the info Jean picked up from Nova’s mind, but Scott tells her flatly that if Xavier had a sister, he’d know. 

In any case, Scott has another reason to be frustrated: they’re understaffed. Kitty’s off visiting her dad on Genosha, Jean and Storm are providing relief in Kenya, Sunspot is doing "something" about rebuilding his family business, and Laura may be part of the team now, but she's still a student first, and he doesn't want to deny her her first dance. 

Emma thinks it's no problem. The two of them will handle things themselves. Scott can obliterate the Sentinels before they go online, and, even if Nova happens to be present, with the knowledge Nova had removed it from them previously, Emma was able to forge new mental defenses. 

EMMA: "Who knows? Maybe we can even talk about what's really on your mind on the way."

Emma walks out, saying she'll meet him in the hangar bay in 20 minutes, before Scott can even respond. 

In the weight room, Brian tries talking to Julian as he works out his anger on a punching bag. None of Brian's attempts to change the subject work. Julian just doesn't get it! What's Sofia's problem?! 

As Julian takes a moment to stop and breathe, Brian tells him he's really sorry it didn't work out, but maybe this is for the best. He has other people who care about him. Maybe he could go with one of them. 

BRIAN: "Maybe you'd wanna go with me."

Julian's eyes widen before he punches the bag again, this time using his TK to knock it off its chain and smash it. 

JULIAN: "Get real, Brian."

Julian grabs his towel, leaving behind a heartbroken Brian as he sulks off. 

In Sofia and Noriko's room, Sofia is buried under her blankets and Nori is trying to get her out of there.

NORIKO: "Come on, Princess, I saw how much you paid for your dress, and I'm not letting that be a waste just because you made the best decision of your life and said no to Keller. What's up?"

Sofia blows the covers partially off herself, still crying. She likes Julian. She likes him a lot. But she's also scared. Back at the Massachusetts Academy, she nearly killed a man in her rage. And on Halloween, she saw, she felt, her worst fear: becoming like her father. 

NORIKO: "Please don't tell me you're scared you'll hurt the jerk."

SOFIA: "No. I would never hurt him. I fear that the less kind parts of him would bring out the worst in myself. A boyfriend is different from a friend. I cannot risk him influencing me in that way."

Noriko sits down next to her. She's sorry she's dealing with this. For what it's worth, she was the one who talked her down from killing Shaw, and she still can't even imagine her turning out like her dick of a dad. And if Keller isn't the biggest dick of all time, he'll understand if she tells him this. Either way, she owes herself the fun of going to the dance, date or no. Do it for her. Do it for her followers. 

Sofia cracks a small smile as she wipes her eyes. 

SOFIA: "I'm trying not to call them "followers" anymore. The perfect cute nickname could boost engagement by multiples." 

NORIKO: "There's my ridiculous girl!"

In the Blackbird, Scott is piloting, while Emma is filing her nails. With Scott clearly not listening, Emma is yammering on about some of the most debacherous times she had back in the Hellfire Club, clearly intentionally trying to get a reaction out of the stone faced hero. Eventually, she’s successful, with Scott shouting at her that even if she doesn’t respect him or his wishes, she should at least be mentally preparing herself for battle. 

Emma stops filing her nails and looks at Scott. 

EMMA: “Where do you see yourself in ten years?” 

SCOTT: “I’m sorry?” 

EMMA: “Ten years. Where do you see yourself? I envision myself laying on a stunning beach, mojito in hand, reading the trashiest romance novel I can get my hands on as I look out at the sea with the knowledge that I’ve eliminated all threats to Mutantkind.” 

Scott, ignoring the absurdity of what she just said, asks what this has to do with anything. Emma tells him that if he knows where he’s going to wind up, with complete faith it will happen, then he has nothing to worry about going into a battle, because he can be sure he’ll make it through alive. 

SCOTT: “That’s not how that works.” 

EMMA: “For normal people, maybe. You’re a soldier who’s been fighting all forms of monsters, gods, and otherwise evil beings, yours truly included, since you were 16. You’ve faced endless hardships. You’re not about to die breaking toys you’ve smashed a million times.” 

There’s a pause. 

SCOTT: “Tell you what: I’ll say where I see myself in ten years if you tell me a single hardship you’ve faced since you were 16. And things that happened while you were a supervillain don’t count.” 

EMMA: “How dare you.” 

SCOTT: “How dare YOU imply I should think like you as if we’re in any way the same. You’re right about everything I’ve been through. And you’ve seen even more firsthand. You were a rich Boston girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth, the most privileged life imaginable, and you joined Hellfire less than a year after finishing college. All of your struggles have been of your own making. Unless you want to tell me I’m wrong.” 

Emma finally shuts up, facing forward with an icy stare. 

SCOTT: “That’s what I thought.” 

Laura stands in her room, dressed in a black button-down shirt and black pants, nervously looking in a mirror. James tells her to breathe. She has nothing to worry about. 

That doesn’t help Laura though. She turns around and asks what if Sofia says no. 

JAMES: “Allow me to rephrase: You’re Wolverine. You’re not allowed to be afraid anymore.” 

While Laura remains anxious, James tells her he’s seen the two getting closer through their sessions with him and Scott, Laura’s saved and/or tried to avenge Sofia on multiple occasions, and he heard she already said no to Julian. With how all-over each other those two are, what other reason could there be besides her heart belonging elsewhere? 

Laura finally stands tall and confident. On her way out, James tells her not to forget the rose he got for her to give. 

JAMES: “It’s classic. Trust me. Sure I can’t convince you to comb your hair?” 

Laura just blows a strand of it out of her face before walking off. 

Laura knocks on Sofia and Noriko’s door. Sofia answers, dressed in a slinky black ballgown and elbow legnth gloves. Laura is in awe. Sofia tells Laura that she looks simple, but still extremely handsome, to which Laura blurts out a proposal about the two of them maybe going to the dance together, sticking the rose in Sofia’s face. 

LAURA: “Oh, um, you look beautiful.” 

Sofia is taken completely off guard. 

SOFIA: “Laura…this is very sweet, but I’m not…” 

Sofia trails off as she looks into Laura’s big green eyes and rapidly flashes back to her in Mojo’s prison with Julian, her being shot, her nearly killing Shaw, and the end of her nightmare. 

Sofia smiles. 

SOFIA: “I’d love to go with you, Laura.” 

Sofia takes the rose. The two just stand there awkwardly. 

LAURA: “Um…what do we do now?” 

SOFIA: “You could tell me what time you’ll drop by to escort me to the gym.” 

LAURA: “Right. Good idea.” 

While she’s being stoic and awkward, Laura’s hands are flapping. 

We cut to the inside of the sentinel factory, the interior guarded by Purfiers. Emma telepathically informs Scott of how many there are and where they’re positioned. 

Cyclops proceeds to blast down the factory’s entrance, running in and taking down every single guard through a combination of quick, efficient, and well-times optic blasts, and martial arts. 

Emma gives Scott a slow clap as she casually struts in and teases him by saying how sexy that was, stomping down on a barely concious Purifier’s head with her high-heel to knock him out. Before Scott can refute this, Stryker makes his presence known, stepping down a staircase toward the two, acknowledging that the strength given to them by Satan is indeed impressive. And that is what makes them as frightening as they are, beyond merely those who consort with him. 

Scott readies himself to attack as he tells Stryker the only ones they’re a threat to are those who’d try to kill them. Stryker sighs and pulls his hand out of his pocket, revealing he’s holding a dead man’s switch. If he lets go of the button he’s holding down, bombs inside the Sentinels will go off, kill them all, and wipe out everything else in a 15-mile radius. Scott questions what he wants. 

STRYKER: “I did not have the chance to truly engage with Mrs. Summers. The lord spoke with her, personally. A greater honor than she deserved. Still, I wish to speak to you, Cyclops. Man to man. Before the end times for Mutantkind arrive, I want to make you see that I am not a monster, but a righteous servant. I want you to admit that I am doing what is best for you all.” 

Scott scowls at him, not having any other option for the moment but to listen. 

In the cafeteria, Noriko, Cessily, and Sooraya are eating together. Nori and Cess are commiserating over the fact that no one's asked either of them out. Nori tells Soo she's lucky: she might not have a date because she'll only date other Muslims, while they KNOW they don't have dates because they're losers. Sooraya rolls her eyes at this, while Surge and Mercury curse their gauntlets and mercury form, respectively. 

MERCURY: "Have you had dates before?"

SURGE: "A couple. You're Ms. Cheerleader though, so I'm guessing you've got a lot more experience with, well…"

Noriko sticks her thumb in her mouth and pushes it in and out rapidly, laughing after a couple seconds. 

SOORAYA: "What is wrong with you?"

Nori kicks her feet up on the table. 

NORIKO: "Absolutely nothing."

"Hey, Cessily!"

The girls' attention is drawn to Roxy as she jogs over to their table. Cessily instantly shrinks as she approaches, becoming slightly more liquid than usual. 

CESSILY: "Roxy. Hi. You…know who I am?"

ROXY: "Girl, you're part of the squad that has half its members constantly getting into trouble with the X-Men. Everyone knows who you are. Some of us also think you're cursed."

Roxy goes on to say that's not why she's here. She's been watching Cessily, not in a creepy way, she thinks she's really cool, and she wants to take her to the dance. 

Cessily is excitedly and wiggly over the fact that Roxy Freaking Washington wants to go out with her and instantly says yes. 

CESSILY: "Bye, Surge!"

Cess leaps up, hooks her arm around Roxy's, and walks off with her. 

Noriko sighs. 

NORIKO: "Well Soo, just you and me."

Dust proceeds to fly off without another word. 

SURGE "You guys suck."

Noriko falls out of her chair. 

Cyclops walks deeper into the factor with Stryker, who desired privacy away from Emma. He tells him that he wasn’t always a reverend. He has raised to be a man of God, but after an unpleasant childhood, he lost his faith. He became a soldier, serving his country instead of his lord. A childish mistake, but he doesn’t regret the “good” he did. 

STRYKER: “And when I was finished serving overseas…I fell in love.” 

We flashback to the events Stryker describes, as he tells Scott how he met his beloved Marcy after moving into the apartment across the hall from her, and they instantly fell in love. She was a good, Christian woman, she was brilliant, and she could make him smile. They were inseparable and, for the first time in his life, he was truly happy. 

It wasn’t long before they were married and had their first child, Jason. Marcy had helped him regain his faith, and he’d found a new purpose in working at his local church. Things should have been perfect.

 STRYKER: “But then…they fell victim to the same curse you have.” 

Back at the school, the dance has begun! Laura is extremely stiff and uncomfortable as she walks Sofia, who’s hanging off her arm, into the gym. Sofia tells her to relax and that tonight is just about having fun. 

LAURA: “Right. Yes. Fun. I can have that now.” 

 Bling!, dressed in a full tuxedo, is cool as a cucumber as she twirls Cessily around on the dance floor, the infatuated Mercury being metaphorical and somewhat literal putty in her hands. 

Brian is sulking in a corner drinking punch. A poorly dressed kid with glasses and short brown hair walks up to him and asks if he’s got room for one more in the loser corner. Brian shrugs. 

Julian looks like he’s having the time of his life as he dances with a recurring background girl. 

Noriko is working the punch table with Dani, venting about how she expects it from humans, but how could everyone here be so shallow as to not ask her out just because of her gauntlets? What other reason could there POSSIBLY be for her to not get asked out?! 

DANI, smiling knowingly: “No idea, Surge. No idea.” 

Dust, who isn’t dressed up at all, is welcoming Kitty, Storm, and Jean home. Storm picks up on how uncomfortable Sooraya already is here, and offers to take her outside, while Kitty heads out onto the dance floor to show these kids what real dancing looks like, and Jean contacts Scott telepathically to ask him how the mission is going. Being stuck alone with Emma can’t be fun. 

In the factory, Scott responds to her that Emma would be preferable to who he’s stuck with right now. 

Stryker continues to spin Scott his story. He was just living his ideal, suburban life, happily removed from the violence of his past, when something horrible happened: his son’s hands turned purple. They immediately took him to the doctor, only for their tests to reveal that he had a “so-called X-gene”. The doctor prattled on upon the fake science he knew, but Stryker as a clergyman knew better; he knew that “Mutants” were just humans who’d been touched by the devil and tainted with his evil. 

STRYKER: “I wasn’t sure what to do, Cyclops. I was terrified. Not for myself, but for my poor boy, and the danger his existence now put my beloved wife in. I prayed for him, oh, how I prayed for him, but that didn’t let me sleep better each night. On the rare occasion I actually could fall asleep, my dreams were haunted by the terrors of what my son, my Jason, could one day do.” 

Stryker clenches his fists and tears up. 

STRYKER: “And then, a couple weeks later, my wife sneezed. And bubbles came out. Bubbles, Cyclops! Human beings do not sneeze bubbles!” He slams his fist down on a safety railing. “Before then, she’d agreed with all my words. She’d agreed with my concern for our son. But now that she was one of them, one of you, she told me that I was wrong, and that she felt completely normal; she said that nothing was wrong with her or Jason. That…that was when I knew my wife was gone. That was when I knew how being a Mutant twisted the mind.” 

Stryker grins manically as tears stream down his face. 

STRYKER: “Don’t you see, Cyclops? I had no choice!” 

CYCLOPS: “No choice to do what?” 

STRYKER: “To save them! To grant them salvation, and keep them from spreading sin everywhere they went! Marcy was a holy woman! It’s what she would have wanted!” 

This is enough to even mildly surprise Scott. 

CYCLOPS: “You killed them.” 

We flashback quickly to the murders. 

STRYKER: “Yes. And if their souls managed to reach Heaven, I know that they are grateful. I know that they are looking down on me, rooting for me to do the same to all of you. And I know that, soon, all of you will be grateful to me as well.” 

Scott scowls at Stryker as the reverend nods. 

At the dance, Kitty and Kurt are engaged in an intense dance battle, the two taunting each other as Kitty phases through Kurt and Kurt teleports onto her shoulders. They’re arguing over who’s the best dancer here, but all the kids watching them find them both to be extremely cringe. 

PIXIE: “So not tidy.” 

Sofia and Laura are dancing together, and it’s by far the happiest and most at ease Laura we’ve ever seen. Sofia smiles at her and tells her she likes this side of her. 

LAURA: “Being here…being with you…I’m not miserable all the time.” 

Sofia giggles, apologizing again for that past interaction. She really is glad she said yes to coming with her tonight; she’s having a lot of fun. 

SOFIA: “Would you mind getting me some punch?” 

Laura eagerly gets right to it, but, thanks to her hearing, she picks up on Sofia sighing. Turning her head around, she catches Sofia witsfully watching Julian and his date. 

NORI: “You alright, Laura?” 

Laura crushes the cup of punch she’d just gotten in her hand. It doesn’t take long for Noriko to notice why. 

NORIKO: “Oh, that son of a…” 

Noriko super speeds off, causing the punchbowl to spill all over Danielle. 

All Laura says is “Sorry” in a gravely tone before walking off, Dani cursing under her breath.  

In the corner, Brian and the other kid are on their phones. Cessily, in a panic, comes running up to them, asking if they’ve seen Roxy. She said she was going to the bathroom 20 minutes ago and hasn’t come back. 

BRIAN: “Uh, have you tried looking in the bathroom, Cess?” 

CESSILY: “Obviously! Oh god, you don’t think she’d ditch me, do you?” 

NERDY KID: “Of course she would. It’s what “cool girls” like her are best at.” 

Cessily runs off in a panic. 

Brian tells him that wasn’t cool, but the kid just tells him it’s the way it is. The primitive social ladders which define high school, which define life, haven’t changed in over a hundred years. 

Brian tells him this school isn’t like that, but the nerdy kid then questions why Julian didn’t agree to go out with him. 

BRIAN: “How do you–” 

“You’re the freak squad. People talk.” 

BRIAN, even more depressed: “Maybe he’s just straight.” 

“Or maybe he sees you as a convenient friend and follower, even if he doesn’t acknowledge you as the same species.”

The nerdy kid pulls up something on his phone. 

“You should check out my blog. It’s all about this. Quentinquire.org.” 

Scott asks Stryker what exactly it is he wants here. The leader of the X-Men’s approval to genocide his race? Stryker shakes his head. No, no, no. That’s not it. He knows he’ll never “approve”. He just wants him to understand. He wants him to see that, at the end of the day, he’s helping them. He knows he is. 

We flashback one final time to right after the Stryker killed his family. Traumatized and on the floor, Stryker’s hands shook, but that didn’t stop him from putting his gun to head, intent on shooting himself. But then, God spoke to him. He thanked him for his selfless deed. He had proven himself worthy of leading his crusade on Earth. 

In the present, as sweat drips down Stryker’s face, Scott smirks. 

SCOTT: “No. That’s not what you want. You’ve already tried to hurt and kill countless Mutants. You don’t care what I think about that.” Scott steps toward Stryker, reverend holding up the dead man’s switch as he cringes and backs away. “You murdered your wife and child based on your faith. And you’re only alive now because you heard God’s voice. But my wife kicked your god’s ass. And now you’re wondering if you’ve been played.” 

STRYKER: “No! No, you’re wrong! I know the God I serve!” 

SCOTT: “No. You don’t. That’s why you want to hear me approve of your crimes. Because if I don’t? Then you may just be a crazy man who killed his family and got played by a telepath.” 

STRYKER: “Quiet!!!” 

SCOTT: “Or what? You’ll kill us both? Not doing anything to change my mind.” 

Stryker shouts at Scott again, holding up the dead man’s switch. Scott tells him it’s time to end this, but not by blowing himself up. He can’t speak for any god, but he’s sure if they could ask Marcy and Jason what they’d want him to do, they’d say to turn himself in. 

Scott slowly moves closer to Stryker, hoping to disarm him…but Stryker’s grin returns as he catches Scott off guard, dropping the dead man’s switch and striking him across the face with the hand which had been holding it. 

Scott panics as Stryker cackles. Scott sighs that it wasn’t real, but Stryker corrects him: it wasn’t set to blow up any bombs in the Sentinels; it was set to activate the Sentinels. 

The factory starts rumbling, Scott and Stryker grabbing the railing to keep their balance, and the booming sounds of the sentinels turning on echo through the whole building. 

EMMA, telepathically: “Mr. Summers, we have a little problem.” 

SCOTT, telepathically: “I know. I’m on my way.” 

Scott turns around to run off to help Emma, but, out of the corner of his eye, he notices Stryker pulling out a gun, reacting just in time to blast it out of his hands. Even still Stryker makes it clear that if Cyclops won’t give him what he wants, then he will kill him personally, while his sentinels kill his white witch. 

At the school, Dazzler finishes a song. As everyone applauds, Jean gets up on stage, hyping her up, and telling everyone the night isn’t over yet, but it is almost time to announce the dance’s king and queen. First though, she wants to make a quick speech. Jean’s speech primarily takes place in the background as we cut to other events, but we do hear enough clearly to get that the general idea of the speech is about how everyone here may come from different walks of life, but they’re united in the thing that makes them special and, in spite of their differences, she’s gotten to see them all come together as friends and classmates this semester. 

JEAN: “As long as we all stick together, we have nothing to fear.” 

While this speech is going on, Sofia finds Laura, having been worried where she went. Laura tells her not to act like she cares. She knows who Sofia really wishes she were here with. 

Sofia hangs her head. 

SOFIA: “I’m sorry.” 

Elsewhere in the gym, Noriko shoves Julian, asking his date, Preview , to give them some privacy. Julian asks what Ashida’s problem is, with her getting in his face and shouting at him that he’s such an idiot. He’s been chasing after Sofia all semester, and now he’s just giving up? 

Julian shoves her away. Sofia said no, and, yeah, he hates that, but he’s not gonna dwell on it. It is what it is. She wanted to go with Laura, not him, and he’s happy for her. Besides, what does Noriko care? Shouldn’t she be happy they aren’t getting together? 

Noriko swears in Japanese before slamming her hands on the sides of Julian’s head. 

NORIKO: “Julian Keller, read my lips: Sofia doesn’t like girls!” 

JULIAN: “Wh…what?” 

NORIKO: “She wanted to go with you, you dumbass. She’s only here with Laura because she’s afraid you may bring out the worst in her, and because she’s too sweet to say “No” to Laura’s puppy eyes.” 

JULIAN: “They are pretty big.” 

Noriko slaps him, and points over at Sofia and Laura. 

NORIKO: “Do they look like they’re having a good time? Are you having a good time? No. So now that you know what her problem is, fix it!” 

Julian knocks Nori back with his TK, growling at her to stay out of this, before hanging his head and sighing. He’s just not sure what he’s supposed to do. 

“Whatever you have to.” 

Brian walks up to the two. 

BRIAN: “That’s what Ms. Frost is always telling us about getting what we want, right?” 

JULIAN: “Brian…” 

BRIAN: “Hey, don’t worry about earlier. It’s chill. People like you and Sofia? You deserve each other. So go get her.” 

Julian continues to hang his head, before finally picking it up and donning his cocky shithead smirk. 

JULIAN: “Okay. I have an idea. Where’s Cess? She’s not gonna want to miss this.” 

We cut to Cessily, alone, crying in her room. 

In the factory, Scott and Emma struggle against Stryker and the sentinels, respectively, as Stryker proves to be more than a match for Cyclops in hand-to-hand combat, while Emma, despite her multiple, incredible powers, is overwhelmed by the murder machines thanks to their great number and refusal to stay down. 

STRYKER: “Do you think I want to be doing this?! I was happy! I was at peace! But then your ilk came into my life, and when God called upon me, I had no choice but to answer!” 

Eventually, Stryker manages to remove Scott’s visor, and without his optic blasts, the fight completely turns in Stryker’s favor. He gets Cyclops pinned on the floor, and just starts whaling on him, bloodying his fists with each strike across Scott’s face. He tried to make him see reason! He tried to respect him as the leader of his people and offer him peace in death! But just like Marcy, he’s too far gone for that. 

Unable to open his eyes without killing Stryker, and unable to get the reverand off of him, Scott is seemingly helpless. He’s too weak. 

STRYKER: “Come on, Cyclops! Stop holding back! Show me the demon inside you! Confess your sins before the Representative of God!” 

Scott only clenches his eyes shut further. No matter what, he cannot open them. 

EMMA, telepathically: “My father was a monster and my mother was a drunk.” 

SCOTT, telepathically: “Huh?” 

EMMA: “You wanted to know what hardships I’ve faced since I was 16. My horrid parents plagued me until I was 17 and broke away from them. Likewise my older sister, who was born without a heart, my younger sister, who’s never been anything but trouble, and my high school tormentors, all of whom sought to make sure each and every day of my life was a living Hell. The only bright spots in my life before I left that house were my brother, and the knowledge which came only after my X-gene developed fully that it was why, if nothing else, I’d been able to live as my true self. Winston Frost hated Mutants, but there were people he hated more.” 

As this conversation goes on, Scott continues to get beaten, and Emma continues her hopeless battle against the sentinels, doing everything she can to survive and keep them at bay. Interspersed with this, we flashback to what Emma is describing. 

EMMA: “I was offered inheritance of the entire family fortune after finishing high school, but I refused to be tied to that man any longer. It was freeing, but the end result was four years of scrubbing toilets and taking any other menial, backbreaking jobs I could get to pay my way through college. And even after graduation, with my family having disowned me, I was nothing but another girl with a business degree and no connections. So I had to get creative…” 

The flashback we see is one of a 21 year-old Emma stripping beautifully before an audiance. 

EMMA: “I’d tried my hand at stripping before and I’d failed miserably. But with how I’d trained my telepathy, tricking drooling men into believing I was the most incredible performer they’d ever seen was hardly a challenge. Of course, one man was able to see through my illusion. 

Backstage, Emma is smashed face first into a mirror. 

We cut back to the present. 

EMMA: “But that’s a story for another time.” 

Scott questions why she’s telling him all of this. She answers that she was simply doing what he requested in exchange for answering her question. 

Now, where does he see himself in ten years? Is he going to die here? Can he see himself leading Mutantkind to a brighter tomorrow? And is he willing to do whatever it takes to make that a reality? 

EMMA: “I’m already doing everything I can. Our fates, all our fates, are in your hands now, Mr. Summers. What are you going to–?”

Emma is cut off, finally being shot down and neutralized. 

Panic and rage takeover Scott’s bloody mess of a face. Stryker cackles. 

STRYKER: “This is pathetic! You are a monster! Quit acting so self-righteous and act like one! Show me your true eyes, show me the eyes of the beast, and let me face their evil head on before I finish this, and move on to exterminating your entire damned–”

Stryker is cut off as the sound cuts off, a tear drips down Scott’s cheek, Stryker’s malicious smirk shifts toward peaceful relief, and while we can’t hear him, Scott screams, and red consumes the screen. 

Emma is about to be finished off as the sound of Cyclops’ full power echoes through the factory, before the man himself arrives on the scene, a wave of red energy eviserating every last sentinel. 

Emma is in absolute awe as she watches this display of power. And for another reason. 

When all that’s left of the walking death camps is scrap metal, Scott closes his eyes, takes deep breaths, and puts his visor back on. 

He hops down to the lower level to offer Emma a hand. 

EMMA: “Thank you…Mr. Summers. That was something I wasn’t aware you had inside you. Where is Stryker?” 

Scott hangs his head and clenches his fists. 

Emma smirks. 

EMMA: “Please, darling, don’t tell me you feel bad about this. If there was any man who deserved this fate, it was him.” 

CYCLOPS: “That’s the thing.” 

Scott looks up and scowls at Emma. 

CYCLOPS: “I feel great.” 

Emma’s smirk becomes a more gentle smile as she places a hand on the side of his face. 

CYCLOPS: “We should get home.” 

EMMA: “We should. My hero needs his reward after all.” 

Scott brushes her off and stomps away. 

Back in her room, Cessily is still crying. She’s still alone, until someone knocks on her door. She goes to answer, and on the other side is Bling!. Cessily questions if laughing at her with her friends wasn’t enough and now she wants to laugh at her face to face…before Roxy steps aside so she doesn’t vomit all over Cessily. 

Cessily asks if she’s okay, and Roxy nervously  laughs. Turns out she got food poisoning earlier, and when she realized she wasn’t gonna be alright for a while, she ran off on her own so Cessily didn’t find out. 

ROXY: “I…didn’t want you to think I wasn’t cool.” 

But, Cessily had been texting Dust, Roxy ran into her, and, when she found out Cessily was crying, she knew she had to apologize. She’s so sorry she left. This was stupid. 

Cessily laughs. Yes. It was. And a massive bitch move. But the dumbest part is thinking she wouldn’t think she’s cool just because she ate a bad egg or something. She’s Roxy freaking Washington! Did she not notice how she was all over her all night? 

CESSILY: “I just was so worried, even before you ditched me, that you wouldn’t like me. No one’s like me that way since, you know…” 

Roxy smirks, taking Cessily’s hands. 

ROXY: “Since you became a girl of metal? Cessily Kincaid, I’ve been looking for another one of those since I was nine years-old.” 

CESSILY: “R…really?” 

ROXY: “Really. And if you’ll let me take you back to the gym for the last couple dances, I’d love to show you how sorry I am, and how much I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Cessily’s face squirms with uncertainty, before she ultimately squees, running off with Roxy. 

CESSILY: “Never ditch me again!” 

ROXY: “Count on it.” 

As Jean finishes her speech and is about to announce the king and queen of the dance, Julian flies onto the stage and takes the mic. 

JULIAN: “Everyone listen up!” 

JEAN, telepathically: “Mr. Keller, what do you think you’re doing?” 

JULIAN, telepathically: “Come on, you’re about to crown me king, aren’t you? Call it starting my speech early.” 

Jean sighs and shakes her head. 

JEAN, telepathically: “Proceed.” 

While Noriko and Brian are looking at him hoping he pulls this off, Sofia and Laura are concerned and confused. 

Julian tells everyone that knows they’ve been watching him and his squad these past few months. And why wouldn’t they? They’re obviously the best Mutants here! Their kickass TA is already an X-Man, and there’s no one scarier - in a good way. 

Laura snort laughs. 

Sooraya doesn’t even like fighting, but she could take anyone here! Cessily has more spirit than anyone he’s ever met! 

Cessily and Roxy walk in as he’s saying this. 

ROXY: “Uh, what’s going on here?” 

CESSILY, smiling: “Julian being Julian.” 

And Brian? Brian is the best friend a guy could ever ask for. 

Brian smiles with acceptance, as Julian then says that Noriko may be a loser, but they care about her anyway, prompting Nori to flip him off. 

JULIAN: “And Sofia? Well, we ALL love her, right? Let’s hear it!” 

Sofia is bashful as the whole gym cheers her on. 

JULIAN: “That’s right! You know all who the best of the best are! That’s why you’re about to put crowns on our heads! And that’s why, before we graduate, the two of us are going to be X-Men!” 

The whole gym continues to cheer as Sofia starts to both soak it in, and realize what Julian is doing. 

Julian says he knows Sofia has doubts about herself, about him, but the only future he sees for them is kicking ass together and saving the day as the best heroes this world’s ever seen. He knows he’s a jerk, but she knows he’s more than that. And he’s seen her at worst, and can still only see her as perfection. 

JULIAN: “Come on, Beautiful. Give it a chance. Please.” 

Everyone is cheering on Sofia to get up there, and the look on Sofia’s face makes it clear Julian’s words have reached her. Even still…

LAURA: “Go.” Sofia turns to her with remorse.  “I’ve been hurt worse before.” 

As Laura hangs her head, Sofia gives her a big hug. 

SOFIA: “I am sorry I cannot feel how you want me to feel, but I do care about you Laura. A lot.” Sofia pulls back. “I’m taking you shopping over break. You need less black in your closet.” 

LAURA: “That…sounds awful. But okay.” 

With Laura at peace, Sofia flies toward the stage. Julian is holding his arms out open for her, but she slaps him. 

SOFIA, smirking: “No more big, public displays of affection like this. They’re already tiring.” 

JULIAN laughs. “Deal.” 

The two take hold of each other and share their first kiss, the cheers reaching their peak, as Jean seizes the moment to properly announce them as the dance’s king and queen. 

Inspired by the moment, Mercury kisses Bling! Both girls are sufficiently awkward about it and giggle. 

As the dancing resumes, Julian and Sofia finally get to dance, and Mercury and Bling! pick up where they left off. 

Laura is left all alone, watching Julian and Sofia, but…

BRIAN: “Who needs the hets, right?” 

Brian, smirking, offers a hand to Laura. 

Laura shrugs with a smirk of her own. 

Brian and Laura take the dance floor together. 

Noriko sighs, happy she was at least able to help her friend, but she’s still got no one. 

Then, a short, porcupine looking kid named Quill walks up to her and asks if she’d want to dance. 

Nori takes the kid’s hand and makes clear she’s leading. 

We pan away from the dance with everyone at peace. 

In the middle of the night, Scott and Emma arrive back at the institute, having missed the dance, with everyone having gone to sleep. Scott told Jean they were on their way home, and the mission was completed, but he didn’t give the important details. 

Emma asks if he’ll be taking credit for his noble deed tonight, or if he’d like her to “take the blame”, so “pure, holy Jean” doesn’t get mad at him. 

Scott says there was nothing “noble” about what he did. He’s going to make clear to Jean that he knows that, and hope she forgives him given the circumstances. The fact that it made him feel so good, making sure that monster would never hurt anyone again, is wrong. 

EMMA: “Feelings are never “wrong”, Mr. Summers. They’re who we are. Good or bad, you can embrace those feelings, or you can repress them because an old man who groomed you to be his weapon told you how to feel.” 

SCOTT: “I’ve told you not to insult Xavier.” 

EMMA: “And I’ve told you I can see right through you. I’ve told you I know there’s someone so much more real underneath that stiff facade of yours. Tonight, I got a glimpse of that man. And I’ll be damned if I don’t get to thank him.” 

SCOTT: “Emma, you–”

Emma cuts Scott off, grabbing the sides of his head and kissing him. Just like when Mystique kissed him disguised as Emma, he kisses back for a moment before pushing her away. Only this time, he’s not falling over, he has Emma excitedly grinning at him and tossing off her cape…and he knows what he needs. 

Scott pulls Emma into his arms and passionately makes out with her. 

We cut to the next morning. Scott and Emma are in Emma’s bed, passed out, naked and tied up in silk sheets. 

Out in the hall, Jean is looking for Scott. She can sense him somewhere around here. 

JEAN: “Are you making me breakfast again you big sweetie?” 

Jean knocks on Emma’s door, asking what happened last night and if she knows why Scott didn’t come to bed after getting home. 

As she asks, Scott and Emma wake up, the former in horror at what he’s done, and Emma moaning and squirming around in pleasure. 

JEAN: “...Scott?” 

Jean forces Emma’s door open and sees the two in bed together. 

EMMA: “Oh! Hello Jean, darling. Care to join us?” 

SCOTT: “Jean…I…let me explain. I…”

As Scott struggles to find the right words, Jean sheds a tear. And as the tear goes down her cheek, it becomes a flame. 

Jean screams at the top of her lungs as the full Phoenix aura emerges around her, and she psychically shuts down Scott and Emma’s brains, rendering them both catatonic. 

Outside the school, a small group of the remaining Purifers burst onto the front lawn, determined to avenge their fallen leader. 

As they charge forward, the door is opened by Jean. 

PURIFER: “Die, demon!” 

Every Purifer present tries to shoot her down with their machine guns, but Jean stops every single bullet, dropping them to the ground. 

Jean tilts her head to the left. In an instant, all of the present Purifers explode, leaving only blood and gore behind. Jean flies off as she screeches like the Phoenix. 

[batsplat]

so i’m kinda new to motogp, i started watching it from this season and your account has been very helpful. i have a question, i’ve seen a post on insta where they were comparing marc and pedro results from the first race to the fifth races (i think?) in their rookie year. and a lot of people in the comments where talking about the fact that you cannot compare their results because they’re two whole different situations. but are they? ‘cause at the start of the season everybody was calling pedro the next marquez and a lot of motogp legends were talking about how talented he’s. which i’m not entitled to discuss. but if you compare the results, i wouldn’t say pedro’s season is disappointing (because it’s still early and he has two podiums), but i think it’s pehraps underwhelming compared to marc’s. so what i’m trying to understand is why are their situations considered different and why some people kind of “discredit” marc rookie season when they compare it to acosta’s? (like i thought that winning a title in you rookie year was the most impressive thing you could do)

welcome to the sport, and that's really nice to hear!!

so, I did do my 'comparing between eras is impossible' thing here, but obviously this isn't particularly useful. I'll get over myself and give you a proper answer, but fwiw I still believe that direct parallels can only ever be of limited use. here's a few things to keep in mind when comparing the two:

factory vs satellite: factory teams will always have at least a little bit of an advantage over the satellite squads. even if it's not in equipment... it's also just about the amount of resources that are being mobilised to help you get your results, the experience of your team, etc etc. now, I put this first because I don't think this is a massive factor here. ktm's whole thing is that they want to essentially run four factory bikes, see the rebrand next year, and obviously they're very motivated to help pedro out. I'm sure he's getting a lot of backing - in terms of historical comparisons, it's a bit more valentino 2000 than it is casey 2006

bike quality: the honda in 2013 was the best bike on the grid. pedro's ktm is... well it's certainly not in the top four. after that, the pecking order does get a little tricky, but it's certainly not decisively clear of either the aprilias or the gp23's. we do know pedro basically has equal machinery to the other ktm's. now, those are the first riders he has to beat... and he's beating them! going into this year, binder was getting top three rider on the grid shouts and pretty much everyone thought he'd be outscoring acosta at least in the first year (not me tho <3). I think these acosta performances have sparked a bit of a debate over 'was the ktm better than we thought all along and the riders were just being overrated, or is acosta just that good'... makes it kinda easy to forget how people talked about binder last year. but crucially even people who rated pedro very highly generally didn't think he'd have the upper hand this soon. pedro is p5 in the standings (behind three gp24's and marc marquez), versus the other ktm's at p7, p...16? jesus. and p17. marc's teammate in 2013 was p3. now, yes, nobody is saying binder is as good as dani pedrosa and he's been having a very rocky season - but at least some of binder's issues seem to be bike-related... definitely a bike that seems to have some serious gremlins and pedro needs to be credited for mitigating those. also, this is an era in which the bikes are more complicated than ever and generally considered to be even trickier to adapt to than in times past, which makes pedro's immediate consistent pace pretty much everywhere, every session particularly noteworthy

spread of field: related to the previous point - not only is pedro's bike worse, but the field as a whole is more competitive. in 2013, if you weren't on one of four bikes, it was going to be really hard for you to fight for wins. in 2024, there are a lot of bikes capable of fighting for wins, and you see that in how mixed up the order is race to race. it's just a different era... from around 2007 to 2015, there was a clear disparity between a few bikes and the rest, enabled both through technical regulations and other external factors (e.g. the impact of the financial crisis and smaller teams struggling as a result). the average level of the field is also higher nowadays, there's a lot of very strong riders - which means if you're having a slightly rougher weekend, your floor is considerably lower and you will have to accept you might not be in the podium fight at all. the margins are smaller now in both qualifying and in races... small swings of performance in both bike and rider can have way more dramatic repercussions

the eye test: for obvious reasons this one's a bit harder to put words to. but... pedro just passes it, with flying colours. it's the way he throws himself around on the bike, the obscene amounts of lean angle, the ridiculously late braking and the way he somehow still gets the bike turned, how he keeps taking lines that nobody else is taking, how it's allowing him to fight his way through the field (notoriously tough in motogp these days)... in the same way in which marc in 2013 was clearly just riding differently to all the other riders that preceded him, you see this stuff with pedro, you see he's the next step. you can tell he's just got that special something that allows him to do stuff with his bike that nobody else can. also, this isn't quite the same as rating his rookie season, but obviously everyone already knew what a hyped prospect pedro was headed into this year. he hasn't shown any sign whatsoever of succumbing to the hype/pressure and letting it get to him, which is also a great sign for the future

how good his results are: so, obviously he hasn't won a race yet - even though he's now secured multiple podiums. but again, unlike with marc''s 2013 there is no single weekend in which the ktm has been the strongest bike. sometimes it's been a bit closer and sometimes it's a little further away... yes, pedro has started making a couple of mistakes, but also that may just be the result of putting the bike in places it doesn't really belong. marc only had one race crash in the rookie season, but he also knew he couldn't afford to make mistakes - he was in the title fight. pedro is playing around with a worse bike and if he thinks he has the pace to win, it makes sense for him to just push that little bit extra, come what may. it's now been quite a few weekends since pedro hasn't decisively been the best ktm on pace - and, really, what more can you ask for? unless binder's suddenly forgotten how to ride a bike, it's reasonably likely that the ktm is at least a little worse than it was last year, which makes these results even more impressive

the rookie title question: yes, a rookie title is uniquely impressive! it's a particularly tricky situation to deal with... marc really had to be operating on a very high very consistent level that entire year, and in no way should it be diminished what kind of performances he had to put in week to week to claim that title. (though, of course, marc did get a little bit lucky that year, in particular with his rivals' injuries.) the thing is, we'll never know if pedro would manage the pressures and travails and ebbs and flows of a title fight in his rookie season as well as marc did... because he hasn't had the opportunity to fight for it. we just don't know! which makes it a bit hard to penalise pedro for not being able to match that... you just have to find a happy middle ground where you acknowledge how impressive marc's title was, while also allowing that on pure performance pedro might be shaping up as every bit as impressive

marc is very marmite in most online motogp fan spaces, whether those detractors are partisan valentino fans or think he's too aggressive for their tastes or don't particularly fondly remember his dominance or just don't like his vibe... so I'm sure there's plenty of people on instagram who would like to discredit him!! but I don't think calling pedro's rookie season comparable should in any way be used to discredit marc - the only point is that if you look at his current performances, it's completely plausible to believe he can match/surpass marc in the future. what he's doing right now is really impressive! it's not quite the same headline numbers, but there's weekends where he's quite plausibly on. like. the joint 12th best bike or something. so it really is all very tight and he is doing very well! but also you can't compare eras and all of these comparisons easily break down and sometimes you can just treat two things as separately impressive without attempting to definitively determine which is 'better', especially in motorsports where so much isn't determined by the actual athlete themselves and instead by factors they have zero control over