#you did it pecco <3

[batsplat]

number of sunday race wins per title winner this century (wins/number of races)

2001: 11/16

2002: 11/16

2003: 9/16

2004: 9/16

2005: 11/17

2006: 2/17

2007: 10/18

2008: 9/18

2009: 6/17

2010: 9/18

2011: 10/17

2012: 6/18

2013: 6/18

2014: 13/18

2015: 7/18

2016: 5/18

2017: 6/18

2018: 9/18

2019: 12/19

2020: 1/14

2021: 5/18

2022: 7/20

2023: 7/20

current wins of title contenders this season (out of 9 races, another 10-11 to go): bagnaia - 6; martin - 2

[inhidingxoxo3637]

Are these bitches soft lauching team orders??

[moonshynecybin]

hi hello i'm back from the dead (temporary) and during the race yesterday. for the split second while marc was falling it seemed like he'd land right in front of the whole pack and now i need to dissect vale's reaction to that

oh my goooooood… okay FIRST we have to remember a few of things here. three pronged attack. 1. vale is hot girl repressed and has been convincing himself marc is the evilest motorcycle racer who ever lived for the better part of a decade, 2. the FACE he made when marc went FLYINGGGGG through the air last year at valencia (with jorge martin also crashing, this won pecco the title). like. okay! FUCK YOU! but. it also kind of pulls into perspective the fact that this IS a very normal part of the sport, and probably once marc got up and started moving (IT DID LOOK BAD THOUGH.) he was like okay hell yeah. protege wins second title. enemy crashed. ideal situation here.

3. my king is still SO fucking weird about injury in comparison to all these insane bitches and has been for a long time. but mostly post sic. he hates hearing about it, he CARES about the safety of himself and others, and he tries to instill that in those around him especially his large excitable homoerotic children. who never once listen to him. i’m THINKING of all of those riders safety meetings that he was at every goddamn race and would basically lead until sepang happened and he ghosted them for years either to avoid marc or as an impotent “protest” against racing direction. like he is VERY COMPLEX on this issue and he balances the plates of safety BUT he WILL let one drop if the grudge is there. and it’s there !! it’s been dropped !!!

so all of this to say. vale IS weird about injury. but he’s used to it. and he occasionally lets the petty streak shine the fuck through. so when something like that happens to MARC it’s all wrapped up in this. insane emotional cocktail i think (repression features here ! i really think it does !! tell yourself you hate him so if he gets injured WHICH HE WILL you care less !!!!). like he’ll cheer when marc crashes if it benefits his academy kid, but ALSO the most concrete step he ever took towards reconciliation was in 2016 after the rider in moto2 died, and he said that their feud wasn’t important in the scheme of something like that happening (SO much to think about like. he told the press and MARC that things had changed. amd that they could put it behind them but they really HADNT and he DIDNT.) so i think he has these flashes of concern and relief and doubt and resentment and WORRY alllllll of the time because marc does insane shit all of the time, but rarely does he let himself reach out about it… the resentment HAS to keep him warm at night so he ignores his better angels… i may care about you, but NEVER forget i still hate you….

[thewriters-world]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3:

Marco has never liked Marc Marquez. The man who haunts Valentino, whose spirit lingers in the nooks and crannies of the ranch. Truth be told, Marco hadn't felt any sort of way about the older Spaniard, not until he was fifteen years old, and suddenly he had to be Bez. Marco maintains that Marc stole his name. To a more delusional degree, Marco maintains that Marc stole his hero. Either way, Marco Bezzecchi does not like Marc Marquez.

It doesn't feel wrong, Valentino can't even say his name, and Franky speaks of him as if he's the devil incarnate, talking about how he ruined the sport. Of course, it's only when he's older does Marco realise that all the words Franky uses to describe Marc are Valentino's. The implications of that revelation sends Marco spiraling so he resists the urge to ask Franky,'Do you even know Marc?' He knows it will make him a hypocrite because he uses the same words to describe Marc. Pecco is too mild mannered to outwardly show his resentment towards Marc, but Marco knows he feels as though he's always running to match him, just to show Valentino. Luca is the only one who speaks about Marc, like as though he created the moon and the stars. He never has a bad thing to say, and Marco always felt as though Luca was too soft, but for the first time, Marco finds himself wondering if it was Valentino who did something unforgivable and not Marc.

Marco allows these ideas to fester in his brain, never actually taking a moment to pull them apart. Not until a random Friday afternoon. Valentino is in the paddock, strutting around as though he owns the place (he does). He stops in front of him, pressing a kiss onto his cheek as a greeting. He starts talking, but Marco can't hear a single word. Something is strange about the way he smiles through him. There's a smirk on his lips that makes Marco feel as though he's the pawn in a game he doesn't quite understand. The kiss, the way his hand palms his cheek it's normal, Valentino does it to everyone, and all the academy riders agree it's very paternal, Marco secretly thinks it's more maternal but he never says it out loud. But today, when Valentino does it, Marco feels his stomach bottom out. It feels dirty, and Marco wants to slap his hand away. He wants to question the older man for putting up boundaries between them, only to desecrate those very boundaries. But then it's over in a few seconds, Valentino is long gone, and when Marco turns around to see Marc looking as stricken as he feels he immediately knows. His stomach sinks oh he thinks as his ears ring, and now Marco knows exactly why it was weird. He knows how Valentino thinks. He knows that Valentino only did it to mess with Marc, and if he ever told him that it made him uncomfortable, he would apologise and try to make it better. But Marco is not about to open the can of worms that is the relationship between Marc and Valentino. For the first time, Marco thinks about all the ideas in his head.

Marco doesn't know if he should tell Valentino that he thinks he's ruined something in Marc. He had only wanted to confirm his suspicion, but then suddenly had frozen with an unhealthy pallor to his face. He had called Marc's name twice, and he still remained in a dissociative state. Only a poke to his thigh had dragged him out of his head space, and then Marco fumbled through a half-assed attempt to comfort the confused spaniard before slinking away.

All in all, Marco feels as though he's in deeper shit than he ever expected to be, and a part of him regrets turning back to look at Marc.

[formulapookie]

24 tender ans pairing maybe bez/pecco?

Feel bad sending yet another prompt, hope you don't mind <3

24. tender (don't be sorry, it means you like my writing, and I get more motivated if you do <3)

Bez thinks about what the hell went through their heads when they started this.

two years back, the rush and adrenaline of Pecco being a World Champion, the champagne, the party, the kiss, the sex.

"this is just sex between us, we can be friends, but it's just sex" "of course"

he had said of course. of course. why did he agree to such a stupid thing he doesn't know.

not when Pecco is kissing his neck like this, not when he can still feel the bitter taste of his release on his tongue, not when their hands are tangled together, not when Pecco is telling him how beautiful he looks for him, not when he says to Pecco how good he is at this.

They are mean sometimes, in the rush of things, especially when Pecco crashes, they're mean.

But right now they're sweet.

Pecco leaves kisses too tender on his face as he fucks him, his touch is too tender, everything is.

He can't keep up like this. Lying to Pecco, to himself, to everyone.

He craves tender because it means maybe it's not just sex, but he hates it because of the same reason.

if it's not just sex what is it? Why is the tenderness there if it's just sex?

Send me a number and I’ll write a micro story using the word or phrase

[starkwlkr]

Hiii,i really really love your work🫀Can you do something with Pecco cuz He’s winner today🇮🇹✊🏻

exist for love | pecco bagnaia

i’m going to do half social media and half written on this one :) thank you for the request!!

“Y/n! Pecco is on the phone!” Y/n heard her mother say as she started walking away from the grammy stage. She had just won producer of the year and all she wanted was to celebrate with her boyfriend, but he was on the other side of the world racing.

“Thanks, mom.” Y/n said and grabbed her phone from her mother’s hand to see Pecco on the screen. “We did it!” She yelled and held up her award for Pecco to see.

“I’m so proud of you, amore. But that’s your award, you did it.” Pecco replied.

“Francesco! You put up with me when I had the worst writers block of my life. And you did help with some lyrics so don’t discredit yourself.”

Pecco laughed. “So I’m a grammy winner too?”

“Only if I can be the motogp world champion too.”

“Deal.”

Y/n heard someone in the background say that Pecco needed to hang up the phone. She understood that their time was limited since the start of the race was soon. It wasn’t long until Pecco and Y/n would reunite.

“I love you more than anything in the universe.” Pecco said.

“Wow, that’s a lot. I don’t think I can compete with that.” Y/n teased.

“I’m hoping one of these days you’ll make me a song with my words.” Pecco said sarcastically. What he didn’t know what that Y/n was already writing a song with words that Pecco had told her on their anniversary. Her songs were always seen as the sad songs that you would put in a playlist and title it ‘crying at 3 am’ so many fans were confused as to why she would call Pecco her muse for sad songs.

“I’ll write all the songs you want, Pecco. Bye, good luck and be safe.”

Liked by pecco63, taylorswift and 4,273,278 others

y/nmakesmusic week after grammys and we’re back to work 🫶🏼 i even got some guy who drives a motorcycle in the studio and we made a pretty song. ‘exile’ featuring bon iver is out soon! (pecco suggested the bon iver feature🥰)

pecco63 you have a lovely voice ❤️

y/nmakesmusic love you, my muse ❤️

boniver you amaze me! it is truly an honor to work with you!

y/nmakesmusic no, YOU amaze me

taylorswift can’t wait to hear your beautiful voice, y/n!

y/nmakesmusic thanks for the lessons😭❤️

taylorswift ‘lessons’ she says but they were really an excuse for us to reunite and gossip

View all 56,289 comments

Liked by fabioquartararo20, pecco63 and 647,839 others

y/nmakesmusic surprise! i made this song after our fourth date. i knew francesco was the one i would make my first love song about so while he was away, i wrote a little song for him and recorded it and now i want to share it with you all! ‘exist for love’ is my baby and i hope you love her. and to pecco, here are you pretty words turned into a song that you waited for.

pecco63 you’re incredible, amore. i love you forever❤️

y/nmymother imagine being the first person y/n wrote a love song about😭 pecco is winning fr

carolabagnaia love you and your amazing talent❤️

pecco63 what about me?

carolabagnaia did you write the song? no.

pecco63 but it’s about me 😌

View all 34,279 comments

[randommotogpstuff]

Pecco's wedding outfit ratings

Enea 8/10

he got 2 points added to his total just because i love those glasses. kinda on the safe side but with how everyone else was dressed it was probably a good idea. the design on his shirt is nice. tan suit at a summer wedding pretty fair

Celestino 3/10

easy little improvements such as proper sizing and wearing a jacket on top would've really fixed his ranking. i like the little hat he has it's cute.

Marco 0/10

one of your best friends is getting married don't show up looking like a mime that's running a gondolas down in venice. so awful but it doesn't even circle back to being good it just stay awful. not even going talk about the polka dots on the back of the vest. was going to give him one point because i don't mind the whole brown look but nope the more i look at it the more angry i get

Luca 7/10

i was expecting better from you. whoever gave any of this guys access to hair gel for this event should not have. grateful the shirt wasn't polka dot like i originally thought. could've worn a plastic garbage bag and i still would've given a 5

Franco 6/10

if the shirt had been tucked in i wouldn't have minded the outfit. appreciate that he wore a jacket and didn't shave off his hair. every pic i've seen of him i've been distracted by his girlfriend's dress so 1 bonus points for that

Andrea 5/10

Very much giving kentucky derby vibes. i think it's the hat that causing that. really don't hate it but don't really love it either. it's average. he almost lost a point cause it was hard to find a pic of him.

Valentino wedding look 9/10

i was as surprised as everyone that he was appropriately dressed for once no converses, no paisley print shirts. are we sure it was not a body double? lost a point for the hair. guessing they were all sharing a tub of hair gel because all of them went overboard with the hair gel.

Valentino reception look 7/10

like i really want to like this outfit i do but its very much giving my drunk uncle at our last family vacation vibes. why did he have to an outfit change? the side angle pic he has with the back of the outfit is doing some really hard work cause i found it very hot.

Uccio 9/10

don't judge me i know i have a problem in judgement when it comes to uccio. he was dressed in a semi properly fitted suit. the hair gel wasn't as bad as it was on some other. and every pic his wife has posted they looked they were having a blast. did lose 1 point cause i think he changed into a white t-shirt at the reception

[moonshynecybin]

new video of pecco and marc having a chat (in Italian!!) dropped by motogp on tiktok, he truly is child of a divorce

rosquez children of divorce who are upsettingly close to marc in age power ranked:

enea. went with marc here and is the ONLY! italian to visit him in his exile (seperate garage at portimao). bravely refused the academy bc of hot girl solidarity with marc.

fabio. belongs to them both. he gets points off in this category bc he wants to fuck marc but points added for this iconic tweet:

3. pecco. fastidiously polite kingggggg who has a marc complex wrt his own championships that i find really funny. supressing hero worship bc it is NOT allowed at vr46 and also marc is deeply and personally irritating. vale DID get him in the divorce which makes sense but you knowwwww our lil mouse man is still using him as a fun little yardstick to beat himself up with

[coimbrabertone]

Motorsports Christmas: An After-Action Report.

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

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

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

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

That's not even the worst part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, the Indianapolis 500.

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

Then the race itself. It was amazing.

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

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

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

Then Alexander Rossi made his final pitstop for fuel.

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

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

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

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

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

It was utterly devastating.

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

Then there was the Coke 600 at Charlotte.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[formulapookie]

!!!

Under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 chapter 1 ; chapter 2

Moonlight kisses ch.3 bezzetti, 1.9k words

He decided it was time now, to do it, to break up with the love of his life, with the boy who’s made his life better, since they met back all those years ago, the boy he wanted to live together with, to marry one day, to hold forever in a hug, unmelting, just the two of them.

He had pushed this moment along too much now, back when he started thinking about how not to hurt Cele with his thoughts two months ago, when he started going out more, smoking and drinking a lot more than he was used to, more than he actually wanted.

He had spent two straight days being completely drunk at Edo’s house, weed and alcohol just flowing his way non stop, drowning him in a spiral of loneliness.

He gets up from the couch were he’s sat with the other academy boys, Vale is not there with them right now, has some business out town apparently for a couple days.

He walks to the kitchen and his - he can’t say or think boyfriend right now, he can’t because if he does he will end up not doing what he wants,no, needs to do

Cele is looking at him with stars in his eyes and fuck it’s difficult.

it’s fucking difficult to act unbothered and cold when he’s got Cele looking at him like that.

But it’s for him, he’s doin this for him, and for the academy.

“We should break up” 

silence

“Marco what the fuck are you saying”

Bez is suffering internally, he wants to cry and scream and yell but he remains unreadable on the outside

“I met someone else, I cheated on you”

there’s a stop, he needs to collect his thoughts, be strong just for a bit more

“I love him”

It’s cold, mean, cutting, fucking cruel, but he knows he has to do it to let them free from his torments.

He looks at Cele and he almost breaks his facade, the hurt and disappointment in the boy’s eyes is something he’s never seen in Cele.

He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, opens it again, tears already streaming down his face.

He can’t form words, he’s too shocked or hurt or both to do it.

Meanwhile the academy has gone silent, background noise by some videogame being the only thing filling the silence 

“You - you cheated on me?” 

“Yeah”

“what do you mean yeah”

“means I fucked another guy Celestino, I want to be with him”

Bez has never called him Celestino, not even in the earliest years of their friendship, he’s always been Cele, Celin, then amore.

“Why” and Bez wants to fucking die, there’s no coming back from this now, he chose to do this and he’s going to do it.

Still incredibly able to keep his facade of an uncaring asshole.

“Because I like him more, I got bored with you, and he’s not boring” “No I don’t believe you” “God than you are more stupid than I thought” “Stop that Bez” “Stop what? You asked why and I told you, maybe if you were less boring I would’ve stuck around”

He’s being too mean, he knows he is, but he needs Cele to hate him, needs the whole damn academy to do the same, needs Cele to forget him.

Cele is crying, and he doesn't cry often, Bez knows Cele hates crying in front of people, he already thinks he’s considered weaker, crying only fuels that lie. 

He doesn’t speak anymore, just turns around and goes to his room, Mig and Franky running behind him to make sure he’s ok, for how much ok he can be.

He hears Pecco getting up the couch and he knows he’s in for something bad.

Cele is the youngest between them, they all feel the need to protect him, and that’s exactly what bez is doing, protecting Cele from him, because he’s too fucked up to be with Cele right now and make sure everything’s ok.

“What the fuck did you do?” Pecco is angry, really angry, Bez has never seen him like that. “WHAT DID YOU DO?” He’s yelling, he’s red in the face, he probably wants to punch Bez in the face, and Bez thinks it would hurt less than whatever he did now. 

“Oh fuck’s sake it’s not that deep, he took it too seriously, I cheated on him but seriously, did none of you expected it? We spend all our time together, it’s boring after a while, I needed something new, he should’ve understood I was getting bored with him and-”

Next thing he knows he’s being pushed to the ground, his back hitting the fridge, magnets falling down, the one him and Cele brought back from a holiday in France a little hourglass with sand in it, it breaks, his hand ending up on top of the glass splinters, it burns, Bez doesn’t care.

Another magnet has fallen and hit his collarbone, right where he got surgery last year, it’s one Bez gifted Vale years ago, he bought it in Bali.

It hurts like a bitch, but again, Bez doesn’t say anything.

“Pecco no”

Luca’s voice, he’s holding Pecco back, probably from hitting Bez in the face, and Bez thinks he may actually want Pecco to do it, make it hurt as much as possible, feels like it would still hurt less than what Cele is going through.

“If you show up here again I’m making sure you leave looking like a fucking dead body”

“Pecco let him, he’s not worth it, let’s go check on Cele, we have to stay with him, don’t waste your time”

Luca has the most disgusted and hateful voice Bez has ever heard him have.

And it hurts.

Luca hushes Pecco out the kitchen, telling him again to go see if Cele was feeling better.

“Go away. I won’t tell Valentino but I can’t assure you the others won’t. You better only show up at races and don’t get into Pecco’s range of action or next to Cele, I won’t be there to stop him every time”

he turns his back to Bez, then turns back, a thick veil of hate and disgust over his eyes.

“You really did the worst thing you could do, especially to someone like Cele”

Bez doesn’t answer, he knows he’s fucked up everything, but it’s for the best.

He gets up, wincing in pain for the splinters still stuck in his hand.

Doesn’t say a word, only collects his phone and the suitcase he already prepared next to the couch, puts on a beanie and the protective jacket and gets out.

He climbs onto the bike, turns it on and rides away.

His hand hurts as he clenches the handlebar, so he clenches more and more until he’s at an alcohol shop. He gets in and buys some of the stupidest strong shit he can find, absinthe, straight liquors, everything strong enough to make him black out and sleep, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do so otherwise.

Hops on the bike again and drives until a decently-looking hotel nearby Tavullia. 

Bez climbs down, turns the bike off, he didn’t even wear a helmet he realizes. 

As he gets inside the receptionist eyes him, he recognises him, of course, but he just asks for a room for the night, pays and goes upstairs with the few things he brought with him.

It’s gonna be a long night, he just needs to drink his thoughts away.

Meanwhile Cele is inconsolable, he’s crying, he feels so stupid and weak. “I don’t understand” he’s been saying it for ten minutes now, on loop, like a broken record. Pecco is furious, wants to go out, find Bez and punch him so hard he forgets his name.

But he doesn’t want to leave Cele alone, not like this.

“Cele you have to get up from the floor, please, you’ve been there for half an hour already, you need to get up”

It’s Franky, he’s the only one stable enough to actually speak without insulting Bez, and that’s what the boy needs for now.

“He left Franky, he left because I was boring and he found someone else. He - he went with another guy do you understand? He -” Cele can’t continue the sentence, too fucking hurt, he keeps on sobbing and crying, only one person could help him back up right now, and that person just hurt him like no one else ever did before, he’s God knows where, probably with the new guy, laughing about him and his reaction, in his - their bed, tangled up in the sheets they shared up until yesterday.

“I’m gonna kill him I’m not joking” “Pecco shut up fucking hell. You’re angry, we all are, but you can’t act like this right now, we need to be here for Cele you get it?” Mig is speaking in a hushed tone, trying to not make Cele hear.

Pecco nods, but his eyes are burning with hate. How could Bez do something like this? To Cele of all people. Cele who’s always looked up at him like he hung starts in the sky, Cele who loved him since childhood, Cele who wanted to go live with Bez permanently, Cele who was fucking talking to Pecco about wanting to marry Bez.

And Bez had done the same, saying he loved Cele more than life itself.

He doesn’t get how Bez could cheat on Cele. He truly doesn’t. It doesn’t make fucking sense. 

Bez is currently trying to think of anything but Cele, imagining him hurting, crying even, for something he did it’s unbearable, more than the sharp pain in his palm, splinters still there, he doesn't think he’ll remove them.

Maybe he can just let them there, become a part of him, a payment for what he did.

Even if his payment has already been given.

It was losing Cele, losing his friends, losing his second family. 

He glues himself to the liquor bottle, chugging down as much as he can of the liquid before feeling it burn too much, breaking away from it coughing.

If he’s lucky enough none of the guys will tell Vale, and since Vale is not at races that much maybe he won’t even notice.

Afterall why would he notice?

He truly must be ashamed of the rider he is.

Maybe even of the person he’s become.

He tries to hope in another universe, under another set of stars, he and Cele aren’t separated by his stupid idiot brain.

He tries to think of a world where he and Cele are together forever, where his insecurities don’t exist.

And he realizes something.

In every other universe he’s thinking of he’s never himself.

He’s someone else.

More beautiful, more caring, more loving, less childish, less clingy, less annoying, less weak.

Not even in other universes him and Cele seem to be the true happy ending of their own story.

 And so he tries to fill the void once more, drinking again, another bottle corked open, he doesn’t even know what it is, just that it tastes terribly.

But for how much he tries there’s never gonna be a Celestino shaped bottle capable of replacing the true one.

There’s never gonna be something warm enough to match his love’s warmth.

He will never find another Celestino.

And hopes Cele will never find another Bez.

[yeastinfectionvale]

Pecco dipped into the bathroom, bag clutched between his hands.

He locked the door behind him, there was no need, Jorge had left for whatever he did at night leaving him alone. This shouldn't be happening. They were so careful. Never had they not used protection during sex and Pecco was regularly taking his birth control. Then why was he swelling, why was his chest tender and stomach hardening?  Pecco sat on the toilet, pissing on each and every test in the packet. He placed them all on the floor, the results facing up. Pecco washed his hands, standing above each test as the results popped up, all reading the same thing.

Positive  2-3 months.

He was pregnant. 

Pecco slid down to the floor, forehead resting on his knees as he sobbed. He clawed at his neck, scratching the bite marks Jorge had left the night before. He could, he couldn't be pregnant. They were barely affording their studio apartment, Jorge didn't eat anything at home and Pecco was running on peanuts. How could they bring a child into this world. They couldn't. Pecco sobbed, wailing as he let out his anguish. He fell asleep on the floor of the bathroom, curled up while clutching his stomach.

A warm body lay beside Pecco's as he stirred from his slumber. He was in bed, the quilt pulled up around his naked shoulders. Jorge stroked his cheek with his thumb, humming to himself. Pecco slid closer into Jorge, pressing his face into his chest as a thought ran through his head. How was he in bed? The bathroom door was locked and there was no way of opening it from the outside. Had Jorge broken the door? Pecco turned in Jorge's arms, opening his eyes just enough to look at the bathroom door. It was not broken, the lock looking the same as it didn't when he went in.  

Jorge held Pecco's stomach, cradling him  from behind  as he pressed his nose into his neck. Jorge bit him gently, "how are you two?" Pecco froze, not sure how to respond. Jorge must have seen the tests he left on the  floo r.  Pecco shook his head, "we can't." He began, turning to look at Jorge, "we're not ready. We can't have a child." Jorge kissed Pecco passionately, both hands cupping his face. "If we weren't ready I never would have swapped your birth control out. If we weren't ready I never would have let the condom slip." His head began to spin. What? 

Jorge had done this?

Jorge wiped the angry tears escaping Pecco's eyes, shushing him as he did. "You'll understand later. Mi amor." Jorge pulled him into his chest, holding him as he punched his chest and scratched his back screaming. Jorge held him, stroking his hair as Pecco tired himself out, limply falling asleep in his arms. Jorge looked at him, watching his breathing even out before he leaned down and bit his neck. Jorge lapped up the blood escaping, drinking enough to sustain himself without hurting the baby. His heir was the only thing he cared about, not Pecco, not anyone else. Just himself and his heir.

The next day Pecco woke up alone in bed, his neck aching and his stomach wet. With a hand pressed to the side of his neck, he sat up and looked down to see two fingerprints in what looked like blood. Two impressions of what could be thumbprints sat overlapping each other to form a heart. Pecco's throat constricted as he sat trying to form a plan. He couldn't risk anyone seeing him near a doctor's, nor could he afford it. Medical abortions were out. He could try and get a pill off the internet but there was no guarantee that it would work. He was running out of options and pregnancy wasn't one of them. 

Pecco sat on his bed, looking up at the mirror attached to he door of his wardrobe. His eyes were bloodshot, bags apparent underneath as his lips were cracked and dried. A scab covered most of his neck. Pecco sighed, the doctors said the scabbing was normal, just eczema. He needed to make a decision soon. Pecco's eyes wandered to the open door of the wardrobe, most of the clothes on the floor, hangers empty. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind.

No he couldn't.

Did he have a choice? Turning up to the doctor's bleeding was a better cover than going to one looking for an abortion. Bleeding freed him from blame, he could pretend he wasn't aware of the pregnancy. He could play the innocent victim, robbed of parenthood instead of feeling like a monster, robbing himself for no good reason.

Pecco held the wire hanger in his hand, uncurling the hook, his trousers thrown aside. He sat naked, looking at himself in the mirror. "I'm sorry." He said to his stomach. "I'm sorry." He said as he inserted the hanger inside himself, ignoring the foreign feeling as he stabbed up into himself. He thrusted the hanger up again and again in desperation, tears freely flowing down his cheeks. Pain surged through his veins as he sunk to his knees, the blood covered hanger now thrown on the floor a meter away from him. Pecco gasped, head spinning as blood pooled around him. He sunk down lower, the smell of iron filling the air and seeping into his lungs. Black spots began to fill his vision, breathing becoming harder as footsteps thumped towards him. 

Jorge held Pecco's face, cupping his neck as he bit down, draining what little blood was left in his veins. Pecco left his consciousness slip through his fingers, his spirit following suit. He closed his eyes, Jorge's scream of anguish ringing through his ears as his heart stopped beating.

There was nothing but darkness. No sound other than Pecco's breathing, no humming, no knocking no sound of wind whistling. But his panicked breathing. "This was wrong." He thought to himself. "I shouldn't be breathing."  He clawed at the plush walls, bile rising up as he pulled the tie off his neck. He was dead. He bled out on that operating table and yet he was inside his coffin, alive. 

But his heart wasn't beating. Pecco pressed a hand against his chest, praying this was all a pregnancy induced nightmare. A thing plastic thread knocked against his eyebrow as another piece of plastic, a tube, dangled above his mouth. The tube was empty, nothing seemingly attached to it, instead the tube leading out of wherever Pecco was trapped. He lifted his hands up, feeling his way in the darkness until he held the dainty thread in his hands. He wrapped it around his fingers, the ghost of his heart beating in his ears. Pecco pulled, the distant sound of a bell ringing.

"Awake now are we?" Jorge's voice echoed, thick with malice. "Pretty stupid fucking decision wasn't it." Pecco swallowed the spit pooling in his mouth. "All you had to fucking do was grow that baby and give birth to my heir." Jorge continued, "you didn't even have to raise it. But no. You tried to get rid of it and in my failed attempt to save my heir I turned you. Now we both aren't happy." Jorge paused to breathe angrily. "Since I turned you now I have to feed you my fledgling. But don't think I'm helping you out of your coffin. That's your punishment. Trapped in the darkness for eternity, just fed enough to stay awake. Feed now my love, you've brought this upon yourself." 

Pecco felt lightheaded, what did Jorge mean? What was going on? Something gurgled down the tube, drops falling onto his lips. Iron-tinged liquid bittered his mouth, the familiar taste of blood on his palate. Pecco opened his mouth wider, latching onto the tube and sucking, reborn with each drop of Jorge's blood. His mind screamed at him to stop, to not give Jorge the satisfaction of power over him. But what else was there for him to do? He couldn't stop himself, whining as the blood flow stopped, the sound of movement from above. "Enough mi amor." Jorge walked away leaving Pecco alone in his coffin.

This routine continued for weeks. Jorge would come once or twice a week, feeding Pecco small amounts of his own blood and then leaving him in isolation. The first few days we're the worst. Pecco screaming himself hoarse, praying that someone would take pity on him. After the first 10 days he began to formulate a plan. His nails had grown longer, sharp enough to puncture the tuffed fabric and pull it away from around his feeding tube. The shell of the coffin wasn't made from one piece of wood, instead multiple thin sheet glued together. He peeled each layer off, picking away at the hole, making it larger as soil fell into the coffin, burying him a second time. Pecco stopped when the soil turned gritty and dry. He needed to be fed, unable and unwilling to hunt himself. He needed Jorge to believe he was docile. That he was weak, both physically and mentally. He lay in his coffin, letting the soil cover his face, tube firmly in his mouth as the thread was pulled tight around each of his fingers, cutting off circulation.

"Oh?" Jorge said, discovering Pecco's attempt at escape. "You tried to run. But it looks like you're learning." Jorge dug into the soil, moonlight hitting Pecco's face for the first time since his death. He kept his eyes closed, relishing the feeling of the wind. A thumb caressed his cheekbone and another hand moved more soil off. "Look at you. So obedient. Hungry aren't we?" Pecco nodded, taking Jorge's thumb into his mouth and sucking. Jorge moaned, head thrown back. He pulled his thumb out, both hands yanking Pecco's coffin open. "Come and feed little one." Pecco sat up, unsure if this was a trap. Jorge held an arm out, helping him out of his grave. He looked back to read his tombstone, shocked to read the name Jorge Martin instead.

He turned his attention to his lover. His ex-lover? His- Pecco didn't even know what Jorge was to him anymore. It didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but it was something he hadn't thought of. Jorge sat beside the empty grave, beckoning for Pecco to straddle him. He used the tip of his nail to cut his wrist, offering the blood gathering from the wound. 

Pecco ignored Jorge's wrist, setting down on his lap and kissing him hard. He rocked his hips, hands holding Jorge's face as he waited for the perfect moment. Jorge threw his head back with a moan, yelping as Pecco bit his neck hard. He entertained his fledgling, rolling his hips as Pecco greedily lapped up the blood escaping. "That's enough mi amor," Jorge said, petting Pecco's curls. He was ignored, Pecco still feeding as Jorge felt his hands getting heavier. "Pecco, that's enough." He said again, sterner. But he was ignored again. Pecco pushed Jorge down, his lips not leaving his neck as he continued to feed, feeling himself getting stronger. "Francesco. Stop." Jorge said, almost pleading with him as he tried to push him off. But to no avail, he was getting weaker as Pecco was gaining strength. He pinned Jorge's arms above his head, pulling away from his neck, blood covering his teeth and lips. Pecco snarled, vicious glee dancing on his skin as he saw fear in Jorge's eyes. Wordlessly he returned to feeding, draining Jorge until he was nothing more but a pleading heap. 

Pecco couldn't hear what Jorge was saying, he only saw his mouth moving. He listened to the voice inside his mind, the one he normally ignored. He followed it's instructions, pushing his thumbs into Jorge's eyes, the sharp nails popping his eyeballs. Jorge screamed, Pecco could feel it under his hands. He held his face in one hand, supernatural strength helping him as he ripped Jorge's tongue out. Pecco looked up at the moon before pushing Jorge into the empty grave. He didn't look down, just kicking the dirt into the grave, covering Jorge. He tossed his tongue on top of the pile, walking away.

[batsplat]

On the one hand I definitely agree that Marc’s absence doesn’t take anything away from titles won but on the other I would absolutely understand if Joan and Fabio especially (Pecco less, I think… the bike… they all know about Honda beginning to fail, right? At some point ig you could say even a pre-Jerez Marc Marquez wouldn’t have ridden that to a championship and it is in Pecco’s best interest to put that point into 2022) would forever consider their titles borrowed off “luck” because I also think everyone ASSUMING if Jerez didn’t happen, Marc would have won 2020 and likely also 2021 isn’t exactly wrong. He won 3 whole races in 2021 (however he did that), that’s more than anyone else but Pecco and Fabio who finished second and first… as Max said, if is a stupid concept in sport, but the if in question is not a regular “if”, and the whole grid knows it. Hell, we are all aware that had Jerez been simply milder instead of the horror it became, Marc’s achievements would look different at this time… So that’s definitely very interesting to me, that any winning done in Marc’s continued absence from the top seems asterisked by the riders’ own attitudes. That him being on that Ducati this year helps, even a little, to alleviate a bitterness that seemed settled whenever he missed a race. It’s a true win only if you beat Marquez, because Marquez is the one to beat. I wonder if that’s what 2010 felt like to the then-grid, when Vale broke his leg… that winning didn’t even count properly, bc Valentino was not there to make it real.

yeah, listen, if marc had been uninjured in 2020, he would have won the title. I'm not arguing that bit, I'm saying it doesn't matter. marc's injury wasn't some kind of freak accident... it was unfortunate, but it was also unsurprising, and his comeback going wrong even more so. this is what you have to remember about sports but especially motorcycle racing: you are placing heavy demands on your body, and sometimes the excess demands are directly correlated to your success. in this post, there's some quotes from 2019 about how 'lucky' marc is... because he was crashing so so much outside of races to find the limit of the bike - and yet it didn't hurt his results (obviously he was still injured a lot, yearly off-season surgeries and all that). this was part of his approach and it was obviously a very successful one. and in some ways it is also one that was necessitated by the characteristics of that honda, which at this stage only he could tame... but it is true that if a lot of other riders crashed at that rate, they would've been considerably worse off, and it was a part of the process that allowed him to be so successful. and it did already make a lot of people very uneasy at the time, because it felt like eventually it just... had to go wrong. it's also worth noting that... yes, marc's achievements would look different if the injury hadn't been that bad. but the initial injury wasn't 'that bad' relatively speaking - it was his decision to come back that really fucked him over. I strongly believe he shouldn't have been allowed to race, but it was still his decision, and it was part of a tradition of ridiculously fast injury comebacks that had also helped make him so successful in past years (though fwiw this one immediately felt like a bad idea, zero hindsight needed I promise you). so let's put it like this: if you keep putting your body under incredible strain even by motogp standards to reach the level of success you do, and eventually your luck runs out, eventually you land badly on the wrong side of the risk/reward calculation... then how is it fair to say your competitors should be handed asterisks in your absence?

in 2018-19 everybody (including valentino) expected that marc would surpass valentino's titles. few expected him to last at the top of the sport for as long as valentino did. valentino during his prime crashed far far more rarely than marc did and was battering his body considerably less... for marc, there was always the question of how long this could last. he was punishing his body for his particular brand of brilliance, but this always had to be a trade-off. it wouldn't have been surprising if his career had ended through injury, though of course how 2020 played out still ended up being a shock. but!! at the end of the day, even without marc's particularly risky style of racing, you wouldn't need an asterisk. the comparison to 2010 is an interesting one, because you can tell that jorge was at times extremely eager and determined to stress that he wasn't just benefiting from valentino's absence. in the dorna-produced docu for his title, he emphasises that he was already leading the points when valentino broke his leg at the fourth race of the season... which is true, but a) valentino also wasn't leading the championship in the early stages of the two previous years either, and b) valentino was already managing injury. the eruption of that icelandic volcano meant motegi had to be rescheduled, which gave valentino the opportunity to go and get his shoulder injured in a motocross accident (again, for the question of training risk/reward see the post I linked to above). it was this injury that quite probably caused the next one... and troubled him more in late 2010 and early 2011 than the leg did. it also set off the chain of events that allowed jorge to gain ascendancy internally in yamaha, which is part of the reason why valentino decided to go to ducati and essentially took himself out of title contention for... well, two ducati years, and another year where he still wasn't quite up to speed on the yamaha. stop the volcano from erupting and motogp quite plausibly looks very different for the next few years

the question of whether valentino wins the 2010 title without injury is far more open than whether marc would've won 2020, but at worst you have to call it about 50/50 - and even with the troublesome shoulder valentino was getting the better of their actual wheel-to-wheel fights in late 2010. so that title fight too was severely influenced by one rider's bad luck, one that you can't even trace back to a particularly risky riding style... but on the other hand, eventually everyone's luck runs out, and valentino had been relatively lucky for a long time. he was also getting older, which in itself will affect recovery time. this is how athletes' competitive life cycles go, right - yes, you might lose your physical edge, yes, you might struggle to find the same fire, but you have also demanded a lot from your body for a very long time and eventually you pay the price. eventually, every athlete's era has to end... and unfortunately in grand prix motorcycle racing, a lot of the time that era ends with injury. schwantz and rainey were long-time rivals, with rainey winning three consecutive titles at the start of the nineties. in 1993, they were again locked in a title fight - until rainey crashed and was left in a wheelchair, his career ended and the title handed to schwantz. that was schwantz's only title, but he's still considered one of the greats of the sport. doohan and criville were teammates when doohan was dominant, and it took doohan's career-ending injury during the third race of the 1999 season for crivi to finally win the title. kenny roberts jr won the title in the following season in what was a chaotic year not dissimilar to 2020... from the young star who wasn't quite ready to put together a title charge to the underdogs at suzuki eventually claiming the big prize. this is how it goes... what a champion needs on their side as much as anything else is luck. jorge wasn't crashing as much as marc was in 2013, and yet somehow he ended up with the broken collarbone at assen that severely damaged his title chances - because sometimes, it only takes one crash for it all to go wrong. does that mean marc is an undeserving title winner in 2013? of course it doesn't!

in the case of 2020, when it became increasingly clear marc would not be winning this title, it's not like everyone's minds immediately went to mir. the favourites were dovi, fabio, vinales... the thing is, right, it was an absolute mess of a season (that was also of course seriously impacted by the pandemic), but someone had to be the one to take advantage. the suzuki was a well-settled package and mir after a strong rookie season was the one to put in the consistent results to claim the title. he was already highly rated going into motogp, and he was absolutely seen as a potential star of the future. for his sake and his reputation within the sport, of course it would've been preferable to win a more emphatic title... and in some ways, his 2021 on a lagging suzuki is more impressive than the 2020 title. it's an incredible shame how his career has gone since then, mostly not through his own fault, and you still want to hope he'll have the opportunity to dispel a few more doubts - both from the fans and quite possibly himself. then again, hayden won two races in 2006, kenny roberts jr three in 2000... at the end of the day, the main thing new fans know now is that they were champions, and so it will one day be for mir too. moving on to 2021, it's worth remembering that by then the honda was already a bad bike. yes, marc would undoubtedly have been the title favourite - but two of his three wins that year were at his specialist circuits that also still suited the honda, basically the places where he could win with his eyes closed. at the very least, you have to believe 2021 would have had a proper title fight and wouldn't just have been a stroll in the park for marc - yes, quite probably he would have prevailed anyway, but it's really not so cut and dry

THAT BEING SAID. I do agree with much of this ask! it is interesting that it's asterisked in the riders' minds! but it shouldn't be - that's the devil talking, you need to stand up for yourself and ignore all the doubters and get on with it. jorge had enough self confidence and stubborn belief in his own ability that this discourse in 2010 did nothing but piss him off. in 2007, casey was incredibly sick of people talking down his title because of how good the ducati was that year and the tyre difference between him and valentino. yes, casey was on the better package that year, and valentino did clearly benefit from switching tyres in 2008. does that in any way detract from casey's title? no! it doesn't!! he was right to be annoyed - imbalances are part of the game, and casey was very good that year. he deserved that title! valentino also faced the bike merchant allegations in spades of course, but young champions are particularly vulnerable to this kind of discourse. they're less established in the sport, more likely to attract detractors who are determined to prove they can't live up to the legends of the past... after 2006, everybody more or less agreed that it was a bit of a lucky title, but hayden was so popular and people were so pleased for him that it was just treated as a feel-good story - which it wasn't in the same way with surly young casey. no matter! who cares what people think! if your opponent has a bad day, you need to take the opportunity presented to you and press home the advantage. if your opponent has a bad year, even better. no sitting around worrying whether history is going to take your accomplishments seriously... it's like hayden said at assen 2006 when valentino broke his right hand and left ankle. from the oxley reference book: '[valentino] finished the race in eighth, which put him 46 points behind hayden. "when that rossi guy is down, you gotta jump on him!" he grinned'. brutal, but that's the game

also, I'll say it: I reckon both joan and fabio have probably had their fair share of bad luck to compensate by now. enough

[scrollonso]

Before — 3 out of 3? (last part)

Marco's entire body ached as he limped through the dimly lit hallway of the hotel, each step sending jolts of pain through his battered muscles. The aftermath of his crash during the sprint was still fresh, the adrenaline long gone and replaced by a throbbing, relentless agony that the pain meds he was given failed to mask.

He had barely managed to get back to his feet after the crash, gritting his teeth as he was pulles up from the gravel, but now, with the crowds gone and the noise of the track a distant memory, all he wanted was to collapse. But instead of retreating to his own room to nurse his wounds in solitude, he found himself standing outside Marc's door, his knuckles hovering just above the wood.

Marco hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he shouldn’t be here. Marc just had this aura that pulled girls to him, Marco hated that it pulled him in too. This was the last place he should be, especially after everything that had happened between them. But something deeper, something more instinctual had driven him to the Spaniard's door. He wasn’t here for passion, for the fire that had once burned between them. He just needed… something else. He needed to feel safe. Needed to be held.

Finally, with a shaky breath, he knocked.

There was a pause on the other side, followed by the sound of movement. The door opened, and Marc stood there, dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d been resting. His expression shifted from surprise to concern in an instant when he saw the state Marco was in.

“Marco,” Marc said softly, his eyes scanning over Marco’s bruised and exhausted form. It was familiar, a memory was brought to the forefront of his mind. He remembered himself being in Marco's shoes. Begging to be excused from the medical center just to end up in Valentino's hotel. It was idiotic, a horrible idea, one that to this day haunts his dreams. The look on Vale's face when he answered the door was one he'd never forget. Similar to the one he was making now. “Are you okay?”

Marco shook his head, his voice weak when he spoke. "I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

Without a word, Marc stepped aside, opening the door wider to let Marco in. As soon as the door closed behind him, the weight of everything finally crashed down on Marco. The physical pain, the emotional exhaustion, the loneliness — it all became too much to bear.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Marco admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his accent thickening as he struggled to find the words in English. God. Why didn't he just go to Pecco. “I’m not here for anything else. I just need…"

Marc’s expression softened, and he nodded, understanding in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain,” he said quietly. “Come here.” He didn't want to be like Valentino, he didn't want Marco to feel the same hurt he did after the older Italian kicked him while he was down. He was better than Vale.

Gently, Marc guided Marco over to the bed, helping him sit down before carefully pulling him into his arms. Marco winced slightly as he settled against Marc’s chest, but once he was there, a sense of relief washed over him. The warmth of Marc’s embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the feeling of being held close — it was exactly what Marco needed.

Marc held him securely, one hand gently rubbing circles on Marco’s back as the other rested against his shoulder, thumb gently passing over his collarbone as if checking on him. As if he was wordied for him. There was no need for words; the silence between them was enough, filled with unspoken comfort and understanding. For the first time since the crash, Marco allowed himself to relax, to let go of the tension that had been gripping his body since he hit the asphalt.

“Perdonami,” Marco whispered after a while, his voice trembling. He knew this was stupid and it was his fault for putting himself in this situation but he also knew he wanted to be loved more than he wanted to be alive. “I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t want to make things complicated.”

Marc shook his head, tightening his hold on Marco. “Don’t apologize,” he said softly. “You’re not making things complicated. You’re hurt, and you needed someone. I’m glad you came to me.” I'm glad Gemma isn't here. Marc had to stop himself, some things were better left unsaid.

Marco closed his eyes, letting Marc’s words soothe him. He had been so afraid of what this would mean, of the implications of seeking comfort in the arms of someone he had once shared so much with. But now, wrapped in Marc’s embrace, all those fears seemed distant and irrelevant.

They stayed like that for a long time, neither of them speaking, just holding on to each other. Marco’s breathing eventually slowed, his body finally succumbing to the exhaustion and pain, and he drifted off to sleep in Marc’s arms, feeling safe for the first time in what felt like forever.

Marc stayed awake, his gaze fixed on Marco’s peaceful face. He could feel the rise and fall of Marco’s chest against his own, the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, one that Marc knew he had to cherish. Whatever tomorrow might bring, whatever complications or challenges might arise, for now, this was enough. Just being there for Marco, just holding him close, was enough.

Marc stayed still for a long time, listening to Marco’s slow, even breaths. His mind was restless, tangled in the past and the present, in the choices that had led them here. Marco in his arms, vulnerable and broken — this was never how it was supposed to be. But life, Marc had learned, rarely played out the way anyone wanted.

As the minutes stretched on, the weight of Marco against him became heavier, not in a physical sense, but emotionally, crushingly so. What were they doing? Marc’s mind raced with doubts, memories of past mistakes flashing before him like cruel reminders. He wasn’t the right person to be offering comfort. He wasn’t the right person for Marco to rely on.

He stared at the ceiling, the darkness of the room pressing in on him. Marco’s presence, instead of soothing, only amplified the gnawing ache inside him. He hadn’t felt this helpless, this conflicted, since his own worst days. Those days when he’d sought out someone, anyone, who might understand, only to be left to fend for himself in the cold. Marc had learned the hard way that needing someone was a weakness, one that could be exploited and discarded at a moment's notice.

His hand trembled slightly as he brushed it over Marco’s hair, the gesture devoid of the tenderness he’d forced himself to show earlier. It felt wrong, pretending like this, as if he could actually make things better for Marco. He couldn’t even make things better for himself.

The room was suffocating, the silence too heavy, too filled with the unspoken words they were both too afraid to say. Marc swallowed hard, his throat tight. He knew what needed to happen, what he had to do, but the thought of it twisted his insides. He didn’t want to hurt Marco — he cared for him, maybe too much — but this, whatever it was, had to end.

Marco stirred slightly, his body shifting in Marc’s arms, and Marc seized the moment, gently disentangling himself from the other man. He moved slowly, carefully, trying not to wake him, but even so, Marco’s eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding his features as he looked up at Marc.

“Marc?” Marco’s voice was thick with sleep, his accent more pronounced. He looked so lost, so small, and it made Marc’s heart clench painfully.

Marc forced himself to look away, unable to bear the vulnerability in Marco’s eyes. “You should go back to your room,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth he’d shown earlier.

Marco blinked, the confusion deepening. “What?”

“This was a mistake.” The words tasted bitter on Marc’s tongue, but he knew they had to be said. “You shouldn’t have come here. I can’t be the one you turn to.”

Marco sat up slowly, the exhaustion still evident in every movement. “I thought…” His voice wavered, and he looked away, his expression hardening as he tried to shield himself from the rejection that was slowly sinking in. “I just needed—”

“I know what you needed,” Marc cut in, his tone harsher than he intended. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop now. “But I can’t give it to you. I’m not the one you need, Bezzecchi. Go back to Pecco, or anyone else. Just… not me.”

The hurt in Marco’s eyes was like a knife to Marc’s gut, but he kept his expression neutral, cold even, as he stood up and took a step back, putting distance between them. Marco’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, Marc thought he might argue, might try to convince him to change his mind. But then Marco just nodded, a resigned, broken nod, as if he’d known all along that this was how it would end.

“I’m sorry,” Marco whispered, his voice barely audible as he stood and made his way to the door. He hesitated for just a second, his hand resting on the doorknob, before he glanced back at Marc, his eyes hollow and filled with something akin to betrayal. “I shouldn’t have come here. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Marc’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond, didn’t say anything to stop Marco as he turned the knob and limped out into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing in the now-empty room, and Marc was left alone in the suffocating silence.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the door, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The ache in his chest was unbearable, but he forced himself to swallow it down, to bury it deep where it couldn’t hurt him anymore. This was the right thing to do, the only thing he could do. He’d only end up hurting Marco more if he let this go on.

But even as he tried to convince himself, the emptiness inside him grew, gnawing at him like a ravenous beast. He’d driven Marco away, and now he was left with nothing but the cold, hollow feeling that he would carry with him for the rest of the night, and likely beyond.

Marc didn’t bother going back to bed. Instead, he sank down onto the floor, his back against the bedframe, and stared blankly ahead, the weight of his choices pressing down on him like an iron shroud. There was no comfort to be found, no peace, only the suffocating realization that he’d pushed away the one person who might have understood.

But this was his life. This was what he deserved. And he would bear it, just as he had always done, alone.

[muxas-world]

why is pecco the golden and a creation of gig/ducati?

or at lest ths what people say and It is true and not so much, Pecco always had a very particular style in his Moto2 and Moto3 years, very different from the one he has now when he joined Ducati in Pramac. He had difficult years because he could not adjust his style to what Ducati asked of him until in his 2year Gigi and other technicians taught him how the Ducati had to handle more grip when cornering, braking hard but delicately, etc. Pecco adapted and did so well to where Gigi, chabati and others chose him to go up to the factory (of course tehres more reasons why this happen the whole deal whit Dovi etc. ) whit this version of pecco they found what Jorge Lorenzo had left in 2018 a rider who could and carried out the development of the motorcycle in a way that Dovi could not (I do not disrespect Dovi because again his leaving and why he had so much problems in his las two years had more to do with Gigi and and inter problems unrelated to his riding.) So yes it is true that pecco is a son of chabatti/gigi but pecco also gave that extra to the bike with a click that others since casey couldn't or werent give enough time to do it. (context this psot does not aknwleg the developemt that jorge dovi and others did for the bike thats on another post im doing but if you all want to add that in the reblogs plse do it i will apreciet )

reserch for this: 1. article 2. article. 3.Article

[moonshynecybin]

casey/enea sound of music.....idk how but i want it....

okay its crazy how this actually says rosquez...

marc is the worlds worst nun lbr. like yes he is catholic yes he feels the faith and loves god. praying in the abbey with that little intense focused freak face of his you know the one. but good lord. annoying. thrill seeking. hates rules he doesn’t understand. will nawt shut up. constantly dancing in a most unpious manner. sneaking away to see his brother. how do you solve a problem like marc marquez. hes a darling he's a demon hes a lamb.

well. for his own good!! they send this man to babysit valentino rossi’s gaggle of insane children/wards. not knowing that mr rossi broke marc’s heart some years ago when he was very young and foolish after some perceived betrayal… (side note. rosquez could do casablanca. to explore later.) so marc arrives to a risk-taking werewolf pack of young teens who hate his ass. or are at least very wary after the last 8 governesses imo. pecco is one of the oldest and is doing a slightly secret very coy romance with vale’s baby brother (we are not setting this against ww2 politic bc i said so). cele is the nicest and youngest obv. he still helps bezz put a pinecone on marc’s chair and a lil snake in his pocket. stinker. marc gradually wins them over by doing some sort of series of risk taking activities with them and lying to vale about their mild crimes... finds a lot of joy in the process <3 his brother can visit whenever he wants... he's almost. happy.

BUT. in the years since vale's has developed a new love interest: the BARONESS. who i refuse to develop. (sorry women.) and everyone says they are to be married....so marc turns up and they did NOT tell vale who the new governess would be but he's at the end of his rope with his insane kids (he started adopting after him and marc imploded to fill his time but they were always supposed to do that TOGETHER. and its overwhelming). so marc's in the house with his ex and his ex's kids and it’s awful and awkward and its soooo close to what they both wanted and so far at the same time. they REFUSE to talk about it and how they used to mean EVERYTHING to each other… but over time things gradually begin to thaw. marc is so good with the kids. the house starts to feel alive again with marc’s big dumb laugh…. vale starts joking with marc how he used to. but every time marc lets himself think just maybe… the baroness is there. and its killing him.

so it all comes to a head when the kids make vale throw an extravagant ball adn marc puts on his best (still fraying...) tux and looks so handsome and vale cant keep his eyes off of him all night. the children (parent trap mode: level expert) make them dance and literally everyone. and i mean everyone (sorry to the baroness). can see that they are so so in love that it is SICKENING. please go look at these gifs from the movie i think about them all the time. like marc and vale's bodies press together and its so warm and their faces are so close and there's a moment adn they lean in... and then marc sees the baroness watching and its like someone poured ice water down his spine.... he cant ruin this for the kids they deserve a family!!!! and he runs away. leaves in the night without saying goodbye. returns to the nunnery so vale can get married without him...