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forteafy · 9 months

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A House, A Home | CL16 & CS55

Summary: A loveless marriage usually comes after years, not before. You've always loved him, his best friend has always loved you.

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: Hard Angst, Cheating, Mentions of Sex, Death.

Note: This piece has two heavy inspirations. The first is @lxclerc's amazing pieces 'Moth to a Flame' and 'Call out my Name.' They are both incredible pieces and I highly suggest you give them a read. The second is from a TikTok Account called 'ForPercival,' they are currently doing a social media AU which I cannot recommend enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

Charles Leclerc is a husband.

At least, he was your husband on paper. One year ago, a hidden agreement had been put in place between Scuderia Ferrari and the Leclerc Household; their son, the ‘Il Predestinato,’ of the team, (albeit one whom had had the most terrible season,) could continue to drive for the team, so long as he married the daughter of one of their longest-running investors.

That so happened to be you.

You had been against the entire idea since the first day. After being introduced to Ferrari’s driver, you had instantly felt the divide between the two of you. You’d reluctantly shaken his hand and since then, had been thrown through a mixture of fake dates, a fake engagement and the fakest wedding that could possibly be imagined. The ceremony hadn’t even ended with a kiss, per tradition.

It didn’t take long for your walls to crack; living with Charles, seeing him at his highest and lowest points, his most vulnerable behind the four walls of your home had caused your heart to soften. Forget being forced into this marriage, you’d grown to care, to adore the man who’d once burdened you with his presence. You dreamed of the day he would return your affection; how long would it take for you to realise you lived in denial? In your late-night fantasies, lying alone in one of the guest rooms you’d sought refuge in on moving into this house, you’d dreamt of lying in his arms, lazy morning breakfast, slow kisses when he would come back to you. To your home.

A home, however, is where you feel safe, warm, protected. You lived in a house with Charles. The man who would barely glance your way and after three months of your marriage, started coming home, smelling of rich perfume and lipstick marks littering his jawline.

The first anniversary of your marriage should have been special, even if he despised you in every known form to man. You’d woken up in your room, slipped on the silk robe which had been lying on the empty bedside and slipped out of the bedroom. In your heart of hearts, you knew there would be no significance of today; no flowers, no card, not even a simple text from your husband to signify the date in question. The only text you had received that morning, was a stern reminder from your father, that you were due to attend the Monza Grand Prix in less than one week.

A soft sigh emitted itself from your lips; it was a routine you knew all too well. Every few races, the more significant ones; Monaco, Silverstone, Spa-Francorchamps, Monza, you’d play the doting wife; cheering for your husband whilst dressed in soft summer dresses, a forged grin if he managed to battle his way into the points. On those rare days when he would obtain a podium position, he’d greet you on the barriers with a soft kiss. It was all fake; a routine which had been performed so many times. Yet, each time his lips met yours, you could dream he meant something behind the affection.

The train of thought had played through your mind for so long that you were unaware of the tears pooling on your lower lash line. So, what if Charles wasn’t at home for your anniversary? It was your thought for feeling any kind of emotion towards him in the first place. It was a business deal, after all. Did your husband enjoytreating you like this? His disappearance on that morning was a cold reminder that he felt nothing towards you. No sentiment, no adoration.

Despite the tears which had bade your eyes that morning, until the mid-afternoon, you had a productive day. Of course, leaving the house was out of the question; what would the media say if devoted wife of Ferrari’s driver was seen without him, on their wedding anniversary of all days?

Instead, you’d played soft music whilst re-organising your wardrobe, something you’d put off for a while now. Cooking a meal whilst lazily treading around the kitchen, experimenting with the spices that Yuki had gifted to you on your previous visit to a Grand Prix. The meal itself was too big to eat alone. Instead, you boxed up the remainders of what was left in the tray, carefully placing it in the fridge, knowing Charles wouldn’t actually eat it.

Your evening had been…less productive. You’d found solace in a glass of red wine, lounging on the sofa of the main living area; usually, you kept as far away from that zone as possible. Charles would spend his evenings in the couch, eyes flickering between the television and his phone, no doubt sending longing messages to his mistress whilst his wife was in the home.

The third glass had just about been drained. You were adamant upon gaining a fourth, no longer caring of any commitments you had the next day. Instead, you sat up abruptly from the sofa, hearing the gentle click from the front door.

He had come back to the house.

His green eyes barely took a second to meet yours, slipping off his shoes and placing them into the rack situated by the front door. A rustle of his jacket signified his option to stay. You saw him carry the garment over his arm as he trudged into the living area, set to lie in front of the television for some personal relaxation.

With his entry to the room, you suddenly remembered your position. You’d hastily stood up from the couch, collecting the half-finished bottle from the low table, holding the glass to your chest to draw the attention away from your beverage.

Charles said nothing; he’d unlatched the top two buttons from his dress shirt; faint purple marks nestled on the lower joint of his neck; a clear mark that his mistress had previously made, a sinful reminder of his adultery.

“I left you some dinner in the fridge.” You mumbled, voice barely picking up over the sound of the television. “There’s some clean loungewear on the end of your bed, too.” You finish your sentence. Your husband doesn’t even attempt to tell you he’s acknowledged your words, eyes transfixed on whatever news was currently playing on the television.

“Happy Anniversary.” You mumble, feet leading you back to the kitchen, the bottle of wine against your chest now seemingly the only attention you’d ever get.

Charles Leclerc is an actor.

The entire drive to the track had been bade in complete silence; not even the radio had been switched on to drown out the undeniable tension in the car. You had originally tried to make light conversation with the man; he couldn’t even be bothered to make a sound in response to any of your questions.

You couldn’t handle the harsh tone he had snapped at you with the previous time you had been in the car; instead, you watched the rolling hills and glistening sun of Monza. It was always one of the highlights of the year. If not for the racing, you would have come here in your own time, to bask in the sun and to enjoy the secluded section of Italy as an individual.

The incredible views soon began to fade out, instead replaced by expensive cars and adoring fans, leaning over the barriers in an attempt to see their favourite drivers; there was an uproar as your husband drove past the crowds; he was clearly the home favourite, as any member of the Ferrari crew would be in this location. Silently, you slipped on the sunglasses which had been resting in the pouch of your bag, knowing the paparazzi would be blistering your eyesight sooner rather than later.

Charles effortlessly parked his car in the allocated spot. Silently, he switches off the engine, removing the keys and shoving them into his jean pocket. The man doesn’t so much as register your presence as he opens his door, leaving you to venture out of the car yourself. You’d carefully adjusted the flowing fabric of your dress; the patterned fabric flowing gently around your calves.

You looked beautiful. You just wished your husband would care enough to tell you.

Instead, his priority is the cameras leaning over the barriers. He doesn’t even look in your direction, instead firmly grasping your hand in his own; an act the two of you had performed for the crowd oh-so-many times. He waves towards the crowds; neither of you miss the adoring sounds, the coos for many of the fan’s favourite ‘couple.’ To so many, his affection seemed to clear to you, and yours did to him.

Charles didn’t hold your hand with any adoration. His grasp was harsh, palms roughly mashed together, no intent to keep your grip safe against his own. You were certain that if you were to let go, he wouldn’t think to remedy the situation. Your theory is proven when you gently let go, instead keeping in step, just behind his figure; Charles’ hand seems as if it’s gone into idle mode. His eyes, however, stayed alert, vigilant. Silently, the two of you pass through the paddock security, pausing every few moments for Charles to sign a cap, take a photograph with a fan.

It isn’t until you reach the outskirts of the Ferrari Building that you see her. Soft hair around her shoulders, clothing exquisite, her eyes flickering to your husband, offering him a sympathising smile.

He may have been a devoted husband towards the press, to Ferrari, even to the majority of his team. However, the moment that the cameras were turned off, microphones pushed away, he was sneaking to his mistress, one he had shamelessly invited to so many Grand Prix’s over the past nine months. She was what he wanted; a fun and fancy-free lady, rather than the wife whom stood by his side. There’s a glance between the two of them, as if a whole conversation is had in that moment.

You stay silent as you follow Charles into the Ferrari Building. Instantly, you’re overwhelmed by the welcomes that your husband obtains; so many of them pass onto you. Upon the questions of how married life is treating him, he smiles, fakes a laugh as he pulls you into his side, one hand firmly resting upon your waist.

“Married life is perfect.” He insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, one which you falsely giggle about, ignoring the butterflies which were nestling in the pit of your stomach. “It’s even better when she’s standing right here, beside me.”

The entirety of the room buys the staged scene, all except for two people. The first, obviously, is your father. He’s always there, watching that the driver is performing well. He knows of his affair, but in his mind, as long as the affair is kept out of the light, and his marriage was still official, their deal continued. Besides, he would speak to you both sooner rather than later upon extending the family; that would seal both of your fates towards one another. Nobody liked a husband whom left a wife and child.

The second was Carlos Sainz; the second driver for Scuderia Ferrari.

The Spaniard was all too aware of the affair between Charles and his mistress; after qualifying from Baku, Carlos had found his teammate behind the garage, his hands with a firm grip on her waist, their kisses entirely formed of tounge and teeth. The man had furiously ripped Charles from the woman, bellowing in his face about the wife he had, whilst this woman warmed his bed. A deep blush had formed over both of their cheeks, Charles explaining that you were aware of his actions.

Carlos didn’t want to believe it; he’d frantically messaged you that evening, to which you had answered his question, confirming you knew of the affair. That evening, you had revealed everything to him, watching his eyes get glossier as the cruel details were flickered in front of his eyes. It pained him; he’d cared for you since the moment you’d first stepped foot into the paddock alongside your father. His heart shattered upon finding out that you had been betroved to Charles, that he had missed his chance, all that time ago.

He waits; waits until later in the day to approach you. By this point, you had made yourself comfortable in Charles’ driver room. Of course, your husband isn’t actually there. After a brief encounter with most of the members on his team, he’d excused himself. Carlos knew that he had snuck away from the crowds adorned in red to see his mistress, likely stealing kisses and rough fumbles between one another. Whilst that was happening, you, were sat in his drivers’ room, skirts spread across the soft lounger, eyes engrossed in a book which had been enclosed in your bag alongside your sunglasses.

You were the epitome of beauty in Carlos’ eyes. He could have stood at the ajar door to the room, watching you as you engrossed yourself in the story. Instead, he offers a light cough, drawing your attention from the book in your lap. He’s engrossed by your eyes, how the light reflected off them, the glow they offered. Your smile, how you presented your real smile to him so naturally, not the one you forged next to your husband on every single encounter.

“Good morning, Carlos!” You greet him with a bright tone, standing up from your position on the couch. You offer him a hug, feeling his warm arms wrap around your waist, his breath against your face when he kisses your cheek gently. ‘In another life,’ you always tell yourself. One where you were happy, free to marry a man who would return your affection.

“Good morning, Mariposa.” The nickname rolls of his tongue; one he had presented ever since you had once showed up in the paddock, the most beautiful butterfly-imprinted dress flowing in the soft breeze of that Monaco weekend. “You’re hiding out in here today, yes?” He teases. You offer him a small shrug, eyes not able to meet those sweet brown ones of the man stood in front of you.

“Charles is…busy.” You finish the sentence abruptly. Carlos knows not to question further; the two of you have a mutual understanding as to where he would be at this point during the day; wrapped up in the arms of another woman. “He’s probably on his track walk…maybe. I’m just…keeping occupied.” You motion towards the window, looking onto the first straight of the track. “Plus…it looks windy out there.”

“Well…” Carlos invites himself into the room now, looking down at your attire, seeing that your feet were enclosed with the brilliant white trainers you’d left home in that morning. The man shrugs off his own windbreaker, holding it in his arm. “If I give you my jacket, would you like to come on my track walk?” He offers, holding out the garment to you.

You knew you would probably live to regret that moment. However, if you stayed resting in Charles’ driver room much longer, reading the same line of your book whilst your thoughts trailed away to how he would be with his mistress, you would go crazy.

“I’d love to.” You finally respond, slipping your arms through the large sleeves of Carlos’ jacket. Offering you a pat on the shoulder, he motions towards the exit of the driver’s room, determined to keep you on his side whilst walking across the track loved by fans far and wide. He hopes that everybody misses the longing gazes and soft smile on his face every time you make a comment, or your hands brush a little too closely.

Charles Leclerc is a neck kisser.

It’s not as if you would know this. The only kisses you ever had were those for show. Cold, meaningless interactions between somebody who attempted to show unconditional love and one who could dream of being anywhere else in that moment.

You’d carefully unlatched the front door of the house, your wireless earbuds resting comfortably in your ears, unable to hear any other sound apart from the music playing. Slipping off your shoes, hanging up your jacket; your only intention for the afternoon was to go through some of the notes you had made regarding education courses in the area; sitting at home day after day was truly aggravating. You couldn’t pick up yet another hobby. Maybe some form of learning would interest you.

But first, you needed a drink to cool yourself off from the sun. You’d remembered the smoothie packs you made earlier in the week; one of those and going through your notes seemed a perfect plan for the current moment.

The second you rounded the corner into the open-plan kitchen, you wished that you could have taken the scenic route home.

His mistress was sat up on the kitchen island, back straight, legs wrapped around the waist of your husband, her hands grasping at the soft curls atop of his head. Charles’ hands slid across her back, soft grunts coming from his lips, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses along her slender neck. She was loving it, at least, that’s what you could judge from the noises leaving her mouth.

Before either of them could clock your arrival, both too wrapped-up in their embrace, you’d stepped out of the kitchen, hand over your mouth to silence the sobs which were threatening to escape. In a moment, you’re out of the hallway, letting your feet carry you up the carpeted stairs.

The only intention now embedded in your mind was to drink so much you would forget the scene unfolding in front of your eyes.

Charles Leclerc is a slow replier.

The smell of tequila and sweat is strong in the cramped hallway of the club. It was insane to believe that less than three hours ago, you had been cocooned in your king-size duvet, lips slightly parted as you strung a meaningless thread of text messages to one another; you didn’t truly care how one of your friends felt in that moment, the heartbreak shattering in your chest was stronger than any other emotion you could begin to comprehend.

No, your sole reason for texting was to leave this god-forsaken house. You kept telling yourself not to care. Charles’ eyes were all you could think about as you picked out your shortest, slinkiest dress; one which enhanced every curve and dip in the most elegant way. Charles’ dimples were all you could think about when your attention was drawn to outlining your lips with a deep red gloss. Charles’ lips were all you could think about, your foot sliding into the black heeled shoe, your feet finding no solace in being propped up within six inches of their life.

Your friend had messaged you the location of the designated club. How anybody could enjoy one of those places sober was beyond your comprehension. Instead, you had taken the route of every other supposed being in that club; one shot of a suspicious-looking liquid had turned into sixteen – his number, you couldn’t help remembering. That was the reason you had found yourself stood motionlessly in the hallway, trying to navigate yourself back to the bar. At least seventeen wouldn’t have been tied to any other emotion.

The plan, however, was short-lived when you hear a familiar voice call your name. Turning too quickly in your ridiculous heels, you’re met with the figures of Kelly Piquet and Max Verstappen, hands linked together, clearly nowhere near as intoxicated as you were in that moment.

Kelly moves first; you had always enjoyed her presence, spending time with her around the Paddock when you were bade to attend. Penelope was one of the sweetest three-year-olds you had ever come across, always greeting you with a toothy grin and a story of her and ‘Maxie’s’ escapades. When her mother encloses you in a hug, you can feel the tears fall, your drunken façade falling immediately. The woman simply cups your hand in her face, delicately wiping the tears from your lash line, making sure to remove any heavy clumps of mascara. She asks you where Charles is, where your husband is. You can’t make any sound which you believe is cohesive, something about him being back at the house.

Max by now, has his own arm resting around your shoulder. You were Charles’ wife, after all. He knew Charles would do the same for Kelly if she was ever to be found in this state. Something strange stabs at his chest; maybe he was too protective, but he would have never of let Kelly get into this state, at least, not on her own. The driver carefully fumbles in his back pocket, unlocking his own device and filing through his contacts to phone Charles.

The phone goes straight to voicemail, not even a dialling tone. Max tries a second time, a third time. Instead, he leaves messages. How on gods earth did Charles feel relaxed, knowing his wife would be out, probably on some form of alcohol, and not think to check that she would be safe returning home? If only he knew.

The duo moves to a second plan. You needed some fresh air before they could attempt to get you into a car and take you home; standing in the corridor of a nightclub was not an ideal situation, instead moving you to the exit. Your eyes widen, looking up to Max and Kelly as if you had shrunk right down to Penelope’s age, as if they would be the saviours to get you home. By the way Max was holding you by his side and Kelly stroking your hair behind your ears, you may as well been their daughter.

Conversations are had; neither of them is sober enough to drive you home, nor do they think it’s wise to try and sneak you into their hotel room when they had already issues when checking in a little too late. Their prayers are answered when a group of men wander past, one of them stopping to smack Max, his fellow driver on the back. His dark eyes, ones you know so well, widen when he sees your figure, looking so fragile in the light of the early hours in the city.

“Mariposa.” He murmurs, running a hand across your cheek, wanting nothing more than to hold your frame against his chest. Your soft eyes meet his own dark ones, glossed in concern for how on earth you could do this to yourself. The man murmurs something to Max and Kelly, ensuring them that he’d been the sober friend out of his group; promising he would get you home himself. The duo has no reason to not trust him, both of them leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek before retiring to their own hotel.

As the couple walk away from the club, you can only feel the warmth of Carlos’ hand, still resting on your face. When he at last turns his attention back to you, he simply wraps a strong arm around your waist, supporting you to stand in those awful, heeled shoes. At the pace you’re walking back towards his car, you would get there just after the sunrise. Instead, he scroops you into his grasp.

The affection, the physical contact is all too much for you. It had been so, so long since anybody had held you, cared for you like this. Your clouded mind, now overwhelmed by warmth and alcohol allowed you to lean your head into Carlos’ sturdy chest. If you were sober, you’d be able to feel the way his heart raced when feeling you rest against him.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Mariposa?” He murmurs, settling you into the passenger seat of his car. He can’t help but remove his own jacket, wrapping the soft fabric around your arms, letting you nuzzle into the scent of his fabric softener and aftershave. Once settling himself into the driving seat, he begins the route back to the house, one hand gently resting atop of your leg, some form of comfort for the world in your mind which seemed to be caving in.

“I’d never do this to you.” He whispers, turning into the driveway that he had become accustomed to since the marriage.

Across the city, Max Verstappen is sound asleep. His phone, plugged in on the dressing table across the room buzzes once, notifying a text from his racing rival.

03:21: Charles Leclerc

Hey, sorry, was busy with something. Is everything good?

Charles Leclerc is a traveller.

You hadn’t expected anything to awaken you after the way your body had reacted to the previous night. A natural awakening, however, would have been a lot nicer than hearing the clicking sound of wheels against flooring. Whatever, whoever was outside of your room most certainly had a death wish to awaken you that morning.

It felt as if pins had been pressed into every square inch of your head, the task of even sitting up and forcing yourself towards the door of your bedroom, still dressed in your slinky garment and…somebody’s jacket? The night for you had truly ended as soon as you had that ninth shot of tequila; you thought you could remember Max and Kelly in the same location at some point, maybe that was your mind playing tricks on you, longing for people who enjoyed your company.

You were pulled back to the present when the figure of your husband appears at your doorway. He’s dressed already; loose hoodie and tracksuit bottoms cover his frame; his hand is clasping tightly onto a suitcase. There wasn’t a Grand Prix this weekend, you were certain. He would have left days ago for that. There was-

“I’m going to stay with…” He pauses, clearly trying to think of the correct way to word the fact he would be staying with his Mistress until further notice. Even in your state, you understand, simply raising your hand to stop him from speaking. You didn’t want to hear her name, you didn’t want to know that he would be spending the next nights wrapped in her arms, because for once…you didn’t care.

They say alcohol causes dangerous mistakes, but in this moment, your hangover seemed to be your best friend. Every single time, you would think later, Charles would come back from seeing her, would leave to spend an evening by her side or sneak away during your paddock appearances…and you would be focused, your sole attention being on when he would return. Now? Your sole focus was on throwing up the remains of alcohol in your stomach, placing on a facemask and ordering some kind of comfort food to your home.

You didn’t care about him, not right now. Your actions relay this, simply offering him a nod before speaking, your voice surprisingly clear for how much your throat was weeping for a drink.

“Okay.” You pause. There’s nothing left to say after that. What does he want you to do? Wish him a happy time? Charles looks equally taken aback, usually expecting some kind of warm drabble on how he needed to stay safe. In that moment, he can’t help but…want it.

“I’ll be back on Wednesday to pack for Singapore.” He pauses this time, taking in your appearance, your face so…gentle, soothing. “You’re coming, yes?” He remembers a conversation had many a time; his wife should be there to support him as much as possible, even if he wasn’t a fan of the sly ways he would have to leave her in front of his team members.

He isn’t expecting a shrug of the shoulders, bringing a hand up to rest on the door, clearly ready to close it at any given moment.

“I’m not sure.” You offer him, sighing as you begin to close the door yourself. “My father said that race isn’t a priority.” That was the last sentence you offered him before closing the door. You obviously do not see it, but on the other side of the wall, Charles stands in confusion for a full twenty seconds before snapping back to his reality, his clutch on the suitcase a little tighter as he begins his decent down the stairs, wondering where on earth he had seen that jacket you were wearing before?

Your own priorities that morning was in full swing; you had placed your phone on charge, messages beginning to thread through as you stepped into the shower, the cool water savouring your skin. A fluffy robe is tied around your waist, brushing your hair around your back whilst your attention focused on rehydrating your skin, brushing your teeth and cleaning the dirt from underneath your eyes.

The silence is strong when you walk back into your bedroom. In that moment, you opt for some music whilst changing into some comfortable loungewear, easy to roam around the house in and let your hair dry naturally. Sitting at the end of the bed, you’re able to check notifications, seeing Kelly had sent you a photo of Penelope that morning, smiling for her favourite aunt. You see your most recent text had come through from none other than Charles’ teammate, following one which had been sent early that morning.

03:45: Carlos Sainz

Sweet dreams, Mariposa. Let me know if you need anything please.

11:51: Carlos Sainz

Just seen on Twitter Charles is at the airport, he’s not off to see her, is he?

His message brings so many emotions to you, and also answers the question of who’s jacket you had been wearing that morning. Your heart can’t help but soften, knowing already that Charles is on his way to see...her. You think back to your mindset from earlier, how it was the last thing you wanted to care about. Why on earth would you care about them, when you could be focusing on ordering your favourite food and calling your nail technician to come to the house? That would make you feel better, better than he ever had.

You first drop a message to Carlos in response, wanting to let him know you had woken up from potential alcohol poisoning.

12:25: You

Yeah, he is. Didn’t seem so happy that I couldn’t care less. Thank you for the jacket last night, I hope you had a good evening.

12:28: Carlos Sainz

All the better for seeing you. Hoping the hangover isn’t too bad today.

The messages spring backwards and forwards between the two of you for the afternoon; you’re smiling whilst you go through your favourite meal, the taste of it filling your mouth in the best way possible. There’s still a smile on your face when your nail technician arrives, painting some delicate designs into your fingers and toes, subtly asking who on earth has you smiling that much.

It isn’t until that evening; you’re sat in front of the television, a series you had watched one-too many times playing, your eyes glued to the storyline as if it would change again. The notification on your phone instantly drew your attention away from the screen, looking down to see a text on your screen.

21:03: Carlos Sainz

Why don’t you come and stay in Madrid for a few days? I’m sure we could both do with the company.

Charles Leclerc is a stalker.

Well, maybe stalker was too strong of a word. However, his intentions were identical, having watched your latest Instagram story three- no, four times. Since leaving the home several days earlier, his mind could not stop thinking about the fact you truly could not care less about where he was going. This wasn’t you, was it?

He’d arrived at her house, being temporarily distracted by luring himself into her bedroom, an afternoon of escapades and touches until she had rolled onto her side, telling him she was going to shower, and he would be more than welcome to join her. Instead, he pulled out his phone, seeing if you had done your usual; texting him to check that he had arrived safely, asking when he could be coming back to the house.

There’s no messages, no notifications. Huffing to himself, Charles instead pulls up your Instagram, seeing that you had posted a new story that evening, a suitcase in hand, an emoji of an aircraft and a Spanish flag. You were off somewhere, and hadn’t told him? No, no. You always told him where you were going, you always-

“Are you not joining me, then?” Charles’ mistress’ voice suddenly draws him out of his trance, a towel wrapped around her body, hair around her shoulders. It was nowhere near as soft and as gentle as yours was, he realised in that moment. He eventually nods, pulling himself from his phone and following her into the en-suite.

He’s so…distant for the remainder of his visit. When the two of them go to a secluded spot for lunch, when they go for a drive in a car they had hired for the afternoon. When she’s lazily pressing kisses along his neck, trying to grind into his crotch, desperate for his attention. When she finally falls asleep, Charles pulls out his phone, looking through any of the photos you had posted from that day. The soft sands of the beach, a hugestrawberry ice-cream cone, a mirrored selfie of yourself in the most beautiful sundress, hair curled and clearly ready for an evening in the Spanish sun.

The routine continues, he sees your adventures, day after day. You’re touring small markets, trying local delicacies. One day, you’re simply lounging by a pool for the afternoon, a fat paperback resting on your stomach, clearly engrossed by the story which was resting on your stomach. Each time he sees a post, he can’t help but be drawn to how he wants to know how you’re doing. Maybe that’s why he drops you a text message, trying to gain some sort of traction from how you were doing.

23:54: Charles Leclerc

Are you home? I’ve got a flight tomorrow afternoon.

You don’t respond; now, your phone is at the bottom of your bag, resting on the inside cabin of Carlos’ boat. For your final day in Madrid, he had insisted on taking you for a boat ride. You’d shyly mentioned earlier in that week that Charles had never taken you on his own boat, despite the fact that you were indeed married.

The sun began to set over the rolling waves of the ocean; the boat is gently rocking, the sounds of water lapping over one another was music to your ears. You were sat at the edge of the now stilled boat, contemplating dipping your toes into the water. Your attention is so drawn to the scenery that you don’t hear him step away from the wheel, crouching next to you.

“You could just go in.” He teases, “rather than staring at the water. You know how to swim.” The taunt causes you to roll your eyes, simply looking to the Spaniard on your right-hand side.

“What? And have you speed off without me?” You retaliate, using your shoulder to nudge his body. Carlos clicks his lips together, mumbling something incoherent, before he’s suddenly scooped you up into your arms; despite your sounds of protests, he simply holds you against his chest tighter. His dark eyes flicker between yours and the ocean water below the two of you. Before you can say anything, his feet have made their own choice, jumping off the edge of the boat, both of you tumbling into the sea. Your briefly submerged entirely, before your head pops out of the waves, blindly reaching around until two strong arms encircle your waist.

Both you and Carlos laugh for a moment, in pure awe that you just did that. He moves first, one of his hands releasing from your waist, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. There’s a silence between the two of you, where the only sound emitting from your surroundings is the gentle waves of the sea. In that moment, Carlos Sainz wants nothing more than to lean forward, pressing his lips to your own. They look so…soft. He craves to give them the attention they had been longing for so long. But…you’re married. And even if your marriage is loveless, to a point where your husband is openly in an affair, he would never do that to you. Instead, he settles for resting one hand on your cheek, gently kissing the top of your forehead, murmuring some Spanish wording you would never remember.

If you did understand it, however, you would have known that he said there and then that he would always be devoted to you.

Charles Leclerc is a loud shouter.

His voice seemed to travel for miles, you were almost certain the entirety of the secluded neighbourhood could hear him at this current moment. The man had returned home from his secluded stay with his mistress to an empty house; at that point, you were still in the depths of Madrid, packing up your own suitcase, wishing Carlos luck on the Singapore Grand Prix. You had intended to return to the house after Charles had left himself; the heartbreak of seeing him littered in love-bites, his eyes transfixed to his phone from her messages was too much for you.

However, if you had been at the house when he had arrived home, you would have seen his neck clear, phone shoved into his back pocket as he called out your name, wondering if you had returned home yourself. Charles notices your trainers haven’t been left on the shoe rack; there’s no music to signify your afternoon relaxation. A light knock to the door of your room signifies there’s nobody home. The house feels empty.

Maybe, Charles Leclerc was beginning to understand how you felt.

His first instinct is to message you. Surely, you would have seen his text from his previous message by now; what would it hurt to check in once more. The man feels against his rough jean pocket for the device, swiping away from the multiple notifications from his mistress, instead scrolling to your contact’s name, seeing you hadn’t been active in almost twelve hours. You hadn’t even opened his message.

His thumb hovers above the keyboard, not entirely sure what to say in this situation. Instead, he opts to call your number instead; you had always picked up to him; whenever he needed you to stay away from the house, or to remind you to be ready to leave at a certain time. The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, your voicemail comes through the speaker, signifying him that you were too busy to pick up the telephone.

Charles didn’t grow concerned during the evening; he grew angry. You were his wife. You were supposed to be at the house to greet him, to welcome him with open arms, ask about his day. Even if…even if he had chosen to ignore your welcoming’s and kind heart for over a year. The man found a distraction in going through the information that Scuderia Ferrari had sent him for his journey tomorrow, making sure his passport was in the correct place. He hadn’t needed to pack; you had made sure to do that for him before your own departure, making sure his comfortable clothes were packed and sunglasses safely secured in the pouches of the case.

It was late, late for you when the door finally opened, signalling the arrival of a second being. Charles immediately sits up from his slouched position on the couch, stepping up from the sofa, almost ready to give you a piece of his mind. Upon reaching the hallway, he sees you, slipping off your trainers, leaving the suitcase next to the front door. Even underneath your jumper, he can see your skin is glowing from the Mediterranean sun, yet your eyes are watering, tears leaking from your lower lash line.

“Where on earth have you been?” He snaps, not actually wanting to hear an answer. You open your mouth to respond, but the man cuts you off before you can speak. “I am your husband. You’re supposed to wait for me!” His temper is getting the better of him, green eyes flickering with anger.

At this point, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed from the news you had received on your drive home, and for this man to question your loyalties to your marriage? You can’t help the scoff which falls from your lips, the emotions building a little too much.

“You’re my husband?” You mock in confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise my husband was around at long last, not wrapped in the arms of another woman!” Your temper flares, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, grasping the suitcase to take upstairs and repack.

“You didn’t pick up your phone once.” Charles retaliates. Oh, the cheek of-

“Like when you pick up your phone when I call?” The tears are beginning to flow freely now, wanting nothing more than to get upstairs and completely ignore what has been happening. “You don’t Charles. You’ve done nothing to show that you’re my husband in the past twelve months!” You can’t help yourself now. Instead of seeking the new suitcase, you simply turn around on the step of the front door, slipping your trainers back onto your feet.

“Where are you going?” His voice is now laced in concern; you couldn’t leave yet, surely? You’d only just returned; you wouldn’t be safe to drive in this condition. Why on earth did he care now? His question is answered, but not in the way he desired.

“Like you would care.” It’s the last thing you say before the door to the house is slammed shut.

Charles Leclerc is an investigator.

When arriving in the Ferrari Garage of Singapore, there’s already an eerie feeling through the air; there are no smiles, sympathising looks thrown towards the back end of the garage. The driver isn’t stupid, he knows something must be wrong. He’s unsure of who to ask; who would know what is going on?

His original plan was to ask Xavi, maybe during their morning briefing, until he is told that his flight has been delayed and wouldn’t be there until the late afternoon. Eventually, he spots his racing partner, nestled in the corner of the garage, his eyes flickering across his own phone screen, rapidly typing a message to somebody he would rather not admit to.

“Hey.” He speaks softly, not wanting to startle the man. Silently, Carlos looks up from his device, offering his teammate a small nod, not wanting to prolapse the eye contact for too long. Charles can sense he knows what has happened, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Why is everybody so…quiet?”

The look on Carlos’ face signifies he’s said something wrong. His eyes darken, shaking his head in disappointment rather than fury. It correlates to the kind of look his father would give him during a long talk, when he had broken something and not admitted to it. The Spaniard isn’t sure he should even tell his teammate what had happened. Instead, he changes his phone application to the Emails App, handing the device over to Charles. His eyes flicker across the screen, taking in the information.

Ferrari’s biggest benefactor, your father, would not be attending the race weekend after the untimely death of his wife. Your mother. It suddenly correlates; how the night before, you had seemed inconsolable, despite the fact you had obviously had an incredible vacation. You’d tried to simply walk away, to let yourself grieve without bothering him. Instead, you had found comfort in Carlos as he had driven you to the airport, whispering sweet words of comfort, promising that everything was going to be okay.

Charles feels his blood run cold, he feels sick. The look on the man stood in front of him tells him enough; he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Murmuring an excuse, he leaves the garage, stepping to the secluded back area, the realisation that he is everything his mother never wanted him to be, hitting hard. He still had the ability to run to her, to ask for her advice. You didn’t have that anymore. You didn’t have anybody, least of all your husband.

The first thing he does in that moment, is pull out his phone, scrolling to the contact of his mistress.

10:09: Charles Leclerc

We need to talk.

Charles Leclerc is a phone call away.

The past day had been filled of tears, clinging to your father, to your younger siblings, to your elder cousins. How on earth your mother had left this world early was beyond you. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. Your mother was the one whom had been your rock for the past miserable year of your marriage. If not for her, you were almost certain that you would have thrown your silvery key to the house down a drain so long ago.

Without her guidance, without her tutoring, you felt like bird trying to fly individually for the first time; surrounded by fears and almost certain you’d fall into compromising position.

You hadn’t rested. Not since you had arrived at the bleak family home. As customed, every curtain was drawn close, doors to each room sealed, no natural light emitting to the large house, making every shadow and crook of the building seem more terrifying. Eventually, your father had retired to his own bedroom, your younger siblings tucked into their beds, butterfly kisses pressed against their foreheads, a silent promise you were only down the hall if they so desired you.

The bedroom you had grown up in remained almost identical to the one you had painted in your mind; pale pink wallpaper, a luxury bed lined with a rosebud-patterned quilt set. The vanity you had last used to get ready on your wedding day remained pristine, the perfumes and scents which had been your favourite still sitting atop of your shelf. And the photographs. A polaroid of your two closest friends from your childhood; one of your sisters on her christening day, the entire family dressed so elegantly; Charles is in that photograph, off to the side alongside his brothers; you had no idea there and then that boy with the ocean eyes would become your estranged husband.

You could have continued going down memory lane, if not from the buzzing which was coming from your bed. The phone you had carelessly thrown atop of the blankets when first entering the room had finally got some service, a thread of text messages and missed phone calls beginning to filter through. Silently, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, eyes flickering across each message. Some are from members of the Ferrari team, others from family members you hadn’t heard from in what felt like centuries.

There’s one. One from the man whom you had spent the previous week with. The one who had consoled you whilst travelling to the family home. Your husband’s teammate.

23:05: Carlos Sainz

Mariposa, please let me know how you are doing. I’m so worried about you. Let me know if you need anything at all.

23:31: You

Thank you, C. I should be heading home tomorrow, with a bit of luck I’ll be able to swing by and say hello.

You hadn’t expected anything else that evening. You were settled, ready to focus on yourself for the remainder of the evening; in your eyes, there was a high likelihood that your siblings would be burrowing into your blankets later. Once dressed in nightwear, the makeup that had stained your cheeks removed, you noticed the soft glow of your phone screen. Another message had just been received, and in your wildest dreams, you could not have imagined whom it was from.

00:24: Charles Leclerc

I heard about your mother this afternoon; I am truly so, so sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. I mean it.

Your eyes had barely had time to view the message which had just been received, before your phone screen changes, taking the message away from your sight. The message thread is replaced by a photograph of your husband, his name lighting up on you phone screen. You don’t even think; instead, your thumb swipes across the screen, pressing the green button and holding the device to your ear.

“Charles.” You speak one word, hearing your husband visibly relax on the other end of the line. You realise it’s the first time you’ve said anything coherent in hours; the tone of your voices echoes around the room. Did you always sound that sad when you spoke to him?

“Hey.” He isn’t too sure what he wants to say; the lack of conversation between the two of you means he isn’t aware if there are any boundaries, anything you wouldn’t discuss with him. No, he just wanted to speak to you, to check in. In reality, he had realised how lonely the house was as an individual. His mistress was gone from his contacts, not inviting her around to fill the void had made him realise how you had felt for oh-so-long.

“How…” He pauses, not sure on how to finish his question. He doesn’t need to, because despite the lack of understanding of one another, you know he’s trying, trying to make you feel better.

“I’m…yeah.” You can’t find the correct words to say; ‘sad’ is an understatement, ‘fine’ is a rude response. Neither of you can find the words, but in that moment, you crave somebody who isn’t mourning the loss of your mother as heavily as you are.

“We have some new neighbours.” He’s trying to find anything to create some conversation. It’s almost as if he knows the quiet of the room is making you feel uncomfortable. “They left us an invitation to join them for a tennis session- not that I’m any good.” He laughs to himself, remembering the previous time he’d attended a tennis game alongside his fellow drivers; he’d had to step out after a few minutes, completely terrified he would end up breaking his hand.

He doesn’t hear anything from the other side of the line but continues to talk. “Are you…” He catches himself for a moment. “Are you coming back soon?” His voice turns into barely a whisper, as if saying the wrong thing will cause you to hang up immediately. He doesn’t hear anything for a moment, taking a gentle sigh and awaiting your response.

“Yeah.” You pause. Are you doing this? Are you having a conversation with your husband? “I’m going to fly home tomorrow afternoon. I think my father wants space.” Your sentence closes, looking around your room. The silence is deathly; in that moment, you don’t care about everything that’s happened. All you want is for somebody to hold you in their arms and tell you it would be okay.

“I’ll come and get you.” Charles has spoken before his mouth has had time to catch his brain. Your eyebrows quirk in confusion. The only time your estranged husband ever drove you himself was on your endless journeys to races; you would sit silently, curled away from his figure, eyes transfixed as the world passed by around you. The man not only offering but wanting to pick you up from the airport was a new-found curiosity.

“It’s okay.” You don’t let him continue. If previous standings have taught you anything, it’s that behind those mesmerising eyes cannot be trusted. You knew the secrets that lied beyond the ocean settled in his eye. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt you.” Part of your heart is craving to bring up his mistress; how she would probably be warming his bed in the current moment, walking around the house which you ached to find comfort in.

“You wouldn’t.” Charles is quick to respond; in his heart of heart, he knows getting you to trust him again would be a monumental task. He’d do anything to prove he would be the husband who would look after you. Who would love you unconditionally; the husband you deserved.

“I’ll let you know when I’ve landed, okay?” It’s your final compromise. The woman whom you had been twelve months ago would love nothing more than to run into Charles’ arms; whether he cared for you the way you did; you would always desire his attention and affection. You’d had to learn through the months that some of life’s biggest temptations had to remain untouched.

Charles Leclerc is your husband.

Landing back in the country was almost eerie; despite being away for only a miniscule amount of time, you felt changed; changed by the loss of your closest companion, changed by the fact your husband had been the one to call you, and not to throw some crazy request down the telephone line.

Arrivals, as always, were completely smothered; couples reuniting, children screaming at the sudden change of scenery. After obtaining your own bag, your eyes flicker through the never-ending crowds, desperate to find some recognition.

Standing apart from the crowd, looking effortlessly rugged in his athletic shorts and hoodie, hair pushed underneath a snapback. His eyes are trained on you, as if he had sensed your presence into the room in less than a moment. The breath catches in the back of your dried throat, a pair of eyes that you trusted undoubtedly. Stumbling, your feet carry you over to the arms of your favourite Spaniard, your head instantly finding solace in the joint between his shoulder and neck, the cologne you were used to from his attendances around the paddock creating a cloud of comfort.

Carlos’ hands effortlessly lock around your torso, pulling you tighter into his chest, one palm rubbing up and down your back. It was the first time, the first time in a long time that anybody had offered you this sort of affection. Mindlessly, the soft tears begin to pool at the bottom of your lash line. Soft snuffles emitting from your lips cause the man to hush you gently, pulling your face away from his body, cradling your head between his larger hands.

He mumbles something quietly, something about taking you back to the house. If it was him, the man would bundle you into his car and drive to his own home. He’d nestle you under his bedroom blankets, dress you in one of his hoodies. Instead, his rough palm finds your soft fingers, intertwining your hands together. Carlos takes your suitcase in his free hand, guiding you to his car parked outside of the airport.

Not much is said during the shortening journey back to the house; the tears glossing your eyes reflect the streetlights, transfixed on the roads which you had left for a few short days. The tears will continue to fall; her loss had taken a part of you that you would you never thought would return. The man to your right, eyes focused on the road can sense your heartbreak. He doesn’t wait to push you; he had spoken to you shortly after the news had originally broken, in that conversation, you had barely been able to say ten words before your voice cracked. Instead, Carlos rests a warm hand on your leg, a silent promise that he will be there no matter what.

The journey feels too short; eventually the driveway to the house rolls into sight, Carlos slowing down the car. When it comes to a halt, he steps out immediately, obtaining your suitcase from the rear of the car, placing it down on the wheels. By this point, you’d wiggled from the seat, ready to wheel your case into the house. However, before you can move, his arms engulf you once more, clinging so tightly, your feet began to lift from the floor. You had clung back just as tight, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek; a silent ‘Thank you,’ for everything.

The embrace ended, Carlos awaiting until the door had unlocked, nodding when he saw you safely enter the house. The building is practically silent; no television sounds, no gentle music, not even the whirr of Charles’ simulator in his downstairs office. Ears pricked, you could hear the jets of a shower from upstairs, the assumption that he must have been in the shower. Paranoia threads your mind, she wouldn’t be showering alongside, would she?

You don’t let your mind wander; instead, you focus on lugging the suitcase along the staircase, silently glad you had gotten further with it since your trip to Madrid. Beelining towards your room, the suitcase rolls behind you, resting it in the corner of the room, a silent promise you’d wash everything tomorrow. However, a delicate bouquet of soft, pink and fresh flowers decorated the vanity of the room; you knew you hadn’t bought flowers since Madrid, and these…They looked as if they’d been placed mere minutes ago.

Overthinking had always been dangerous; instead, you keep yourself busy, wiggling your skincare bag from the suitcase, padding into your bathroom with that and a fresh set of long pyjamas; the late-night breeze had begun to tickle your skin since removing yourself from Carlos’ warm arms. The relish indulges your body, shampoo trickling through your hair, body wash bubbles tickling your body. You’d stepped out a few moments later, changing into the soft clothing, sitting in front of the mirror, brushing your hair out as carefully as you could have.

Silently, your feet carry you from the en-suite towards the main bedroom. Standing at the head of the doorway, is none other than your husband, hair own hair damp from his shower, dressed in soft tracksuit bottoms and a tight tee-shirt. He’d seen your suitcase nestling in the corner of your bedroom, your phone had rumpled the blankets of your bed. Charles had been the one to hear the shower this time, deciding to wait, just to see your soft eyes.

They’re bloodshot; you look so…frail. The years of heartbreak littered across your face. Charles’ heart practically breaks; before you can say a word, he’s across the room, arms pulling around your torso, pulling your head under his chest. Your instinct tells you to fight it, why on earth would you accept some form of affection from a husband who had openly destined you for so long?

And yet, you subcome to his affection, hesitantly holding your own arms to his chest. His scent, his warmth.You felt as if you were dreaming, eyes wet from the overwhelming care, feeling gentle kisses press to the top of your head.

You don’t remember when Charles scooped you to his chest, tucking you into your fresh blankets before nestling in behind you himself. You remind yourself; this is a one-off. You’re almost certain that by tomorrow, he’ll be back in the arms of his mistress, your moment tonight will be an absent moment to your husband. You’ll take it; if it’s one night in his arms, feeling his breath against the back of your neck, tip of his nose pressing into your back, one hand pressed against your stomach in comfort, you’ll take it.

Some point during the night, your phone buzzes, the sound barely audible on the blankets of your bed. You groan slightly, the bubble of yourself and Charles giving you a true form of sanctuary, a true form of home. Curiosity in the night takes the better of you, lifting the dying device to your eyes, slightly blinded by the glow of the screen.

Despite being wrapped in the arms of your husband; you can feel your blood turn cold when you read the one sentence which had been left for you to find.

01:46: Carlos Sainz

I’m in love with you.

3K notes · View notes

f1version · 1 year

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FAVORITE PHOTOS ★ HEADCANON

pairing: f1 grid x fem!reader (no pronouns specified)

summary: f1 drivers and their favorite photo of you

note: i love this not gonna lie

★ CARLOS SAINZ (55) — one with piñón. you and his dog, his favorite living creatures in the world. when he took the pic, it was 4 PM in barcelona, a day after both of you got home from miami. piñón was very excited to see you, never leaving neither of your sides all day, so when it came down to buy some fast food (because he was not expecting to go home before monza), you had to take her. you were eating while holding her, and the biggest smile appeared on his lips. he had to take a picture.

★ LEWIS HAMILTON (44) — lewis’ favorite picture came unexpectedly. one night, he woke up at 3 AM because of some noise, you weren’t next to him, and if he didn’t know you and your sleeping patterns, he would have freaked out, but he knew you, you were looking for water. he steeped out of bed, entering your living room to find a surprise. you weren’t looking for water, you were in the floor, painting. you were mesmerizing. that day held a place in his heart.

★ CHARLES LECLERC (16) — he is in love with you… and with his car. one day, you had the amazing idea to ask him how it felt to drive around with a pista, he instantly thought about you driving it. a week later you were getting into the driver seat, he took a hundred photos that day, his favorite being you before getting in. you were so nervous he remembers kissing it better.

★ PIERRE GASLY (10) — you are not a party person, much less a fan of PR events, however, a couple of months ago, you found yourself as pierre's plus one at an alpine event. it was unbearable, which could have been a problem if pierre had been enjoying that night, but he was not, so you decided to leave early. in your hotel room, you threw yourself to the bed and he laughed at your obvious relief. he took a picture, now it's his favorite.

★ YUKI TSUNODA (22) — one of you eating something he made. like 100%. even if he had tons of these pictures, his favorite was unique because of the memory. it was the first dish made by him you tried, he was so scared you hated it, but after you had the first bite, you eyes started shining, the world stopped, it was pure bliss. you loved it, he was so relieved and in love.

★ MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1) — one with the cats 100%, you both are proud cat parents. it would be a photo of the day sally started giving you kisses for the first time, it melted his heart. you both looked perfect, at some point you picked her up and laid down with her while singing a lullaby, the cat drifting to sleep.

★ LANDO NORRIS (4) — you asked him and he proceeded to complain about how dare you ask that knowing he takes at least 35 pictures of you a day, asks if you want him to cry and says you’re making him question his life decisions. finally, he shows you a photo he took of you with his favorite helmet: the one dedicated to you. it wasn’t the best pic you had taken that day but, for him, it felt like home.

★ ALEX ALBON (23) — while your favorite photo of him is him smiling, his favorite photo of you is the funniest, most embarrassing thing. you love it. he took it on a trip you made to the drugstore in the middle of the night, “enchanted” by taylor swift started playing and according to you, your “taylor demon” was awoken. he was recording the whole thing, you were sure the security guys thought you were drunk-out-of-your-mind.

★ GEORGE RUSSELL (63) — george is a simple guy (not really he just repeats that a lot) his favorite photo of you is a very domestic one. one morning he woke up to you reading, he was enchanted by you, he was sure you stayed up all night reading. he found that attractive… and concerning, but more attractive, so before you noticed he was awake, he snapped a picture and immediately started kissing you.

★ LANCE STROLL (18) — having a drink with lance after media day was one of your favorite things, nevertheless, one night you drank more that you should. you don’t remember much, but as far as the videos you both took go, you were knocking on each door of the hotel and drunkenly running away. one of those photos is now his favorite, he doesn’t remember taking it, but he wishes he did.

★ DANIEL RICCIARDO (3) — daniel has two folders dedicated to you in his gallery: one with the cute, artistic, hot, beautiful, sexy, perfect photos he has taken of you and the other with cursed, embarrassing or silly pictures of you. his favorite is a silly one, it’s the only one he has marked as favorite, he loves looking at it and remembering. which one is it? that 0.5x photo he took with his phone the moment you arrived to your first date.

★ MICK SCHUMACHER (47) — he loves sunsets. during a small getaway, you started playing music, dancing, and singing. the sunset had soft tone that complimented you, it was magical and perfect. he knew he would be obsessed with the memory for a while, so he snapped a picture.

★ SEBASTIAN VETTEL (5) — easy pick. the happiest day of his life — your weeding, especially that one photo of you with the veil, seconds away from saying ‘i do’ and accepting to love him for the rest of his days. you were blushing by the way he looked at you and he loves it, he has it printed for his nightstand, as his lock-screen, and it definitely has a spot on his instagram during the whole ‘my life through pictures’ agenda.

1K notes · View notes

dayslynthesix · 9 months

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Charles Leclerc x Button!Reader

(this one is just a little content just because i love summer break and i think i failed a little bit to show just how much lis and charlie are in love in the social!au)

Sicily, Italy.

The warming heat of the sun was everywhere. The towels were warming, the floor of the Azzura (the boat) was warming, and the breeze of the Mediterranean sea was also warming. The summer break started less the 48 hours ago and Lis and Charlie were already on board.

Lis has bought that boat last summer, it was the most terrifying thing she could ever do, at least, thats what her dad has told her, but every weekend she was driving around at 320kmh, so driving a boat was supposed to be easy. But Lis wasn't driving the boat, Charles was. Not at that moment, because tuesday middle morning he was laying down side by side with his girlfriend while she was reading one of her books - Normal People, by Sally Rooney was the chosen one for the trip.

They were together for almost two years, they keep it private and low, only his closest friends and her closest friends (Gia, Catherine and Lauren*) knew about it, and they were fine with that. Until, one day, a rumor was spread around the paddock, and everyone started to pay attention on them.

"Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc is allegedly dating RedBull driver and Jenson Button's daughter, Elise Button."

But for him, Elise Button was just Lis, or Fleur de Lis, his girl, his partner, his other half, the only person who fully understand him.

Last summer they spent hidden in some Italy village, Moscazzano was the one, Lis' mom had a summer house there, and once she was a kid she was always there with her family. That summer Charles felt so much love by her family that his heart was overwhelmed with it. He never had the chance or the opportunity to meet Jenson properly, but those 3 weeks he spent there he learned from where most part of Lis personality came from; she was charming, had that amazing sense of humor, smile pretty easily once she feels comfortable, she likes to swim, to lay on the sun, to play volleybal with her friends, to watch Grey's Anatomy and House with her mom and to go take a walk with her dad every sunset.

This summer they spent most of it swimming in the blue sea, while Lis was making them friendship bracelets for the concert they were supposed to go, or writing some poem Charles would never be allowed to read or just laying side by side, holding hands and talking about everything and anything all at once.

Charles and Lis relationship was easy, they could talk or stay at silence, they could talk for hours or just check how each other was, they could just exist into each other space, Lis was as much part to Charles life as he was to her. They knew each other so deep that no one knew how they didn't ended up together sooner.

"Every time i read that Connell wasn't religious but he thought that God made Marianne for him something clicks inside of me." Lis started to say as she closed the now finished book, Charles just hummed to let her know that he was awake, and listening to her "Because I'm not very religious too, but God, life, the universe put you in my life and I think that was genuinely made for me. I love how our life is simple, and how easy it is to be with you, even though we're weren't supposed to be together."

"I think the fact that we drive for rival teams makes things even better, what do you say? We're enemies to lovers?"

"More like rivals to lovers, but just between us, I would let you win just to see you happy." Lis had that, she was just pure empathy, it didn't look like because she was a woman into a mans sport, but she cared, and she would do anything to make Charles happy, including letting him win in Monza, including let him drive her around, including telling him how much she loves him.

"That's not very RedBull of you, honey." he joked

"It's because deep down I'm sort of a Mercedes driver because of my dad." she was laughing freely.

And summer just freeze. In that moment summer felt eternal. Just Elise and Charles, laying on the sun, listening to each other, talking nonsense around the Mediterranean, joking about how Charles wasn't familiar with the sunscreen technology. They just disappeared on those 4 weeks. They went for morning swims, early breakfast, stopping in those small Italian villages, eating pasta and holding each other. They weren't thinking about the championship, fast cars, Ferrari or RedBull. It was just them.

Charles and Elise, enjoying the sweet company of each other.

And going to Taylor Swift concerts.

elisebutton

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, cbishop11*, scuderiaferrari and 765.154 others

elisebutton there are pieces of us booth under of every city light, thank you italy, you were amazing with us, grazie 🇮🇹

charles_leclerc you are my favorite place

jensonbutton look how adorable you are, already missing you ❤

laurencaspari i picture you (my best friend) with other girls (charles leclerc) and throw up on the street (actually i went drinking)

priyacaspari looking forward to see you guys racing in monza in 2 weeks 🤗

scuderiaferrari hey @redbullracing are you seeing this?

redbullracing hey, charles, could you please bring back our driver? thank you

maxverstappen1 hey, charles, could you please give back my emotional support friend? thanks

elisebutton

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, mickschumacher, redbullracing, maxverstappen1 and 976.642 others

elisebutton capture it, remember it. thank you so much @taylorswift, i had the time of my life last night, traded soooo many friendship bracelets and it felt amazing to be surrounded by these amazing people - to the girls who were next to us, thank you for making my night insanely beautiful, we're happy and not lonely. and thank you to my lover, my karma, the one that there's some invisible string tying you to me @charles_leclerc for singing all the songs with me, I'll save you a seat at every table

jesonbutton i just know that daniel and mick were with you, i just know

danielricciardo heidi is suffering from post taylor's concert sadness i think we should do it again, same time in a couple of months back in mexico?

schecoperez if you're going to mexico im coming too

charles_leclerc im karma and im your boyfriend

charlisewdc ELISE OMG IT WAS ME AND MY FRIENDS YOU WERE SO NICE WE LOVE YOU

ccaspari make the friendship bracelets take a moment and taste it you got no reason to be afraid I LOVE YOU LIS MISSED YOU SO MUCH THESE MONTHS

georgerussell63 carmen and i are officially tswift fans from now one, thank you for the invitation

maxverstappen1 wait, am i the only one who wasn't there?

landonorris LMAO i think you don't like solo racing after all

elisebutton i invited you, i invited everyone

authors note: after this small serie ends i fully intend to do another social media au with another driver, probably daniel ricciardo x volleyball!player

#Spotify #charles leclerc #formula one imagine #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x reader #jenson button #formula one social media au #f1 social media au #f1 #the eras tour #ferrari

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loveforlandonorris · 6 months

Text

🎤 Lando at the Drivers' Press Conference before the Las Vegas GP:

(When the press con aired, they only showed the individual interviews with each driver and the first journalist question, the rest in the transcript I don't have a video of to post. And I trimmed the video so it just has Lando's 1-on-1 interview and his first question. I would have split them up but Tumblr only allows one video per post, so at the end of Lando's interview, it jumps straight to his first question from the journalists)

Transcript:

Interviewer: Lando, coming to you now. So that Netflix Cup yesterday, beaten by Carlos. Fair result?

Lando: Oh, yeah. Yeah, was just, it was a good day out, to be honest. Yeah, nice to meet some of the guys. Obviously, I had Rickie and Rickie was… it was nice to meet him for the first time. You know, I've watched a lot of these guys on a lot of weekends over the last couple years. So, it's always cool to meet someone of their talent and ability and from another sport. So, a nice day out for everyone (smiles).

Interviewer: And can you give us your thoughts about racing here in Las Vegas? How different does it feel for the drivers?

Lando: (Smiles) I don't know. I guess it feels a little bit different, just... night race and a lot of glamour and all of this stuff. But inside it's just another race weekend. So yeah, concentrated and focused for the weekend ahead. Opportunities for everyone because it's so different and a lot of question marks for everyone. So yeah, plenty of things to try and prepare for and be ready for – but also, with FP1, FP2 and FP3 a bit more time than what we've had the last few weekends with the Sprint races, to get our heads on things and making sure we're prepared before Qualifying.

Interviewer: Opportunities and question marks, as you say. Just how confident are you for McLaren?

Lando: I don't like this question anymore. (Smiling) Like, I'm always wrong, whatever I say so…

Interviewer: But 4 podiums in the last 5 races, that's... you’ve got some form.

Lando: No, absolutely. I think… I'm very pleased with how... extremely pleased with how we've done the last few weeks, especially Mexico and Brazil were a a big chunk better than we were expecting. Especially Brazil, you know? To be so far ahead of the majority and close to the Red Bull through a lot of the race was definitely not something we were expecting. So it's a tough one, you know?

This will remind you a little bit more of Baku and Monza-type races, which weren’t our best, and definitely towards the weaker side. You know, there's the long straights and low downforce is not where our priority has been this season with developments and all of those things, because there's so few races like it. So, yeah, maybe not as confident as where we have been the last few weekends, but no idea at the same time (smiles).

Interviewer: Personal goals for you. You're just 3 points behind Fernando in P4 in the Drivers’ Championship…

Lando: Yeah (smiles).

Interviewer: Can you overhaul him? How much confidence have you got in beating Fernando?

Lando: Again, no idea. It depends how we do this weekend. Depends how they do.

Interviewer: How much do you want to?

Lando: (Laughs) How do I...? I don't know, I don't know how to answer it. It's not something I think of, you know, just trying to go out and beat one driver. You just go out and do the best job you can, and get the most points you can. So, simple as that in my eyes. But if we can race against each other, I think it'll be something fun, something enjoyable.

Obviously he had a good weekend last time out in Brazil and was our next closest challenger, so always gonna be a good fight against him. But there's plenty of other guys who are in the fight, you know? Carlos is there and someone else… who else we racing against? Was it just us three? Just us three? I don’t know, to be honest (smiles). But we’ll just go out and have some fun (smiles).

Interviewer: Very good luck to you.

Journalist Questions:

Q1 (Sam Johnston – Sky Sports) Question for Fernando and Lando. Does the track this weekend and kind of all the unknowns, do you think, make Max particularly vulnerable? And obviously both of you are looking to kind of… Lando’s looking for his first win and Fernando, you’re looking for your first win in a long time. Would it be particularly special to do it at the first race in Las Vegas, or could, kind of, unforeseen circumstances make it feel less special?

Interviewer: Who'd like to start? Lando, you've got the mic.

Lando: I'd just like to win, I don’t really… (smiles) It doesn’t matter where. But you don’t do anything different, because it’s Vegas, to try and win, you know? I guess I’ve been doing my best, since I started Formula 1, and your time comes eventually, but that’s about it.

What was the first part of the question? Oh, Max. Yeah... maybe? I mean, if you look back to Monza, he was way quicker than everyone, pretty much so… Could be another Singapore-style type thing, but unlikely. So, I don't know. There’s just a lot of guessing and there’s no point guessing. (Smiling) I know you just wanna, yeah, get us to say things but… could be, there’s always a chance, there's some possibilities. And small chances of rain, things like that maybe always play into your hands at certain points – but it can go any way.

Q2 (Andrew Benson – BBC Sport) This is for Carlos, Lando and Fernando. What do you feel about the balance between sport and the show this weekend? How different do you think it is from normal, and how do you feel about the disruptions to your normal schedule during today, some of the requests that have been made of your time?

Lando: I don't have a lot more to add [than Carlos' answer], to be honest. I think Carlos said it pretty well. I mean, it's definitely more of a show now than what it was a few years ago. To be honest, I just want to come here and drive and come here and race. Never been the biggest fan of doing these types of things like we did earlier. It's not what I enjoy doing.

I know a lot of this stuff is just part of it and I'm not saying anything against it, but yeah, I do this job because I want to come and drive and race cars and things like that. And I don't simply enjoy… I've never been the biggest fan of doing these types of big events and shows and things like that. So yeah, but I guess it’s part of the job and it's a business and all those things. And that's how it has to run in the end of the day. So yeah, that's it.

Q3 (Kevin Scheuren – Motorsport-total.com) [Everyone is asked about jet lag]

Lando: I think it's always been in F1. Of course, it's a big shift and stuff like that. But I'm alright. I'm still young, thankfully. I'm a bit older now but compared to this guy right here [Fernando].... Maybe he struggles a little bit more than I do with not getting eight hours in. But yeah, we all have to do the same things.

#lando norris #landonorris #ln4 #mclaren #las vegas gp 2023 #formula one #formula 1 #f1

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xiaoluclair · 1 year

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lestappen - i don’t need your pity (for the prompts thingy)

it’s been a while anonsie and for that i can only say i hope you’ve stuck around long enough to see this (or maybe not because i had no idea WHAT i was doing). its been off and on in my mind but i only figured something out recently so thank you for unknowingly challenging me, it was certainly Something to write and i’m glad it was! i hope you enjoy if you find it hidden somewhere in the dash <3

warnings: waffle | severe lack of coherent thought from author (that is grotesquely obvious in the story mess(tm)) | not exactly the fluffiest thing i've ever written | parallel-universes-esque storymessline | post monza 2022 | not exactly a happy ending ... oopsie??

word count: 1926 (aka so much longer than i thought it would be wtf)

- ꭘıаӧᴸu℄ɐiɾ - ꭘıаӧᴸu℄ɐiɾ - ꭘıаӧᴸu℄ɐiɾ -

Question: What Happens When Two Stars Collide?

Answer: They Merge Into A Single Star.

On one side of the door, in fluorescence and sweats, is a man. In his hands is a little bag. His name is Max. He raises a hand and knocks.

On the other side of the door is a space of silence. Into it moves another man - a different man (how different, this is unclear). His name is Charles. He tilts his head back and stares at the moon touches on the ceiling and exhales.

Max knocks again after a few seconds. His fingers are flush to the base of the bag, collecting the warmth that remains. What the bag is, this is not yet known.

When Charles opens the door, this is the second thing he considers. The first, is that the man on the other side is soft and smiling and tantalizingly alive. Then, we get to the bag.

“What is this?” he asks. A thing the room missed: the hollows under his eyes. They are easier to see in sick yellow light, stark with cowering shadows. They glitter slightly too - Max does not notice this.

He holds up his arms like an offering. Fitting, because what else could this be. “Dinner for us?”

Pity, perhaps. After all, what is more pitying than someone sad for no pinpointable reason of their own other than someone with an exact pinpointable reason. Charles thinks about this too much. He does not want to think about it now but.

“What do you want, Max?”

“I want to be with you." Max's answer is simple. It is how he feels, after all. And what is the truth other than simple.

Charles considers it for a bare amount of time. He says bitterly, "I do not want pity."

Max only says, again, "I want to be with you."

It takes a moment. A few moments. But then he steps to the wall and gestures the offering inside. Max comes with it.

It is not something so much worked out as simply occurring: Charles sits on the bed, close to the wall and curled around himself. Max sets the bag upon the sheets, between both of their bodies. He is stretched over the other side, his legs doused in moonlight.

They share two little tupperwares of tomato soup between them.

Max's chest is warm and beating. Charles listens to it until sleep weighs his eyelids, stomach filled, and lost at the edge of peace.

Answer: The Smaller (If There Is A Smaller) Is Swallowed.

"What do you want?"

This is, objectively, a simple question. Simpler when you regard the context:

Sex.

Something like it, anyway.

There are two men. One - blue - is flush to the wall. The other one - red - is flush to the blue. Hands are gripping, teeth clashing, and the tyres beside them are not the only things that are hard.

Perhaps a silly observation: there is no purple between them.

"I do not- I do not know." Red is breathless. He is also lying. The truth is, he wants it all. He wants to place himself against the wall without a care, he wants to be asking What Do You Want because he already has everything he wants. He does not want pity. He wants pride.

Surrounded by red, he wants to be Blue.

It does not matter. He is only kissed harder, crushed closer. Blue takes his face with reverence. Red cannot afford this. But he tries anyway, because the last thing he wants right now is to crumble. He lets himself be held together and touched and tries his best to do so in return. To give back the emotion he is being pressed with. For whatever reason, he thinks he fails.

The air twitches.

Blue pulls away, happy and hazy and blinking away the dilation from his pupils. He and Red share a stark look. His body moves, forceful nod of his head.

Panic pushes Red right behind the tall tyre trolleys, his breath held and lungs screaming. There are few gaps between the blankets. He looks through these as best as he can and listens for all the rest.

"Max?" Surprise - his teammate. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," says Blue as they share a shake of hands. "Are you free for dinner?"

"Sure, man. You have something in mind?"

Blue does actually. Tomato Soup, Blue is thinking, but he cannot say this. Only, he cannot think of anything else to say. So he says, "I really want tomato soup."

A laugh, "That is very specific. I will take it."

"Excellent!"

Conversation continues to ebb between them as they leave. Blue feels bad, but only a little. He will leave tomorrow and Red will stay but they can always Facetime. Besides, he has Italy to explore tonight, a win to remember, and a friend to share it with along with some soup.

Left in shadows, Red crouches in his own garage. He hides until the pain does not trail down his face and his eyes feel less itchy. He wipes his mouth, still sticky with saliva that is not his own. It comes away on his hand, reflective. He licks his lips.

A bitter taste lingers.

Answer: A Neutron Star Is Born That Dissolves Into A Black Hole.

If you stood on the ground, among the fairy-lit treeline and quartz potted gerberas, and tilted your view up to the sky, you would see stars, fresh with memories of red seas and Dutch anthems.

If you tilted your view just a little but lower, you would see a man.

He lifts a hand, hollowed with shadow, and itches the skin on his cheeks. Again, and again, and again; one side, then the other. This might have continued forever. It does not.

His hand moves, instead to the dust beside him. And then his entire self moves, swallowed into the darkness breathing behind him. But wait, for a few seconds. You see him, spat out with his elbow bent. Squint and there is the movement of his mouth, voice sucked into the base of the phone.

Lip-reading from so far down - impossible, probably.

This does not matter. We simply go a little closer.

If you sat with your spine curled flush to the glass - cold, freezing - you would hear a voice, see it being spoken. "I am fine."

If you inched a little closer, until his skin - freezing, cold - pressed to yours, you would hear the reply. "So you are not crying in your room?"

"No," laughs this man in front of you. "Of course not."

"Tell me, what are you doing?"

Teeth worry over lips for a moment. A flash of red is left behind, swept up by the smooth motion of a tongue. "Just watching TV, writing a little bit. Might take another shower but I do not know if I should take a warm one or cold."

Static sounds, a moment. "Sounds like a simple evening."

The man makes a noise. Something like happiness if happiness were a Wikipedia article. "Very."

They breathe together, for a long long time. You might breathe with them if you were more than an apparition, a ghost. But even bodiless, the quiet flush of thermia set on this man's cheeks is clear, slight tremor in the phone as the surface refracts the moon.

"Hey."

He stays silent.

The line continues. "I love you."

Finally, a smile. It brightens as few things do: small, flickering, absent. Joyous and pained.

"I have to go but. You did really really good today. And I am sure next weekend will be better."

The inevitable beep sounds then, of a line hung up. Warmth still lingers though from the explicable words, comfort in every syllable.

To you.

The man - Charles, it would reason - his eyes are drawing up, tight. Much like the corners of his mouth. Where something light once rested, darkness is swallowing, stamping its hooves.

If you were to swim between the neurones in his brain, you would be dead. So would he.

His thoughts are his own only. All that is there is the twist of his lips, as though closed around something bitter.

Answer: Supernova.

On one side of the door, in fluorescence and sweats, is a man. His hands are pressed together in his hoodie pocket. He is thinking something about tomato soup, but it is difficult to remember with a mind so addled by gin. His knuckles rap. He calls, "Charles?"

Louder: "Charles!"

On the other side of the door, another man is rushing. It swings open in bare seconds. "Max?"

"Charles," says Max. He is happy. He is squinting.

"What the fuck?" says Charles. He is not.

The smell of alcohol is filling the air, of champagne. Like a taunt.

“What do you want?”

Max shrugs, smiling dripping a little less. “To be with you.”

Because Max does not think like this. After all, he has no need to taunt anyone, he has no threat. Especially not from Charles. And if he does not come to taunt, then there is only one other thing.

Charles starts the inch shut the door, hinges giving way freely. “I think I should be alone.”

Max steps forward, a hand flashing out. "What?" He holds the wood still, presses against Charles's weight and his eyes are searching. He is drunk; he focuses on small, insignificant details. "Why? Are you- you have been crying."

Charles shakes his head and the undersides of his eyes glimmer again. "Go away."

Patience is something racing will often inevitably drag with itself. There are ways to place a car and ways to keep it placed and ways to change its place, all perfectly times, all learned and being learned by the two men in this hallway and this room.

It is too bad, then, that being human comes with hiccups even in something akin to heartbeat.

"What is wrong?" asks Max. The door has stopped shoving into his palm; he does not stop shoving his palm into the door. It cracks open, loud into the plaster. A dent - neither of them care or notice.

“Nothing!” says Charles, only now he sounds hysterical. Case in point: his arms are up, like crackers shooting to the clouds, pupils dilating even under the drench of gutted yellow. Only he does not stop: "I hate you, I hate you."

The reply is factual. "You do not."

What once glittered only, now flows. "I love you." It breaks. "I love you."

"So tell me," says Max as though waving a wad of cash against a bag of groceries: tomatoes, onions, herbs, a stick of butter. "What is wrong."

There is this thing in competition. It is well-known and well-played and when rested on a tongue, makes it curl in unpleasant ways.

Charles takes Max by the plastic-ended strings of his hoodie then. It hurts, the crack of their teeth together. The door crashes shut behind them, and mattresses are not hard but perhaps this one is. It nearly breaks Max's back.

There is nothing lovely about this. It burns with ache and pain and, aloud in every touch Charles feels, something unspoken. It makes him pull away, skin flush and sliding thickly against the man below him, stretched out and pliant. An invitation - Do what you wish. I can afford it.

It rises a hiss, a far cry from prideful Ferrari: "I do not need your pity."

Who knew the bitterest thing of all could be a smile.

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #f1 rpf #xiao: writes #asks: prompt #xiao: asks #ficlet: mv1.cl16 #anon my beloved #danke danke d a n k e #this was harrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr to write but thank you for the lil push!#definitely think i put too much into this #and yet it all turned out to be a complete assfuck!#i love me and everything i do i still tell myself :3

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yesterdayiwrote · 2 years

Note

I'm so sorry that you're not feeling well. I hope you feel better soon!

I'm so exhausted after the race. Imo George didn't do anything wrong. Merc did wrong not double stacking them. The race win was Max's the moment the safety car came out for Yuki's Alpha Tauri.

I was so so happy for George joining Merc and now I want him far away. They've left him out to dry far too many times this season, and they aren't helping him with the hatred constantly coming his way. I hope Lewis and George's relationship doesn't deteriorate but it wouldn't surprise me if it did. I'm not looking forward to Monza, fingers crossed the car isn't a disaster class.

Ty anon! I think/hope it might just be acclimatising to the aircon has sent my respiratory tract into disarray and so I’m hoping it’ll sort itself out. 🤞🏻🤞🏻

George did nothing wrong and people making it his fault are utterly insane. He asked to change tyres. If Merc thought it was wrong they could have said no. That’s his only ‘crime’ in all of this. He had no way of knowing they wouldn’t put Lewis on the same strat, but ultimately, the way the race panned out meant their initial strat was cooked. Lewis was never winning that race on those mediums with Verstappen on fresh softs. A double podium was not happening. The best they could have got was 3/4. But some fans would be happy with that as long as it’s ‘their’ driver on the podium. Merc fucked the strategy pure and simple.

I’m so sad for how George has been treated since he’s been at Merc. He’s got a 30 point lead in the WDC and yet he keeps getting referred to as a “2nd driver”. He put in results in a sub par car, but gets his team contribution overlooked and undermined. He’s had two podiums where no one in the team comes and congratulates him because they’re consoling his teammate, but when the roles are reversed no one puts celebrations on hold to console him. He’s worked his way up, he’s played the team game, he’s never said a bad word about Lewis, and yet the one time he makes a great strategy call that the team have missed, something that he should be getting praise for, instead he’s getting abuse, threats and accusations about his entire character from people who quite frankly do their fave a disservice

#f1 #george russell

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leqclerc · 2 years

Note

Hi! I’m just curious to know as to why you (and a lot of ppl here on tumblr actually) dislike/hate carlos? I was quite surprised to see the animosity as I thought he was an all-around liked guy. Just wanna know your thoughts towards him

Hey!

Honestly, there’s lots of reasons why a person might dislike a driver. Sometimes it’s as simple as I don’t vibe with him. Also, before we get into it, I’d just like to highlight that I can’t speak for everyone. This reply will be pretty subjective, presenting my own thoughts and perception. What I think may not be necessarily applicable to everyone and all that.

For me, personally, he was never a driver I paid much attention to pre-2021. I didn’t really have any strong feelings about him one way or another, he was just there, one of the 20 or so guys on the grid. I was always focused on some other driver and/or team, so he was never really on my radar. So it’s not that I had anything against him per se, it’s more that my focus was elsewhere/I was rooting for someone else - e.g., Pierre during Monza 2020. In hindsight, I think my favourite “iteration” of him was as a McLaren driver. He seemed to be in a good place there, and fit the vibe of the team quite well, is a great friend to Lando and was a great teammate.

I only really started paying more attention to him once he joined Ferrari because, well. He’s part of “my” team now, the one I follow closely; he’s teammates with my favourite driver. That means he’s undeniably there, both on the grid and also across Ferrari’s social media content, which I occasionally consume; he’s often around Charles or involved with something to do with him. Seb and Charles were always my dream Ferrari pairing. I’ve never hidden the fact that they’re the drivers that mean the most to me, the ones I’m most interested in. Hell, they make up 90% of the content on my blog, lol. But even so, I tried to go into this new era of Ferrari with an open mind and give both him and the new teammate pairing a fair chance, watch their videos and interactions and see how I feel about it, develop an opinion.

So...that’s basically what happened.

My frustration or dislike or whatever you want to call it boils down to several different things. I’ve talked about this enough on my blog so I’ll try to keep it concise but the Ch*arlos narrative Ferrari is so doggedly selling, complete with very odd captions - “more than a bromance <3″ - just doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t enjoy it. More broadly, some of their (on camera) interactions kind of got me like :/ I won’t go into all the details now but yeah the vibes, for me, aren’t great.

Annoyance aside, I think my biggest gripe is his attitude. Like I said, I follow Ferrari pretty closely - and even if I didn’t, I mean, social media’s a thing, and the F1 app loves to bombard people with article headlines, lol - so I end up seeing a lot of articles/quotes even if I don’t specifically go looking for them. And even last year I started noticing this pattern of him saying stuff like “I could’ve been on pole/could’ve won the race.” Monaco is probably the most prominent example of this as he kept bringing it up even, like, six months afterwards, that would-be Monaco pole. Now, he’s likely not the only driver to do this. It’s just that he says stuff like this was a frightening consistency, lol. And the problem is...data is available online, so claims like that can easily be debunked, and often are.

This continued into the 2022 season. If you do a quick search for some of his quotes from this year, it’s pretty much more of the same. If he’s to be believed, he feasibly could’ve won every race from Australia to Monaco. Regardless of data, and regardless of circumstances. And that, to me, is more off-putting than anything else - the attitude and, dare I say, ego. Yeah, of course all these guys are (at least outwardly) proud and confident in their own abilities. They wouldn’t be performing at such a high level of motorsport if they weren’t. But some of C’s attitude specifically makes it sound like he’s, I don’t know, a multiple time World Champion, which...he is not. Ferrari has made a solid car this year, one that’s firmly in the championship fight. Okay, so it’s not exactly to his liking and he’s finding it difficult to set it up correctly and extract the maximum out of it, unlike his teammate. He’s made mistakes. I get that. I might be even able to empathise with him. But I can’t find it in me to do that because of things like that. And I’ve had other people tell me similar things. So yeah, that’s pretty much where I stand currently.

#replies #anonymous #finally had some time to type this out #like i said these are my subjective thoughts and ruminations. i can only give my perspective #this is *not* me going after him or his fans #discussions and predictions #.long post

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wisteriagoesvroom · 2 months

Note

6, 31 & 71 for the weird asks! - Tell me stuff about your fashion choices🫶

HI LO!! <3

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

kinda...none? maybe erring towards tomboy with an asian street twist

31. outfit to kick ass and take names

honestly something very simple that makes me feel professional like jeans and a black t with a good pair of sneaks and gold accessories. i work in tech so that’s about as polished as it gets sometimes hah

71. least favourite pattern

in f1? how few of my faves have won their home races yet (charles in monza, oscar in melb, lando and alex in silverstone, yuki in suzuka etc etc) 😝

in fabric… probably gingham but more cus i haven’t figured out a way to pull it off yet. you will never catch me wearing paisley tho.

from here!

#asks

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clovermotors · 2 years

Text

so after seeing essays about Carlos' performances i think it's time for me to make my own and to explain why he shouldn't be overlooked just because he's spent six years in the sport with no wins-- and how all of that sparks from a simple reason: reliability + CAR SPEED NO HAVE. very long post.

stats are only taken from the races where carlos' teammates were racing against him e.g if they were racing against carlos for 5 races out of 20 on the F1 calendar, i'll only mention the five races they raced against carlos in

Toro Rosso 2015 ; Carlos + Max Verstappen

DNFs: 7/19 races, Max 5/19 races

Points scored in: 7/12 completed races, Max 10/14 races

Reasons for Carlos DNFs:

Bahrain 2015 - 'Something wrong with the car' (Electrical issues, as per Max's words)

Austria 2015 - Technical issues

Britain 2015 - Mechanical failure (pulled over lap 33, bringing out VSC)

Hungary 2015 - Fuel pressure issue

Belgium 2015 - Car stalled in formation lap, reported loss of power- then he went out again from pit lane and on lap 34 loss of power and he retired

Russia 2015 - Brake failure

Brazil 2015 - Loss of power- stalled on his way to the grid, started from pit lane, made it across a few hundred metres and then retired

Toro Rosso 2016 ; Carlos + Max then Carlos + Daniil Kvyat

DNFs: Carlos 4/21 races, Max 1/4 races (of the races he raced with Carlos), Daniil 5/17 (of the races he raced with Carlos)

Points scored in: Carlos 10/17 completed races, Daniil 3/12 completed races (in Toro Rosso)

Reasons for Carlos DNFs:

Bahrain 2016 - Contact with Checo was the main reason for it (he carried on after the contact but then he had to retire eventually) (No clear footage for me to see the collision so I dont have an opinion)

Europe 2016 (held at Baku) - Suspension issues

Belgium 2016 - Tyre failure

To add on, Renault's engines have always been unreliable, as shown by the 2018 season at Red Bull. In 2016, Toro Rosso used Ferrari engines- hence the boost in performance.

Toro Rosso/Renault 2017 ; Carlos + Daniil Kvyat/Pierre Gasly [TR] then Carlos + Nico Hulkenberg [R]

DNFs: Carlos 6/16 races, Daniil 5/14 races, Pierre 0/2 races (Toro Rosso). Carlos 2/4 races, Nico 2/4 races (Renault)

Points scored in: Carlos 9/12 races completed, Daniil 2/11 races completed, Pierre 0/2 races completed (In Toro Rosso). Carlos 1/2 races completed, Nico 2/2 races completed

Reasons for Carlos DNFs:

Bahrain 2017 - Collision with Stroll (Racing incident. Carlos was too aggressive with that overtake & imo Lance didn't leave the space. But they've both grown as drivers now 👍)

Canada 2017 - Squeezed Grosjean and crashed into Massa as he bounced off the barriers

Austria 2017 - Power unit issue

Britain 2017 - Collision with Kvyat (dare I say Daniil crashed into him here)

Malaysia 2017 - Engine failure

Japan 2017 - Lost the rear and crashed into barriers

__________ Renault Era

Mexico 2017 - Steering issue

Abu Dhabi 2017 - Front wheel not fit on properly

Tumblr is a bitch and deleted everything I had to say

But that's where my conversation of car reliability ends because the 2018 Renault really wasnt a race winning car. Nor was the McLaren, honestly- on raw pace only, I doubt that it could win races. But Monza 2020 and Brazil 2019 are obviously the highlights of Carlos' career by far. First podium and an almost there win.

2022 is promising and I cant wait for him to win his first WDC 👍 He has mega potential and has shown that in this year. Vamos Carlos!

I thank McLaren for nurturing Carlos the way he deserves. I think he's definitely grown more mature beside Lando and McLaren as a whole and he'll do great in Ferrari. Cant wait to see what he's gonna achieve, so proud.

Sources ; F1.com, Formula One fandom wiki, Formula One wikipedia and a lot of youtube videos.

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #i dont think i need to tag anything else #do i?#f1 #LOL #have fun reading this word vomit

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tubbietommo · 3 years

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MY TOP 10 F1 HELMETS OF 2020 (AS A GRAPHIC DESIGNER)

With finally that dumb rule about amount of helmet changes out of our system, I’ve been enjoying seeing all these different helmets this season. There have been beauties, some that I’m still thinking about till this day and there have been some uglies.. some also which I’ve been thinking about till this day and literally thinking: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?!? to the drivers that wore them.

As I’m getting my official graphic design ‘papers’ I wanted to give my opinion about my top 10 helmets of this year:

10: Daniil Kvyat Abu Dhabi helmet

This is his last helmet and honestly I’m a fan of this one. It’s a pretty simple design and usually I’m not a big fan of the colour red being used in a helmet. Mostly because I find that colour a bit overdone in helmets. But it being sparkly makes it extremely beautiful and it’s the first Alpha Tauri helmet that I’ve seen that match fully with that big ass logo on there. With most of the Alpha Tauri helmets I feel like the helmets designs have two parts to it, the design and the big ass logo. But with this one I find it matching extremly well. Good job on that, love it.

9: Pierre AustrianGP helmet (fan made)

Oof, the front and the upper part of this helmet is just so fun. I’m a big fan of using a dark background with a very bright color scheme combined and I love the fact that this was a competition where fans could design Pierre’s helmet and that a beautiful design was chosen. I would have loved it even more if the alpha tauri logo wasn’t there. Especially that big. It would have looked so cool and given me an 80′s disco vibe if the whole colourful design was fully around the helmet, without the logo. But I guess with this one I just pretend the logo isn’t there. It's still so good though.

8: Sebastian Vettel Abu Dhabi (ferrari tribute) helmet.

Now I wasn’t sure which helmet of Seb I liked more, this helmet or the Styrian helmet. I decided on this helmet, because it’s such a Seb helmet and reminded me of one of his Red Bull helmet (which is prettier than this one tbh). But also because I think there’s a special concept to this helmet. This obviously could be wrong but to me this helmet is a bit of ‘self reflect’ for Seb. You obviously have the achievements with Ferrari on there and his famous quote ‘grazie ragazzi and the helmet has a bit of a mirror effect. but the colours to me that especially are being used in the number 5 tells me his F1 adventure (past and future). The colours start (in the number 5) with the Redbull colours, than goes into the red(Ferrari) which blends in with a little pink and goes straight to the green(AM). So I really like this little detail even if it wasn’t on purpose, which sorry but I am convinced it is.

7: The pink Hulkenberg helmet

I’m not gonna lie, I kind of had forgotten about this helmet, but as I’ve been looking back at these helmets this one has been really catching my eyes and is so well done. I find Pink a very hard colour to work with anyway, definitley the bright pink that just screams at you. And the fact that the bright pink isn’t overpowering with the pastel pink and white makes this helmet just nice to look at. The things that needs to grab your attention, grabs your attention and the fact that it has stripes going vertically over the helmet is one of my favourite design choices you can do with helmets so I absolutely love that. If a driver is doing a pink helmet, then this is what I love to see. Very beautiful.

6: Jack Aitken Abu Dhabi helmet

Now this one I was pleasent surprised by. Lets just put it this way: It’s a busy helmet well done. This is also a helmet that is just nice to look at it. Using these kinds of shapes that go from small once to big once is not easy to make it not look messy and the way they've done the white spaces inbetween the shapes is really well done. It looks like a puzzle that fits well and I have nothing bad to say about this. The color scheme with this one is just amazing. Really really love this one.

5: Lewis Hamilton purple helmet (bahrain)

I haven’t been a fan of Lewis’s helmets before BUT LET ME TELL YOU, this season he has really been bringing it. I am in love with the use of purple. Such an underrated color in this sport. And why? I have no clue. Purple is creative, magic, rich colour. How has it not been used more? It looks so good on this helmet, especially the Bahrein one with the glitter. Very pretty, good job Lewis. Finally! I have nothing bad to say about this helmet. The stars for his champions, the blm message on it. A good helmet right here.

4: George’s Abu Dhabi GP helmet

I guess a lot of drivers saved their best helmet for last... When I saw this helmet for the first time I was legit in love with it. I love that this helmet is for Frank and Claire and showing the success of Williams which haven’t been showed the last couple of years. But the use of the two dark blue shades with the white lines is complimenting all three colours so beautifully. I really hope George keeps those three colours and make a different kind of design as his main helmet because this looks beautiful to me. I wouldn’t even know anything bad to say about this helmet. Love it.

3: Alex’s Abu Dhabi GP Helmet

Now this one might come as a surprise and I don’t think anyone would’ve picked this one out as a number three BUT HEAR ME OUT. I’m absolutely OBSESSED with the cartoonish design that’s going on with this and it stands out a lot more compared to all the other Red Bull helmets that have been designed since 2015. To me they’ve been all looking kind of the same but this one to me is just so unique while still being a very RedBull helmet. The black outlining makes all of the colours pop out so much more and just the whole cartoon vibe is just right up my alley. If I were to design helmets, the whole cartoon vibe would be what I do and I think that’s one of the main reasons why this helmets speaks to me so much. Like I absolutely love it.

2: Seb’s Tuscan GP helmet

This was the hardest decision, because to me this is a clear number one. I have something with old designs coming back. And I LOVED Seb’s 2019 Monza helmet which was a love letter to the old helmets and I LOVE this helmet for the same reason, but even more so of how creative this is. Obviously it was the 1000GP for Ferrari so there was the inspiration. But I’m just obsessed with the way the old side looks. How they used an old drawing of the old racing car and made it really work. Like it almost looks like an old world map but to a racing driver. I’m obsessed with this side. But also I’m obsessed with the way it goes from the old side to the new with the old looking colours to the vibrant almost neon ‘now’ colours... is just amazing. I probably would’ve loved it even more (if that was possible lmao) if the old side was all around the helmet, but you just have to love this concept. For a 1000gp celebration it’s so good and well thought while still keeping your main design helmet in there. I would love to have this helmet. So cool.

1: Sebastian Vettel diversity helmet

Is it really a surprise that this one is on number one though? Now I’m gonna be honest with you, even though I absolutely love this design, it’s the combination of the design and the extremly strong message this helmet brings to the table that makes this helmet a number one of the season. This helmet is so special I will be thinking about this helmet in probably 10 years still. Now let me talk about the design. The stripes of rainbow where usually the German flag is (which I said before) something I’m obsessed with. I really love a helmet that has stripes going vertically over the helmet. I don’t think a lot of drivers use that and obviously Seb’s Ferrari helmet is known for that design and is so iconic. Your eyes will go straight to the vertically stripes, which in this case are the rainbow colours. But that’s not all. On the side you have all these unique illustrated people. Every character on there is differently that you almost could say you could ‘find yourself’ in there. It really shows the message of this helmet. What I also love and probably is a detail that is a forgotten detail, is how the number five slowly fades with the background. I’m very curious if that’s just a design choice, but I almost would think there’s a concept in that alone. Overall this is just a mind blowing helmet. I have nothing bad to say about it. It’s a beautiful design with an amazing message that should be talked more about in this sport.

#f1 #sebastian vettel #Alex Albon #george russell #Lewis Hamilton #Jack Aitken #nico hulkenberg #pierre gasly #daniil kvyat

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itsalwaystimeforwine · 4 years

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Nothing is more beautiful than the Italian anthem

I know, I know, another post on F1, but unfortunately these are racing weeks here in Italy, and between home and work they keep me company.

On Sunday the race was run in Monza. First of all, let me I say that I’m very sorry I couldn’t attend in person, but because of Covid there was no audience allowed.

And I'm even more sorry because it really was a crazy race, one as beautiful as we haven’t seen in a while.

Ferrari - and consequently the driver I prefer most - unfortunately did not finish the race. To say how disappointing this team (not the drivers) has been this year is to say little; race after race things get worse, but there was someone else who made us hear the Italian anthem this year, a guy who let's face it, not even he would have imagined to be on the top step of the podium.

We could talk about how the history of the team that won has evolved: based in Faenza - and therefore Italian -, it was once Minardi, historical name in racing, then Toro Rosso, and from this year it’s Alpha Tauri. We could talk about how 12 years later a driver has won for the second time a grand prize for this team - a team that’s usually from the middle of the ranking. We can talk about anything, but I want to talk about the one who won it: Pierre Gasly.

I don’t usually like the French, but Pierre is the exception. I love Pierre as if he were my younger brother. Thanks to Pierre I felt moved because of a winning, and I was even while I was watching the reruns.

Pierre deserved that race, and the compliments from all of the motorsport world and his colleagues are proof of it.

Two years ago, Pierre ran in Toro Rosso, his first year in F1; he had had a good season, which led him to be promoted to Red Bull, one of the 3 strongest teams on the grid, but in Red Bull things were not so simple.

The races were going badly, the pressure was great, the points were few. To the point that in Red Bull they did what they always do, exchange drivers with Toro Rosso. Starting from the GP of Belgium, Pierre returned downgraded to a minor team and Alex Albon got promoted to Red Bull. And with hindsight, we just have to thank this exchange, because it gave new life to Pierre.

That Grand Prix of Belgium was cursed. He raced again with the Italian team that always supported him, there was less pressure, it was more psychologically relaxed. It's a pity that on that Saturday, fate took away one of Pierre’s dearest friends. We all witnessed that accident, helpless in front of the TV. The accident occurred during the F2 race, Anthoine Hubert left while doing something he loved, leaving an immense void in the hearts of those who loved him. That Sunday, before starting the F1 race, Pierre approached Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver and also a great friend of Anthoine, and simply told him "win for Tonio”; and he did, Charles won his first F1 race in Belgium, on that track that had taken away a dear friend of his. Very poetically we all think that Tonio from up there celebrated that victory with them. A year later, Pierre still drives the Toro Rosso, or rather Alpha Tauri, and when he arrived in Belgium the first thing he did was to bring flowers to where Tonio died.

And after Belgium comes Monza, the Grand Prix of Italy. Pierre has now moved to Milan, driving a car based in Italy. Nobody would have ever bet that it would have been his turn to make us hear our hymn; 12 years before it was the turn of a very young Sebastian Vettel, at the time he drove a Toro Rosso, he was 21 years old, and under the flood he won in Monza his first race, and the first race of the Faenza team. He had made us excited, the one who had as a mentor “a certain” Micheal Schumacher.

A crazy race, sometimes even absurd, but because of a breakage of the brakes of his Ferrari, Vettel was forced to retire after seven laps. On lap 19 Pierre is called for the pitstop, then a series of events shuffles all the cards on the table. Magnussen stops at the entrance of the pit lane, the safety car enters, two drivers, including Hamilton who is currently the best driver on the grid, make the pit stop and take a penalty that forces them to restart from the bottom. Charles Leclerc goes to the wall with the other Ferrari and the race is interrupted with subsequent resumption... and Pierre finds himself there, in front of everyone. And he wins, struggling to keep in front of Sainz who was about to surpass him with the McLaren until the very last corner. He won it like that. We all cheered for him, because he deserved it, we were not present at the circuit, but everyone from home on the couch was there with him, under the podium to celebrate him. He too was incredulous, 12 years later he brought the Faenza team back on the top step, 12 years later to what is his reference driver (yes, Pierre is a fan of Vettel).

Charles at the end of the race went to hug him, just as he did a year before in Belgium, and everyone else went to hug him too.

And the next day you think about it, and you notice that he won because the pit call on lap 19 was providential. And 19 was the number that Anthoine Hubert had when he ran in F2. It's probably a coincidence, but who knows...

He won for himself, he won for Tonio.

And I'm still here, I'm still moved when I see the images of Sunday.

Thank you Pierre, you made us remember why we love this sport.

#pierre gasly #formula 1 #italian gp 2020 #italian gp #alpha tauri #ah19 #anthoine hubert #monza 2020 #monza #toro rosso #ferrari

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onwheelsxyz-blog · 5 years

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Ferrari showcases Monza SP2 speedsters at Goodwood Fewer than 500 of the two models - one a fixed single-seater, the other a two-seater - will be produced, with the production split according to demand from the select band of Ferrari collectors invited to buy them. There’s no official news of the pricing, but it is thought to be in the region of $3 million (£2.3m). Inspired by the original Ferrari Barchetta models, particularly the 1948 166 MM and the 750 Monza of the 1950s, the SP1 and SP2 also feature the most powerful engine Ferrari has ever produced. The 6.5-litre V12 delivers 809bhp at 8500rpm and 530lb ft of torque at 7000rpm. The engine has also gained variable inlet tracts - something taken from F1 engines - and another first for a road-going Ferrari. The company is claiming a 0-62mph time of just 2.9sec and a 0-124mph time of 7.9sec. The maximum speed is set at 186mph. Loosely based on the 812 Superfast's underpinnings, the SP1 and 2 are clothed in carbonfibre composite panels. Design boss Flavio Manzoni said that the composite exterior and interior are made in exactly the same way as the structure of Ferrari’s Formula 1 cars. Using composites also allowed the SP models to be fitted with a huge clamshell bonnet that could not have otherwise been manufactured. The doors open upwards and forwards to aid access into the cockpit. The exterior gets bespoke LED headlights and a unique ‘signature’ LED rear strip. The simple form language not only echoes the classic Barchetta models but is a deliberate

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airoasis · 6 years

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Leading 121 Stephen Hawking Inspirational or Motivational Quotes

Stephen Hawking is one of the most popular physicist on the planet. The strong decision he has actually displayed in overcoming his special needs in life made him well-known. At 21 he was informed he has actually just got a year or two to live. Now he is 75 and is still alive and working. He has terrific qualities which all of us can admire and gain from him. He stands as an example for strong decision and favorable thinking. He is operating at an age at which the large bulk would have resigned, but he still at that age has made money regardless of a condition that disabled him physically. This makes him a real good example and an excellent inspiration.Quotes from Stephen Hawking,

"Look up at the stars and not down at your feet. "Aim to make sense of exactly what you see, and question what makes the universe exist."Be curious."Stephen Hawking Inspirational Estimates:1.

"Look up at the stars and not down at

your feet." Aim to understand what you see, and question exactly what makes the universe exist."Wonder."1."Look up at the stars and not down at your feet." Try to make sense of what you see, and question what makes deep space exist."Be curious. "2. "Tough life may appear, there is constantly something

you can do and be successful at."3. "People won't have time for you if you are constantly upset or grumbling. "4."Science is not just a disciple of reason however, also, one of romance and passion." 4."Science is not just a disciple of reason however, likewise, among romance and passion. "5."Science is increasingly addressing questions that utilized to be the province

of religion. "6."Intelligence is the capability to adapt to change."7."One can't anticipate

the weather condition more than a few days ahead of time."

8." We are all now linked by the Web, like neurons in a huge brain." 9. "I concern the brain as a computer system which will quit working when its elements

fail. "There is no paradise or afterlife for broken down computer systems; that is a fairy story for people scared of the dark."10. "Even if it turns out that time travel is difficult, it is very important that we comprehend why

it is impossible." 11." My recommendations to other disabled individuals would be, focus on things your impairment does not avoid you succeeding, and do not be sorry for the things it disrupts."Do not be handicapped in spirit as well as physically."12."We remain in risk of ruining ourselves by our greed and stupidity." We can not remain looking inwards at ourselves on a small

and increasingly contaminated and overcrowded world." 13."Individuals who boast about their I. "Q."are losers."14."In my school, the brightest boys did math and physics, the less bright did physics and chemistry,

and the least intense did biology."I desired to do math

and physics, however my father made me do chemistry because he believed there would be no tasks for mathematicians."15."If I needed to choose a superhero to be, I would choose Superman." He's whatever that I'm not."16."Because there is a law such as gravity, deep space can and will develop itself from absolutely nothing. "17."Our population and our usage of the finite resources of world Earth are growing greatly, together with our technical capability to change the environment for excellent or ill."

18." I believe we have an excellent possibility of surviving enough time to colonize the planetary system."19. "No one carries out research in physics with the intention of winning a reward."It is the delight of finding

something nobody knew in the past."20."Time travel utilized to be believed of as simply sci-fi

, however Einstein's general theory of relativity permits for the possibility that we could warp space-time so much that you could go off in a rocket and return before you set out."21."We are just an advanced breed of monkeys on a small planet of an extremely average star."We can understand the Universe." That makes us something really unique."22."Time travel was when considered scientific heresy, and I used to avoid speaking about it for fear of being identified a'crank." '23."I was never ever top of the class at school, but my schoolmates should have seen prospective in me, because my label was' Einstein."

'24. "My objective is simple."It is a total understanding of the universe, why it is as it is and why it exists at all."25. "In the past, there was

active discrimination versus females in science."That has actually now gone, and although there are recurring results, these are insufficient to represent

the small numbers of women, especially in mathematics and physics. "26." Fictional time is a brand-new measurement, at right angles to ordinary, actual time." 27."If the rate of expansion one second after the Big Bang had actually been smaller sized by even one part in a hundred thousand million million, it would have recollapsed before it reached its present size." On the other hand, if it had been higher by a part in a million, deep space would have expanded too quickly for stars and worlds to form." 28."There are too numerous mishaps that can befall life on a single planet."29." If the rate of expansion one 2nd after the Big Bang had been smaller by even one part in a hundred thousand million million, it would have recollapsed before it reached its present size."On the other hand, if it had actually been greater by a part in a million, the universe would

have actually expanded too rapidly for stars and planets to form."30." Time can behave like

another direction in space under extreme conditions."31."I was born on January 8, 1942, exactly 3 hundred years after the death of Galileo. "I approximate, however, that about 2 hundred thousand other infants were likewise born that day. "I don't know whether any of them was later on thinking about astronomy."32."A few years earlier, the city board of Monza, Italy, disallowed family pet owners from keeping goldfish in curved bowls.".". "stating that it is harsh to keep a fish in a bowl with curved sides because, gazing out, the fish would have a distorted view of reality." But how do we know we have the real, undistorted image of truth? 33. "There might be shadow galaxies, shadow stars, as well as shadow people. "34."My discovery that black

holes emit radiation raised major issues of consistency with the rest of physics."I have actually now dealt with these issues, but the answer ended up being not what I anticipated."35."Stem cell research is the key to developing cures for degenerative conditions like Parkinson's and motor nerve cell disease from which I and lots of others suffer."The fact that the cells might come from embryos is not an objection, because the embryos are going to pass away anyhow." 36."I believe it rather most likely that we are the only civilization within several hundred light years; otherwise we would have heard radio waves."37."The past, like the future, is indefinite and exists only as a spectrum of possibilities."38."My father was a research researcher in tropical medication, so I always assumed I would be a researcher, too." I felt that medication was too vague and inexact, so I chose physics." 39. "If aliens visit us, the result would be much as when Columbus landed in America, which didn't turn out well for the Native Americans. "40." I have discovered even people who claim whatever is predestined, which we can do nothing to change it, look prior to they cross the roadway

." 41. "Deep space is governed by science."Science tells us that we cannot fix the formulas, directly in the abstract."42." I believe everyone should have a broad image of how deep space operates and our place in it."It is a standard human desire." And it likewise puts our concerns in perspective." 43."There is a real danger that computer systems will establish intelligence and take over."We urgently have to develop direct connections to the brain so that computers can add to human intelligence instead of remain in opposition."44."I think in universal healthcare."And I am not scared to say so." 45."

Life would be awful if it weren't amusing." 46. "To restrict our focus on terrestrial matters would be to restrict the human spirit." 47."Life in the world is at the ever-increasing danger of being eliminated by a disaster, such as sudden international nuclear war, a genetically crafted infection or other dangers we have not

yet thought about. "48. "The majority of sets of values would trigger universes that, although they might be really lovely, would contain nobody able to wonder at that appeal."49."God not just plays dice, He likewise in some cases throws the dice where they can not be seen. "50."Not just does God play dice, but.".". "he often throws

them where they can not be seen." 51."

I'm not scared of death, however I remain in no hurry to die. "I have so much I desire to do first."

52." Science anticipates that many various type of universe will be spontaneously developed from absolutely nothing."It refers possibility which we remain in."53."With genetic modification, we will have the ability to increase the complexity of our DNA, and improve the human race."It will be a sluggish process, because one will have to wait about 18 years to see the result of changes to the

genetic code. "54. "I think the brain is essentially a computer system and awareness resembles a computer system program

." It will cease to run when the computer system is turned off."In theory, it could be re-created

on a neural network, but that would be extremely challenging, as it would require all one's memories." 55."I believe the mankind does not have a future if it does not go into space."56."I believe deep space is governed by the laws of science."

The laws might have been decreed by God, but God does not step in to break the laws." 57."When one's expectations are minimized to absolutely no, one actually appreciates whatever one does have." 58." Success in developing AI would be the biggest event in human history."

Unfortunately, it might also be the last, unless we discover the best ways to avoid the dangers."59. "We are all different." There is no such thing as a standard or ordinary human, but we share the same human spirit."60. "There is no physical law precluding particles from being arranged in manner ins which carry out even more advanced calculations than the plans of particles in human brains."

61." Some forms of motor nerve cell disease are genetically linked, however I have no indication that my kind is."No other member of my household has actually had it."But I would be in favour of

abortion if there was a high danger. "62."While physics and mathematics might tell us how the universe began, they

are not much use in anticipating human behavior since there are far too numerous formulas to solve."I'm no much better than anybody else at understanding exactly what makes individuals tick, especially ladies." 63."Numerous severely needed objectives, like blend and cancer treatment, would be achieved much sooner if we invested more."

64." Science is lovely when it makes easy explanations of phenomena or connections in between different observations."Examples include the double helix in biology and the basic equations of physics."65. "Maybe I don't have the most typical sort of motor neuron disease, which generally kills in two or three years." 66."Some researchers believe it might be possible to capture a wormhole and expand

it lots of trillions of times to make it big enough for a human or even a spaceship to go into."67."My work and my family are crucial to me. "68." Some scientists think it may be possible to capture a wormhole and enlarge it numerous trillions of times to make it big enough for a human and even a spaceship to get in."69."September 11 was terrible, it didn't threaten the survival of

the human race, like nuclear weapons do."70."Science is lovely when it makes simple explanations of phenomena or connections between various observations."Examples consist of the double helix in biology and the basic formulas of physics." 71." It is usually recognised that ladies are better than guys at languages, individual relations and multi-tasking, however less proficient at map-reading and spatial awareness." It is therefore not unreasonable to suppose that females may be less good at mathematics and physics. "72." When we understand string theory,

we will know how deep space started."It will not have much effect on how we live, but it is essential to comprehend where we originate from and what we can expect to find as we explore. "73."I believe those who have a terminal disease and are in great discomfort needs to have the right to opt to end their own life, and those that assist them should be devoid of prosecution."74."I believe trojan horse ought to

count as life. "I believe it states something about human nature that the only kind of life we have developed up until now is simply damaging. "We've developed life in our own image."75."I do not think the mankind will survive the next thousand years, unless we spread out into area."76."I would like nuclear fusion to become an useful source of power."It would provide a limitless supply of energy, without contamination or international warming."77. "Women."They are a complete secret."78."Observations indicate that the universe

is expanding at an ever increasing rate. "It will broaden forever, getting emptier and darker."79."Exactly what was God doing prior to the divine creation? 80."In some cases I question if I'm as well-known for my wheelchair and specials needs as I am for my discoveries." 81."In less than a century, we have discovered a new method to think of ourselves."From sitting at the center of deep space, we now discover ourselves orbiting an average-sized sun, which is just

one of countless stars in our own Milky Method galaxy." 82."I wish to know why deep space exists, why there is something higher than absolutely nothing."83."Nothing can not exist permanently." 84."Thinkers have actually not kept up with modern-day advancements in science."Especially physics."85."Undoubtedly, since of my impairment, I need help." I have actually always attempted to conquer the limitations of my condition and lead as full a life as possible. " I have actually traveled the world, from the Antarctic to no gravity."

86." Researchers have actually become the bearers of the torch of discovery in our mission for understanding."87." I believe things can not make themselves impossible. "88."Science can raise individuals from hardship and remedy illness." That, in turn, will reduce civil unrest." 89."Although almost every theoretical physicist concurs with my prediction that a great void ought to radiance like a hot body, it would be very hard to confirm experimentally since the temperature of a macroscopic great void is so low."90. "I have actually discovered far greater interest for science in America than here in Britain."There is more enthusiasm for whatever in America."91."

There's no method to remove the observer-- us-- from our understandings of the world."92."

We must establish as quickly as possible technologies that enable a direct connection between brain and computer system, so that artificial brains contribute to

human intelligence instead of opposing it." 93." I do not have much positive to state about motor nerve cell disease, but it taught me not to pity myself because others were even worse off, and to obtain on with what I still might do."I'm better now than prior to

I established the condition."94. "There are grounds for mindful optimism that we might now be near the end ofthe search for the supreme laws of nature."95."There is no unique photo of truth."96."There are premises for cautious optimism that we might now be near completion of the search for the supreme laws of

nature."97."There is no unique picture of truth."98. "One can not actually argue with a mathematical theorem." 99." There is no heaven or afterlife for broken-down computers; that is a fairy story for people scared of the dark."100. "'The Simpsons 'looks

were great enjoyable." I don't take them too seriously." I believe' The Simpsons' have treated my impairment properly."101." Nobody can withstand the idea of a crippled genius."102." I have so much that I want to do."I hate losing time." 103."I have actually questioned time all my life." 104."Exactly what I 'd actually prefer to control is not machines, but individuals. "105."The usual technique of science of building a mathematical design can not answer the concerns of why there should be a universe for the model to explain." Why does the universe go to all the trouble of existing? 106."It is no excellent getting furious if you get stuck."What I do is keep thinking about the problem however work on something else."Often it is years prior to I see the way forward." When it comes to info loss and black holes, it was 29 years." 107. "A zero-gravity flight is a first step toward area travel. "108." I am just a kid who has actually never matured."

I still keep asking these 'how 'and'why 'questions."Occasionally, I discover a response." 109."Only black holes of really low mass would discharge a significant amount of radiation

." 110."Even if there is only one possible combined theory, it is

simply a set of guidelines and formulas."What is it that breathes fire into the equations and makes a universe

for them to explain? 111."Someone informed me that each equation I consisted of in the book would halve the sales." 112. "It is not clear that intelligence has any long-lasting survival worth." 113."You cannot regulate every lab worldwide."

114." If we do find a total theory, it should remain in time understandable in broad principle by everyone."

Then we shall all, theorists, scientists, and just common

individuals have the ability to take part in the discussion of why we and the universe exist."115. "We only have to take a look at ourselves to see how smart life might become something we would not desire to meet."116. "Theology is unnecessary."117." Among physicists, I'm respected I hope." 118." I delight in all types of music-- pop, classical and opera."119." The media require superheroes in science just as in every sphere of life, but there is really a constant series of capabilities without any clear dividing line."120."All my adult life people have been assisting me."

121." We believe we have actually resolved the secret of development." Maybe we need to patent the universe and charge everybody royalties for their presence."

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